#(I might change some things in the future if I draw him again tho)

[kapitein-oranghien-29]

Yes, rushed, but we got another Dilf you just can't be mad about that (*ﾉヮﾉ) right

[feisaru]

Cant stop thinking about your older feisaru art. I was wondering if you have a hc of what they're upto at that age. Like hobbies, career, or the people they (still) hang out with?

ALRIGHT LET ME JUST SAY- talking about them on main like this is a little hard 4 me. The whole "if it mattered less, maybe I could talk more about it" bit. I'm still gonna try to not make it super vague? While also not being as overly elaborate as I sometimes get in private chats

Fei still loves soccer a lot. Overall he enjoys powering himself out physically when he gets the chance to. Wheter that can be considered a hobby, I dunno, but he enjoys painting nails a lot, especially if he gets to use a lot of colors and to draw silly little animals on them. He also likes cooking. He taught himself how to very early after CS-finish.

Whereas Saru really enjoys reading. He's been doing that even back when he was Feida's emperor, to escape reality a bit. Every so often, Fei comes up to him and asks what he's reading. If Saru wants to infodump about it, Fei gladly lets him. Honestly, it's not a seldom occurence that they just read together. It often starts with Fei asking Saru to read out loud for him because he really enjoys his voice, while he cuddles into Saru a bit. Then after a while Saru passes him the book. Sometimes they also read their own individual novels while just sitting together. Saru also still does soccer sometimes, but for him it's more like a bonding activity with Fei? He does it mainly because Fei likes it so much and he likes when Fei is happy. He'd still enjoy leading a soccer team but other than that, the physical aftermath of the vaccine was pretty hard on him, leading to him not being able to exhaust himself too much physically (he'd still throw hands if necessary tho). Well, he was never too much into sports anyway. Despite that he still loves climbing on trees. And once again I don't know if that counts as a full on hobby but at some point, because he has so much time on hand, he started attempting to scribble Fei in notebooks. I don't think he'd tell Fei though, he finds it embarrassing.

So now to the more complicated bits! Most of these are still Thoughts In Progress™️

I try not to think too hard about the whole job thing because- I'm still not that experienced with jobs and because I can't see either of them working traditionally. Saru still hasn't forgotten about what El Dorado and the system has done to them. He wouldn't want to work in it. He doesn't want to work in a system created and controlled by people who have damaged him beyond repair. He doesn't want to pretend all's well, he doesn't just want to act like nothing ever happened. And Fei? In theory, he's the one more likely to do it, just because his morality doesn't get in the way, but I can't really imagine him feeling good about working at all. It would really drain him. So the possibility I'm tending to most right now is that they're getting the 200 years into the future equivalent of Hartz IV (as much as Saru hates existing in the state they unfortunately can't just cease doing that and so taking the state's money is still the better option) (I barely know anything about what this whole thing is like so take this with a grain of salt) and that Asurei sometimes helps them out financially because he has more than enough money for himself. They don't have a lot but it suffices to live pretty okay as long as they keep in mind they have a limited amount of money at their disposal. But like I said, my thoughts might change in the future, when I know more myself. I once have entertained the thought of making Fei a mental health professional but that's in the scraps right now because. I know someone pretty similar to him who worked as that and I sure as hell do know it would exhaust him in the long run. He wouldn't be able to handle so many people professionally at once without starting to feel worse himself. He likes psychology but the reason he likes it is that he likes helping Saru. Using psychology on people whom he meets in an office on a professional basis just ain't it

Concerning hanging out, I and a friend have an AU (Trio AU) where Fei reaches out to Zanark so the 3 of them can play soccer together when they're 17-18-ish and he third-wheels for them. Later on he gets a gf, my friend's OC. The AU is more for giggles and laughs than anything and Zanark and Saru go on each other's nerves impossibly. A lot of the time it's "calm down, breathe in, breathe out, you're better than this, there's no reason to get seriously mad at this motherfucker, and most importantly you're doing this for Fei" for Saru. They still see Meia and Giris sometimes, albeit they live a little farther away. And they probably encounter Protocol Omega members sometimes, because they live in the same city as them (thinking about them encountering Alpha and Gamma on a date someday is fun... @amalg4me)

Either way I have some drawings where they're supposed to be young adults (Trio AU, including the banana sweater, all the CS x SPOP drawings... maybe even more. Most of the fluffier drawings are set at least 2 years after Chrono Stone) but I've only recently started figuring out how to get better at varying ages and I'm still working on it

Uh btw... if you wanna see some old man cuddles... I can gladly send you some in the dms. I've been drawing them as adults a lot lately, but I don't feel like posting those drawings on main

[humanoidtyphoons]

hm. underwhelming, is how i’d describe the last 14 chapters but the final one tbh. it didn’t tank, it didn’t self-implode, i just… the direction it went felt disappointing. like, it’s fine ig, but… i wouldn’t call it either good or bad, tbh.

-final chapter was dead cute tho. don’t really care about ageha being in a coma, but everyone cheering for him to wake up in the future was so sweet. and i liked ageha and sakurako together and rescuing 07. it was a nice final chapter tbh!

-mithra was maybe the main problem, i think? making her the final bad guy and causing former main villain miroku to team up with ageha was… uh. not the move for me, tbh. ageha going “i won’t forget that you killed a lot of people!!!” was. uh. missed the mark, tbh. but basically i didn’t like that she didn’t feel relevant until the final chapters. like i wish she was more interesting/introduced sooner and making plays before taking centre stage as the final villain and turning on miroku, and he on her.

-i would have more sibling moments with miroku and 07 tbh? the 10 years future him stopped caring about his twin sister, meanwhile the 1 year future still cared, and while that can be understandable progression of “you’re either with me or against me”, i just… idk. not sure i quite vibed with… making him more heroic? wanting to make the psionic humans the superior race at the eleventh hour tbh? sacrificing himself in one future?

-which is a shame bc i quite enjoyed him for most of the story’s run where he’s the main villain bent on destruction. he looked hot, so i’m glad that never changed tbh.

-i so wish his minions had more time to shine tbh!!! design wise, i thought they were fun and cool looking, but i wanted more of them and dig into them a bit more… and while there was some spotlight… i think there needed to be more tbh. but this might fall at odds with the pacing tbh.

-grana was so cool. it… almost seemed like he had a thing going on with miroku tbh? at times? idk he was neat tho.

-shiner was the other one i liked a lot too!

-tbh i got sad that both oboro and hiryu split from the main party. and i think that the story never quite recovered from that, imo. again, the pacing was pretty quick—not rushed tbh—but i wish more time could have been spent with oboro and hiryu (with tatsuo and kasukabe) as both did their separate paths tbh.

-not that i liked oboro/ageha, bc not especially, but i think i’m sad that the story sort of … dropped that clinginess?

-absolutely wanted more body horror with oboro tbh. since he kept on merging with monsters oh my gosh!!

-ageha’s confession to sakurako about how he loved her when they were kids, then somewhere along the way he forgot, but then he fell for her all over again was soooo sweet!

-lmao i loved sakurako’s alternate personality, abyss. kinda liked the merging and how she was more openly affectionate towards ageha (bc she’s the repressed side of sakurako).

-kabuto stole my heart tho! he evaded death so many times! even when the mangaka intended to kill him off! he lived to the very end!!

-little bit fond of vigo & mari, ngl. def. platonic for them, but i enjoyed how kindness goes a long way to one so yandere.

-loved seeing the kids’ future selves. they were just sweet!

-love that shinonome and haruhiko stuck around bc their sister was saved

-found matsuri/kagetora v. cute and i’m glad they ended up together

-loved that the future kept changing.

-the cast was likeable enough, tbh, which was the main draw tbh. were these characters original? no, but they were fine and i enjoyed them.

for a good chunk, i really would rate it 8/10, bc it’s fun and paced pretty steadily and breezy to read. but then the party splits up, and idk, the momentum changes and just… its still good but i’m less into it, and then the final 15 chapters… are anticlimactic to me.

so: i rated it originally as a 7/10, and honestly: yeah it’s still a 7/10. i probably will forget about the ending again bc it just… petered off imo. don’t exactly hate it, but i can’t say i’m happy with it either. but overall i don’t regret rereading it tbh.

[silversupremacy]

Following art is very personal so please be kind @w@

Project I’ve nicknamed “anxiety hits” that focuses on silver spoon and his anxiety. The concept is that as the panic attack forms, the people around him become more sharp and dangerous. The art shows this in a literal sense, but to me this is legitimately how people feel when I’m panicking badly.

It’s a concept that’s based off of my own experiences, specifically drawing on a particularly traumatic moment in my life where I had a breakdown and felt the need to attack my friend in ‘self defense’ when she reached out to try to help me XwX Thankfully that just meant backing away and hissing at her like a little cat and not like, any kind of injury. It was still a very emotional time in my life tho.

The sort of concept plot for the art piece would be something like; silver starts to see the people around him change into the above designs. He lashes out and backs up, demanding that they stop looking at him and leave him alone. Then Candle reaches out and gently takes silver’s hands and gets him to do timed breathing. This is all in concepts atm, I might change things in the future. I did want a part where silver is falling but snaps out of the headspace and he’s just disassociating irl but I’m not sure where that would fit.

Again, this is a very personal project so i don’t want to hear people talk bad abt it XwX But if you want to give some suggestions to the concept or plot I’m open to hearing you out.

[suguruswife]

What The Portraits Hide Frank x Gn!Reader

Includes: angst(?), Mentions of cheating.

Gn reader.

I hate this man but I kinda like him... Mxwkdnwl the idea was spinning in my head and this will be ooc for sure cuz Frank is an asshole. Idk how many words I did but there were many 😭 the end is somewhat vague but well...

If you saw that instead of using her i used him or something like that, no, you didn't. There may be grammar mistakes, sorry for that!

time jumps and flashbacks might be annoying, hope that doesn't bother either, and memories and stuff from the past will be in this typeface, the rest will be in 'present'

Well, now yeah, let's go with our Frank x Gn! Reader.

Summary: You were the best friend of the troublesome Frank Morrison, your talent with drawing attracted him like a moth to the flame, curious and explorer. When you two went your separate ways, the memories were more scarred than any other scars.

"So you have a half-naked portrait of yourself?" Julie's question caught the interest of the tall man, who was lying down with his eyes closed.

The object was something that Frank longed to get rid of along with other things, so such was the surprise when he heard his partner mention it.

"Where did you find it?" Frank asked with a frown, he was sure that useless thing didn't exist anymore.

"Here in your drawer. It's very well done, I'm not gonna lie. You jerk off with this?" Julie said with a playful tone as she threw it from one hand to the other. looking amused at her boyfriend's expression.

"Leave it where you found it, it's not important."

"It must be important for you to have it in your room, who made it?" she questioned, watching as he slipped out of his bed completely.

"A friend, an old friend." Frank replied, watching the blonde's disappointed look.

"Who could this friend be? Are they the one you told me about once?" Julie directed her gaze to the floor, uncomfortable to bring the subject up again. She believed that he had gotten rid of everything, so it was such a surprise the fact that he still has a memory of said friend.

Frank sighed heavily before approaching his girlfriend and slowly taking her slowly by the shoulders. He was already tired enough to have to put up with her jealous attitudes.

"They are nobody special, you don't need to overreact, this person is someone from the past and nothing else, you are my present, babe."

"I know," Julie whispered before wrapping her arms around Frank's neck and placing a kiss on his lips. With some hesitation, she continued, "And your future too, right?" The words that came out of her mouth made Frank's hands shake, not with fear but uncomfortably.

"Yes, of course Julie. You are the only one."

A smile slowly peeked out, expressing that she was satisfied with his answer. Julie threw the portrait on his bed and went to the door.

"Wanna eat? I can stay and make dinner if you don't mind," she offered.

"I'd prefer to rest, you know. Tomorrow I gotta meet with the principal of the school, the old man wants to have a 'serious' talk. Will probably tell me about his collection of socks as punishment tho," the man said as he made his way to his closet.

Julie, kind of disappointed, watched steadily as Frank changed his clothes. Tattoos on display in all their glory. If he hadn't rejected her presence so obviously, she'd have reached out to touch them, to know if there was somehow a difference with the rest of his skin.

Frank's tired voice snapped her out of her trance, "Julie, could you..." He raised his finger to the door, the girl didn't need anything else to understand what he wanted.

"Yeah, see you tomorrow?" After hearing the affirmative humming from his part, she closed the door slowly behind her, wishing she could've stayed a little longer.

On the other hand, Frank leaned back and took the portrait, it was a drawing of himself that showed his features very well, excellently and realistically, from his face to his chest. He remembered the words of his old friend 'draw as far as it leaves people intrigued, until they want to see more.'

He didn't understand the meaning of art but he was attracted to it, he still remembered that autumn afternoon with you, he'd laughed like never before, laughed until his cheeks ached as if they had been squeezed by an older lady.

"I miss you," he whispered your name as he ran a finger over your artwork, longing for those three words to reach you.

-

Sneezing again for what it felt like the tenth time in the day, you unburden yourself on a canvas, combining colors as if trying to make a sunrise. The idea of ​​making two people crosses your head momentarily, but you quickly reject it. You wouldn't want to try to ruin another canvas just on a romantic whim.

You stop everything before the brush touches your drawing again, boredom seized you suddenly and you decided to go clean your hands. Clean them until they are like new, like a doll's.

After a heavy wash, you went back to bed and into the sheets your thoughts began to wander from here to there until they caught up with your old best friend, the plague Morrison.

Whining to yourself, you turned around so the memories would stay in the back of your mind and not start playing like a cheap rom-com movie, it was enough with the fact that you almost always came across him anywhere. Even though you despised and ignored him, fate had a twisted way of amusing itself. It put him in front of you, like he was a rusty award that you deserved.

You rejected him every time.

Once again, albeit you hated him, you appreciate the moments of last fall, and that was something you couldn't stop thinking about.

A twisted movie and love.

-

"Could you please stop fucking playing around? I'm working here, Morrison. Can't even draw you right because you shake like a washing machine," you sighed heavily running your fingers through your hair, throwing him at the same time a fulminant look, hoping you could convey your discomfort with the situation.

"There are a lot of things wrong with what you said, Honey. First of all, who the fuck has a shaking washing machine? I can't speak much, though. My mom washes clothes by hand." Frank remarked with a frown as he raised his elbows to lean on the bed. "And besides, you're the one who asked to draw me, you damn fan in love."

"I only came up with the idea because we were bored, you damn smug insolent!" you barked throwing one of your dirtiest -and least favorite- brushes at him.

He groaned as soon as it touched his bare chest, the texture felt strange and cold against his skin, not to mention that it had a mix of all existing colors.

"Admit it, you enjoy the view and you wanted to draw me half-naked."

"I do, I don't offer just any pretty boy a drawing. I choose my muses carefully, plus you're the favorite of many, I'm sure they gonna love to see you... How to say?" You put your hands under your chin as if you were thinking of the correct term. "Oh, yeah! They'll love to see up to a certain point of you, as if you were an unattainable gift."

Frank inclined his head before straightening it quickly, he needed to stay still like a statue but the questions still plagued him, were there more reasons for him to be your muse? Did you think he was hot?

"And what's your role here?" he asked.

"I am a kind of god. You are the image and I give you life." The words came out of your mouth easily, the answer was direct and you made them sound like they were simple and effortless to understand but Frank was more dumbfounded and confused than before.

He dismissed this comment of yours as a game, believing he knew better than that you just drawing him for entertainment, nothing more.

"Oh yeah, it'll be great to fuck someone random and find the love of my life. At the end of everything, I will thank my lovely creator."

"I don't think a romantic relationship is just about having sex," you pronounced slowly looking back at your work.

"Of course not, I always hook up with a stranger and I don't even catch their names."

A deafening silence filled the room, Frank's words echoing in your head feverishly and persistently.

"I messed up with that?" He slowly uttered, without taking his eyes off his hands, which were stroking his chest from top to bottom.

"No," yes, the correct answer was ringing loudly in your head, wanting to go out and shock the insolent man infront of you. "They are something of a night, right? As long as you don't get a new best friend I'll be fine. Let yourself enjoy, Frank, when we're in college you won't be able to enjoy that much."

"Actually, I met someone."

Looking up from your sheet, you observed how Frank made his fingers sound, something he did when he was nervous. Your heartbeat had noticeably sped up, and you were thankful that human beings don't have super hearing.

"Please tell me that they're not a minor," you begged within yourself. If that was the case, Morrison would be more screwed than the time he slept with the Sheriff's daughter.

"Do I look like a cradle robber? I'm not. And no, she's not a minor, she turned 18 a month and a half ago."

"Oh, damn, Morrison, you're not a cradle robber but you're almost there, huh." You scoffed at his answer.

"She's only a year younger, don't bother me! Try to make yourself happy for me, Honey. Possibly if things go well with her... I won't brag about my bedmates."

"Good news at least." You paused before a question escapes your lips, maybe it would be too intrusive but Frank always answered everything. "May I ask what did you see in her? I mean, there's something that stands out about her whole being or is she just a barbie doll?"

"Come on, don't start with that, keep drawing and I'll tell you about her but you don't need to pull your shit out like this." Frank's dry and harsh words made you freeze in place, making you regret even speaking.

Squeezing the brush tightly, you decided for once to shut up before releasing a comment.

"You act like my father, when you ask him what he likes about his girlfriend, he only says he loves when she cooks for him and washes his clothes, but he never says anything about her personality. She's there like a doll."

"You know I'm not into the little comparison shit so don't even do it again. I'm talking to you about something important and you have to do everything about yourself, don't you?"

"I was just remarking that to you, you can't say that you are attracted to a person just because they act like a doll."

"At least she tries hard to act like a decent person, if it weren't for me you wouldn't even have a friend."

Your hand trembled, causing the brush to slightly stain Frank's body black, frozen by his words, you let out a slight apology.

"Okay, don't apologize, just let me tell you a little about her and two other people I met."

Faced with his obvious emotion, you couldn't help but feel drowned, drowned in your own room. As if an overwhelming heat tried to melt everything in its path.

In that moment, you realized that Frank was slipping through your fingers, slipping away, and away.

"And well, she's so cool, it feels like suddenly the urge to leave this place is gone, she makes me feel good and also noticed me. Among all the boys, she chose me."

"Ah, sorry, what's her name? I was distracted for a moment."

"Julie. You ought to know her, she'd surely like your drawings."

"Maybe someday."

A quiet and comfortable silence settled in the room, too comfortable and charming for your liking.

"I still don't understand what you see in her," you heard how a heavy sigh escaped his lips, causing a giggle from your lips. His fake annoyance was hilarious up to a point. "I'm serious dude, you could find in other girls the same thing she has, what makes her different?"

"Her—"

"If you say her personality I'm gonna kick your ass."

"I was going to say her pussy but hey," he laughed at the disgusted grimace you made. "I bet into your mind crosses the 'the real pussy whipped'."

"Oh god, you are so disgusting."

Laughing out loud at your answer, he started patting his pants, searching for what you thought might be his wallet.

"I'm going to show you what she looks like." Frank took a picture that looked in a sorry state, you decided not to say anything so as not to ruin the bright smile on his face.

"Frank, it's okay you don't have to-MORRISON STAY STILL."

The black-haired man shrugged at your sudden scream, looking at you with a confused look.

"The muse shouldn't move, do you know how much it will cost me to get you back in the exact same position? A lot of time."

Jumping out of your place like a dog excited for its prize, you made your way to your bed and threw yourself. You ignored Frank's whimper of pain and looked at the photo.

"Oh, damn she's pretty," you murmured, unaware of the loving gaze the man next to you had. A loving gaze reserved for someone else.

"She really is."

A feeling of pain and jealousy began to bloom in your chest, you could break your head wondering if Frank ever looked at you like that and you wouldn't find an answer or remember any of that.

You cleared your throat audibly to bring him out of his stupor, "Shall we continue?"

"Obviously, gonna show everyone the portrait my best friend made of me. Maybe you'll have some fans as well."

"I do not need another fan if I already have you, Morrison. You approached me for that, remember?"

"And I don't regret anything, your hands make art, I like that. When I have my own gang you will make the image that represents us," he promised, with a look that was indecipherable to you this time.

You let out a laugh at his comment, the idea of ​​Frank being a gang leader sounded so funny and crazy at the same time. Though it didn't seem impossible, with his character he could achieve many things, he has done it before.

"Come on, those things about dreaming of being leaders are for children, you are a man now."

"Presidents are leaders, even if the idea bothers you, that's what they are."

Now it was your turn to laugh, before taking advantage of the situation. "But you aren't a president and if you were, you'd leave the country in debt."

"Well... you know what, shut up and get on with what you're doing."

you looked at the canvas again, analyzing how long it would take to finish. "I'm almost finished, I just need to paint your noodle arms, talk to me in the meantime." You dipped your brush in the water, trying to blur the color.

He growled in exasperation at your request, "We already talked a lot."

"Drop some funny thing then."

"Hmmm, I haven't told you about the other two people I met."

"Tell me about them, I wanna hear you."

"Well, there's this boy who is so unbearable but I like him. Too boastful though, you could challenge him to jump off a bridge and he would do it for being proud." It looked like Frank was complaining but the small smile on his face gave him away.

"What a coincidence, that reminds me of someone, don't you think?"

"Ha, you're so funny, dedicate yourself to comedy," he spat, settling into his position. "His name is Joey, if you want I could introduce him or something."

Stopping the drawing again in frustration for the fifth time, you looked at Frank.

"Absolutely not. I'm not into bad guys, plus I got you, that's enough."

"Yeah, but you and I are just friends, you need a dick," Frank said your name lengthening the last syllable, he certainly acted like a child at times. "It will come in handy. Sex increases happiness."

"Also the chances of getting pregnant or contracting any sexually transmitted diseases," you remarked deadpanned.

Laughing among you, you were carried away by time, when you realized it was almost 8 o'clock.

Certainly, when one enjoys the company of another person, time flies by. Even though, this is something you experienced only with Frank, he's always so straightforward, without filters and tactless, you don't even know why you are his friend but you wouldn't change him for anything.

You expected him to think the same.

"Are you ready to look better than ever, Frank? Because trust me, girls would rather see you in any portrait from now on."

"Just show me, it looks like you're making an announcement," he said as he got up from the bed and took hurried steps in your direction.

Frank put his hand on his chin, staring at the drawing. You knew that he wasn't only analyzing it but also studying it, observing from the mixture of colors that you applied to the drawing itself. When he was too quiet, you started to fidget, you knew very well his shitty personality and you knew he would be honest if he didn't like the portrait -honesty that you appreciated sometimes- but a part of you was afraid that he would lie so as not to hurt your feelings.

You wish he had lied about other things so as not to hurt your feelings as well.

"Looking good, you should have added more package to my pants tho."

"Package? I'm not going to add more size to your sausage when that's how it looks." You saw how he gasped pretending to be offended before a smirk appeared on his countenance.

"So you were watching." He put his hand on his chest like he was an embarrassed lady.

"Oh god, you are insufferable."

"But you love me."

Yes, and I hate that.

"Maybe." That's the last thing you pronounced before feeling his arms hugging your figure. You didn't need any words, his hug had already told you everything.

-

"Did you hear the rumor?" Your friend to your right had whispered to you, as if they were a spy agent.

With your books in hand, you frowned in confusion until you said your first thought.

"Rumor? What rumor? The one about Elizabeth trying again to seduce the math teacher?" you asked giggling, the man wasn't that bad but there were certainly better ones. The history teachers are second to none.

"No, about your ex boyfriend, Frankie," they blurted out, widening their smile at the change in your expression.

You cleared your throat, annoyed at the mention of him. "He was never my boyfriend and his affairs have nothing to do with me. Not anymore at least."

"I know, I know, but this is a big thing." They looked from side to side, making sure you two didn't have an unwanted audience. "Heard he was suspended from school."

"What?! Why and how long?"

"Looks like your ears are paying attention to me now, huh." Your friend said while hitting you on the forehead. "Silly, he's not a good man to you and to make things better, you and I remember very well the talk we had, right?"

"I do but you have to put yourself in my shoes. I miss him." You paused, looking frantically at your sides, afraid of meeting a member of The legion. "Why did they suspend him then?"

"I don't know if he was suspended or kicked out of the basketball team. Supposedly he shoved a referee into the stands." They shrugged, unimpressed by what Frank did.

"I see you too worried about an idiot whose aura screams violence from all sides. Go visit him if you want to, the worst that could happen would be that he blames you for everything and the best thing would be for him to help you with those concerns of yours. This has happened before and I don't think he's going to hurt you, right?"

You remain silent, thinking of many other times when he's hurt you with his words because of his anger.

You sigh shaking your head, "You're right, I don't think he will."

"Today I saw his whore, Juliette... Jules is it?" You could see the gears turning inside their head, so rolling your eyes you answered them.

"Julie," you responded, pursing your lips at the mention of her name.

"Yeah, that bitch who went from a popular girlie richie richie to a criminal. How can anyone fall so low?"

"Chasing after a little crush makes her stupid I guess."

There was a deafening silence and you felt small under the heavy gaze of your friend. Perhaps you are the least indicated to speak.

"Save yourself whatever you want to say."

They left, but not before letting out a laugh that caught the attention of a couple of students. Laughing to yourself, you started heading for the exit, thinking at the same time how you would talk to the insolent Frank.

-

"Are we really having a deep talk?" Frank asked, taking a sip of beer.

"I was just telling you that money isn't everything but can give you many things." You had a drink at the same time, the cold liquid sliding down your throat. So cold that you felt it burning you.

"Money is great but passion and freedom is better," he remarked, wagging his fingers dramatically, you hated philosophical talks with Frank because he always wanted to be right, even if he denied being that persistent.

You laughed sarcastically, "You can be free in many ways, without being a criminal for example."

"Say what you want but you will never feel the adrenaline and excitement that The Legion has." Frank sounded almost very proud, it made you sad and a bit frightening because for the first time you saw a leading figure in him. Acting like a leader, one who tramples others. A selfish one.

"The Legion? What's up with that name?"

"Julie made it up."

You hummed in recognition.

"How are things going between you two?" You asked, finishing the fourth- no, fifth bottle?

"We are fine, we do the typical couple stuff, although sometimes she is a bit childish," he replied as he opened another beer for you.

You took the bottle between your hands before speaking again, "Why-why is that?"

"She said bullshit about I cared more about my friends than her."

"I am 'those friends'?" You asked, the sarcastic tone didn't leave you and you were still angry about what had happened since Frank told you about Julie.

"Julie hesitates, nothing more. She knows the existence of a friend who has feelings for me but doesn't know you explici—"

"Because you told her."

"It just got away from me, I had no idea she was gonna be so paranoid!"

"I bet you laughed at that."

"I didn't- Come on, don't be like that." Frank took your arms as he said your name slowly. You wish he had said it more lovingly, showing some hint of concern or something.

"I hate this. I hate that you are aware of what you do, what you do to me and still act like nothing. You still choose her." You lowered your gaze, hating him was impossible, since your decisions led you here. At this moment. Encouraging you to look at it again, you murmured slowly looking directly at his lips, "I really want to kiss you, man."

Frank looked with sorrow at your visibly drunk figure, he knew that not in a million years would you dare to confess your feelings directly, you always preferred that people notice everything around you.

Swallowing heavily, Frank muttered the first excuse he thought of, "But Julie and I—"

"Julie is not here, I am. I always have been and always will be."

You slowly approached Frank putting a hand on his shoulder, you thought he'd push you away but he just watched your movement. When you didn't see his refusal to your touch, you ran your thumb down his neck reaching his cheek.

His eyes closed at the show of warm affection, something he had been deprived of for many years of his life. Even his girlfriend's fingers felt like ice cubes compared to yours.

"Please Frank. Just one kiss, it won't gotta happen again. It won't mean a thing," you pleaded slowly bringing your face closer to his, noses almost brushing against each other.

His eyes went from your eyes to your lips, an action that didn't go unnoticed before your eyes."Then go ahead, show me what I've been missing."

You leaned even further over him and breathed raggedly before finally bringing your lips together with his. They were warm, and softer than you would've imagined, both of you had just started and you already felt in a state of complete bliss, forgetting about everything bad that happened.

You wanted to get the most out of this dance before it was over, so you held on as long as you could. Your eyes had closed not to see him, not to see his expression either of disgust or pleasure, because both of them would hurt you in the same way.

You couldn't bear that act anymore, your lungs begged for more air than you were receiving, You were drowning and you didn't know why, if it was because of the heady kiss or anything else. Reluctantly, you turned away from the kiss, only for him to pull you back, claiming and biting your lips with demand.

One became two, two became three, so on until you couldn't count them anymore. Albeit you two had to pull apart for air, that didn't stop him from continuing to move his hand up and down your lower back.

"You are the most beautiful person I've ever seen," he muttered looking you straight in the eye, causing you to blush at his comment, though the next words that came out of his mouth were ready to tear you apart, "but you are not her." Your name slowly escaped his lips, as if he was trying to emphasize that you are the boring one and the second course in the story.

Frank only shows you the leftovers, never who he is completely.

You'd have preferred to be stabbed than to feel how gently he drove you away, as if you were delicate and fragile in his hands. You saw how he took your bag and stood by the door, clearly stating that at the moment, you weren't welcome.

"This-this is how this end? You dump me? You kick me out while intoxicated?" You asked dumbfounded by his actions, you hoped that he would at least accompany you but his body language clearly said that he expected you to leave on your own two feet.

"I'm sorry I—"

"You can apologize but I won't forgive you," you said as you rose from his bed, taking your jacket and bag from his hands. "Don't worry about showing me the way out either, I know how to leave."

The only reason you didn't slam the door was probably because his parents were sleeping, so you had no choice but release your frustration by crying.

Frank Morrison was not a good man.

But you expected him to be one for you.

-

The seasons changed, appearances did too, but feelings kept floating around.

You didn't see Frank in what had been months, he didn't contact you and neither did you. You didn't blame him for what happened (at least not so much) you decided to kiss him even knowing that he has a girlfriend. 

Someone who gives him warmth and comfort.

Even if you tried to hate him, you couldn't. And the scenes of him wrapping her arms around Julie at school reminded you how much you wanted him. 

Why not me? Was the first thing you thought when witnessing those disgusting moments.

But the worst thing was when you felt him, when you felt his gaze fixed on you. You didn't need to see who was looking at you, you already knew.

Frank Morrison was not a good man, but he felt. He felt remorse every time he thought of you. 

And he felt it too when he was with Julie.

Because it felt bad yearning for someone else.

And despite the damage he'd done to you, you still cared. The ultimate proof of that is that you are standing on his doorstep right now. Just to find out if the rumor was true. God only knows what would happen to Frank if he got suspended.

After knocking a few times and getting no response, you were about to leave until the door opened abruptly, startling you at the sudden display of Mr. Clive.

You never spoke to him other than to greet him with manners, leaving that aside, he was just an angry drunk and the smell that his body gave off only served to reinforce the pitiful truth. His aura was so dark and depressing that you couldn't help but wince.

"Hello Mr. Clive, I wanted to know if Frank was here by chance." You said as nicely as you could, afraid of provoking some kind of negative reaction from him.

The man in front of you looked you up and down before answering, it made you feel dirty for a moment, wishing you were some insect rather than a person. "That good-for-nothing must be fucking someone else, little bug." The poisonous words along with his stinky breath further strengthened your grimace, if you were brave enough you would break his shitty face.

"That is not what I asked, sir."

That answer seems to have not liked him because he settled in his place, trying to intimidate you. "Should be grateful that I opened the door and im talking ya." Rudely, Clive slammed the door in your face, making you curse under your breath.

Even though you knew that Frank was adopted, there were times when you thought 'like father like son'. It was terrifying to think how he despised so much a person with whom he shared a certain resemblance and even gestures.

Coming home has never felt this good, worries still filled your whole being but there was nothing better than having dinner and going to sleep, problems could wait for tomorrow.

Taking something from the fridge quickly, you went to your room, there was no noise and you weren't in the mood to play music to have background noise.

You despised when you were completely alone in the dark and in silence, because that would allow you to overthink. And luckily the only thing that crossed your mind was calling your friend, they would be more than willing to hear you rant about Frank and the entire legion -even though you barely knew the names of the others- the calls with them always lifted your spirits, taking you out of the darkness and removing to some extent the emotional pain you suffered from.

And a specific call always reminded you that they were there for you.

-

"I hate him. I hate him because he doesn't know how good and bad he makes me feel. I hate him because if he does, he doesn't move away from me, he excites me almost without knowing it. And I hate him because I know he loves me but not in the way I do," you exclaimed, squeezing the phone a little too hard, thank god you had the house alone, it'd be horrible to have to cry in silence, swallowing your tears painfully.

"Okay, sweetie, listen to me I need you to calm down, we—"

"I know she is only a year younger than us and there is no problem with Frank dating her but-but I-" The words stuck in your throat, you could feel your stomach churning, perhaps from remorse or even distress. Admitting and letting the words out wasn't easy.

"I wish he would notice me."

And so you broke, shedding tear after tear, clutching your clothes until your knuckles turned white from the iron grip. The pain wasn't compared to that of your heart, because if denying romantic feelings -those that burned into your entire being- was difficult, then saying them out loud was even worse.

"I know, I know," Your friend said with a reassuring tone, almost like a mother worried about her child. "And trust me, it will hurt like a kick in the balls when you see them both together, but the pain will pass and better days will come. There will come a time when you wonder who the fuck is Frank Morrison. Maybe the neighborhood baker?"

Through your tears you giggled, possibly they were right, although the chances of forgetting someone like him were low.

"Do you think he will do the same thing he did to me?" you whispered more to yourself than to anyone else, thinking and wanting another person to suffer the same thing that you was selfish but the envy you had for Julie was stronger.

There was a long pause before their voice answered, "I highly doubt it, sweetie. They are a couple, they'll probably break up but I don't think he'll do the exact same thing to her." You gave a whimper before they nervously exclaim, "But don't worry about him, he will surely come back with his tail between his legs."

"It's been weeks, not a damn message or sign that he was ever my friend. What good is it that he looks at me if he does it with disdain? As if I had ruined his life."

"He's acting like a moron, give him time and he'll come back, all men do the same. They come back when they realize they lost something valuable."

"Then you make me understand that if he comes back I have to welcome him with open arms?" you asked confused at your friend's pun.

"You should check those ears honey because I didn't say that shit. If that dickhead comes back, give him the punch of his life, so he learns not to play with other people's feelings."

"Surely I will." You laughed, seeing Frank fall on his ass would be the glory.

"That's the spirit! Now, wake up to the real world before you keep thinking about 'the-boy-we-shouldn't-mention'." They said goodbye before cutting off the call.

-

Slowly opening your eyes, you were greeted with darkness, indicating that it was still night. You realized that somehow you'd been a victim of the softness of your bed since you were still half asleep. so you checked the clock and managed to see what time it was.

'2 am, fuck.'

You sighed annoyed and settled back into your sheets, determined to sleep until your body wants to wake up.

You were already falling back into your dreams until you heard an almost inaudible noise, it was probably the neighbor's cat, usually always prowling the neighborhood at odd hours looking for food. If you were fully conscious you would feed it but now it's time to sleep.

The noise rang out again, and this time it came clearer and louder to your ears. It looked like it was someone or something knocking on your window and it became persistent at the lack of response. You wanted to ignore it but it was so unbearable that made you want to take your ears off. So you got up abruptly and opened the window looking down. Already jaded by the interruption of your sleep.

Looking outside your house, your heart skipped a beat at the very familiar figure that stood there in all his splendor.

"Frank?" you murmured loud enough for him and not the residents of the house to hear you.

He whispered your name back, adjusting his jacket for the cold Ormond weather. "Can I- can I talk to you?"

"I don't know, can you?" you replied coldly, you probably would've made a joke about how your tone resembled the cold city weather but this wasn't the time.

"The old man told me you wanted to see me, I took advantage and came here."

For a couple of seconds, you were reminiscing about the time Frank told you that you were the only person who had come to his house. You shook your head to dispel the matter and went back to Frank, who was patiently waiting for your answer.

"Okay, I'll give you ten minutes."

You opened the door and Frank didn't wait a bit before hugging you, almost crushing you. The leather of his jacket felt cold against your skin and left you shivering against his body, he'd caught you off guard but still you didn't return the hug, too uncomfortable with the display of affection from a person you haven't talked to in months.

"I missed you, too much," he whispered, making you sigh at his warm breath against your ear.

"Frank, let's talk to my room, okay? I don't wanna wake anyone up."

With a nod from him, you two went straight to your room. You let the black-haired man analyze your room like the first time, he looked like a child tasting a new candy.

"So what did you want to talk about?" Your voice seemed to take him out of his world, as he blinked and finally looked at you.

"What did you want to talk about? You're the one who showed up at my house."

"Yes, but now you are the only one at my house, I doubt you thought something happened to me so I deduce that you have something to say to me."

"I already told you, you wanted to see me and I took the opportunity to come."

There was silence in the room, your gaze never left his, determined not to lose the little game. You waited until he finally gave up and looked away, you smiled to yourself at the victory.

"I went to see you because I was worried about what happened," you went to your bed and threw yourself on it, you knew that Frank's eyes were following you intently, waiting for you to continue, "about what you did."

"You're going to scold?" he asked amused, leaning defiantly against the wall near your door.

"I told you I was worried, did you really get suspended?"

Your name escaped his lips, you didn't know if it was in the form of a warning or regret, but you didn't care, you looked at him expectantly. His next words could be a downfall or a miracle, you expected him to deny everything, to say that he was wrong and to admit his mistakes.

"It is true, I don't know what you heard exactly but it's true." At your expression of surprise, he avoided any type of eye contact, almost fearing that your gaze would set him on fire. "And I'm going to drop out of school for that reason."

"Wait, you can't be serious. Studies are everything! What will you do when you have to get a job, do adult stuff?" You exclaimed, feeling a sudden heat from the rush of emotions.

At your comment, Frank gave a sarcastic laugh, one of the ones you hated the most with all your being, "That's none of your business, I'll figure it out, I don't need a little piece of paper to prove I got more than one neuron."

"You cannot do this, you're gonna condemn yourself and I can assure you that there will be no one there to help you, not even Julie." You pronounced desperately, you could bet you were the only one who had worried about his future and you'd be right. He has no friends, he has company.

"Julie, Susie, Joey and you can all fuck off, I don't need your help or anyone else's, I've been alone for half my life, I can deal with more loneliness, it won't change anything." Frank had the facade of calm but his tone gave him away and you knew that if you two continued like this, nothing would end well.

You scoffed after hearing his little speech, being the only one who was able to see him suffer, "That's bullshit and you know that! You are always the one who pushes us all away! Waiting for us to follow you as if you were a religion, what's wrong with you?"

"You don't know what you're talking about," he yelled at you, he had reached his limit and the glass was finally overflowing. "I tried so hard to be your friend and I supported you in every single thing, but you couldn't return the same treatment to me. It was such a difficult task for you, wasn't it?"

"Because you're a freaking criminal, Morrison." You returned the same tone he used, getting dangerously close to him. "I haven't seen you do a thing right since we stopped talking, I know you and you're better than this."

"You're just jealous."

"Jealous?" you asked stunned. "Listen to me and do it well, Frank. I am and always was the only damn person who cared about you here in Ormond. When you gave a shit to Clive I was there to treat you like a king. I treated you like Julie won't even be able to do it in three lives, So don't…" you paused when gasp rose from your throat, unable to bear the overwhelming situation. "Shit, I gave you my hand and you took my whole arm and still... still I—"

You were interrupted by the strong pull of Frank, who brought you closer to his chest, wrapping his arms around you. He took your chin gently, the familiar fingers were more callused than the last time you felt them but you didn't care, you still resisted his grip, struggling to separate your body from his.

"Yeah, that's right," he muttered, drastically changing the mood. "You are the only one," the words slipped from his mouth, almost like a prayer. You wanted to hear it, pray it over and over and over again.

You looked at him as he slowly loosened his grip, you doubted the existence of the truth behind his words but you were friends, he wouldn't hurt you. Even if he already did.

"Am I?"

"You were and you are." He took one of your hands and led you to your bed. You wanted to protest, kick, fight, you really wanted to. But you didn't.

Not wanting to push your limits too much, he positioned himself below you, almost giving himself up. You, on the other hand, were on his lap, without knowing what to do.

"You have no idea how much I wanted you. Having another woman under my arms and still thinking about you was killing me, you were the reason for my martyrdom." You saw him swallow hard as soon as you put your hand against his cheek, he seemed desperate even when he took that same hand and directed it from his chest to his bulge in his pants.

You whimpered at the sensation, the feeling of being longed for by Frank himself was too suffocating, a desire that was reserved for your dreams and fantasies, impossible for it to be real.

But how to think that this was a dream if you felt his hands running over your body in a firm but prurient way? whispering to you how good you were to him and nothing had even started.

The annoying and persistent noise of a cell phone interrupted both of your act, bringing you out of the nebulous lust in which you got into.

Frank grunted in frustration, slowly pulling away from you to take the call. You saw him take out his cell phone and answer the call, you didn't want to seem very curious but at the end of the day he was in your room. It was impossible not to listen.

The only thing you heard was that he confirmed his presence somewhere.

"Hey," Frank began, "they call me, we have an issue to resolve." His words should've worried you but instead you just squirmed in discomfort, knowing very well what he meant by that.

"It's fine."

"I don't want things-our thing, to end in nothingness, after doing one last thing with the legion, I promise I'll be back, we can have that talk that we both needed."

"Only with me will you talk? Don't you think you owe somebody else explanations too?" You asked looking for his look, you appreciated that he wanted to talk and not argue but he would also have to talk to her.

You saw how he frowned slightly but calmed down and sighed, "Yes, I will, but later." Frank cradled your face in his hands and brought his lips closer, you closed your eyes expectantly until you felt them on your cheek.

"Please wait for me, I won't be long."

And so you waited, It had been about an hour since he left and you wandered around your room looking for something to do. You left your bedroom door and your window open, patiently awaiting Frank's arrival. You didn't know how things would go from now on but you and he were always friends, even if you two parted and went separate ways, fate would always bring you together. You were glad that things are not so awkward or weird, you expected the relationship to flow normally. You had your hopes pinned on this.

You had no idea why the matter was taking so long but it's Frank we're talking about, he could easily transform a 5 minute talk to a 2 hour one.

So you kept waiting, it went from 3 am to 4.45, you resigned yourself and closed your eyes, happily imagining that you would wake up with his arms around yours. With a future ahead. With so many things to do.

All that to wake up with a cold bed. With no one by your side. Even the cold weather was laughing at you.

The assurance that he hadn't abandoned you was in you. So you went to class normally and repeated yesterday's routine.

The couple of days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months. But you waited for him, because you had nothing else to do and because you still wanted that talk. You needed it. You needed him.

The rumors regarding the disappearance of the legion were varied, many said they belonged to sects and others clung to the idea that they had murdered a man. The man they had found buried in the snow.

The months and years may pass, you may move elsewhere, but the cold of that night in Ormond will haunt you to the end. That and also the memory of a portrait made by your hands. Hands that belonged to a body, a body that even a bad man like Frank could come to love.

He was not a good man, but he did care. And you knew it.

[chibiwritesstuff]

Hey! I'm the one that asked for the Lilia and Malleus ask. I love what you wrote so much man! (My poor heart died 😂) I am a big sucker for happy endings tho. So when you get the time can I ask for a happy ending ?

Ha, my laptop thought they won against me but I came out victorious (even though I took literal months to publish this.) In my defense, all the versions I’ve written for this didn't suit my tastes (not that this is any good either.) Hope this makes justice for such a long wait. Here’s the sequel/good ending for the angst fic.

Now, let’s enter this twisted wonderland~

Walking past the now dying garden that used to flourish in Ramshackle dorm, he sighed as he reminisces about the times you two stroll and spends time together. It's been years since you’ve left NRC, He and Lilia are about to graduate tomorrow, Silver will be a fourth-year student and the new vice-dorm leader while Sebek will be in his third year and the dorm leader much to the said fae’s surprise. He chuckled at the memory of how honored and tearful the young fae is upon being selected as its prefect.

“I have so much to tell you, (y/n).” He whispered at the wind.

“Hey, Tsunotarou!” The familiar voice of the tanuki cat being called that long-forgotten name.

“Hey, Tsunotarou! Are we going on a walk again tonight?” You smiled at him, your hand extended as an invitation.

“Grimm, wasn’t it?” He crouched down to pet the said creature.

“Hey! I’m not a pet!” The flames on his ears flared, responding to his emotions. “What are you doing here, anyway? The roses are all dead.”

A wave of sadness flashed in his eyes as another memory resurfaced. Returning his gaze towards the dead flowerbed, he let the memory linger.

“Thanks for the seeds, Tsunotarou!” You excitedly began digging and planting said seeds. “To commemorate our friendship, these roses will be our friendship roses!”

“Yes, they are…” His hand ceased from moving before sitting down the ground. “It’s all gone…”

“By the way, I never managed to get the courage to ask you but why did (y/n) went back home crying that time?”

“I was but a foolish man…” The young heir steered his gaze towards the night sky before closing his eyes. “Had I just enjoyed the present than worry about the future, perhaps they would still be here and smile brightly like they always had.”

“I’m sure if you say sorry, they’ll forgive you.” Grimm responded nonchalantly. “They said saying sorry is the first step to forgiveness… or something like that.”

He chuckled and stood up heading towards his dorm. “If things were only that easy…”

That night, he slept and dreamt about you two walking in the bed of roses you’ve grown at Ramshackle. Loving every single moment that you two get to spend subconsciously knowing that once he wakes up, he’ll return to the harsh reality of you not being by his side.

“Tsunotaro, I think I have fallen for you.” You quietly said warmth spreading across your cheeks. “Will you let me stay by your side till the last breath I take?”

This is all but a dream… so I can keep dreaming, right?

“Yes, only if you’ll let me do the same.”

“Really?!” Joy showed throughout your being which made him smile back. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow! Happy graduation!”

He woke up gasping for air. That dream sounded too good to be true and yet… he can’t help but be hopeful. Putting on a happy face, he got dressed on what Lilia laid out for him and this time, everybody remembered to tell him the time of the celebration. He can’t help but laugh just thinking what your reaction would have been about the changes of the students' behavior towards him after he tried to socialize better. Heading towards the stage getting his diploma as odd as it is, he acted formally as he mingled with the rest of the dorm leaders until a voice echoed throughout the area.

“Tsunotarou!” Receiving a hug from the back as the voice caught him off guard, he turned still not believing what he’s seeing. “Congrats on graduating!”

“(y/n)?” His voice faltered, overwhelmed with so many emotions. “How? Why? I –”

“Uh-oh… Lilia! Your king here is having an information overload!” You called which made the said fae laugh out loud.

“How are you here?” He finally managed to ask. “The mirror –”

“Ah, that would be my doing…” Idia whispered but managed to catch everyone’s attention. “It was an accident! I was messing around to make a teleporter so I can just teleport to the store than having to leave the dorm but it ended up making people travel through dreams then I managed to talk to (y/n). Then we both decided we might as well try to make travel here and back to their world possible.”

“Looks like you did meet me once upon a dream, yeah?” You grinned at the joke about his ancestor’s song.

He merely hugged you, savoring each second of being around your arms. “I don’t have anything ready but if you’ll give me a second chance…”

He lets go and kneeled on one knee before looking up to you once more. “Will you be my spouse till the day you draw your last breath?”

Time is but a blink of an eye for fae and before he knew it, the Star Sending is happening once again. He was happy when Silver and Sebek were chosen to be Star Gazers albeit the mentioned students aren’t. He strummed his electric guitar with no particular music in mind as he lets his mind wander until his gaze dropped on a familiar mug.

“Happy Birthday, Lilia!” You grinned as you handed him a mug that said “No. 1 Gamer Dad” on it. “Hope you like it!”

His lips curled into a faint smile as he remembered that day. It's been a year since you left and yet it felt like it was just yesterday. Letting go of the instrument, he walked towards the mug and lifted it intending to fill it with tomato juice.

“How have you been, little one?” He spoke towards the image of you in his head. “I hope life is treating you better in your world.”

Without me in it… he sighed as sadness filled his chest. If I could change the past, or at least be given another chance… will you give your love to me once more?

“Old m –” Silver cleared his throat before entering. “I mean, Lilia. I’m here to take your wish.”

He took a deep breath before putting a huge smile to face his son. “Ah, yes of course! You know my wish. I wish for both –”

“Stop.”

This surprised the old fae as his son never raised his voice on him. “We both know that that’s not your true wish.”

“Silver, do humor me and just let me finish my wish.” He pouted, swirling the tomato juice in the mug before drinking it.

“Father, we all know how much you love them.” The young knight sighed before taking a seat on a nearby chair. “You always gush about them whenever we eat or do anything.”

“Oh Silver, I appreciate the concern but sometimes you got to let go.” A forlorn smile graced his lips.

“And sometimes you have to be selfish!” Both of them looked surprised at his outburst yet Silver regained his composure and continued. “You love them, right?! Then why not be with them? You took me in out of love, right?”

“There’s a big difference here, Silver.” Lilia rubbed his temple as stress starts to build up.

“What’s the difference? We’re both humans with a short lifespan so you can't use that as an excuse!” His silver eyes narrowing as he gazed upon his father before widening. “You’re afraid, aren’t you?”

He let out a defeated chuckle before nodding. “You’ve grown so much, Silver. I’m so proud of you, you know?”

“Why? You could have been happily living with them.”

“Because I’m afraid to witness her death if we ever do start a family together.” At last, the older fae began letting his tears fall in front of his son. “I don’t think I’ll be able to survive seeing her pass while I still live on. I want it to last for all eternity but to remove her mortality is too inhumane.”

“I-I’m sorry…” Silver lowered his head, having a little understanding of what he meant. “I didn’t mean to –”

“So, for my wish this Star Sending…” After a pathetic attempt to control his tears, he gulped and continued. “I want to be given another chance to be with them… and this time, I’ll bear the pain of losing them when the time comes.”

A shine of light filled the wishing star confirmed his wish inside the item. Silver walked towards him and let the man cry his heart out in his arms. He both felt sad and honored that Lilia is willing to cry in front of him. He truly hopes that his father’s wish is granted. Bringing out the wishing star, he proclaimed his wish.

“I wish (y/n) can return in twisted wonderland once more.”

“Silver, you didn’t have to waste your wish for this…”

“I don’t mind having a parent like them.” He smiled before heading towards the door with both wishing stars at hand. “They’re a much better cook than you anyway.”

“Hey!”

The day of Star Sending has arrived and everybody is once again by the huge tree behind NRC. It went well without a hitch and Lilia’s phone filled with recordings of Sebek and Silver dancing in perfect sync towards the taiko being played by Jack of Savanaclaw. As all students began returning to their dorms, the bat fae decided to stay a little longer and was given privacy by the rest of the Diasomnia students.

“Catch me, Lilia!” A voice screamed from above.

Turning his attention to the voice’s origin. His eyes widened before extending his arms ready to catch the person. A huge smile on his face as you landed safely into his arms. You let out a sigh of relief as you steadied yourself in his hold.

“Do not question why I was up in the air.” You huffed, glaring at the sky. “Safe landing my ass! I was dropped off 50ft up in the air!”

“My oh my, did you fall in love with me all over again?” He teased as he covertly wiped his tears.

“I saw that and maybe but I would still prefer a much safer landing.” You huffed before smiling at him. “What happened to the ‘I wish for world peace between all creatures’ wish, huh?”

“How did you know?”

“My coworker and I were trying to make a portal to get me back here because I forgot some stuff here to grab and funnily enough those wishing stars became our fuel source to open that portal.” You pulled out your phone and confirmed your arrival with a whole long spiel on how the landing would have killed you if you weren’t caught by Lilia. “But by your wish I assume there’s no need for me to get packing away from here?”

“Yes, if you’ll give me another chance.” He held out his hand, a makeshift flower ring on his palm. “Will you give me the honor of being your significant other?”

[accio-victuuri]

BJYX : Kimi no Na wa ( Your Name )

“Once in a while when I wake up, I find myself crying. The dream I must have had I can never recall. But the sensation that I’ve lost something lingers for a long time after I wake up. I’m always searching for something, for someone. This feeling has possessed me I think from that day when the stars came falling. It was almost as if a scene from a dream. Nothing more, nothing less than a beautiful view.”

Kimi no Na wa is a japanese animated film released in 2016 and tells the story of Mitsuha, a girl who lives in Itamori and events that happened when she switches bodies with Taki who is a boy from Tokyo.

What does it have to do with BJYX :

* Web’s phone WP - The whole Kimi No Na Wa reference started because people noticed that Web is using this wallpaper which is a reference to the film. Here are some key dates & moments that fans saw him use it.

1. 9/8 - 9/9 2018 Web is seen using the wallpaper. It’s also around the same time he used the “I miss you cap” which was from 9/6-9/12. same timeframe as GG’s trip to Japan. 

2. 10/09/2018 Web is using it again and fans had a glimpse of it. This is the same day he recorded the Loreal event where he drew the heart with a mole. In the film, there is a scene where the characters were supposed to write each other’s name on their hands. one of them ended up writing “ i love you” instead. 

3. He was also using it during the Thailand fanmeet. which shows he’s been using it for some time, tho we can’t tell for sure if he changed it in between.

4. From a recently shared photo, fans noticed that he was using it as early as the filming of CQL.

* Omotesando - During GG’s trip to Japan he shared pictures in Omotesando, Tokyo which is one of the places featured in the film. It is shown in flashbacks when Mitsuha visits Tokyo. Take note that this trip was around 9/8 - 9/12 2018. We don’t have evidence like an interview where GG says he watched it. however he is known to like anything related to japan ( i.e anime, food and even clothes ) so it’s not too far fetched that he watched this too. I also find it nice that Taki in the film is good in drawing and his dream is to be an architect. 

• The red string & ribbon - The protagonist in the film wears a red ribbon, which is similar to one Wei Wuxian is known for. Also the movie uses the theme of “red string of fate” which ties people together. In Japanese belief — this red string and those who are destined through it can surpass time, space and circumstances. In the movie, Taki also ties this red string on his wrist. I know GG’s red bracelet has a completely different meaning of why he wears it but it’s a similarity worth mentioning. 

Themes in the Movie that relates to BJYX :

1. Long distance love - In the film, Mitsuha lives in the rural area and Taki in Tokyo. Not only do they have this physical distance between them, they are also essentially, in different timelines. It ties with BJYX, who are in the same country but are so busy with what they do— they are seldom together. It’s a love that works beyond the constraints of time, distance and their personal obligations. As mentioned in the above dates that he used the wallpaper, it was the same as GG’s trip.

2. A relationship that defies all - This connects to the red string of fate and how strong it’s hold is the people it attaches together. There are so many things in the way for GG & Web to even be together, yet they seem to be connected by this red string. Web, with his medical condition but he still decided to pursue his dream. Also him staying in China and becoming a solo artist due to some sad twist of fate. GG on the other hand was already a successful designer but he decided to do what he always wanted to — to sing. Two different people who were not even ACTORS to begin with— ended up starring together in a Drama. A drama whose story is not even supposed to be told as it is. The fact that these two met in the first place has FATE written all over it. DESTINY. 

3. A gap in years - In the film, Taki’s timeline is three years ahead of Mitsuha. This causes more hardship in their chances to meet and generally makes the story even more interesting. As we all know, these two have a 6 year age gap which generally does not affect them at all. This also applies to Web, being essentially, a few years ahead of him in terms of his career and being GG’s sunbae. 

4. Waiting for the right time - The relationship in the movie is constrained due to the difference in their timelines and the fact they can’t seem to meet each other in person. They had to wait years to finally be together. GG and Web first met officially in 2017 and had no interactions on camera. Then on 2018, they meet again and that seemed like the perfect time for their relationship to start. I added this as a thought for what the future is for BJYX and the essence of  ‘ the road ahead is along..’ that bxgs often use. There is a lot of uncertainties but we have to be patient and trust that the right time for SZD will come. 

5. Dreams - In the earlier parts of the movie the characters thought that the moments where they are in a different body is just a dream. GG said his time filming the Untamed in the summer was like a Dream. Also in this video for bazaar he mentioned that he found his love in a Dream/ waking up from it. This has been a long standing theory by bxgs— that during filming, it felt like things were not real. They were in and out of their characters and real emotions were so hard to tell. But after filming and continuing to see each other + the Summer of 2019 symbolizes waking up. They became Xiao Zhan and Wang Yeebooo, completely separate from LWJ and WWX.

Note: I’ve been wanting to make this post for some time because this reference just keeps coming back and I wanna keep all that I know in one place. I might add some more details but for now, this is it. I also want to go back to being actively making bjyx posts like this which is main the reason why I made this account in the first place. this is the inspiration i needed. <3

[deiitaelric]

split up - part 4

PART 3 HERE

The young adult had more experience in cooking due to his age, so he checked the ingredients and decided on a dish himself. He started to work right immediately and kept Izuku working by his side to make sure he didn't leave a finger in the process. He started to command the other few students who went to help too, seventeen years old Katsuki included, who just wouldn’t stop complaining about being given orders. When dinner was ready, all class 3-A - plus added ones - had dinner together in small groups, the students still asking occasionally questions to their guests. 

Once he had his stomach full of delicious food, the kid reclined his exhausted body on Izuku. The greenette smiled tenderly and asked if he could pick him up, receiving a simple nod. Mini Kacchan made himself comfortable between his arms, resting his blonde head over Izuku’s shoulder. He started to fall asleep immediately even though Izuku was moving around picking up the table.

“So Bakugou-kun was this quiet, huh?” Uraraka let his eyes draw the kid factions.

“No really. I think he’s just exhausted. He had a tough day” Izuku rested his hips towards the counter, the duty finished.

“He kept looking at you all the time he was talking to us, like checking you were still there” She raised a hand and pocked one soft and round baby cheek, causing the kid to frown in his dreams.

“I’m the only one he knows here. I didn’t change that much so he recognized me at first sight”

“There are the others” The girl pointed toward the young adult and the two teens who were negotiating - or arguing about - something in a corner of the room.

“You know Kacchan, right?” Inquired Izuku, smiling with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, you’re right” She chuckled. “It’s cute seeing him being this openly affectionate with you, it’s unexpected but… right, you know? ”

“I know what you’re thinking” He dedicated a sad smile to the other three. “But Kacchan and I had these two past. The ‘friends’ past,” he caressed the kid’s hair making mini Kacchan to hug him tighter; “and the ‘no friends’ past” Izuku diverted his eyes back to the others, where the younger seemed to be losing his patience. Uraraka placed a comforting hand on Izuku's back and he smiled at her. “It’s okay. Is the past. We are good now and it seems like it would be even better”

She opened his mouth to say something but her eyes left him to look up right behind him. Izuku was about to turn when he felt a warm hand on the top of his head.

“Hey. Let me have him”

Izuku turned, which caused the warm hand to tousle his curls, his bangs entering in one eye. He looked up with the other eye, smiling even if he wouldn’t want to.

“Kacchan! I’m fine”

“Come on, you’ve been carrying him around for a while” The young adult tousled even more his curls but brushed the bangs away from his eye before grabbing the kid.

“Kacchan, you don’t have to, I can-”

“I know you’re strong enough to carry him, I just wanna help” The blonde settled the child on his chest and it moved something deep inside Izuku. It kinda suited him.

“Oh, well, then. Thank you, Kacchan” Izuku turned back and found Uraraka was gone. “Huh?”

“Should I put him on the couch? I think it’s late enough for him to sleep”

Izuku put his thumb between his lips, thinking about it. “He said he wanted to sleep with me so probably I should take him to my room. He said it himself so probably he’ll gone mad if I don’t take him with me”

“Yeah, he’s definitely gonna be mad if he wakes up in another place”

“I’ll take him to my room, then” Izuku made a move to grab the kid back but the young adult didn’t allow him to do so. “A-are you gonna carry him to my room?”

“This way, right?” Was all the blonde said before starting marching towards the elevator. Izuku left the room with a red glare following his flustered steps.

Izuku brushed the blonde hair away from the little face and covered him with the cover. He looked peaceful and Izuku kept looking at him until his company made a little noise. Turning, he found Older Kacchan looking at an All Might’ figurine. He smirked when his eyes met.

“You have one of these of Dynamight, you know?” Izuku held back a laugh. “Why are you laughing? I’m telling the truth” The blonde kept smirking, leaving the figurine right in place again. 

“I know”

“You’re not even a little surprised” He raised an eyebrow, not losing the smirk.

“Of course I’ll have Kacchan’s merch. I simp for the best”

“Oh? So you simp for me?” The young adult took a step, thinking it would derive one step back from Izuku. He smiled wider when it didn’t happen.

“I think you know already I’m a little bit of a fanboy”

“I still don’t get when you’ll gonna just broke under me or be full of this stubborn confidence”

“Broke un-under… Wh-what?” Izuku blushed hard, embarrassed for his own assumptions. “I-I think you should g-go to bed too, it’s getting late” The flustered boy opened the door only to find another blonde there. “Wha-chan!?”

“Fine! I’ll sleep at somebody else's” Katsuki proposed. Fuck Aizawa and his lazyness. How could two teens, a man and a little boy sleep in the same room with only one fucking bed? The kid had found himself a room to stay - fucking Deku’s -, but there were still three of them. He’ll do the same as the kid and the other two could kill each other if they wanted.

“Are you leaving me the trouble?” The young adult pointed at the teen with his head. Said teen started trembling out of annoyance.

“Go you to sleep  in somebody else’s room instead of me, then, like I fucking care”

“I’m sleeping in the fucking couch” Teen said, patience lost long ago.

“It’s all clear, then” Adult Katsuki concluded, leaving without another word. Original Katsuki found himself sighing. He would have to find himself a roommate for the night, and some spare blankets and so for his teen version. Heading towards the door, he could see how his oldest self was carrying the kid, dragging a flustered Deku behind.

When all the work was done, Katsuki cursed himself as he walked right towards Deku’s room. What was he doing, anyway? He didn’t know, and he really didn't expect what he found: a very red freckled face opening the door he was just about to knock.

“Wha-chan!?”

The nervousness of the greenette, seeing the twentyish blonde inside his room, twisted something deep down his chest. He just frowned deeply and pointed with an angry hand to his older self.

“You. Get out”

The young adult did so, but not without stopping one second to make sure Izuku knew he could count on him for anything and tousled his hair one more time. Then he started walking away, not looking back.

Katsuki stood there, thunderstruck, until Izuku’s eyes met his’.

“Is there... Anything you want?”

Katsuki just blurted the first thing he could think.

“You better take good care of the brat”

“Of course, Kacchan”

They shared a silence and Izuku moved his feet a little uncomfortable.

“Was he-?” Katsuki started, making Izuku frown.

“Kacchan, he’s nice, okay? Did you not see how he said goodbye?”

“That’s why, I didn’t- Nevermind. I just don’t like him”

“Huh? How can you not-?”

“He acts like he knows everything, like he knows me better, like he knows you better... I don’t like it”

“He’s you but with a few more years, it���s normal he knows you better than you do now. And who would know me better than Kacchan?” Izuku shrugged, smiling at him. 

“He’s not the only one who’s pissing me off, anyway. I can’t wait for them all to fucking leave”

“I guess it’s really weird having this other ‘you’ around, but it’ll only last a few days. And the kid is pretty nostalgic”

“Whatever” Katsuki rolled his eyes and shoved his hands inside his pockets.

“Do you wanna check on him? He’s sleeping in bed” Izuku moved over to let Katsuki take a look inside the room.

“It’s fine. Are you still up for practice tomorrow?”

“Of course”

“You would have to bring the brat, tho”

“I think he would like the idea, he told me he wanted to see how much you had improved his quirk”

“His quirk, huh?” Katsuki smirked while Izuku tried to fight a laugh without success.

“Yeah, he said it was his because he’s the youngest so he’s the original and all of you are just proyections of his future self”

“...that smart fucking brat”

“You always were”

“The fucking confidence” Katsuki bonked Izuku’s head as the latter laughed again, and then he turned around. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then”

“Good night, Kacchan”

“Night, nerd”

---

PART 5 HERE

[ackermanshoe]

Edited lmao: warning this is kinda pointless and alot of farfetched theory and a veryyy long post please read at your own risk 🤡

Edit again: my analysis when I started it 1 month ago: 👩‍💼🖨️📇✒️🖋️✏️

My post now: 🤡🤡🤡🕯️🕯️🤡

Edit: I started writing this like ages ago but I don't see my own point with this writting and I'm editing it after reading @nini14 's Ackerman breaking the cycle analysis and I feel like both of these go hand in hand. So without further ado:

Triangles

Let's see as we all are made aware that aot significantly revolves around trios of friends such as the following :

Although these are the main trios that is noticeable, other trios can be made out by taking some characters from their original trios to make trios based on looks / character and dynamics. And this is where my argument comes in with this trio:

Their dynamic has always been mother father and son. Now let me explain, idk if anyone has heard about the drama triangle but here

These terms can be applied to MLE trio, Levi being the persecutor, Mikasa is the rescuer and the victim being Eren. In the first 3 seasons at least, Eren was being taken away and his decisions constently put him in danger, Levi being the persecutor who always gives Eren what he deserves for being a pain the ass and Mikasa being the rescuer always siding with Eren and protecting him no matter what. Do you see it?

This is Mikasa to a T.

The following is an example of the dad being the rescuer and the son "junior" being a victim, and much like Eren, could possibly refuse the hand that is helping him.

So that being said now that we have an understanding of their dynamics in the relationship, let's get back to understanding a triangle. Did you know triangles are one of the strongest shape because it has three sides that rely on each other hence shifting their energies on to each side and it makes the perfect shape for a bridge, architectures favourite. Why am I tell you this?

Because these dynamics that every trio is made up of in aot is because they have strong relationships.

Someone mentioned isayama loves putting move triangles and I couldn't help but agree, look at how many times he has placed Eren historia and an angry Mikasa? And subtly he has always ( to me at least) hinted the love triangle between Levi Mikasa and Eren, outside of their father-mother-son dynamic. Personally this makes sense to me the most, fueled by mikasa's dream. A choice was there to make and she unknowingly chose Levi.

Now this brings me to the death of all the trios Levi has been part of, from Isabel & Farlan to hanjo & Erwin to where we are now. Our situation before S4 was EMA+Levi = 4 people but we all know that a square isn't as strong as a triangle so something shifted. Eren, even with him in it Armin and him were more connected as for Levi and Mikasa as a pair it was more obvious. Especially in the conversation EMA had in that stare place as depicted on @gilly-bj 's analysis on similarities between rivamika and Mika's parents. Not only was Mikasa placed directly next to Levi although being feets apart in reality but her lines "another conversation only you two understand" it. Visually and verbally divided Mikasa from Eren and Armin and connected her to Levi. Both alone.

Yet another triangle placed by isayama intentionally or not is Armin Mikasa and Levi.

Because a triangle represents the process of recycle and reuse it also represent the cycle of life, an on going thing that doesn't stop, a history that repeats itself. And going back to Ackerman finally breaking this cycle of tragic fate, will they?

The fact that the whole manga series start at chapter 0 is very suspicious in it self. Why does it isyamaa? A 0, a circle that comes back around? A 0 which represents both the ending and the beginning? Why is the 1st chapter called "to you, 2000 years from now"? ( That's such a fucking impactful chapter name gives me chills )

Before my theory start I just wanna add that the story started from a narrative perspective makes me wanna believe in rivamika even more. Did eldians share the same fate in 2000 years? Who knows, but I know for sure Erens and mikasa's dynamic as the impulsive hotheaded doer and their protective calm but strong friend thinker will continue forever just like the never ending triangles.

I forgot all these ppls names on chaoter 0 so PLS bare with me.

The main dude who heavily resembles Mikasa even tho he is a man, has a incredible power just like the Ackerman's as a human AND he can shift into a titan???? Last time I checked weren't Ackerman's the bio product of titans? Remember is science is on a ongoing journey and forever progressing towards the impossible ;)

Hmmm

The little girl who resembles Gabi, who has the same dynamic as Eren, the girl also looks up to his inhumanly powers, a little too much alike Eren's idolisation of Levi ( and looking up to Mikasa's strength I think )?

Lastly, chapter 0 makes me believe it was set in the future. Look at the buildings, 2 story buildings I don't remember seeing buildings like this in the pre time skip era have you? I could be wrong tho.

If Isayama is as smart as we think he is then he might have related this chapter to the whole plot of aot. 🤷 Or it could mean something. And here's where my theory comes in and it may not be the most favourable for eldians. Let me start with the good part tho, the guy who looked like Mikasa is could be a descendant from the Ackerman clan, but he isn't half and half like Mikasa and Levi, he's full blooded. Which might be why he has the power to shift ( idk this kinda don't make sense since Mikasa and Levi can't buy hush )

So let's say rivamika got married had a family they always wanted and had the peaceful life and 2000 years from then this guy^ existed. Oddly familiar to great great great grammakasa 💀💀.

The cycle never ended for eldians, the whole world could still be mad at them for Erens action and has the prejudice against them for a long time. And the fact that they can shift is never going to change even 2000 years in the future. And the guy ( omg I keep calling him the guy cause I literally can not be bothered figuring out his name ) who lives in a far more developed society with richer civilization within the wall. It could be possible that Ymir or someone erased the eldians memories ONCE AGAIN after the rumbling ended. Because Mikasa levi weren't effected they probably were excused and got to live as they pleased. This dude is also the reason why I believe isayama does not consider the Ackerman's as side characters at all. In the end the story might have actually started with them, alluding to "the ending is just the beginning" as said by kingsama himself. ( Wtf am I saying lol )

So yeah in conclusion as I said yes story is weirdly really influenced by a large amount of triangles and loops. And yes ackerman probably would break the cycle of death after all living through hell fighting hell all for what? If not recreating into a heaven, giving it new life. I do believe in rivamika living the life they are destined for with each other but eldians fate might just be too tragic for me to see them as truly free people who gets to roam around outside the walls as they please.

I guess my point is that everything that goes around will come around, that will bring good karma for the Ackerman's and maybe a repeation of the past for the rest of the world. 😩😩 I think I fully somehow believe Eren is gone for good. Unless isayama draws him waking up from a long dream on his bed then 💀👀👀 I will throw myself away.

Thank you for reading 💞 once again I'm so sorry this post isn't as good as I'd like it to be I am sleep deprived right now and it isn't worded as well as of like it to be. But hope my delulu ness was enjoyable at least. ✌️💀

[lesbianklance]

• hunk and lance running a lemonade stand together when they're about, say ten

• hunk suggests they set up the stand in front lance's house

• but lance insits it'd be better to set up in front of hunk's for reasons..

• hunk's mom is willing to help them set up

• lance and hunk make a sign with poster board and markers

• it gets taped on the front of a folding table hunk's mom gets from the garage

• they get a jar for the change they collect

• a couple of folding chairs, also from the garage

• hunk's mom washes and cuts the lemons in half

• lance and hunk do the rest

• they squeeze the lemons

• pour the juice in the pitcher

• measure out the sugar and water

• stir it all together

• add ice cubes so it stays cool under the hot summer sun

• they have another pitcher full of lemonade in the fridge for whenever the other runs out

• and they have a taste test of course

• hunk and lance bring everything outside, along with some plastic cups to pour it in

• hunk's mom stays nearby just in case

• lance's siblings along with his mother are the first customers

• embarrassing the shit out of lance as always like the good family they are

• thankfully for lance they don't stick around too long

• but pictures were taken

• things run smoothly after that

• no one could really resist to little boys at their lemonade stand being like:

• "hi! how are you doing? would you like some of our lemonade? we made it ourselves! :)"

• business dies after a bit but hunk and lance don't mind

• they're busy discussing what they should buy with the money they've earned

• not far from the stand are keith and shiro

• they were walking home from the store since their car has been giving then problems

• keith hated it

• the store wasn't that far from the house at all

• but he wasn't in the mood to be under the sun, let alone going to the store

• he's been complaining about being thirsty for the past few minutes

• so when the lemonade stand comes into view, shiro points it out

• keith agrees, taking it back as he recognized the one's running it

• shiro ignores his protests, grabbing hold of keith's shoulder with his free hand as he tried speed walking past the stand

• lance's friendly "lemonade stand boy" smile is turned upside down

• hunk: hi :) would you like some-

• keith: i don't have any money

• shiro: *sets a quarter down in keith's hand* now you do

• lance: sorry, but we don't give out lemonade to people with mullets

• hunk nudges lance for that one, urging him to pour keith a cup

• he sighs dramatically, doing as he's told

• keith just awkwardly stands there, setting the quarter in the jar before kicking a pebble around on the sidewalk

• lance then hands keith the cup of lemonade, drawing back almost immediately as their fingers touch

• while this is happening, hunk is getting lemonade for shiro as well

• they both thank the two before walking off

• keith talking small sips of his lemonade, taking a quick glance over his shoulder

• he sees lance looking back at him and they both snap their heads the other way

• talk about awkward

• as the lemonade stand comes to an end

• they get their money counted, coming up with the total of ten dollars

• they decide to save the money they earned since they'd earned less than what they expected

• they start brainstorming other small business ideas

• hunk saying that it'd be fun to open up a bakery

• more so in the future

• lance is up with the idea

• but for now, they would just be in charge of lemonade stands

ok ok so i might make another part to this so like, the idea i have for this accidental au thing i have going on would be like: they all know each other from school which is where the whole rivalry thing comes up and say years later after the stand, hunk actually has his own little bakery, lance works for him to support his buddy then one day keith shows up and i'm sure you could tell where i'm going with this

lowkey inspired by fanart i've seen for the bakery bit- might be better if this was a fic instead of hc's. there's obviously stuff like this already our there, but it just seems fun. idk what i'm doing yet- sorry for rambling on about this asfsjhd my asks just keep getting longer too, holy shit

— 🌙 moon anon

THIS IS SO CUTE OMG SJDHSJDHSKD

i did not expect keith and shiro appearing ngl sjdhsjd

lance's "sorry we dont sell lemonade to people with mullets" I HATE HIM SO MUCH WJDWJDHSJS (affectionate)

what if lance tried to spit in keith's cup while he wasn't looking and hunk stopped him wjhdjshd

childhood friends hunk and lance that later on start a business tho is such a cute idea i love them sm ekhdshdb🥺

@cluelesslesbian we have been blessed once again

[hongism]

feels like floating (when i’m with you) - j.yh x k.hj

↣ pairing: k. hongjoong x j. yunho ↣ genre: angst/fluff/sfw, single dad!yunho, teacher!hongjoong ↣ wc: 27.2k ↣ ao3 version here (contains smut) ↣ summary: liking yunho is akin to the smell of rain after a bad thunderstorm, the first star that appears in the night sky, and the last drop of sunset before the night descends. hongjoong isn’t sure if it’s his favorite thing or the one he fears the most.

​​​

Kim Hongjoong starts his days alone. Gets out of bed, does his morning routine, then goes to the elementary school ten minutes from his apartment all on his own. He runs through the monotonous and unending routine of teaching classes and watching the children on his own, sometimes stopped by another teacher in the hallway for a small chat but they never last long. Afternoons see Hongjoong watching the kids leave the school and staying in the classroom for an extra two or so hours for the one student who doesn’t get picked up until far later than usual. Then he heads home alone and concludes his day in the all too small apartment that is perfect for someone like him. “Someone like him” being a person who doesn’t need a lot to live happily or a lot to take care of himself. He has friends and family, people around him that he talks to on a daily basis, but there’s always something lacking and a certain feeling that nags at his heart when he sees parents with their children or couples in the street or his two best friends fawning over each other because they couldn’t be more in love.

And so, Kim Hongjoong starts his days alone and ends them lonely.

“Akemi darling, did your father say when he’s coming to pick you up?” Hongjoong squats down to be eye level with the little girl, bringing a hand to brush over her jet black hair and comb through the slight frizz in it. She shifts to grin at him, crooked little teeth gleaming like pearls in the yellow sunlight.

“Daddy said he’d be late again today!” She speaks with such enthusiasm and brightness, as though without a care in the world, and Hongjoong half-wishes he could hold the same optimism that all his students have. Akemi always has had this attitude about her — a never-ending joy to her disposition that Hongjoong can’t place. One would think that the little girl would at least be bothered by the fact that her dad can’t seem to pick her up on time no matter what. However, she just skips around the classroom once all the other first graders have left and waits patiently as Hongjoong conducts his afterschool work. Then roughly around five o’clock – a little over two hours after school finishes for the day – a tall, young man who can’t possibly be much older than Hongjoong (if older at all) rushes through the hallways and raps at Hongjoong’s classroom door to pick her up.

Jeong Yunho. A strangely Korean name for someone whose daughter bears a Japanese one, but Hongjoong assumes that’s on account of Akemi’s mother and the fact that they live in Kyoto. Speaking of the girl’s mother, Hongjoong has never seen the woman before. She has never come to pick Akemi up from school, never come to school functions, parent-teacher meetings (not that Hongjoong has ever had to have one with Akemi’s parents since she’s his best student), and he has never heard any mention of her in the slightest. He has Yunho’s contact information and nothing else, so — and it’s not any of Hongjoong’s business honestly, just a thought that nags at the edges of his mind — he can only assume that Yunho is a single father.

That thought is the only reason why Hongjoong even considers staying so late after hours to look after the girl. That along with the fact that every single time Jeong Yunho comes bursting into his classroom, the man looks like he has run three marathons in a row and has no time to remember to put his ass on in the morning. (He never forgets to though. Hongjoong has checked. On occasion. Discreetly, of course, he can’t very well ogle his student’s father in plain daylight.)

But in any case, the man seems to have a hard enough life, so Hongjoong doesn’t mind looking after Akemi. It’s not like he has anything else to do with his life outside of the elementary school; all he does is go home, do some planning for future classes, maybe watch some television or read a book, then go to sleep. On weekends, Hongjoong might get daring enough to go to the bar with his friends Wooyoung and San, but recently that has been nigh impossible since he can’t bear to see them fawn over each other for more than ten minutes. He only has himself to blame for that at the end of the day. He was the one who introduced the pair and set them up on a date together, so yes, mistakes were made, Hongjoong admits it, and he regrets it only half-heartedly because they are genuinely happy together.

Back to the matter at hand though, Hongjoong just genuinely enjoys his job as a teacher and taking care of his students no matter what. Even if it means losing a bit of time in his all too small and dingy apartment once school is over.

“Same time as usual?” Hongjoong inquires, tilting his head a bit to the left. A soft smile creeps onto his lips, an attempt to comfort the girl even tho it’s unneeded since she still bears the same smile as always.

“Maybe!” Akemi pulls her head up and draws the colored pencil in her hand, scanning her little drawing with critical eyes. “Do you think Daddy will like it, Mr. Hong?”

Hongjoong releases a loud laugh at the girl’s nickname for him, and Akemi grins back as bright as ever. She adopted the nickname at some point during the first term, maybe back in May once it started becoming a daily thing for him to look after her every day once school concluded. She didn’t miss a beat during summer break either, coming back in September to continue with the same schedule and nickname.

“I’m sure he will love it, little butterfly.” If possible, the girl positively glows at the nickname, one that Hongjoong gave her quite some time ago on a whim.

“I think we’re running out of room on the fridge. But Daddy loves hanging my pictures up.” Akemi hums to herself and lifts the colored pencil once more to continue her work. “Mr. Hong, when can we do lessons again?”

“Hm? We have lessons every weekday.”

“No! Piano lessons! We haven’t had lessons in a long time!” Akemi protests, slamming her little hand flat against the desk with a small huff. She whips around to face Hongjoong, and in that moment Hongjoong is taken aback by how brightly her eyes shine at the thought of the small lessons.

In another life, perhaps Hongjoong would have been a professional pianist since that is what he studied and labored after in university, but those dreams eventually fell flat and he traded them for the thought of being a teacher instead. Being able to teach Akemi… it lets him get to have one last glimpse into those dreams and think about what it could have been like to fulfill them, to see himself in her and watch the way her eyes light up when she plays a certain passage correctly. Hongjoong has never dreamt of having children himself – being a teacher is more than enough exposure to kids as it is – but he thinks that having a kid like Akemi would make the experience quite a bit better.

“Maybe tomorrow? Your dad will be by soon to pick you up so I don’t think we have enough time today.” Hongjoong offers through a small smile, and Akemi just bobs her head in agreement. She brings her blue colored pencil back down to her little drawing and continues to color without a care in the world.

And sure enough, it’s only seven minutes later that a hand comes down on the door to the classroom, rapping at the wood frantically until Hongjoong moves to open it.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Kim. I had a meeting run late, then got caught in some traffic because there was an accident on the highway. I tried to get over here as fast as possible, but I know I’m still pretty late. I’m sorry for keeping you late. Again. As usual,” Yunho rambles as he comes face to face with Hongjoong. The rant is a typical one, one that both isn’t necessary and is entirely understandable so Hongjoong doesn’t feel a need to hear it. Still, he responds with a wide smile and flashes his teeth.

“It’s perfectly alright, Mr. Jeong. Akemi is a delight to be around as always. We worked on some drawings today! I believe she has one for the fridge at home.” Hongjoong steps aside to let the man step into the classroom, willing himself not to look at the way his white button-up clings to his body and strains around his broad shoulders. Yunho leans over the desk Akemi sits at. A grin pulls at his lips in an instant, a quick change to his demeanor as he sees his daughter that causes his cheeks to glow with joy. There’s something so raw and beautiful about the love in his eyes, a kind of love that transcends the need for words, and Hongjoong can see it often in the parents of his students. Fascinating. He doesn’t know how else to describe the emotion but in his twenty-six years of life, he has seen a multitude of different loves. This one is the most fascinating to him since he doesn’t have a child of his own to experience it with.

“Daddy, daddy! I drew a butterfly today! A pretty blue one! We can put it at the tippy top of the fridge like it’s flying, right?”

“Of course, Mimi.”

Mimi. Huh. Hongjoong definitely does not think about what it would be like to call the little girl by that name. That would be something too grossly domestic and beyond the line of things that are okay for him to say as a teacher. Because that’s all he is. A teacher. Yunho’s daughter’s teacher. Yeah. He’s doing great, by the way, just peachy.

“Why’d you draw a butterfly, little one? Hm?” Yunho runs his all too long fingers through the little girl’s hair as she shows off the drawing to her father, smiles nearly identical in the way they scrunch their cheeks and noses.

“Mr. Hong calls me little butterfly! So I wanted to draw one!”

“That’s…” Yunho shifts to look at the much shorter man, and Hongjoong just about throws up on the spot. The man sinks his front teeth into his lip, biting back a smile that has Hongjoong’s insides turning to mush.

Fuck, he has a really nice smile.

Like a terribly nice one that is exactly the kind Hongjoong would fall for in seconds back in high school or college. He blanches. All the color leaves his cheeks and blood rushes down to his toes. It’s not weird to give students nicknames, right? Why does it feel like Hongjoong is overstepping his boundaries? It feels like he’s done something wrong and–

“Her mother used to call her that.”

Oh dear god. Hongjoong has truly fucked up beyond belief. This is the end of him. He had no way of knowing – how the hell would he have figured that out? – but he still feels like he has walked to the end of a plank and leaped into shark-infested waters without anything to protect him from their sharp teeth. Maybe being eaten alive would be better than this awkwardness though. Maybe Hongjoong needs to see someone for thinking such a thing.

Yunho seems to catch what he has just said a moment later and shakes his head fervently, brown bangs fanning over his forehead with the movements.

“Ah, sorry, why – why did I say that?” Yunho huffs out a shaky and nervous laugh that somehow still sounds pretty to Hongjoong’s ears even though it shouldn’t. “Um, thank you again for… yeah, uh, for watching her as usual. Um, I tried to call the school and let you know that I would be late again but I forgot the whole ‘no calls after school hours’ part!”

“I can just give you my cellphone number?” The words are out of Hongjoong’s mouth before he can stop them, and damn, he really needs to learn how to hold his tongue around this man. His jaw stays hanging open well after he finishes speaking, but he’s still reeling from the shock of hearing himself say such a thing. Yunho blinks back at him with wide, doe-like eyes. Somewhere in the back of Hongjoong’s mind, he distinctly thinks pretty, but that thought is rudely shoved aside as he tries to recover the situation. “Like, I mean, so you can – to tell me if you’re going to be late. On a school day. So I know if I need to watch her.”

Good riddance, Kim Hongjoong. Like you don’t watch her every day regardless.

“Um, yeah, only if you’re sure? I wouldn’t wanna intrude into your personal life or anything. That would be inappropriate of me…” Yunho trails off to look at some random piece of furniture in the corner of the room.

“I’m sure! That would – that would probably be best honestly. I mean, the receptionist leaves so soon after the school closes that you wouldn’t ever be able to reach me if you’re running late. You wouldn’t be intruding. Not like I have much of a personal life outside of teaching anyway, uh, why am I telling you that? That’s not important, um, phone number! Let me write it down for you!”

Hongjoong turns on his heel to go find whatever he can to scribble his number on before he chickens out too much, head reeling and spinning. He knocks into one of the desks along the way and almost trips over the chair, which causes Yunho to lunge forward in a rush to catch him, but Hongjoong flings a hand up to ward him off.

“I’m fine! Ha, should watch my step! Might knock into a table or something, right?” Hongjoong tries to flash a toothy smile, eyes turning into soft crescents just before he knocks into yet another desk.

“Mr. Hong! You’re so clumsy today,” Akemi giggles. Hongjoong’s embarrassment surges as Yunho looks over him with nothing but sheer concern, and the temptation of crawling into a hole for the rest of his life sneaks up. He can almost hear San chastising him for thinking such a thing though, a small nagging voice in the back of his mind saying ‘no, Joong, you can’t just become a hobbit even if you are the size of one’. Rude as hell, first of all, because hobbits don’t really live in holes, and Hongjoong is not the size of one but that’s beside the point.

Hongjoong finally reaches his own desk in one piece and tugs out a plain sticky note to write his number down as hastily as possible. Akemi continues speaking to her dad, telling him some story about what she did on the playground during recess today and how another student’s mother came to pick him up early. Hongjoong really tries not to listen in (because again not his business!) but there does lie a distinct sense of longing in Akemi’s tone, even if she’s too young to truly understand what that longing is. Whether it’s a desire for her father to come sooner when he picks her up or an inherent desire to have another parental figure in her life, it’s present and there and hurts Hongjoong’s heart a bit more than it should.

He pushes that to the side in favor of carrying the sticky note, which now holds his cell number of all things on it, to Yunho.

“You can just, uh, call or text whenever. On weekdays of course.”

“Yeah, on weekdays, schooldays, yeah.” Yunho bobs his head while speaking, hastily agreeing with Hongjoong before taking the sticky note from his hands. Their hands may or may not make contact when he does so – one of Yunho’s long and spindly fingers running over Hongjoong’s knuckles – and Hongjoong full-on panics at the small contact, yanking his hand away in a rush with an embarrassing blush creeping up his neck. At this point, Wooyoung would probably point and laugh at him then call him a whole gay disaster and a half.

“Well, I hope you have a good evening!” Hongjoong blurts to break the tense silence.

“Thank you, yeah, thank you. Um, you too! And thank you again for always staying late for her. I know you aren’t paid for that and it’s probably a burden.”

“It’s – look, it’s no issue at all, I promise. I wouldn’t be a teacher if I didn’t enjoy spending time with kids, and Akemi is a delight to be around as always. She’s so well behaved and wonderful. Reminds me of myself when I was her age!” Hongjoong reaches up to rub at the back of his neck, laughing off Yunho’s concern as best he can.

“Are you saying you’re well-behaved, Mr. Kim?” Yunho chuckles a bit under his breath. There’s no alternative meaning to his words. There is not. Hongjoong cannot read into that. He refuses to think too deeply about it. So why does his brain go straight to the bedroom? For fuck’s sake, Hongjoong needs a drink, and preferably the strongest one imaginable.

“I used to be, at least.” Hongjoong really needs to stop putting his foot in his mouth like this. Yunho most definitely picks up on the possible innuendos in the topic at hand because his eyes grow a bit wide with each passing second, then he chokes on a cough, dipping his chin to his chest in a hurry to hide his embarrassment. “Uh, in any case, don’t feel bad about being a bit late to pick her up. I get the sense that you have a very busy life on top of being a father. I don’t want you to feel rushed if you have more to deal with.”

“I mean, that’s life, isn’t it?” Yunho reaches down to comb his fingers through Akemi’s hair again, a soft and fond smile painting his lips as he looks at the little girl. “Alright, Mimi, let’s get home. I still have to cook dinner and get you in bed on time.”

Hongjoong would be lying if he said that he isn’t bothered by those words. Because they nearly confirm that Yunho is taking care of Akemi on his own and without help. He’s the one to bring her to school, pick her up, take her home, cook dinner, tuck her in, and work late hours. Hongjoong doesn’t understand how he can do all that on his own. He can hardly take care of himself and remember to put food in his body; he can’t imagine having to be fully responsible for another human being the way Yunho has to. If he were more bold and perhaps less of a disaster himself, he might offer to do more to help the man. It isn’t his place to offer, however, and he is still making presumptions with all this.

“Can we invite Mr. Hong to dinner, Daddy? As a thank-you gift like you mentioned?” Akemi whips to face her father, bright eyes stretched impossibly wide.

Cue the alarm bells and sirens of panic. Hongjoong is just about losing his mind, in case you couldn’t tell, and he should not be so thrown into disarray the way he is. Maybe it has just been that long since he had even an ounce of mediocre human contact with anyone outside his immediate friend group that the idea of spending time with a new person sends him into an alternate dimension of extroversion.

“A-Ah, I couldn’t intrude in such a way.” Hongjoong shakes his head even though no one is looking directly at him.

“I’m, uh, I’m sure Mr. Kim has other plans for dinner. We shouldn’t spring plans on him like this, darling. Maybe—” Yunho shifts to look at Hongjoong with an imperceptible gleam to his eyes that will have him thinking for weeks about what it could mean “—maybe some other time.”

“Maybe some other time.”

“Like you mentioned.”

Hongjoong really doesn’t have a crush on the man or anything like that; Yunho is merely a rather attractive man and happens to be his ideal type. But the prospect that the comment has does make his stomach do a little flip and turn every which way, and that is dangerously close to developing feelings for the man. So, he does what any logical anxiety-ridden human being would do.

“I’m free on Friday. If, well, if that might work for you.”

Yunho’s thin lips fall agape, tongue poking forward to swipe over the front of his teeth.

“That… actually, yeah, that would work. Are you sure though? I don’t want you to feel obligated or anything. I could always get you a gift card if you’d rather.”

“No, no, I’d love to come for dinner. If you’ll have me that is.” Hongjoong, you dipshit, he literally offered.

“Of course we will. I would really love to thank you for all you do for Akemi and me. I just… don’t how else to do it.” Yunho motions towards the little girl, who now hums happily to herself and collects her belongings into her school bag. “She’s been wanting to invite you for quite some time but I was, uh, nervous about asking you to do more than you already do.”

“I can’t think of anything better than a nice dinner.” Hongjoong offers up a small shrug if only to quell the churning of nerves in his gut that only heightens when one side of Yunho’s lips quirks up into a smile.

“Well then, I’d better hope my cooking can live up to those expectations.”

I’m sure it can. Hongjoong has to bite the tip of his tongue to keep the words from slipping out but he manages to return Yunho’s grin with one of his own.

“You can let me know a good time that works for you whenever we’re closer to Friday. I’m sure my schedule will be clear.”

And maybe when Hongjoong breathes the words out in a tone that is a bit airy and light, Yunho’s wide eyes blink back at him with as much gratitude as those dark orbs can hold. There’s such a gentle warmth to them that Hongjoong truly feels like he is the one doing something nice for the man rather than the other way around.

…

“So let me get this straight, even though this is far from the straight category,” Wooyoung starts, palms facing Hongjoong’s exasperated expression as he mulls over his next words. San sits at his side with an equally perceptive stare, but Hongjoong doesn’t bother to look at the latter man. “You want your student’s father’s dick up your ass?”

“Wooyoung, no!” Hongjoong protests in an instant, already midway to dropping his head on the granite countertop. How he could afford an apartment with such granite is mind-boggling, but he’s never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth, as the saying goes.

“Then you want your dick up his ass? Look, hyung, it’s either one or the other. You can’t have both at once, maybe you can alternate days or something but—”

“I wonder if you could though,” San chirps. He shifts to look at his lover who sends a confused glance in his direction with little other acknowledgment. Hongjoong already knows where this conversation is headed without needing San to continue it at all, but the man must not pick up on Hongjoong’s mental screams for him to stop. “I suppose the actual asshole and dick are too far apart for that to be probable… unless you’ve got a toy. Then you can simultaneously ride a toy and fuck someone and have the best of both worlds.”

“Why are we having this conversation? We do not need to be having this conversation! At all!”

“Dipshit, just have a threesome at that point,” Wooyoung remarks before shifting to smack San’s arm hard with the back of his hand.

“Is that your way of saying you wanna invite Seonghwa over?”

“No, you idiot, Seonghwa is engaged.” Wooyoung rolls his eyes as though San has just said the unspeakable, then returns to staring Hongjoong down with sharp eyes. He pauses a moment there, seeming to remember something, and chimes up once more, “Besides, I dipped my toes in those waters, and Seonghwa is far too gentle and vanilla for my liking. I’m sure Yeosang absolutely adores that himself, but I need to be demolished in the bedroom.”

“Gross, just – too much information, Wooyoung!” Hongjoong groans. The man in question just lifts his hands to his head as though to defend himself.

“Okay, first of all, I will personally body you just for saying that in front of Hongjoong. Secondly, when the fuck did you sleep with Seonghwa?”

“Like… um, a couple months before he and Yeosang got together? I don’t really remember it all too well because – well, it was boring, okay? Don’t tell him I said that, he’ll rip me a new one.”

“I would pay to see Seonghwa fight you honestly.” San glances over Wooyoung’s smaller frame, eyes narrowed in a way that shows he’s mentally measuring Wooyoung up with Seonghwa, who is far taller than him to begin with so that’s just a disaster waiting to happen.

“I know you would, which is why I’m not giving you head for the next three days just for that.”

“God, you two are so gross.”

“Three days? Come on, isn’t that a bit harsh?”

“Hello, um, can we talk about my gay panicking instead?” Hongjoong pleads, motioning towards himself with flopping hands, and Wooyoung only snorts in response at first. San huffs out a sigh but relents in the discussion. He leans towards Wooyoung, chin coming to a rest atop the man’s shoulder, and despite all Wooyoung’s insistence that he was annoyed, he just leans into the touch. A hand reaches up to comb through San’s black hair.

You see, Hongjoong might be fascinated by the love a parent harbors for their child, but there is something else that sends him reeling far more often. The most daunting and terrifying kind of love is the romantic one that he runs from so often. Maybe that is why he can’t bear to be around Wooyoung and San as much as he used to because they display it with such ease and carelessness, like love doesn’t hurt or burn or ache the way Hongjoong knows it does. He has had many a relationship in all his time on Earth, and unfortunately, they have all ended in a crashing burn of flames and chaos – quite literally for his last relationship – so forgive him if he is a bit bitter and scalded by those failures.

It isn’t that he is not happy on his own. He has a nice apartment meant for one and that’s lovely, along with the betta fish Seonghwa and Yeosang bought for him as a moving-in gift named Karl, who is cherished company even if he just swims around his tank without doing much of anything. The point being that Hongjoong has never actively sought out a relationship or a special someone because he has never thought that he actually needed it.

Why seek something that could hurt you when you’re perfectly fine on your own?

“Listen, this is all beside the point,” he starts, waving a dismissive hand through the air in an effort to shut the other two men up. “We’re here to talk about how I accidentally agreed to go to his house for dinner knowing damn well that I don’t know how to socialize with a stray cat in the street let alone a very cute man who happens to be my type.”

“So you have a date.”

“It’s not a date, Woo! It is a somewhat casual thank you dinner that is… quite casual.”

“Date or not, you better not wear that fucking sweater vest that you insist looks good,” San remarks. His lips curl into a scowl, and he shakes his head ever so slightly at the mere thought of said article of clothing.

“Hey! It does look good!”

“It makes you look like you’re going through a midlife crisis!”

“Well, maybe I am!”

“You damn well must be if you’re behaving like this but still insisting that you aren’t even a little bit attracted to this man and don’t see potential in him!”

San’s words shut Hongjoong right up in an instant. Of course, the man isn’t wrong about the statement. Maybe that is what Hongjoong has been adamantly avoiding since Monday, and these past four days have just been a blur of anxiety surrounding the potential of falling for Yunho. Wooyoung must read the distress on his features.

“You can always back out and say that you need to raincheck. You shouldn’t cause yourself any extra worry over something like this.” Wooyoung draws his brows together to add to the concern already on his features.

“Kind of shitty of me to cancel an hour before the dinner,” Hongjoong grumbles, bringing his arms up to cross over his chest in a defensive manner that Wooyoung picks up on instantly.

“Joong…” There is far too much sympathy in his stare; maybe if Hongjoong were feeling particularly self-loathing, he would go so far as to say it looks like pity. He knows deep down that it isn’t pity. Wooyoung has been with him for every breakup in the past eleven years, they have been best friends for longer than that, and perhaps at one odd point during their teenage years, they had an escapade of their own that caused issues in some of Hongjoong’s relationships before. Yet even though Wooyoung knows him better than anyone on the face of the planet, it is always San who picks him apart like he’s a book. Hongjoong feels his prying and perceptive gaze on the side of his face before he says a word, and he makes the impulse decision to spew nonsense just to save himself from San’s impending lecture.

“I’m not interested! I’m not, and I don’t want to be. I will do this one dinner so he can feel fucking better about himself, then I will put all thoughts of him behind me.”

San draws his lips into a tight purse.

“Look me in the eye and tell me that you don’t see any hint of potential in him.”

Hongjoong jerks to look the taller man in the eye, gaze wavering a bit as he tries to come up with a reasonable and believable response. That is answer enough for San, and he shakes his head with a frown painting his features now.

“Don’t throw away something good just because you’re scared, Hongjoong.”

“I’m not scared.”

Lie. They all know it too.

“Then promise to see this dinner through without trying to sabotage yourself.”

“Fine,” Hongjoong relents. That must be enough for San because he flips his frown into a soft-sided grin and nods in his direction. As though on cue, his phone dings with a notification atop the counter, and Hongjoong glances down at the device at the same time that the other two men do.

“Prince Charming awaits!” Wooyoung chirps through a toothy grin. Hongjoong has half a mind to lean across the counter and smack him upside the head, but instead, he snatches up his phone to read the message that just came through. It is, as expected, an address complete with an all too cute smiley face emoji at the end that makes Hongjoong want to scowl just because of how damn adorable it is. He hastily types out a ‘thanks, I’ll be there soon’ response and hits send before Wooyoung can tell him to play up the flirting and hit on him. “Okay but seriously don’t put on that sweater vest!”

“Jeez, I won’t!” Hongjoong waves the man off as he retreats to his tiny bedroom only to have Wooyoung trail after him with shuffling feet.

“Do you still have that leather jacket I got you last year?”

“I’m not wearing a leather jacket to a dinner with my student and her father.”

“Can you at least wear something a little less… teacher-y?” Wooyoung runs a hand through his hair, a sigh escaping him as he glances over Hongjoong’s closet in dismay.

“What are you trying to say?”

“You dress like an old man. I want you to at least look cute.” Wooyoung hums a little to himself while drumming his fingers over his chin. “White button-down with that brown cardigan you have and some cuffed jeans. And the black oxfords that you redesigned. So you can show off how cute and artsy you are! Oh, do you still have those wireframe glasses you used to wear so much? Let’s get those too.”

“Isn’t this too much effort? What if he’s just – I don’t know, wearing sweatpants?”

“You really think he’s gonna be wearing sweatpants?”

“I, well, maybe not—” Wooyoung interrupts him with a harsh slap to the back of his arm, knuckles hitting his skin so hard that it burns a bit.

“Good, now go get changed. No complaining or I’ll bite your armpits.”

“That’s an oddly specific threat…”

“I said no complaining!”

Hongjoong grumbles a little under his breath as Wooyoung tosses the closes he picked out at his chest, then he slips into the bathroom to quickly slip into them. He shouldn’t even be putting this much effort into the outfit or reading too much into this dinner because it’s nothing more than a simple thank-you dinner. He keeps reminding himself of that fact over and over. It isn’t an invitation to be friends or to have some semblance of a casual relationship, even if Hongjoong would kinda like to be at least friends with Yunho. He’ll probably get there, talk with Yunho about Akemi’s schoolwork, then leave.

Wooyoung springs on him the second he steps out of the bathroom in the new outfit, hands pushing the wireframe glasses he mentioned earlier onto the bridge of Hongjoong’s nose and setting them straight. The man’s lips twitch into a smile as he leans back to admire his work.

“Perfect. He won’t be able to take his eyes off you.” Wooyoung presses the pad of his index finger against the tip of Hongjoong’s nose, leaving him with that before stepping away and motioning towards the door. “Now go have fun, and try not to overthink this whole thing too much.”

“You do realize who you’re talking to, right?”

“Oh hush, you twat. If nothing else, just take it as an opportunity to do something nice for yourself. I know clubbing with Sannie and me isn’t always your favorite, so here’s a chance for you to do something else. And! Since I know you and I know you would do something stupid, if he invites you to stay for drinks after his daughter goes to bed, you fucking say yes, okay?”

“He most definitely won’t do that but whatever.”

…

As it turns out, that is exactly what Yunho does. He corners Hongjoong while the shorter man stands at the sink, washing the plates used for dinner by hand because he demanded that Yunho let him do something in return for the incredible meal Yunho prepared for his visit. Perhaps Hongjoong just takes so little care of himself that any homecooked meal is a good one though; he is far too used to eating instant ramen on the couch after work and calling it a healthy diet by eating a handful of blueberries afterward. He couldn’t put a name to the dish Yunho made even though Yunho mentioned it when he walked in the door. His mind was too addled with anxiety because there the impossibly tall man stood with a crisp white button-up and really nice black trousers that definitely show off how good his ass is (not that Hongjoong could look for long because Akemi came rushing to the door as well).

All throughout dinner, Yunho kept him occupied with questions and menial chatter, things about the school and what the curriculum for the year is. It added up in Hongjoong’s mind; he had already figured that Yunho would wanna talk a lot about Akemi and school rather than anything personal. The scene was oddly intimate despite the less than personal questions. Just the three of them – Hongjoong, Yunho, and Akemi – seated around a small wooden table in a pretty standard suburban home. That was the moment Hongjoong got the nonverbal confirmation that Yunho is indeed a single father, then the verbal confirmation came when Hongjoong slipped his shoes off by the door upon Yunho’s prompting.

“It’s just the two of us, so I apologize if the house is a bit of a mess. I only have time to clean after work.”

Hongjoong insisted that it was fine and that he could not even see a single speck of dust in the house, which Yunho had laughed too loudly at and the sound rumbled in Hongjoong’s gut for too long.

Yunho is smart, Hongjoong will give him that. He makes sure to snag Hongjoong when he has no escape, hands coming to rest on the edge of the counter as he looks to the shorter man with wide and hopeful eyes. Hongjoong nearly drops the plate in his hand because of the way Yunho’s eyes seem to twinkle under the yellow lights of the kitchen.

“Um, you don’t have to say yes, but I got a bottle of red wine for tonight if you’d like to stay and have a drink? I’m about to put Akemi to bed. I normally, uh, drink alone on Friday nights.”

Well god fucking dammit Jeong Yunho, why did you have to say it like that? The man could probably weave the saddest sob story in existence with just those gleaming eyes, and Hongjoong would bend over backward for him because he can’t help himself. And Wooyoung’s words are ringing so loudly in his head that he can hardly think straight. He’s willing himself to say no despite what his friend said and the look in Yunho’s eyes, yet the words that actually come out of his mouth are —

“Yeah, I’d love to!”

Maybe the smile that decorates Yunho’s lips afterward makes it worth it.

“Cool, yeah, I’ll be quick I promise. She normally doesn’t take long to get tucked in.”

“That’s fine. Take your time!”

Yunho leaves with a nod, and it gives Hongjoong a moment to breathe easy while he’s gone. He takes his precious time in cleaning the remainder of the dishes just so that he can stay busy and not have to stand around waiting. In all honesty, this is a disaster waiting to happen. Wooyoung made sure to drive him over both because he wanted to see Hongjoong off and insisted that Hongjoong would get wasted while at Yunho’s so he had to be the responsible one. (As though Wooyoung has ever been responsible a day in his life; Hongjoong is always the designated driver on club nights because the man throws alcohol back like it’s his job). His alcohol tolerance could prove to be an issue though, so it’s probably for the best that Wooyoung drove him. Even a single glass of wine could make him tipsy, and he is a nervous drinker on top of that.

It’s fine, it’s fine. It will be fine. Just one glass of wine then you can tell him that your friend is waiting outside. Is it lame to have your twenty-five-year-old friend pick you up when you’re twenty-six? Why does this feel like high school?

Hongjoong doesn’t realize he’s standing at the sink and scrubbing a wet rag over the same plate over and over again until Yunho comes up on his right.

“You good?”

“Fuck – I mean shit, damn, um, fudge! Fudge. Yeah, fudge.”

Yup, there’s a great example for your kid, Yunho! Hongjoong mentally uppercuts himself in the nose as he sets the last plate on the drying rack and fumbles to put everything back in its proper place. Yunho huffs out a loud laugh, chin tipping back to expose the long column of his throat, and Hongjoong most definitely spends far too long staring at the way his tendons twitch.

“Well, that explains why Akemi always tells me to say fudge when I cuss in front of her.” He shakes his head, still laughing a bit under his breath. He slips away from Hongjoong’s side, and the shorter man uses it as an opportunity to catch his own breath and calm his racing heart. “You big on wine, Mr. Kim?”

Mr. Kim. The name sounds a bit odd and foreign on Yunho’s tongue in such a setting, and Hongjoong has to tell himself that that discomfort is the reason why he says what he does next.

“You can call me H-Hongjoong if you’d rather.” He can’t keep from stuttering in his sudden state of nervousness, and Yunho twists to look back at him from the other side of the kitchen.

“With the stammer and everything?” Yunho jokes through a hum. Hongjoong whips around to face him, a bit of disbelief coating his expression, and the other man just lifts two empty wine glasses and motions back towards the dining table. “You can call me Y-Yunho then. For solidarity.”

Hongjoong would really love to punch him in that pretty mouth of his because curse him for being the entire package. Was being tall and attractive not enough? God had to make him cute and adorable, along with having a beautiful natural flush to his cheeks that comes out when he smiles or laughs? And he has a nice ass and a good sense of humor? Hongjoong is absolutely screwed and not in the way he wants to be. He is gonna leave this dinner tonight fully whipped for this man. The brief and fleeting thought to call Wooyoung for backup and get the hell out of here earlier than intended crosses his mind, but that is swept away when Yunho straddles a chair and spreads his legs far wider than is even remotely necessary. Hongjoong’s body just moves on its own at that point, and he finds the seat on Yunho’s left.

It feels like there is lead rushing through his veins rather than blood. Almost a heady sensation like Hongjoong is already drunk despite not having had a drop of alcohol yet. Yunho rectifies that quickly though, pouring a glass of the dark red liquid and passing it over to Hongjoong with long fingers splayed over the bottom of the glass. He doesn’t drink from it right away as much as he wants to. It would be bad etiquette to start drinking before him surely, and the stretch grin Yunho wears when he notices the gesture almost hurts Hongjoong’s heart.

“So, Hongjoong, I don’t believe I know how old you are.” His name sounds really wonderful coming from Yunho’s lips, but that is a dangerous thought. And Yunho looks dastardly good taking a languid sip from his wine glass. Focus, Hongjoong, focus.

“I’m, uh, turning twenty-seven in early November.”

“Oh?” Yunho sounds genuinely surprised by that, head tilting to the side to accentuate his shock. “I would never have guessed. You hardly look twenty-three.”

“I get that a lot. Youthful genes blessed me.”

“Apparently so. I swear I’ve got to look older than you and I’m twenty-six.”

Ah. Younger than expected. Hongjoong honestly assumed the man was older than him simply because he has Akemi, and while the girl is only six, he figured Yunho would at least be upper twenties. He hopes that the shock doesn’t read too well on his features but he has no such luck.

“Shocking, I know. Had Akemi early while we were still in college. Lots of… it was both good and bad, but it turned out to be more than worth it in the end because she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Yunho stares at the table while he speaks, but Hongjoong can see emotion shining clearly in his dark eyes regardless.

It’s that same raw and open one he saw before, the purest form of love he can think of, and he has to gulp down some wine to keep from getting overwhelmed by the mere sight of it. Despite having technically known Yunho for five (nearly six) months now, Hongjoong still can’t find it in him to think it’s appropriate to breach the subject of Akemi’s mother. This is still their first personal one on one conversation, the first time they’ve exchanged names, and Hongjoong can’t very well ask something so personal this soon.

“I’ve been a bit curious, so I hope you don’t mind me asking,” Yunho starts, looking to Hongjoong with a bit more fervor in his movements. “What made you think to call Akemi butterfly? I don’t think I’ve ever come across another person who calls her that.”

“Her mother used to call her that.”

Hongjoong should have prepared himself for the question because that statement Yunho had made earlier in the week opened a door that would come back to bite him later. This must be later.

“Um, I hope this doesn’t… sound odd or anything, but the first day she came to class, she had a clip in her hair. One with—”

“A blue butterfly on it,” Yunho finishes for him.

“Y-Yeah. It stood out to me since I’ve always liked butterflies myself.” Hongjoong thinks back to the pair of shoes he left by the door with small blue butterflies painted along the sides. “You probably didn’t see them when I came in, but my shoes – uh, they have butterflies on them too.” He motions past Yunho’s shoulder and towards the door, but Yunho only stares directly at him and nowhere else.

“I noticed that! It look hand-drawn too, or maybe painted?”

“Painted, yes. I reform clothes I own sometimes and shoes as well if I come up with a cool enough idea. Just a side hobby, I guess, like piano.” Hongjoong sips at his wine to busy himself and not focus on the way Yunho gazes at him intently. He isn’t used to this: talking about himself, his interests, things he does in his spare time. Wooyoung and San know him well enough to have witnessed his growth into those hobbies, and he doesn’t really have discussions like this with his fellow teachers. Maybe he mentioned it once or twice in passing to Seonghwa, but he and the man likely changed the topic quickly. It’s a little bit embarrassing for him as a twenty-seven-year-old to talk about what he enjoys doing like he’s back in high school or college. Something about the way Yunho offers an encouraging nod shoots that insecurity out the window.

“You know, Akemi talks about you a lot when I pick her up.” He drags a finger over the rim of his wine glass, eyes trained on the liquid inside. “She loves talking about you more than what she learned or her friends in the class. This is probably weird but I think I’ve learned a lot about you through her. The piano lessons and drawings, how you’ll sometimes draw pictures for her or show her your reformed clothes and shoes. I’m seriously grateful that you’re her teacher and that she has you in her life.” The words are spoken with too much emotion for Hongjoong’s liking, and his gut melds into a deep pit of growing agony.

“You don’t have to…” Hongjoong can’t even finish the thought. You don’t have to thank me, he wants to say. Yunho shakes his head.

“As much as I do to support us as a family and provide for her, it still falls short more often than not. Maybe this is too open of me, but I work a typical nine-to-five job as a business firm. Most if not all of my friends live out of town or work in similar fields and have lives like mine. When I have to go out of town for business trips, I have to leave Akemi with a friend in the next city over. I don’t – I don’t get to be the dad that she deserves to have. I can’t teach her new things, play with her in the park, and sometimes I can hardly… hardly spend time with her in general because of all that. The fact that you are so ready and willing to sacrifice your time for someone who isn’t even your kid or responsibility is quite telling of how good you are as a person. I am glad that she can have you as some sort of father figure in her life.”

“I can – I can hardly take any credit,” Hongjoong whispers, not daring to raise his tone any higher than that.

“You don’t need to,” Yunho replies in a tone just as quiet. “This dinner… I know very well that there is nothing I can do to repay you for what you are doing for Akemi. My heart will never be satisfied no matter what because you – you are doing something that even her mother refused to do, and that is simply to not leave her alone. I guess that’s my way of saying that I admire you quite a bit, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong’s heart is in absolute shambles. Yunho is being too open, too raw, too giving in his emotions. It’s like Hongjoong can see straight through his chest and into his heart, pull the organ out and listen to every pang and stitched scar over it with ease. He is merely being genuine with Hongjoong, yet that one thing is more than all of Hongjoong’s exes combined could not do. He wills his mouth to work properly, jaw stuttering and wavering without purpose for too long before he can speak again.

“If y-you ever need someone to look after Akemi while you’re out of town, I would be happy to do so. My apartment – where I live, I mean – it’s not too big, but I would gladly sleep on the couch so she can sleep in the bed, and I live alone so it’s not like there would be anyone else with us and—”

“You’d truly do that?” The shock in Yunho’s voice almost hurts to hear, like he can’t believe anyone would do such a thing for him. In the back of his head, Hongjoong internally questions those friends that Yunho mentioned and how reliable they truly are. It catches him off-guard though. He isn’t making the offer because he wants Yunho to like him or trust him or anything unsavory. He would make the same offer to any parent who needed help; Hongjoong truly values his job but he cherishes each student of his even more than that. Seeing people struggle on their own is never pleasant – a thing he recognizes in others but refuses to recognize in himself – so if he can make Yunho’s day to day life even the tiniest bit easier, then he would jump at the opportunity.

“Of course.”

“Are you truly real?”

Hongjoong needs at least another glass of wine in him before Yunho starts having an existential crisis, but this sort of disbelief seems a bit different, something that stagnates the air between them and lets them hover in each other’s breaths like it’s the only thing that matters.

“I would hope people value you enough to give you the bare minimum of what you deserve, Yunho.” Hongjoong doesn’t realize that it’s the first time he’s used the other man’s name until he folds his lips into a soft grin.

“You forgot the stutter.”

Hongjoong dares to smile back, nose scrunching up and cheeks rounding under the wire frames of his glasses.

“My apologies, Y-Yunho.”

Yunho doesn’t respond this time, but there doesn’t seem to be a need to. The air returns to its pleasant trill, alight and humming with the beads of anticipation, and Hongjoong settles into the cloud with a newfound sense of ease and comfort in front of Yunho. There remains a stark sense of fear in his bones, one that does not care for the thoughts of where this might lead, what feelings will bud in his chest as a result, or how hard Hongjoong will recklessly fall because that’s how it always is.

“I don’t know if — this may be too bold but, uh, would you like to come for dinner again?”

This is a slippery slope and Hongjoong is already in the midst of falling.

…

It’s October now, nearing November in less than two weeks which will mean another bland birthday for Hongjoong to pass through with little interest and lots of enthusiasm from both Wooyoung and San. In the past six (yes, six) weeks since his first dinner with Yunho and Akemi, Hongjoong has been over to visit at least eight times. Once a week was the agreement he and Yunho came to after the second visit, the kind smile splayed over Yunho’s lips too much for Hongjoong to say no to, but the spare two visits came as a result of a spur of the moment decision on weekdays where Akemi begged for more time with Hongjoong and Yunho demanded to treat him to dinner as thanks. It is pleasant. Too pleasant. Hongjoong already knows that he has tumbled into a dangerous territory that consists of feelings of euphoria and happiness, butterflies churning in his stomach every time Yunho’s tinkling laugh graces his ears, and no matter how much he tries to push it out of his mind, he can’t.

Hongjoong likes the man. It would be much easier if he knew that Yunho did not like men at all, but alas he learned of that a while ago, maybe on his sixth visit to the Jeong household. What had they even been talking about again? Oh, right it was about being a disappointment to their families.

“You don’t talk much of your own family, Hongjoong. Is that a… sensitive topic?”

“Oh, uh, no. It’s not that I have a bad relationship with them or anything like that. There is a bit of tension? I guess you could call it that. I stopped going home to visit them because the plane tickets were getting to be too much and every time I walked in the door, I would just get an earful about how I never bring a wife home.”

“Not into marriage?”

“Not into women.”

Yunho had choked midway through a sip of wine, and Hongjoong thought the man was going to keel over on the floor with the way he was coughing, cheeks blazing red in embarrassment. Once he had finally recovered enough to speak again, Hongjoong’s heart plummeted, but only because he knew there was no way for him to back out of the crush that had formed.

“Well, we have disappointed parents in common then. Mine couldn’t believe I had a kid before marriage, then just about had a heart attack when Akemi’s mother walked out. Made things even worse when I brought my first boyfriend home for the holidays when Akemi was three. They were at least glad when the next girlfriend came around, but I can’t seem to make a relationship stick enough to live up to their standards. They at least love to dote on Akemi and look after her when they can, so I guess I can’t complain all too much.”

Hongjoong hadn’t let the conversation go any further than that, swiftly changing the subject because he was terrified of letting it continue and exposing the ugly and gross bits about his own past to Yunho. He isn’t ready for that. It would be too intimate and vulnerable. That’s what he has to tell himself at least.

Now Hongjoong finds himself yet again in Yunho’s house, but this time the situation is far different. First of all, it’s a Sunday night and not a weekday. Secondly, Yunho is not home. Hongjoong did not break-in, as suspicious as it sounds. The previous Tuesday evening found Hongjoong over for dinner and Yunho mentioned that he had to leave in the morning for a business trip so they wouldn’t be able to do their typical Friday dinner.

“Do you need me to watch Akemi?”

Hongjoong hadn’t even hesitated to ask the question.

“I was hoping to ask if that would be too much actually. I… I would really appreciate it. I’m not used to midweek trips, but I don’t want her to miss school because of this.”

“I’d be happy to look after her while you’re gone, Yunho. I can bring her to school with me in the mornings.”

“Would you please? I can – I can pay you for it or something. I wouldn’t want you to do it for free or–”

“I want to do it for free. Please, Yunho, it’s a – it’s what friends would do, right?”

Friends. Yeah, Hongjoong had breached the invisible line and defined their relationship then and there. Before then, they hadn’t spoken of it or said anything definitive about what they are. Hongjoong couldn’t very well say yeah it’s because I have a crush on you actually so don’t worry about it.

But in any case, that led to Yunho dropping Akemi off for school on Wednesday morning with a little travel bag of clothes and belongings so that she could have her things while she stayed at Hongjoong’s. Hongjoong brought her home in the evening right after school, which was quite the fever dream because he hadn’t gone home on time like that in months.

It was a steady process they formed: go to school a bit early for Hongjoong to prepare his things for the day, leave right after school ended, spend time doing fun things a kid would normally do after school, eat dinner, and go to sleep in Hongjoong’s all too large bed while the man slept on the couch.

On Friday after school, Hongjoong dared to take Akemi to the park to go cloud watching, then they went and bought matching pairs of shoes to bring home and reform together. Hongjoong had drawn small butterflies across the side of Akemi’s white sneakers and told himself that he wouldn’t get too attached to the little girl. That would make the end of the school year far too hard to handle because he wouldn’t get to move up with her to second grade.

For Saturday, he took Akemi to an ice skating rink and held her hand tight against his as they slid over the ice together. An elderly couple watching their grandchildren from the side of the rink asked if Hongjoong wanted pictures with his daughter. Akemi begged for him to say yes with such big and bright eyes that he couldn’t even bother correcting the couple. His cheeks still hurt from laughing and smiling so much even though several hours have passed since then. Hongjoong brought Akemi home to her house rather than his afterward since Yunho said he would be coming home in the evening, and they agreed to meet up after so Hongjoong could return the spare house key.

That is why Hongjoong finds himself seated on the leather couch in Yunho’s living room, thumbing through the channels mindlessly to keep himself busy as he waits for Yunho to get back. Akemi has already been put to bed since she was tired after ice skating, and Hongjoong managed to make a pot of mac and cheese without burning the kitchen down, which is good by his standards. It’s well past eight o’clock, and Yunho said he would be home by six so Hongjoong is maybe sorta kinda starting to get extremely worried about the man’s whereabouts. In fact, he’s about to try to call the man to see if everything is okay when the door handle jiggles. Hongjoong jerks to shut the television off, eyes wide with a nagging panic that someone is trying to break in, but the door swings open to reveal Yunho at long last.

Saying he looks exhausted would be a gross understatement. He looks worse than ever, tired and overwhelmed in every way, but as his gaze falls to where Hongjoong sits on the couch, a shaky sigh slips from his lips, almost as though he is relieved to see the other man sitting there. It tugs at his heartstrings, makes his stomach drop a bit too much, and Hongjoong inhales sharply to bury the feeling.

“I already put Akemi to bed,” Hongjoong whispers, scared to speak any louder than that. Yunho offers a nod but nothing else in response as he shuts the door behind him and drops his travel bag to the floor. He doesn’t even smile, which is something Hongjoong has never seen from the man. He seems to always be wearing a smile no matter what, and Hongjoong can’t describe the odd, misplaced pain in his chest that comes with seeing the blank slate that is Yunho’s expression. “How was your trip?” Careful, calculated, wary. He isn’t sure what is overstepping, but this is the best he can do right now.

“It was… it was fine until the end. I’m sorry I’m late. Stopped at the store to get some groceries and uh—” Yunho stops himself there, hand coming up to run through his dark hair. Hongjoong feels compelled to get up. His legs work before his brain does, and all of a sudden, he is on both feet and moving closer to Yunho for some godforsaken reason. He doesn’t even know what he intends to do until his hand reaches up to grasp at Yunho’s shoulder, shaking the man from his thoughts and offering the faintest bit of comfort.

“I’m here.” Yeah, you’re right in front of him, idiot, I think he knows you’re here.

“I ran into Akemi’s mother.”

Oh.

“She was with the – the guy she cheated on me with.”

Oh. Hongjoong didn’t know that was what had happened between the two of them. He didn’t think to ask, and it wasn’t his business too either, but it makes his heart go out even more to the man because damn. How shitty of a person do you have to be to cheat on your partner after having a damn kid with them?

Hongjoong doesn’t know what the right thing to do is. He racks his brain and tries to find some hint as to what the best idea is, but all he can come up with are memories of how Wooyoung would envelop him in a tight hug after a rough night of memories full of exes and pain. So that’s what Hongjoong does. He leans into Yunho’s space, slots himself in that tiny crack in Yunho’s heart, and wedges himself there. Arms reach higher to fold around the back of the man’s neck until Yunho is forced to bend down a bit and accommodate Hongjoong’s much shorter form, but the taller man hugs him right back in an instant. His breath is hot on Hongjoong’s neck as he releases a shaky exhale, burying his nose deep into the shorter’s neck. It’s all he can do right now, yet it still doesn’t feel like enough.

“She had the audacity to ask about Akemi.” Yunho’s tone is nothing more than a whisper now, like he couldn’t speak louder if he tried, and Hongjoong has a sneaking suspicion that it’s to keep from crying. “Asked if I’d given up on her yet and when I s-said no, she… she said Akemi would be better off if I did give her up.” Yunho tightens his grip on Hongjoong’s waist, arms enveloping him so deeply that Hongjoong can feel his palms squeezing all the way around his sides. If not for what Yunho said, Hongjoong’s mind might drift into unsavory territory. “Am I a bad father, Hongjoong?”

That question hurts so badly to hear. It’s like a knife in his chest that sinks deeper and deeper with each passing second. He doesn’t need time to come up with an answer though; the words are already waiting on the tip of his tongue before Yunho even finished the question.

“No. You’re the best father in the world, Yunho. You do so much for Akemi. You work long hours to provide for her, bring her to school and take her home for education, give her toys and let her do things she enjoys. You take care of her, love her, cherish her the way a father should. You don’t let her want for anything. You give her your absolute best, and that makes you a good father.”

“Yet I can’t give her a mother. I can only give her me.” Hongjoong can’t take the tone of his voice. He pulls back a bit, hands still wrapped tight around Yunho’s neck, and he tugs Yunho until they can look each other in the eye.

“There is no rulebook for parenting, no matter what the internet says or what other parents might say. No commandment says that a child must have two parents to grow up well and have a good life. And it isn’t your fault that Akemi’s mother made those decisions or walked out on both of you. You were the one who stayed, who continues to stay and fight for her still. I wish you could see through my eyes and know that you are doing well.”

“I-I don’t know what to say, Hongjoong.” Yunho’s dark brown eyes swim with unspoken emotions and gratitude, along with some other quivering feeling that swirl amongst them, but Hongjoong can’t place what it is or whether he wants to figure it out.

“You don’t have to say anything.” Hongjoong lets a smile tug at his lips. It’s an invitation for Yunho to do the same, and this time he does, gracing Hongjoong’s eyes with the sight of that precious smile. It sends his stomach spiraling as always, and he has to internally fight the blush that threatens to creep up his neck.

“I need a drink. Or thirty.”

“You can put yourself to bed with one,” Hongjoong huffs. The minimal space between their chests is suddenly making itself known, and he vaguely registers how neither of them have pulled completely away or moved back yet. Yunho’s fingers twitch at his hips.

“Can I convince you to stay for one?”

How can Hongjoong say no to that?

His response to the question is to detach himself from Yunho’s body and move back towards the couch, sending a quick look over his shoulder to see if the man will pick up on what he’s insinuating. Yunho blinks at him in confusion for a few moments. Realization only hits when Hongjoong plops down on the cushions, and he jumps into action, rushing to retrieve some glasses and the wine bottle from the fridge. The look of pure relief on Yunho’s features when he comes to join Hongjoong makes the decision to stay more than worth it.

Over the past few weeks, Hongjoong has come to realize that these moments – the ones where they drink and talk over menial things – are the only ones Yunho has to himself. It’s the only time he gets to do something for himself that isn’t work or taking care of Akemi. Hongjoong briefly wonders when the last time the man went out on his own for fun was but ultimately decides that he doesn’t want to depress himself with the thought.

“Did Akemi behave okay while I was gone?” Yunho inquires, glancing at Hongjoong out the corner of his eye as he pours the drinks.

“Like a dream really. I have no complaints.” Yunho’s cheeks bunch up a bit, and he passes Hongjoong a glass that is far too full of wine but Hongjoong drinks it regardless.

“The pictures you sent were nice to see. I was missing her when you sent them so… perfectly timed.”

Pictures? Hongjoong doesn’t recall sending pictures. Oh wait, yes he does. He sent some as soon as they got home from the ice skating rink, some that the old couple took as well as pictures of Akemi at the park and the shoes they painted together. He tried to push that out of his mind because it felt too domestic for his liking, but it also felt wrong to keep those pictures from Yunho.

“Ha, yeah, the couple who took the pictures at the rink thought I was her dad.” Fuck. Shit. Kim Hongjoong, why the hell would you say that? You aren’t even drunk yet. Hongjoong drinks at his wine with more intensity now, nervously trying to drown his panic in the red liquor in the hopes that it will help somehow. Thank goodness Yunho just smiles wider with nothing but a joyful mirth to his gaze.

“You would be a fantastic father.”

“There’s a difference between being a good teacher and a good parent,” Hongjoong mumbles into his glass.

“I know.” Yunho’s gentle gaze is turning him to jello, or maybe even better, a melted pile of ice cream on the floor. Hongjoong is internally begging for him to change the subject and move onto something else so that Yunho won’t keep staring at him in such a way. He has no such luck. “Do you wanna be a dad one day?”

“I, uh, I’m not sure. Sometimes I feel like being a teacher is more than enough but it would be nice to get to do things like go to the park or paint or something like that with a kid of my own. I barely have my life together as it is, I can’t possibly imagine trying to raise a kid on my own. T-That’s kinda why I admire your efforts so much. But I gotta… gotta find someone who will put up with me long term.”

“You don’t have anyone?” Now that question shocks Hongjoong. He has always pinned himself as the type who is very obviously single and alone, but Yunho sounds like he truly believed the opposite.

“You thought I did?”

“I just – well, I – someone like you, I just figured that you’d be taken.”

Someone like you.

Taken.

Oh dear, Hongjoong needs more wine. He lunges forward without thinking after downing the rest of his glass, refilling it to the same height that it was when Yunho initially filled it. There is no negative connotation to Yunho’s statement, and that is what scares Hongjoong more than anything else. His brain’s first reaction is to think of all the ways he could ruin this here and now, how best to run away, how to set his relationship with Yunho aflame before there is even an opportunity for it to go anywhere, and he hates himself for that but it is to protect himself from the pain.

He knows how this ends, and he would rather destroy it himself than wait for Yunho to leave him.

“Nope, not taken! Can’t keep a relationship to save my life actually.” Hongjoong silently begs that Yunho will understand that he means that he is the problem, not all the exes in his past relationships.

“Any terrible exes I need to know about?”

Why would you need to know about them? Hongjoong wants to ask but he bites his tongue and tries not to think too hard about it.

“Uh, just that all my relationships have ended in flames. Quite literally for the last one.”

“Oh? That sounds like an interesting story.” Yunho hums a little to himself, eyes darting from the ceiling back down to Hongjoong’s face.

“It’s really not… just one bad relationship after the other honestly.”

“I can relate to that quite well, I think.” A deep sigh falls from the man’s lips. He swirls his drink around and watches the liquid toss and turn in the glass for a few moments before Hongjoong finds it in him to say something.

“You’ll find someone who will do right by you.”

“Perhaps, perhaps. Maybe I’m just moaning because it’s been over a year since my last relationship. Haven’t really found the time to go out and meet new people this year.”

“Better than me,” Hongjoong mumbles against the rim of his glass before taking a long drag of the liquor. Curse him for being such a damn lightweight because he can already feel a bit of a tipsy haze slipping over his mind and clouding his thoughts. “It’s been two years since I had a stable relationship.”

“How many unstable ones did you have in-between?”

“Why do you ask?” Hongjoong can’t keep the question off his lips.

“Curiosity?”

Hongjoong waits until he has swallowed another half of his glass before mustering up the courage to answer Yunho’s question, but that proves to be a mistake because the quick intake of alcohol makes his head swim.

“Three or four undefined sexual relationships maybe? All left when I got too attached or because they found me boring outside the bedroom.” He could have done with better phrasing than that. The way he said it makes him sound like an absolute sex demon, which Hongjoong doesn’t think is appropriate to talk about or mention to Yunho, but again his reason is quickly leaving him thanks to the wine.

“They have bad taste then. You are by far one of the most interesting people I’ve met, and I mean that in the best way possible.” Yunho gnaws on his lower lip after speaking, and the corner of his mouth twitches up into a strained smile. Hongjoong mimics the smile with equal awkwardness. The action draws a throaty laugh from Yunho, a sound that reverberates in his chest and sends Hongjoong’s heart into a mad state of gay panic. “Hongjoong, are you already tipsy?”

“Hm?” In Hongjoong’s defense, the most he’s had while at Yunho’s place is one glass of wine and nothing more because he usually is careful enough to watch his alcohol intake. Maybe it’s the mixture of his poor panic-riddled heart and the drinks? Is that possible? He doesn’t even know.

“God, you’re so — you’re already tipsy, aren’t you?”

“I’m not tipsy!” He refutes in haste, but there is already a heat rising up his neck and cheeks that betrays his state of slight inebriation.

“Oh, you’re not?” Yunho tilts his head to the side, exposing the long column of his neck to the yellow light above them. Hongjoong spends too much time eyeing that exposed bit of skin. “You seem a little tipsy to me. You look a little flushed.”

“That’s not tipsiness.” Hongjoong presses his lips to the side of his glass as though it will hide his blushing cheeks. Yunho’s next laugh is an endearing one, and Hongjoong drinks it up like it’s his wine.

“Low alcohol tolerance?”

“I’m short. And petite. And small. Not a lot of space to put alcohol in my body. Besides you’re so—” Hongjoong gestures wildly with his free hand to Yunho’s form before him “—big and broad and wide so you can fit a lot more liquor in there.”

“I do have rather high alcohol tolerance, I’ll give you that. Because I’m… big?” Yunho lets his words trail off as a smirk overtakes his lips. Hongjoong’s cheeks could not get any redder than they are in this moment. The other man must find this absolutely hilarious because he releases a laugh that is far too loud and will most definitely wake Akemi up, and he realizes this a moment too late, hand flying up to cover his mouth. Hongjoong breaks into a fit of laughter with him, falling into Yunho’s space without thinking. He’s caught by gentle hands, and one of those hands moves to catch his teetering wine glass before it can tip over onto the couch. They laugh like that, together, full of each other, pushing themselves closer and closer into one another until every sense is so full of Yunho that Hongjoong thinks he could get drunk off that.

“Daddy?”

Hongjoong moves back so quickly that his vision blurs into a hazy mess. Yunho is still chuckling under his breath even as he turns to look over the back of the couch.

“Mimi baby, why are you up? Hm? Was Daddy being too loud?” Yunho places his glass on the coffee table and pushes himself to his feet, hastily rounding the couch so that he can meet Akemi by the stairs. Hongjoong feels useless as can be, but he just continues to sit where he is and watch the scene unfold before him. Yunho squats down to be eye level with the little girl and brings his hands up to comb through a few stray tangles in her hair.

“I heard you laughing with Mr. Hong!”

Yunho’s chin dips to his chest as he laughs again. He pinches the tip of Akemi’s nose between his index finger and thumb, reveling in the way the girl squeals in delight.

“Yes, well, Mr. Hong and I were laughing about a joke Daddy made.” Yunho glances over to where Hongjoong is sitting. The mirth in his eyes makes Hongjoong take another long sip of wine, but it’s not enough to drown the butterflies flying through his gut. “You should get back to bed, angel. We can’t have you going to bed too late or you’ll be sleepy in the morning!”

“Can you tuck me in, Daddy? Pretty please?”

“Of course, Mimi, I missed tucking you in at night the mostest of all while I was gone.”

“Mr. Hong tucked me in every night! And he would show me the pretty butterflies he painted and would read me a poem to help me fall asleep.” Ah, Akemi, why would you mention that? Hongjoong hides his face behind the safety of his glass and tries not to see whether Yunho turns to look at him or not.

“Hm, yes, Mr. Hong is quite the angel, isn’t he? We gotta go to bed though! Come on, up, up! If you don’t hurry your little booty up the stairs, Daddy is gonna catch the little butterfly and gobble her right up!” Yunho leans in to pinch her sides, but Akemi squeals and darts out of the way, her short and stubby legs flying up the stairs and out of his reach. Yunho moves with her, and Hongjoong can’t keep himself from laughing as he watches the scene unfold before him because it’s just so damn cute and domestic. He couldn’t be more whipped if he tried.

Against better judgment, Hongjoong decides to pour himself one more glass of wine and tells himself that it’s because the cheap store-bought wine is good enough to indulge in more (but he knows it’s to chase the feelings away instead).

“Okay, one little butterfly safely put back to bed without any issue.” Hongjoong doesn’t even hear the man come down the stairs, too busy reclining against the couch cushion and mulling over his drink like the lonely gay he is, and Yunho’s sudden presence behind him startles him more than he’d like to admit. The man stands right behind the back of the couch leaned over it so he can speak into Hongjoong’s ear with too much teasing joy to his tone. Hongjoong just about melts on the spot because holy hell the feeling of Yunho’s warm breath cascading over his ear and down the side of his neck makes him feel even hotter under the collar. He tries not to think about how if he turned his head just a little bit to the left, their lips would touch, and he truly tries not to cave in to that desire and do so. Yunho lingers there, pressed into Hongjoong’s space without moving.

“So.” He isn’t sure what possesses him to say that or where the thought is going. Yunho dips his head as he laughs, and Hongjoong swears up and down that the man accidentally brushes his lips over the bare skin of Hongjoong’s neck. He pulls away too quickly for Hongjoong to process it any further though, sliding back around to the front of the couch to sit down beside him again.

“So, two glasses is all it takes to get you drunk?”

“Tipsy.”

“You admitting it?”

“Fucking smooth, Jeong Yunho.” Oops, did Hongjoong say that out loud? He could have swore he said it to himself only, but the way Yunho is smiling at him tells him otherwise.

“I can be much smoother than that.” Now, Yunho isn’t drunk in the slightest. He doesn’t seem tipsy or affected by the alcohol at all, and he claimed to have a high alcohol tolerance so Hongjoong knows that he isn’t saying things in a drunken haze. So why does it sound like he is flirting?

That’s just how he normally is. It doesn’t mean anything. He talks like that all the time.

“Doesn’t sound convincing, but okay.” Hongjoong gives a small shrug of his shoulders before mentally punching himself in the nose. Tipsy Hongjoong is a menace who should not be allowed to speak for more than two seconds.

“Oh? Should I be convincing then?” Yunho twists to look at him. Hongjoong’s heart stops dead in his chest. One large hand stretches out to take his wine glass from his hands and sets it on the coffee table beside the bottle. He is leaning back into Hongjoong’s space again, this time pushing so close that Yunho’s hip brushes against his knee. Hongjoong could fall forward and —

“I wasn’t done with that,” he protests instead, watching the glass rather than Yunho.

“I think you’ve had enough,” Yunho murmurs back. His tone is much gentler and less teasing this time, and Hongjoong might even go so far as to say that Yunho seems to genuinely care. “I shouldn’t have let you have any if I had remembered that you would have to drive back. I’m sorry.”

“I’m fine!”

“Yeah?”

“Tired. Really tired. Like this couch is way too comfortable and I will fall asleep if you don’t stop me,” Hongjoong babbles. He’s all but forgotten about the flush on his cheeks and how foolish he must look right now. For some reason, the only thing his brain can manage is the thought of placing his hand on Yunho’s knee and leaning against his shoulder. The man shifts before he can do that though, pulling a leg up to mimic Hongjoong’s position. Oh. Now Hongjoong really could fall against his chest and just take a nice nap there—

“Maybe you should stay the night.”

“Yunho.” Why is he saying the man’s name?

“Hongjoong,” Yunho responds with a slight smile. Gonna kiss that stupid pretty mouth one day, Hongjoong thinks to himself, eyes narrowed on the man’s lips. “Can you please stay the night? I don’t think you should be driving in this state.”

Hongjoong tells himself that he needs to say no because staying in dangerous and will only make his feelings worse. Instead, he drops a hand to Yunho’s knee and smiles so wide that it hurts his cheeks.

“Okay.”

Yunho exhales a sigh of relief. His hand falls atop Hongjoong’s, the weight so heavy and warm over him that it makes him see stars. Hongjoong twists so that he can slip his fingers over Yunho’s.

“I-I can let you sleep in my bed. I know you’ve been sleeping on a couch for the past week. I’ll take the couch instead.”

“No, no! Noooo, Yunho, you don’t have to!” Hongjoong protests quickly. He flops back on the couch, forgoing the fact that he still has a grip on Yunho’s hand, and the man moves with him, his other hand flying up to steady himself on the pillow that Hongjoong lands on.

Their noses bump against each other.

Yunho doesn’t move away.

“Hi friend,” Hongjoong whispers to quell his rapidly beating heart. Friend. Friend? Hongjoong, are you serious? The man hovering above him can only laugh.

“Hi Hongjoong.” Is Yunho looking at his lips or is Hongjoong seeing things? The man seems to shake himself out of whatever is plaguing him and pulls back to a sitting position. “Are you okay to walk or should I carry you up the stairs?”

“I’m fine!” Hongjoong insists, slipping off the couch cushions and standing upright. He moves far too soon because blood rushes to his head and makes his vision go spotty in the edges. His legs turn to jello in the blink of an eye, but there goes Yunho again, hands finding Hongjoong’s hips and keeping him upright without hesitation. Hongjoong has to keep telling himself that this is what friends would do, Yunho is just doing this as a friend, he is only helping Hongjoong out because they’re friends.

“Next time, I’m watching how much you drink like a hawk.”

“Next time, I’m making sure you get drunk,” Hongjoong grumbles as Yunho loops an arm around his waist and slings one of the shorter man’s arms over his broad shoulders. The heat of his body is too comfortable. Hongjoong debates falling asleep standing up like this but Yunho squeezes his side a little tighter to keep him awake.

“Good luck with that. I’m a tough nut to crack.” A laugh slips from Hongjoong’s lips, and he turns to push up closer to Yunho, caressing his ear with the barest touch of his mouth, and he can feel the way the man quivers under the touch.

“Nut,” he whispers, stifling a giggle.

“How immature, Mr. Kim.” Yunho clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth but still manages to smile as he walks Hongjoong to the edge of the stairs. Hongjoong has to bite down hard on his tongue to keep from saying something much worse. He would preferably like to kiss Yunho on the same spot of his ear, work a path of wet kisses down to his neck and kiss him there as well, but he convinces himself not to.

Yunho drags his slow ass up the stairs with quite a bit of difficulty since Hongjoong’s drunkenness is apparently bad enough for him to struggle with even moving his legs properly. Yunho doesn’t seem to mind, nor does he complain about it either because he lugs Hongjoong until they reach the top of the stairs, pausing to pass him a smile that makes Hongjoong giggle like a schoolgirl in an embarrassing way.

“Mr. Jeong, you’re so cute,” he whispers as he lets his cheek rest against the man’s arm.

“From where I’m standing, you’re much cuter, Hongjoong.”

“Oh?” The sigh slips out without him intending for it to, but he doesn’t bother to correct himself.

“Do you need me to repeat myself?”

“Will you?” Whatever possesses Hongjoong to say that is unbeknownst to him because he had no clue where they come from or why they fall from his lips.

Yunho pauses, looks to the ceiling, then offers a small shrug of his shoulders. His voice is still hushed, no doubt because Akemi is sleeping behind one of these doors.

“Only if you want me to.”

What? Hongjoong catches that much through his dizzied state. Yunho hoists him forward, pushing his way in through one of the doorframes at the top of the stairs. It’s a bedroom, Hongjoong can see that much out the corner of his eye and in the fuzziness of his vision. Yunho pulls him forward a bit more, hands still secured around his waist, and Hongjoong feels like he’s positively floating under the touch.

“Please?” He typically isn’t one to beg or be desperate, but just this once, Hongjoong finds himself wanting to hear the words again.

“I find you quite cute, Hongjoong.” Has Yunho always been this close to him? Hongjoong’s head is no longer pressed to his arm, and Yunho has turned his chin so that he can properly look Hongjoong in the eye.

“I like that.”

“What do you like?” Yunho unravels his arm from Hongjoong’s shoulders, shifting the man so that he can set him down on the edge of the bed. Hongjoong lets him, eyes wide and glassy as he looks up at Yunho.

You.

“You calling me cute,” Hongjoong slurs. A lopsided smile takes over his lips. “Friends can call each other cute, right?”

“…Sure.” If Yunho hesitates in his answer, Hongjoong doesn’t have enough brainpower to process it.

“Cute,” Hongjoong coos moreso to himself than to the man beside him. “You’re so cute, Yunho.”

He can’t help himself any longer. He grabs for Yunho and plants a hand on either side of his face, pulling his head towards his own. He tugs with a bit too much force though because Yunho’s forehead smacks hard on his and knocks Hongjoong back. Yunho is forced to throw his hands down on either side of Hongjoong’s body to stabilize himself before fully crushing the shorter man.

“Ah, I’m such a mess. I’m a tipsy mess. A mess, Yunho, an absolute mess,” he mutters, eyes searching the other man’s face for a sign of discomfort. He finds nothing except a slight red tinge to Yunho’s face and drags his thumbs over the balls of the man’s cheeks.

“An adorable one nonetheless.”

Hongjoong finds himself stretching his neck up a bit. Yunho’s tongue darts out to drag over his lower him, eyes flitting from Hongjoong’s down to his lips and back up again. The visual clue is there, Hongjoong sees it, it’s impossible to miss even while drunk. Yunho’s next words only confirm his suspicions.

“I-I… Hongjoong, I – I want to kiss you b-but—”

“Do it,” Hongjoong blurts before he can stop himself.

“You’re drunk, Hongjoong. I won’t – I won’t take advantage of you like this, not while you’re drunk.”

“I want you to kiss me.”

“Maybe when you’re sober,” Yunho whispers. He hoists Hongjoong further up on the bed with such little effort that Hongjoong’s heart soars in his chest. “Do you want to change clothes?”

“Don’t have anything to wear,” Hongjoong grumbles back. The sudden change in topic hurts him more than he’d like to admit, and the thought of having Yunho so close yet so far away makes him want to sob.

“I have clothes.” The words are stilted and cut short like Yunho wants to say more but can’t bring himself to do it. Hongjoong refuses to move or react. Yunho takes it as an unspoken agreement and slips off the bed to stand up straight. “Let’s get you changed, Hongjoong. I’ll set out some clothes for you.”

When Yunho’s warmth disappears from his side, Hongjoong stretches a hand out after his back but ultimately lets it fall to his side uselessly. He can only watch on with tired eyes, growing more tired by the second as Yunho pulls a shirt and pair of pants out of his dresser. Hongjoong forces himself to sit up and takes the clothes from Yunho’s hands.

“Do you need help changing? I can—”

“I got it, I got it,” Hongjoong interrupts with a small wave of his hand.

“I’ll step into the bathroom then.” Yunho grins a bit before disappearing into said room so Hongjoong can stumble around and change.

“Yunho!” Hongjoong calls out as he’s switching out shirts. “Are you still there?”

“Do you need help?”

“Hm, no, no. Just checking to see if you’re still there!”

The sound of a huffed out laugh echoes through the door.

“I’m still here, Hongjoong.”

“I’m done changing!” It’s a half-truth, but it’s technically a full truth for Hongjoong because he only sleeps in a shirt regardless. He doesn’t bother putting the pants Yunho gave him on mostly thanks to the ridiculous length of them but also because Hongjoong never sleeps with pants on so it seems pointless. He throws himself back on the bed, rolling over to one side of the overly sized mattress as Yunho comes back into the bedroom.

“I – oh, um, Hongjoong, you… pants?” Yunho motions to his all too bare legs.

“Don’t sleep in them,” he mutters back, words still slurring a bit.

“Fair enough, uh, I suppose.” Maybe Yunho’s gaze is lingering a bit too long on the exposed skin of Hongjoong’s thighs, just at the midway point where Yunho’s shirt stops and skin begins. Yunho jerks his head to look in the opposite direction. “If you need anything, just let me know. I’ll be – be downstairs, yeah.”

Yunho doesn’t leave right away. He lingers by the bed, long fingers tracing over the edge of the mattress and eyes staring holes into the side of Hongjoong’s head.

“Can you… would you stay, Yunho?” Hongjoong dares to murmur. He’s too afraid to look Yunho in the eye, too scared of what he might see there (read – rejection). Yunho’s jaw stutters.

“I want to b-but that would be inappropriate of me,” Yunho whispers back. Hongjoong isn’t sure what he wants. He extended an invitation not once but twice, all that’s left is for Yunho to quit stalling and talking himself out of it. He just needs to commit, which is a cruel irony of Hongjoong to say because he can’t commit to even having feelings for the man as it is. Still, Hongjoong can’t be the only one pulling if Yunho isn’t going to move with him.

“Goodnight then, Yunho,” he says through a slightly bitten back tone that conceals his true feelings.

“G-Goodnight, Hongjoong. I hope you – please sleep well.”

Hongjoong is passed out under the sheets before Yunho can even get out the door. The only dreams that plague him that night are the thoughts of what might have happened if they spent the night crammed into each other’s space with little regard for what lines they were crossing or what boundaries they skipping over in Hongjoong’s drunken rush. Every dream he has ends in a nightmare.

…

In the week that has passed since Hongjoong’s drunken night at Yunho’s house, Wooyoung has warned him about getting too attached to the man at least three times. Hongjoong wishes he could say that he doesn’t remember a thing from that night but he remembers it all. The lingering touches, the laughs exchanged in breaths that mingled together, the near kisses, and most of all the way Yunho was so close within Hongjoong’s reach yet so far away at the same time.

“Maybe you aren’t ready for this.”

“For what, Wooyoung?”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all. I’ve seen enough people hurt you, and I do my best to help you recover every time, but I’m always scared that there’s gonna be one worse than the rest. One I can’t fix.”

Yunho is making conversation with Akemi on his right. Hongjoong can barely touch his food thanks to the uneasy feeling settling in his stomach, but he forces some food down just so that Yunho isn’t offended. He can’t quit thinking about that damn conversation with Wooyoung, the latest one that had the most lasting impact on his damn overthinking brain.

“Do you want this, Hongjoong?”

“He doesn’t.”

“How do you know that? You said that he literally wanted to kiss you.”

“I was drunk. Probably only said that because of the way I was acting.”

Maybe Hongjoong can move back home and find a job there. Or he can find a different school so he doesn’t have to see Yunho and his stupidly perfect face anymore.

“Are you tired, Mimi?” Hongjoong pulls his focus back to the scene before him, trying to shake the memories of that conversation out of his mind. Akemi nods her little head in agreement, and Yunho reaches out to comb his hand through her hair. “Okay, butterfly, run upstairs and brush your teeth. I’ll be right there.”

“Can Mr. Hong come tuck me in please?”

Hongjoong’s eyes widen a bit at that. Yunho twists to look at him, lips parted a bit in disbelief, then he returns to smiling at Akemi.

“We’ll see, angel. Head upstairs first.”

Akemi gets up from her seat with a loud giggle and darts around the table within seconds, gone from sight before Hongjoong can even blink. Yunho stands as well, albeit much slower, gathering his plate and Akemi’s from the table to head into the kitchen. Hongjoong follows suit with his own plate. His gaze finds the back of Yunho’s head.

“Do you want me to tuck her in?” He asks once Yunho sets his plates in the sink.

“Would you please? She will probably refuse to sleep unless you do it.”

Hongjoong replies with a smile and a nod, placing his dish on the counter and pulling away to follow Akemi up the stairs. Maybe it’s because he was already too deep in his thoughts but the act of tucking Yunho’s daughter in and putting her to bed before they indulge in some wine feels grossly domestic. It’s funny how much he hates the thought of it because this is what he’s always wanted: a family to come home to, spend time with, and be loved by. If it’s what he’s always wanted, why is his mind telling him to run away?

Akemi is crawling into bed when Hongjoong arrives in the doorway.

“Mr. Hong, Mr. Hong! Do you have a new poem for me?”

“Where did we leave off last time, little butterfly?” Hongjoong hums, stepping further into the room as he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

“You read one about stars and wasting time!” Akemi tugs her sheets up to her chin, bright eyes blinking at Hongjoong with endless wonder, and he grins at her enthusiasm.

“Hm, I have one about love but it’s a bit sappy.” Hongjoong squats beside her mattress and rests his elbows on the edge. Akemi twists to rest on her side.

“I wanna hear it!”

“Okay, okay, close your eyes and listen closely. This is a word we use to plug holes with. It's the right size for those warm blanks in speech, for those red heart-shaped vacancies on the page that look nothing like real hearts. Add lace and you can sell it. We insert it also in the one empty space on the printed form that comes with no instructions. There are whole magazines with not much in them but the word love, you can rub it all over your body and you can cook with it too. How do we know it isn't what goes on at the cool debaucheries of slugs under damp pieces of cardboard? As for the weed-seedlings nosing their tough snouts up among the lettuces, they shout it. Love, love, sing the soldiers, raising their glittering knives in salute. Then there's the two of us. This word is far too short for us, it has only four letters, too sparse to fill those deep bare vacuums between the stars that press on us with their deafness. It's not love we don't wish to fall into, but that fear. This word is not enough but it will have to do. It's a single vowel in this metallic silence, a mouth that says ‘oh’ again and again in wonder and pain, a breath, a finger grip on a cliffside. You can hold on or let go.” Hongjoong concludes with a small sigh, thumb dragging over his screen and blinking down at the typed words with a painful burn in his chest. Akemi’s eyes are squeezed shut, and he thinks the girl is asleep so he slowly gets back up and stands straight again. Before he moves to leave the room, he bends over Akemi’s bed and presses a soft kiss to the girl’s head.

“Is that how you and Daddy feel about each other?” Hongjoong’s heart almost stops dead in his chest. He chokes on air. What does Akemi know about love? About their feelings? About Hongjoong’s feelings?

“Go to sleep, little butterfly,” he murmurs before retreating for good, this time with heart heavier than lead.

Love. Hongjoong doesn’t know if he’s ever been in love. He hasn’t stopped to wonder if he has or not, hasn’t bothered putting certain labels on his past relationships out of fear of greater heartbreak.

He runs into something on his way out of the room, arms swinging up to lessen the blow only for his palms to land on Yunho’s chest as he hits the man. A small curse slips past his lips but it’s thankfully spoken too quietly for Akemi to stir in her bed. Yunho’s expression is unreadable in the darkness. Hongjoong can’t move his hands away from Yunho, and the man doesn’t ask him to, merely placing his hands over Hongjoong’s. He pulls the shorter man out of the room like that, and once they’re fully in the hallway, Yunho reaches around his shoulder to shut the door to Akemi’s room.

“This word is not enough but it will have to do,” Yunho murmurs. “What poem is that from?”

“Variations On The Word Love by Margaret Atwood.”

Yunho sinks his teeth into his lower lip. So close. Hongjoong tries to pull his hands away but Yunho keeps him in place, slowly guiding him to the stairs with little effort.

“We’ll fall down the stairs, Yunho.”

This word is far too short for us, it has only four letters, too sparse to fill those deep bare vacuums between the stars that press on us with their deafness.

“Right.”

“Let’s go downstairs,” Yunho mutters, finally releasing Hongjoong so that he can walk on his own. So far away.

It's not love we don't wish to fall into, but that fear.

Hongjoong’s legs are wobbling on his way down the stairs. This intimacy is foreign. It feels too much like a dance, one that only Yunho and Hongjoong are aware of and only they know the steps to, and Hongjoong can’t recall a time when he ever danced around a person for so long. People take what they want from him and leave him. That’s what Hongjoong is used to, and that’s what he knows how to handle after all this time.

Why is Yunho different?

It's a single vowel in this metallic silence, a mouth that says ‘oh’ again and again in wonder and pain, a breath, a finger grip on a cliffside.

They find their way to the couch where Yunho already has wine out on the coffee table, their unfinished glasses from dinner there as well. Hongjoong sinks to the cushions with a slight exhale of breath. He reaches for the wine immediately like the liquor is an extension of his body.

You can hold on or let go.

Hongjoong is afraid more than anything else that these feelings will ruin him forever, that Yunho will ruin everyone for him because he just seems too perfect. They fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, slotted in each other’s space even as Yunho sinks down beside Hongjoong and their thighs brush together. Hongjoong wants to let go, to see this fail if only to prove that he was right about it all along. His heart is holding onto Yunho like he’s a lifeline.

“I wouldn’t expect you to read love poems, Hongjoong,” Yunho hums before taking a long drag of wine. “Are you secretly a hopeless romantic?”

“I’m not even sure I can make myself believe in love at this point.”

“How badly have you been hurt in the past? To think like that?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I used to think like that myself. Right after Akemi’s mother… after I found out. There was a short period of time where I knew she was cheating but couldn’t bring myself to say anything. I wanted to try to make things work for Akemi b-because I wanted so badly to give her two parents. I wanted to do everything in my power to make sure that she could have both of us growing up and that she wouldn’t be left with just one of us. Guess I failed her the minute her mother decided to walk out.”

“Yunho,” Hongjoong starts, voice hitching a bit in his throat.

“I’m not — I don’t say this to have your pity. I don’t want that. I guess – part of me wants to open up to you because I care about you but also because I can’t help myself around you. Maybe I’m just a fool though.”

“No, Yunho, I—” Hongjoong can’t finish the thought. Why can’t he give? Yunho sits there and pours his soul into every word, bares the most painful parts of himself without hesitation, and Hongjoong can do nothing but whine about how shitty his life is. “I’m the fool,” he whispers after some time has passed. “I’m scared. My last – my last relationship was s-so perfect up until the end, and I’m so afraid that it will happen again. I’m terrified of letting myself g-go enough to let someone in that way.”

“It’s okay to be afraid, Hongjoong. No one is asking you to stop being afraid. Even I’m still fearful of what could happen in the future or if I try again.”

“I guess it’s because I’m used to the pain of heartbreak.”

“That doesn’t mean it will always be that way though,” Yunho whispers, and Hongjoong dares to make eye contact with the man. The stare doesn’t hold for long though because Yunho moves to pour himself another glass of wine, and Hongjoong watches the liquid pour into the glass in silence. Yunho doesn’t speak again until he’s filled his glass and taken a lingering sip from it. “You deserve a chance at happiness too, Hongjoong.”

His response comes in the form of a small choking sound as he drinks too quickly from his wine and inhales the liquor on accident. He coughs his way through it, waving Yunho off when the man leans across the couch in a fit of worry, but Hongjoong really can’t handle him being any closer than he is.

“I-I am happy,” he finally manages to say after clearing his throat.

“Alone?”

“I’m fine on my own.”

Why seek something that could hurt you when you’re perfectly fine on your own?

Hongjoong finds himself asking the question again, though this time he can come up with many more answers than he is willing to admit.

“Every time I look at you, it’s like seeing a reflection of myself. I can see how lonely you are behind that mask you wear.”

“I have friends.” He sounds defensive, and it’s because he most definitely is getting defensive.

“You know that’s not what I mean, Hongjoong.”

“I don’t need to risk being hurt again,” he counters, pushing a bit of vehemence into his tone.

“By that logic, I don’t either but here I am, trying to rectify all the emotions in my body and make sense of them somehow. No matter how many times I’ve been hurt or how badly I’ve been hurt, I still want to keep trying because I truly believe I can get it right one day.”

Why does Yunho have to be right? Why can’t he just be an asshole and break Hongjoong’s heart that way? It hurts knowing that Hongjoong is gonna fuck this up somehow, these lingering feelings have tumbled out of control and he can’t pull them back into his stone-cold heart any longer. A second later, his vision begins to blur. He can’t pinpoint why or what’s going on until Yunho reaches a hand out and places it atop Hongjoong’s knee. Fingers splay over his clothed skin, swamping Hongjoong in the warmth of the touch, and he can’t help but notice how small and fragile he looks under Yunho’s grasp. Something wet falls atop one of Yunho’s fingers, and it’s not red so it can’t possibly be wine but Hongjoong can’t figure out what — oh. He’s crying.

“Hongjoong…”

He must look absolutely pathetic sitting here on Yunho’s couch, fat tears rolling over the balls of his cheeks with an unfinished glass of wine in his hands, but Yunho doesn’t chastise him or ridicule him in the slightest. He merely moves his free hand to take the glass from Hongjoong’s hands, placing it on the coffee table beside his own that somehow ended up over there without a word, and when he reaches back towards the shorter man, he catches Hongjoong’s face in his hands. Yunho swipes his thumbs over the balls of his cheeks with such gentle and caring fingers that Hongjoong can only cry harder because fuck, he’s touch-starved and even a hand on the knee sent him spiraling. Yunho keeps catching each tear that falls without complaint, hands never leaving Hongjoong for a second, and it causes a painful burn to blossom in his chest, one that grows and festers like a wound until it’s all he can feel.

This kind of weakness isn’t one he’s used to. Hongjoong doesn’t let the cracks show in front of other people like Wooyoung or San so they won’t worry about him not being okay, but Yunho just barged in and knocked those brick walls around Hongjoong down as though they were nothing. How does he do it? This damn blundering giant who has stars in his eyes and a laugh so bright that Hongjoong could gladly listen to it for the rest of his life is gonna ruin him forever. He won’t be able to look at anyone if they aren’t Yunho. Hongjoong wants to trust that Yunho will be better to him than all his exes were, but he can’t shake the fear gnawing away at his bones or the nagging sense of inadequacy when he looks in the mirror. Isn’t it too much? Can’t he just have this one nice thing?

Hongjoong wants so badly to throw all caution to the wind and close the distance between him and Yunho right now, kiss the man right on the mouth and tell him how he feels, but all he can do is mumble broken apologies in a choked tone.

“Don’t apologize, Hongjoong,” Yunho whispers back. The way he’s cradling Hongjoong’s face feels like too much, too intimate and too precious, something he shouldn’t allow himself to have, so he reaches up to push Yunho’s hands away from him like the touch is offensive. Hongjoong is good at only one thing and that’s ruining the good he has in his life.

“I – I should g-go. I need t-to go.” He barely remembers to place the spare key on the table beside his glass of wine as he stands up. Yunho moves with him. Hongjoong just wishes that he would stop being so damn considerate and kind and perfect. Stop being everything Hongjoong wants and needs in his life because it hurts too much. He doesn’t even get around the coffee table before Yunho snatches him by the wrist.

“I don’t want you driving in this state, Hongjoong. It’s not safe,” Yunho pleas. Anger bubbles up in Hongjoong’s gut. He’s been in this position before. He has stood in the center of a room with tears running down his cheeks and begged for someone to make him stay. No one ever did. His exes never stopped him or held onto him or asked him not to go.

“Why does it matter?” He spits back in response, and Yunho’s face blurs before him because of the tears. That question seems to catch Yunho off-guard. Hongjoong takes it as an opportunity to escape, slipping his wrist free of Yunho’s grasp and making for the door while he can, but Yunho snaps back to reality too quickly. He’s there to stop Hongjoong at the door; his hand slams against the wood just as Hongjoong turns the handle and cracks it open, pushing it back shut in an instant.

“It matters because I… it’s not safe. I can’t let you go like this in good conscience.”

“So this is about your conscience then?” Reason has left Hongjoong’s body, and at this point, his self-destructive nature has taken the wheel and is ready to drive him off a cliff. Hongjoong just might let it.

“No, I – Hongjoong, please. I c-care about you. I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want you to go out there and be alone.” Yunho’s arm stays planted against the door as though he’s afraid that Hongjoong might try to leave again.

“Can’t you be a fucking terrible person for one second?”

“I don’t know what you want me to do, Hongjoong, but I’m here for you. Please, just stay. I need you to stay, and maybe it’s selfish, yeah. Maybe I’m thinking too much about my own feelings and reading into things too much. But I know that you don’t want to be alone right now.”

“What I want is for you to be like every other person in my life and leave me when I need you most because that hurts less in the long run!”

Yunho’s fingers curl against the door until they’re tucked into a tight fist. His jaw stutters as he tries to come up with some sort of reply, one that will make Hongjoong feel better no doubt, but all Hongjoong wants is to run away. He’s nearing the edge of this cliff and it won’t be long until he tumbles over it, entering a freefall that will result in a dragging sense of pain only to land on another cliff. It’s a sick cycle Hongjoong lives in, but it’s what he’s used to and it’s what he knows how to handle.

“I don’t know what you’ve had to suffer in the past, Hongjoong, or what your past relationships have put you through. I’m not asking for you to tell me either. I just want to give you what you deserve now. You said you had friends so what does that make us? Am I not your friend too? Can you not rely on me too? I want to be close to you, but if that isn’t what you want from me, just say the word and I’ll back off.” The words roll off Hongjoong’s shoulders like they’re nothing, only one having a lasting effect on him in the heat of the moment.

Friend.

The word is laughable on his tongue, and he releases a cruel and sadistic sound that hurts his throat.

Of course. Hongjoong should have known. He told himself this would happen, he warned himself, he looked himself in the eye and said that this was the only outcome out of all of this. So why does it hurt so fucking much? Why did he give himself baseless hopes and wishes to cling to? How could he be so stupid? He drew the line himself. He defined their relationship as a friendship and nothing more. That was what he said would come out of this, and he told Yunho that that’s what they would be. He did this to himself.

If Yunho notices the way tears are flowing harder than before, he doesn’t comment, and this time he doesn’t move to wipe them away either. Hongjoong lifts a shaky and angry hand to furiously brush them off his flushed cheeks.

“I don’t want you to be my friend.” He tries so hard to push rage into the words, some sort of verbal poison that will put Yunho off forever so Hongjoong can just get over himself, but it only comes out broken and weak, like Hongjoong has zero confidence in what he’s saying because he truly doesn’t.

“Then what do you want me to be?”

Why can’t Yunho get it through his thick skull? Why doesn’t he understand what Hongjoong is trying to say?

He pushes as much strength as he can muster into his arms, hands shoving Yunho out of his personal space. Even though Hongjoong doesn’t hit him hard, Yunho’s body moves as though he does, and the man stumbles back on shaky feet. It’s enough to give him the getaway he wants so badly, but Hongjoong just has to drive the knife in Yunho’s chest a little bit deeper before leaving for good.

“I want you to be nothing to me.”

…

Hongjoong has decided that November 7th is the worst day of the year for no reason other than that it is his birthday. He has never enjoyed his birthday; it’s always an overdone celebration that makes him feel worse about getting older, and turning twenty-seven is no different. There is a lot of self-loathing tied to his birthdays every year, but that still never stops Wooyoung or San from trying to do the absolute most for him regardless. Hongjoong woke up to a bouquet of flowers and two small wrapped presents on his counter and Wooyoung on his couch. The gifts were from Seonghwa and Yeosang apparently, small things they sent since they couldn’t be there to celebrate with Hongjoong in person, and Hongjoong is grateful for them even thinking of him today. Wooyoung, on the other hand, is on thin ice.

This year, Wooyoung decided that it would be smart to do something bigger and better than all Hongjoong’s previous birthdays, which means throwing him a party. And before Hongjoong could even say no, Wooyoung hit him with the ‘I already bought all the stuff, San is at home decorating the house, your ass is coming over for drinks whether you like it or not’, so Hongjoong found himself roped into the mess without getting to a say in the matter. Maybe secretly Hongjoong appreciates it though, because he has been doing a lot of wallowing in his miserable feelings and self-loathing since that night at Yunho’s house.

It has been eleven days, not that Hongjoong is keeping track or anything stupid like that, but he has made note of how Yunho won’t look at him when he picks Akemi up from school. They haven’t met for dinner even once in the past two weeks, they haven’t spoken even a word to each other, and Akemi is the only thread hanging between them at the moment. Hongjoong is counting down the days to the end of the school year so the miserable awkwardness can be dispelled and he can move on with his life without having to see Yunho in it. He isn’t necessarily upset at Yunho anymore; it is moreso a matter of Hongjoong hating himself for doing the same shit he always does and ruining something perfectly good and wonderful. San didn’t help either with the long-winded lecture he threw Hongjoong’s way after six days of moping around by himself.

“Just admit that you fucked up. That will help you move on faster and get over these feelings. No one is asking you to be miserable, Joong. No one thinks you deserve to feel that way either, because you don’t. You are the only one making yourself feel that way, and it isn’t fair to yourself. I hate watching you go through this as much as Wooyoung does, but I won’t sit around and watch you hurt yourself without saying anything.”

He went on for a lot longer than that, but Hongjoong has selective memory and that is the only part that really stood out in his mind. Wooyoung made him swear that he wouldn’t think about that today, and Hongjoong is really trying his best not to. Part of him hoped to wake up to a happy birthday text from Yunho even though he knows that’s the last thing he deserves.

“No one else is coming, right?” Hongjoong mumbles from the passenger seat, glancing over to where Wooyoung sits in the driver’s one with one hand on the wheel and the other fiddling with the radio dial.

“That’s a surprise, shush.”

“Wooyoung–”

“You know we wouldn’t bring anyone you hate, right? Just trust us!”

But what about anyone who hates me? Hongjoong wants to ask, mind only envisioning one tall brunette with round cheeks and a stupidly adorable dorky smile. His gut churns with unspoken anxiety as Wooyoung pulls into the driveway at his and San’s shared house. It’s a somewhat recent development for the two of them — moving in together, that is — but Hongjoong thinks the pair will be stuck at the hip forever, so it wasn’t a surprise to him when they dragged him out for house shopping with them. The exterior of the house is blessedly plain when they reach the door, and Hongjoong is glad that Wooyoung didn’t decide to plaster his name in gold across the front of the building on a banner or something drastic like that.

His hopes are shot the moment he steps through the door because rather than seeing San, all he can see are broad shoulders, a brown mop of hair, and lengthy legs standing in the middle of their living room with his back turned on Hongjoong.

He nearly turns on his heel and walks out the door right then and there because how the fuck did Wooyoung manage to get Yunho to come and why the fuck did Yunho agree to be here? Surely he didn’t know this was for Hongjoong. Maybe he somehow knows Wooyoung and San through something else. Even so, how did they convince him to come? This makes no sense, and Hongjoong is reeling so much that he can’t even try to make it make even a sliver of sense. All his brain can do is go: what the fuck Choi San, what the fuck Jung Wooyoung, what the fuck Jeong Yunho.

“We were gonna invite Akemi too, but adult drinks are involved so that was out of the question,” Wooyoung whispers, leaning in close to speak into the shell of Hongjoong’s ear. “Please don’t be too mad at us. I know it’s your birthday, and we should’ve asked to make sure about this beforehand, but we knew you would probably say no because you were dead set on him hating you. Besides, he’s the one who reached out to me and asked if there was anything he could do. Found me through Instagram and saw all the pictures we’ve got together, so he messaged me and asked after you. He… Hongjoong, he won’t shut up about how much he’s worried about you. I thought I was bad with San, but damn, this man has me beat.”

San has Yunho distracted enough to where the man doesn’t notice that he and Wooyoung have come in yet, so Hongjoong takes the opportunity to reel on the man by his side and punch him in the arm. Wooyoung winces and releases an all too loud scream that betrays their presence in the house.

“Ow, you bitch!”

“Yep, there they are!” San chirps, dimples flashing in Yunho’s direction, and the man finally turns to face the door. Hongjoong is fully prepared for hell to break loose when their gazes meet. There’s nothing he can do to prepare himself for it except hold onto his breath like it’s a lifeline and wait for Yunho to spew angry words and hatred his way. It never comes. Wooyoung slips away from his side, moving to join San at the other end of the entryway, and Yunho walks forward to replace his presence.

“Um, happy birthday,” Yunho says, tone so quiet that Hongjoong almost doesn’t pick up a single word. The taller man looks nervous beyond belief, and his gaze flits away from Hongjoong’s after a single second of eye contact, slipping down to the floor instead.

“Who’s watching Akemi?” He asks without a breath of hesitation. Yunho huffs out a small laugh.

“My parents. They flew in yesterday to visit us, so I figured I could escape for at least part of the night.”

Who knows when the last time Yunho got to see his parents was yet he still decided to come to a stranger’s house for Hongjoong? Even after what Hongjoong said to him?

“You… I-I – why did you come?”

“I selfishly wanted to see you on your birthday?”

“But what I said to you and – and how I treated you… I don’t understand.”

Yunho presses his lips into a smile.

“Don’t understand what? Why I’m here? I’d hoped the gesture would be enough to convey my feelings.”

“You,” Hongjoong exhales, but that’s all he can get out.

“I hope you won’t be too mad that I brought you a gift.”

“Just you being here is enough.” Hongjoong huffs out a laugh as the corners of his eyes begin to burn with unshed tears. Shaky hands find Yunho’s collar and twist around his shoulders until Hongjoong can properly pull him into a hug. Yunho drapes his arms around Hongjoong’s waist without a drop of hesitation, pulling the shorter man in until all their senses are full of each other. “Everything about you is enough, Yunho.”

Yunho drops his face into the crook of Hongjoong’s neck, and the younger is almost definitely crying now, tears wetting Hongjoong’s skin as he clings to the man tighter.

“I’m so sorry for making you feel like you aren’t enough,” Hongjoong murmurs against the shell of the man’s ear. He runs a hand through Yunho’s hair, scraping blunt painted nails over his scalp with no particular rhythm. “Y-You’re so much more — so much more than enough.”

“Why are you making me cry on your birthday?” Yunho laughs, words reverberating against his skin, and the butterflies in Hongjoong’s stomach flutter dangerously.

“Why are you crying on my birthday?”

“Aside from Akemi, you’re one of the only good things I have in my life. I was scared I was going to lose you by being careless. I don’t – I don’t want to be careless with you, Hongjoong. I wanted to follow you out that door but couldn’t bring myself to.”

I want you. I like you. I need you. I love you. Hongjoong is thinking of all the things he could say, and the confidence is there, the willpower to say them is boiling over in his gut. San and Wooyoung watch from the edge of the living room with bitten-back smiles and a knowing gleam to their eyes. Even if they can’t hear the conversation, Hongjoong doesn’t doubt that they’ve stood in the same position and whispered confessions and promises and apologies to each other like this too. Instead of those confessions, Hongjoong mutters something else.

“I don’t want you to be nothing.”

“I spent too long hoping you would say that.” Yunho pulls his head up from Hongjoong’s neck and furiously blinks his tears away as he looks the shorter man in the eye.

“What else did you hope I would say?”

“I couldn’t bring myself to ask for anything more than that.”

Hongjoong presses a hand to Yunho’s cheek, collecting the tears staining his skin and pushing them away with the pads of his thumb.

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

“I hope not. I’d like to keep you around for as long as possible.”

It’s not a confession for either of them. They aren’t admitting to anything special or telling each other how they feel or if they even feel the same way about each other. Maybe there are romantic emotions behind the words or maybe not; Hongjoong doesn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth and call anything too early. For now, he’s content with this. This admission of needing each other and wanting to be around each other. And when Hongjoong is ready, he will dissolve the line of friendship that he drew in the sand and be honest about how he feels. This is already more than he could have hoped for given what he said and how vehemently he tried to destroy their relationship.

“Um, as cute as you guys are, can you hurry it up so we can open presents?” Wooyoung croons from the other side of the room, and Hongjoong holds back the urge to roll his eyes. “And Yunho is not a present so please for the sake of my innocence don’t do anything explicit opening up over there!”

“You whore!” Hongjoong scoffs, glancing around Yunho’s shoulder to scowl at his friend. Wooyoung simply beams back at him before making a crude gesture with his hand and giving him a thumbs up. Still, they both heed his words and untangle their arms from each other to follow the other two further into the living room while Wooyoung prattles on about the new furniture he’s planning on getting for the house to a mildly interested Yunho. San stops beside Hongjoong, careening an elbow into his side and flashing his dimples. “Was this your idea?”

“Maybe? You should be glad I didn’t decide to lock the two of you in a room so you could talk shit through.” San clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Progress is progress, I suppose, so I can’t be too mad at the fact that you two literally look at each other with hearts in your eyes yet still refuse to confess.”

“Yeah, well, took you eight months to grow the balls to ask Wooyoung out.”

“Part of that was your fault. He’s your best friend before he’s my boyfriend, and I thought you would kill me if I so much as looked at him the wrong way.”

“Still might,” Hongjoong grumbles before joining the aforementioned man on the couch. Wooyoung scrambles to the side just before he sits down, making space between him and Yunho for Hongjoong to sit.

“Okay, me first, me first!” Wooyoung insists as he passes an all too large package Hongjoong’s way with his trademark toothy smile. Hongjoong least favorite part about birthdays is the awkwardness that comes with opening presents because he is the type who needs to give in return for receiving something. And if he’s being honest, he is most nervous about whatever Yunho brought him, but he tries to distract himself with Wooyoung and San’s gifts first.

Wooyoung gets him a new jean jacket along with a set of paints that Hongjoong had been eyeing for a while, adding that he got himself a jacket as well so that they could reform the clothes together as a friend project. Hongjoong pokes fun at him for the action and accuses him of only getting Hongjoong something because Wooyoung wanted it for himself at first. Wooyoung plays along with a scrunched nose, faking offense to mess with Hongjoong some more before San interrupts to pass another gift his way. Hongjoong unwraps a new pair of shoes from the man who insists they’ll add at least two inches to Hongjoong’s height just from the insoles, and he nearly earns a boot in the face for that comment but Hongjoong holds back only because Yunho is present.

And speaking of Yunho, that’s how Hongjoong finds himself suddenly looking him in the eye as the man extends a delicately wrapped box with a small blue bow on top of it.

“I wasn’t too sure what to get you but… I hope you’ll like it,” Yunho says just before biting his lip so hard that it hurts to look at. Hongjoong exhales a nervous laugh, fingers nearly shaking as he pulls the wrapping paper away and reveals the box underneath. He knows from experience that it must be jewelry of some sort, but even thinking about it can’t prepare him for what’s inside.

“Y-Yunho,” he stammers, eyes flitting between the gift and the man’s face in absolute disbelief. It’s something small and delicate, a thing that might be insignificant upon first glance or to anyone other than Yunho and Hongjoong themselves, but Hongjoong knows the second he sees it how special and precious the thought behind it is.

“Her mother used to call her that.”

“He would show me the pretty butterflies he painted and would read me a poem to help me fall asleep.”

“Okay, one little butterfly safely put back to bed without any issue.”

On a small bed of white foam there sits a little blue butterfly. It’s attached to a silver chain at the tip of one of the wings, tilted at a slight angle in the box, and Hongjoong tilts his head to match it as he stares down.

“We should get the drinks,” San cuts in, shaking Hongjoong out of his stunned reverie.

“Okay, babe. Have fun with that!”

“No, we, Wooyoung, we should get the drinks.”

“Huh? Why we? Oh! Oh. Oh my god, yes, we should definitely get the drinks. Excuse us for a second, we’ll be right back!” Wooyoung bolts from his spot on the couch, followed quickly by San, and all of a sudden, it’s just Hongjoong and Yunho sitting in the living room. Endless amounts of empty space around them yet only mere centimeters separating their thighs from touching.

“A butterfly,” Hongjoong whispers at last, and he finally dares to look back up at Yunho. Yunho doesn’t look back at him though; he has his head hung a bit, fingers awkwardly and nervously clasped around something on his neck. Hongjoong waits as patiently as he can for the man to react in some way, and once again his heart threatens to stop in his chest. Yunho unfolds his fingers to reveal an identical silver chain with a blue butterfly pendant placed in the exact same position as the one Hongjoong holds in his hand.

“It’s a, um, it’s a custom piece. The one I have, I mean. I got it shortly after Akemi’s mother and I officially split and she moved out. I contacted the jeweler who made it for me and asked if he could make another and he said absolutely, so… yeah.” Custom piece. Identical. Hongjoong might pass out actually. Yunho continues after a quick lick of his lips. “You’ve always — you always act like a father to Akemi even though no one expects you to or demands that of you. You do it willingly and happily, and I never thought I would meet a person like you in a million years. I don’t know how to show my gratitude for that but I thought that out of everyone in my life, you deserve this the most.”

A key to Yunho’s heart, his pride and joy, and an invitation. To what exactly, Hongjoong doesn’t think he could figure that out right now, but he indulges in himself a bit, turning around on the couch so his back is now to Yunho. With a quick flick of his wrist, he extends the box with the necklace behind him, giving Yunho a silent plea to put the necklace on for him. Yunho takes it in stride and pulls the box from Hongjoong’s hand. Their fingers brush for half a second, but both chase the feeling for another half-second before Yunho dips his chin with a chuckle.

The metal of the chain and pendant is cold against his skin, slipping over his neck and under the collar of his shirt before he can stop it. Hongjoong reaches up to touch the jewelry if only to confirm that it’s real, this is real, Yunho is real.

Yunho does his best not to touch the back of Hongjoong’s neck, and the older of the two is glad for it because he isn’t sure if his heart can handle much more of this.

“There,” Yunho whispers once the clasp sits attached on Hongjoong’s skin.

“Thank you,” Hongjoong says as he turns to face Yunho once more. His hand still sits atop the pendant, and he isn’t sure he could move it if he wanted to with how touched he is by the gesture of the necklace.

“You don’t need to thank me.”

A breath of silence. Hongjoong feels like Yunho is the only person in the universe at that moment, the only other human being who knows him and understands him in ways even Hongjoong doesn’t himself.

“I want to.”

“Then I suppose I can’t stop you if it’s what you want.” Yunho’s eyes are twinkling under the fluorescent lights above them, little gems that shine with so much emotion that Hongjoong is overwhelmed just from the sight of it.

“I was engaged,” Hongjoong blurts. He isn’t sure what comes over him or possesses him to say such a thing, and as soon as he processes what he’s said, he flings a hand up to cover his mouth. Yunho blinks back in equal parts shock and confusion. “I – hold on, I m-meant, uh, let me start over.” Hongjoong is begging Wooyoung and San to come back and save him from this awkwardness, but apparently, his mouth has a mind of its own because he just keeps speaking instead. “My last relationship – the one I kinda told you about – we were together for three years then he proposed to me. We were engaged for seven months and planned the wedding and honeymoon and everything. There weren’t… any problems between us, at least I didn’t see any signs of there being something wrong. A few days before the wedding, he c-called it off and said he didn’t want to marry me.”

“Wh–Why?” Yunho exhales, and the one word quivers on his tongue.

“He… found someone else he wanted to be with more. Made more money than me, taller than me, better looking no doubt – just everything he wanted and more. He didn’t even cheat on me b-but I selfishly wished he had just so that I could justify how I felt. I wanted to hate him but couldn’t even do that because he was open and h-honest and kind even then. I get scared with you because you’re so – so kind. So giving, and I get scared that I won’t be good enough in the long run.” Scared that it will happen again. That’s what Hongjoong wishes he could say, but he doesn’t need to because Yunho understands nonetheless.

Large hands cup his jaw, and Hongjoong is forced to look up at the man across from him.

“Anyone – and I truly mean anyone, Hongjoong – would be lucky to call you theirs for eternity. I hate that someone took that away from you and made you feel like you’re less than perfect.” Yunho is pulling him closer. He is sinking into Yunho’s touch, long fingers guiding him forward with endless gentleness, and Hongjoong secures a hand by Yunho’s side as he gets closer. Their noses brush, a smile twitches at Yunho’s lips, and Hongjoong is about to risk it all for this man.

“I’m not drunk this time,” Hongjoong murmurs, hot breath cascading over Yunho’s mouth.

“You’re not.”

“So kiss m—”

“Got drinks!”

Hongjoong has never scrambled to get away from a person faster in his life, and he’s pretty sure he nearly faceplants atop the glass coffee table in his rush to separate himself from Yunho.

Fuck Jung Wooyoung.

“Oh s-shit, uh, hold on, we’ll go back into the kitchen for a second! Continue!” Hongjoong hears angry whispers, followed by a loud smack and a noise of indignation coming from San as the pair rush to get back into the kitchen. Hongjoong’s cheeks burn with embarrassment. The mood has most definitely been killed thanks to Wooyoung’s interruption, and when Hongjoong glances over to gauge Yunho’s reaction, he finds a pretty blush splayed over the man’s cheeks.

It shouldn’t change anything. Friends have their moments like this, right? Friends get each other gifts and such, and maybe sometimes they nearly kiss in moments of clouded judgment. Yunho’s expression is one that Hongjoong can’t read. It’s only after he’s been staring at the younger man for well over a minute that Yunho meets his gaze and offers a shaky smile.

It shouldn’t change anything, so why does it feel like the ground under Hongjoong has been shifted in ways that he both can’t explain or reverse? The slippery slope just keeps sending him down.

…

There is an unspoken shift between the two of them from the night onwards. Nothing else significant happened that night; Yunho stayed to eat with them and drink a bit before saying that it was time for him to get back to Akemi. Hongjoong walked him to the door, put a hand on his arm, and thanked him one more time. They stared at each other’s lips for far too long, then Wooyoung started screaming about how San spilled beer on the couch cushions, and Hongjoong let Yunho go without asking for anything else from the man.

Their dinners resume as well, and Hongjoong is more grateful for that than he’d like to admit because admitting it would mean acknowledging how intense his feelings for the man are. They don’t talk about the near kisses or lingering touches either, but that’s alright by Hongjoong’s standards. He’ll take the peace and pining while it lasts because that’s the best way for him to avoid pain in the long run. He does make certain not to drink enough to get drunk like he did that one night. Things don’t change beyond that, that is until one day in mid-December when Hongjoong is back to visit for dinner but it’s quite different this time.

First, it’s a Saturday rather than their usual Fridays. Hongjoong couldn’t make it the day before because he promised that he would go visit Seonghwa and Yeosang in the new house they bought recently.

Second, Akemi isn’t present. According to Yunho, she’s off staying the night at a friend’s house for a birthday sleepover, so for the first time ever, Hongjoong is alone with Yunho in the house. He tries to insist that this won’t make anything different between them. It’s just their typical dinner after all, even if Akemi isn’t with them.

“What are your plans for Christmas?” Yunho asks midway through a bite of chicken. To be frank, Hongjoong completely forgot about the holiday. It’s never something huge or drastically special to him, so he pushed the thought of it to the back of his mind, but he should probably start debating what he’s going to be doing since it’s less than a week away now.

“Uh, I’m not sure. I won’t be going home, I know that much. Tickets are too expensive, and it isn’t worth the hassle to go. What about you?”

“I haven’t had time to think about it. Work is always busiest this time of year, but I’ll get some time off starting next week.”

“Not going home?” Hongjoong inquires, glancing over at the man.

“No, not this year. Parents are going to France for a trip so there won’t be anyone to go home to.”

“It’ll just be you and Akemi then?”

“Yup, first time too.”

Hongjoong has an idea. A bad one, but an idea nonetheless.

“If you – I, um, it will be a bit cramped, but you two could come to my place for Christmas?” He sounds too hopeful, and he probably looks a bit desperate with his lower lip caught between his teeth. Yunho cocks his head to the side. The silence that ensues feels like a ton of bricks sitting atop Hongjoong’s chest, and he’s about to backtrack and call the idea stupid when Yunho finally speaks.

“I was going to ask the same of you actually.”

“Oh. Oh! Yeah, y-yeah, uh—”

“Do you want to come over for Christmas, Hongjoong?” Yunho interjects. His gaze pierces the side of Hongjoong’s head, and the older man is certain that he forgets how to breathe for a second.

“I would love that,” he exhales quietly. Yunho hums through another bite of food and continues to finish his meal without mentioning it again, but the smile that lingers on his lips for the rest of dinner has Hongjoong’s heart doing cartwheels and frontflips for too long. They clean the dishes side by side for once. Without one of them needing to tuck Akemi in for the night, they can get the dishes done a lot faster than usual. Still, Hongjoong cannot shake the feeling that something they’re both unaware of is about to happen. Nothing about Yunho’s behavior is different tonight. Hongjoong thinks he’s acting normally himself as well.

So why? Why does this feel so different?

Yunho puts on a movie for the two of them to watch while Hongjoong finishes his one (and only) glass of wine. He might need more than that though because as much as he tries, he cannot tear his eyes away from the man on the other side of the couch. Yunho is far too attractive for his own good, legs splayed wide open and thighs on full display with one hand pressed to his right thigh and the other draped over the back of the couch.

“Are you cold?” Yunho asks after about half an hour of Hongjoong’s wandering eyes and lack of focus on the movie.

“H-Huh?” Hongjoong stammers.

“You keep curling up further and further in that corner of the couch.”

“Oh, I’m – I’m fine. I need to run to the bathroom actually.” Hongjoong bolts up before Yunho can reply, darting away from the living room in his sudden bout of panic. He doesn’t need to go to the bathroom, and Yunho probably knows that; all he needs to do is lecture his reflection in the mirror and tell himself to pull it together. He also wants to plaster the words ‘I’m desperately in love with you’ across his forehead just so that he doesn’t have to confess to Yunho himself.

No, Hongjoong, bad idea.

All Hongjoong does is splash some water across his face before returning to the living room. Yunho has shifted a bit and now has a blanket draped over his legs. When he catches sight of Hongjoong, he offers a grin and pulls the blanket up a tad.

“Just admit you’re cold and get under the blanket with me.”

“Okay,” Hongjoong squeaks out, trying to hide his flushing cheeks from view as he slips under the blanket. The space between their bodies is absolutely minimal now. Hongjoong tries to keep himself as far from Yunho’s body as possible, but he was truly cold and the warmth the blanket provides is really nice. Between the blanket, Yunho, and the soft volume of the television playing in the background, he can’t help but to become more drowsy with each passing second. Yunho’s arm is still on the back of the couch, nearly around Hongjoong’s shoulders, and if he’s honest, Hongjoong is only thinking about that and nothing else.

“For Christmas, do you want me to bring anything?” He asks after a while in a desperate attempt to stay awake. Yunho hums a little, head tilting side to side.

“I can’t think of anything off the top of my head. We can talk about that later on though.” Yunho sounds tired as well, and Hongjoong can’t tell whether that’s a good thing or not. On one hand, if they’re both so tired, it wouldn’t be as awkward to fall asleep like this, but on the other, it would be too intimate given Hongjoong’s feelings for him. “Do you want me to put up any specific decorations?”

“Hm? I don’t have a preference. It’s your home, you can choose whatever you like,” Hongjoong murmurs back, daring to let his head fall closer to Yunho’s shoulder.

“Can I put up mistletoe then?”

“Wh-What?”  That caught Hongjoong’s attention. And woke him up quite a bit too.

“I think you’d look cute under it,” Yunho whispers through a smile, leaning in to speak the words closer to Hongjoong’s mouth. “And it would give me an excuse to kiss you.”

What. What? Passing out seems like a good idea all of a sudden.

“Do you need an excuse?”

“Depends.” Yunho shrugs. The hand resting on the back of the couch falls forward, brushing Hongjoong’s shoulder before coming up to toy with a few strands of his hair.

“What if… what if I ask you to?” Hongjoong wets his lips then drags his teeth over his bottom lip. He doesn’t intend to be so seductive in the action; it’s merely a nervous habit he has, but Yunho watching his mouth move so intently that Hongjoong might melt.

“Are you asking me to?”

“No,” Hongjoong exhales. That catches Yunho a bit off-guard, eyes blinking furiously like he’s misunderstood Hongjoong’s advances and actions this whole time, but the older rushes to finish his thought. “I’m not asking. I’m telling you to kiss me already, Yunho. I’ve waited long enough, no?”

Yunho inhales so sharply that air whistles through his teeth. His eyes search Hongjoong’s features for something else, maybe a sign that he doesn’t mean what he’s saying, but all Hongjoong wears is pure determination and pent-up frustration at taking this long to kiss the man. Yunho curls his fingers in Hongjoong’s hair, gripping it like a vice but not hard enough to cause any pain.

“I didn’t expect you to be the demanding type, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong arches a brow at that and curls his lips enough to be taunting. Apparently, that turns out to be Yunho’s limit because the man finally dips in to close the distance between their mouths. He pulls at Hongjoong’s hair a little harder to get better access to his mouth. Hongjoong is positively floating with even the smallest pressure of the kiss, but when Yunho’s lips slot against his and deepen the pressure, he thinks that there’s no way this is reality. He’s ascended to the last level of heaven and is on his way to paradise, that’s the only explanation for this.

Hongjoong doesn’t remember moving at all but suddenly he’s pushing his way out from under the blanket and straddling Yunho’s hips without missing a beat. Their lips are still connected, thin trails of spit between them that only increase in volume when Hongjoong gets bold enough to swipe his tongue over the younger man’s lip. Yunho uses his free hand to yank the blanket out from between their bodies, letting Hongjoong press closer to his chest in a heated fervor. He can’t seem to move fast enough, nipping at Yunho’s lip until the man gasps. His tongue slips in next and fills the empty space in Yunho’s mouth to clash with the man’s tongue in a show of dominance. He doesn’t get to maintain that dominance for long as it turns out because Yunho gives a sharp tug to Hongjoong’s hair, and it sends a jolt through his body so intense that he forgets where he is and what he’s doing for a split second.

Yunho takes the opportunity to push back against Hongjoong’s tongue and shove his way into the smaller man’s mouth, and fuck, if that’s not the hottest thing he’s ever done, Hongjoong doesn’t know what could possibly top that. Until Yunho slips both hands down his back to secure at his hips with a grip that’s almost bruising in force, that is. That sends Hongjoong to a different plane of existence, but he doesn’t even want to come down from there if it means kissing Yunho like this. Or maybe just kissing him in general. He hasn’t decided.

Yunho decides it’s time to breathe, unfortunately, and Hongjoong has to pull away with no shortage of internal whining because goddammit lungs, hold a bit more air so he can kiss Yunho some more.

“That was nice,” Hongjoong exhales, still staring at the soft glisten of spit on Yunho’s lips. “Can we—”

“I like you, Hongjoong.”

“Y-You what?”

“I like you. In ways I can’t explain and in ways that words can’t describe. Just saying it wouldn’t do my feelings justice, and I-I thought… I hoped to make it clear on your birthday. When you asked me why I came and I said I hoped the gesture would convey my feelings – I should have said it then. I like you, every inch of you, every part of you inside and out, maybe so much so that it’s love.”

Hongjoong huffs out a breath of disbelief, jaw unable to close in his state of shock, and all he can do is bring a trembling hand to where Yunho’s heart lies behind the confines of his chest. Yunho gnaws at his lip. The corners of his mouth turn upward.

Then there's the two of us. This word is far too short for us, it has only four letters, too sparse to fill those deep bare vacuums between the stars that press on us with their deafness.

“I-I’ve liked you for s-so long,” Hongjoong whispers once the initial surprise passes. “I didn’t – I tried talking myself out of it and convincing myself that there was no way you could ever feel the same.”

It's not love we don't wish to fall into, but that fear.

“How could I not when it’s you?” Yunho is holding his cheek now, thumb caressing his face like Hongjoong is a piece of glass in his hands. “You’re… everything I could ever have asked for in a person. Everything and more. I wish I could put it into words – how you make me feel – but the best I can do is say I think I love you.”

This word is not enough but it will have to do.

“I think I love you too.” It scares Hongjoong to admit that out loud; it’s something he could never even let himself say in his thoughts, but Yunho pulls the words from his lips with no effort at all. Like he’s meant to say it.

It's a single vowel in this metallic silence, a mouth that says ‘oh’ again and again in wonder and pain.

His chest burns a little from the heat of all the emotions running through his body. Yunho pulls him closer, one hand still wrapped around Hongjoong’s delicate waist with the other dragging soft patterns over his cheek. They have been this close for so long. They’ve worked in this standstill where they are together but apart, close but far away, and now all that’s left to do is increase the distance or close it forever.

A breath.

It is Hongjoong’s turn to inhale as Yunho sighs over his still-swollen lips.

A finger grip on a cliffside.

The way Yunho’s eyes rake over his face is intimate in a way Hongjoong can’t describe. Yunho almost speaks through only that gaze, like he’s telling – no, asking, pleading, begging Hongjoong to hold onto him and not let go.

You can hold on or let go.

Hongjoong, at last, has decided that he wants to hold on, even if the past has scarred him and the future scares him.

…

Hongjoong arrives outside Yunho’s door on Christmas day with a knot in his stomach that won’t go away. It’s not a bad sort of knot – at least he thinks it isn’t – but it is one that leaves him a bit nervous. The butterfly necklace Yunho gifted him still sits around his neck, not taken off once since Yunho gifted it to him, and the bag of gifts in his hands feels heavier than usual. He and Yunho have spoken since that night, but Hongjoong hasn’t come over again nor have they discussed what the events of that night entail for them moving forward. It would taste a lie on his lips if Hongjoong tried to say that he hasn’t been thinking about kissing Yunho every day since.

“Mr. Hong! You’re here! Mr. Hong is here, Daddy!” The door swings open to reveal Akemi, all dolled up in a precious little plaid dress with small butterfly clips in her hair, and Hongjoong’s nerves melt away at the sight of her bright smile. Then Yunho steps into view, much less dolled up and more looking like he just rolled out of bed five minutes ago, but Hongjoong can’t say that he doesn’t look damn good as it is. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thinks about the possibility of waking up to a Yunho with bedhead and flushed cheeks.

“Can you take the gifts in for him, Mimi?” Yunho asks, running a hand through Akemi’s hair. She beams back at him and takes the bag in Hongjoong’s hands away without complaint, which leaves Hongjoong suddenly very empty-handed and alone before Yunho. “Hi friend.”

Friend? Hongjoong cocks his head to the side.

“That’s what you said the first time I tried to kiss you,” Yunho explains upon seeing Hongjoong’s confusion.

“Hi friend,” Hongjoong replies through a stretched grin. The sight of Yunho before him is making him feel a bit bold, maybe too reckless, but he rolls with it and stretches up on his tiptoes to place a small kiss on the corner of Yunho’s mouth. “Merry Christmas.”

“We’re not even under the mistletoe yet.”

Hongjoong squints and looks off to the side, pretending to think the words through, then breaks into a broad smile.

“Need an excuse to kiss me then?”

“Never,” Yunho murmurs before dipping in to give Hongjoong a proper kiss on the lips, and it’s everything he could have wanted and more. Everything about Yunho feels safe and warm, like something Hongjoong never wants to let go of, and thankfully Yunho seems to think the same of him as his lips chase after Hongjoong’s when the shorter man pulls away.

“Daddy! Mr. Hong will get cold if you don’t let him in!”

“Yeah, Yunho! Do you want me to get all cold out here?” Hongjoong teases, stepping around Yunho to properly greet Akemi inside.

“I had to wake Daddy up because he was trying to sleep in this morning,” the little girl explains when Hongjoong squats down to be eye level with her.

“Did you? Shame on him! He should know to be up early for Christmas morning!”

“He should! He said he stayed up late, so I think he was trying to spy on Santa.”

“Spy on Santa? My goodness, Yunho, you are causing trouble left and right.”

“Yes, well, Santa and I had to meet up during the night. I had to ask him for one more gift.”

“He didn’t leave any other gifts on the fireplace though, Daddy!” Akemi protests, motioning to the hearth behind her. Yunho blinks at the spot for a moment then turns to look down at Hongjoong with a smile.

“He brought my gift to the door this morning it seems.”

Hongjoong releases a scoff to hide his embarrassment and reaches over to swat at Yunho’s stupidly long legs.

“You’re disgusting!”

“Yeah, Daddy! Ew! Don’t say icky things!” Akemi scrunches up her nose and feigns disgust although Hongjoong isn’t sure she can even understand what Yunho means by his comment, so she might just be playing along with Hongjoong’s show of disgust. Yunho shakes his head a little but relents in his grossly cheesy comments to say something else.

“Mimi, honey, can you run upstairs for a moment? Daddy wants to talk to Mr. Hong in private for a little bit, then when we’re done, we can open up all the presents!”

“Okay, Daddy! Can I play with my dolls while I wait?”

“Of course, baby, go ahead. Run, run! We won’t be long, I promise!” Yunho shoos the little girl off, watching her bound up the stairs with nothing but fondness in his eyes, and he continues to stare after her even after Hongjoong pushes himself to his feet.

“Talk in private?” Hongjoong asks.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I was going to wait until after gifts and such but… you decided to kiss me right off the bat, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to focus after that.”

“Are you saying that I’m distracting, Mr. Jeong?”

“In more ways than one, absolutely.” Yunho draws his lips into a tight purse then presses them into a thin line in the same motion. “What do you want us to be, Hongjoong?”

That’s… not the question Hongjoong was expecting.

“I’m content with it being up to you,” he whispers in response.

“If – so if I asked for us to be exclusive, what would you say?” Hongjoong’s heart leaps in his chest.

“Say the word and I’m yours, Yunho.”

“Well, you can’t say things like that. I’ll lose all my inhibitions before noon,” Yunho chuckles, dipping his head to his chest. Hongjoong takes a step closer to him and closes a bit of the distance between their bodies. He lifts a hand in a sudden bout of confidence and cups Yunho’s cheek.

“I want to be yours and only yours. Even if I’m scared of the future and what it holds, I don’t want to lose what we have or what we could have. So if you would have me, I will gladly be yours for as long as you want me.”

“And if I happen to want you forever?”

“Then you’re stuck with me,” Hongjoong murmurs. The undisclosed promises in those words sting a bit, memories of the past threatening to resurface until Yunho chases them away with his next words.

“Do you – do you want me as well?”

“I want you,” he whispers while the confidence still lasts. He delivers a quick kiss to the tip of Yunho’s nose. “I like you—” another to his right cheek “—I need you—” one where his thumb ends and Yunho’s skin begins “—and I’m madly in love with you, Jeong Yunho.”

It’s good that Hongjoong has nothing else to say because Yunho cuts off his air, lips smashing hard against his with an almost bruising force, and Hongjoong could almost cry because of all the emotions built up in his chest. He scrambles to wrap his arms around Yunho’s neck as the other man deepens the kiss. His back curls hard to press himself fully against Yunho. There’s a certain kind of desperation in his body, one that just makes him want to pull Yunho closer and kiss him for hours on end. Even if it’s not their first kiss or their last, Hongjoong cherishes it nonetheless. They only pull apart when every ounce of air has left their bodies and they’re on the verge of blacking out. Yunho gasps for air, huffing in deep breaths stolen from Hongjoong’s exhales, and it’s too close, too intimate, too everything. Hongjoong doesn’t want it to stop even for a second.

“Good because I’m in love with you too, Hongjoong. And I plan to continue loving you for as long as I can.”

He would like to think that there are unspoken promises in those words as well, ones that only the two of them know, but for now, Hongjoong will live in this moment as long as he can without thinking about the past or the future. He has Yunho now, and that's enough for him.

..

a/n: hi wow yes you made it to the end of this fic!! this is officially the longest standalone fic i’ve ever written and god it’s long as hell and took the life out of me but i absolutely adore this fic and am very proud of it and myself for finishing it! i hope you all enjoy as much as i do :c

[olivinesea]

Worth the Keeping

a/n: Damn this was a slow one. Brought to you by the way asphalt looks under streetlights and me having been a badly behaved teenage drunk. It’s long but there’s no way around it. TW abuse, nothing wild tho. One bad slur, I’m sorry. Settle in for some in depth Hotch thoughts. ~6k

Young Hotch, young Haley. Bittersweet.

He’s never thought much about his own life, never felt that it carried much importance. Certainly the people in his home did not value it. He thinks perhaps his mother did at one point but she is too caught up in her own worries and the care of Sean to devote any attention to him. Sometimes she even seems angry if he appears to need help. So he makes sure never to need it. He learns how to splint broken fingers and reset dislocated joints, how butterfly bandages and superglue were all that was needed to close most wounds. He thinks, when he is encouraged to imagine the future by naively optimistic teachers, that perhaps he will be an EMT since he’s become so good at triage. He’s met a few EMTs, the rare times when an ambulance was necessary, the threat to life too immediate to ignore. They usually seem like nice, if a little intense, people.

Once, when he was only five, he had experienced anaphylaxis after being stung by a bee. He’d already learned not to make a big deal out of life’s little injuries. So when the bee stings him in the garden, he knows not to say anything. It is his fault anyway, it is always his fault. He sucks on the skin around the sting, anything to take away the fiery sensation he is feeling. He has never been stung by a bee before, had no idea what was going to happen as he grabbed at the little buzzing creatures flying busily around his mother’s flower garden. It turned out, bees did not appreciate chubby hands grasping at them and one made a point of letting him know.

He creeps back to the house guiltily, thinking of the ice in the freezer, maybe he could get some of that. Sometimes his mother would bring him ice wrapped in a towel to place over the repercussions of his childish transgressions, still reaching for love he couldn’t earn. It was always too cold, biting in a way that made the injuries pulse. But he accepted it because it meant that his mother was sitting near him, that he wasn’t alone for a little while. This only reinforced his lessons that care was painful. Wasn’t it better to have someone care so much it hurt than to have no one to care at all? She promised him that’s all it was, it was only because they cared that these things happened. It was only that he was still learning.

But right now, the bee sting is burning a hole in his hand and he thinks maybe the ice could at least distract him from that pain. He slips silently into the house, his eyes adjusting slowly to the dark interior after the bright summer sun. He is breathing hard, but each breath seems to draw in less air. Maybe he is afraid. He knows fear, is intimately familiar with the feeling. He knows it better than most five year olds do, who only experience fear on a basic level—sometimes practical: fires burn, falling from high places is dangerous; sometimes fantastical: what if there are dragons in the woods or ghosts in the attic. Fear was a means to keep you safe but when you are a child there are supposed to be adults helping keep you safe as well. A child’s fear shouldn’t have to be so specific. Aaron is afraid of slammed doors and broken glass and dirt tracked in on his shoes. He is afraid of storms that brew in bottles of dark liquid and unleash torrential outpourings of disgust.

In this moment he is afraid, not of a monster, but of a person who might be watching him from the shadows of the living room. He is too young to understand schedules and time, he doesn’t know his greatest fear is otherwise occupied. Instead, he lets fear be the reason for his change in breathing. He makes it to the kitchen with its big windows and bright lighting, only to find his hand has grown, comically large and heavy, the skin swollen and stretched. Breathing feels like trying to drag air through a wet towel. He feels his heart racing as the fear closes in but still stays quiet. He probably wouldn’t be able to make much noise if he tried but he doesn’t want to find out who else is inside the house at the moment.

Through the small luck allotted him, his mother comes in minutes later to find him curled on the kitchen floor, skin around his mouth a pale blue, his eyes closed in concentration, trying to will air through his constricted windpipe. She is about to scold him, to tell him to stop playing when she sees his hand, all doughy pink and covered in hives that travel up his arm to his thin chest. She rushes to the phone to call 911. She’s never been more scared, both that her son might die and that her husband might find out how careless they’d both been.

Ambulances weren’t easy to hide, drew too much attention, but something tells her there isn’t time for a different choice. The EMTs assure her she had done the right thing, quickly setting to work administering epinephrine and monitoring Aaron’s oxygen levels. If he seems rather quiet and withdrawn for a five year old, he had just gone through a dramatic, life threatening experience. It would cause anyone to sink into a bit of shock. They don’t notice the nervous looks exchanged between mother and son, both their eyes darting to the long driveway every so often, looking out for incoming danger. When they tell her the boy needs to be taken to the hospital for further care she visibly balks.

“But he seems fine now, he’s doing better right?”

The child in question is sitting in the open back of the ambulance, thin legs dangling, scum from leftover bandaid adhesive outlining skinned knees. He is breathing carefully into a mask that another medic holds for him. His hand is cradled in his lap, no longer outlandishly large but still misshapen. He looks fragile and she longs to pull him away, out of the hands of these strangers, who may only be trying to help but don’t realize how their help might have consequences. She wants them to leave, wants the house to return to the state it was in this morning when her husband left for the day, so he wouldn’t see anything as out of place, wouldn’t have to know about the day’s events.

She is worried about talk in the neighborhood, about the way her front lawn has been overrun by busy people in uniform, doing what she can’t imagine. But it was a future worry; she was so good at keeping secrets surely this was one she could fit in somewhere. If only she can keep it contained to this moment, prevent it from spreading.

“He is, but it’s important that he go. There could be a secondary reaction.”

Her arms are crossed and she rubs her index finger across her bottom lip absently as she tries to think quickly. Victor will be home soon, he would be disturbed to find them gone. She doesn’t think there will be any way to hide this if they went to the hospital. Too many people will see, there will be no way to lie away their absence. But if they didn’t go now and Aaron got worse, she couldn’t very well call the emergency services a second time. She looks at him again. He is now staring down at the ground, swinging his little legs back and forth. She hates that she has to make a decision like this. She hates how there were likely no good outcomes no matter what she chooses. She pinches her lip between her fingernails for a moment then sighs as she gives in.

“Ok, let’s go. I just need to call my husband first.”

*

It was only the presence of the hospital staff that stops him from strangling both mother and son when he receives the bill. Aaron shrinks against his mother’s side as his father thanks the doctor with a tight voice before turning and walking out of the building. His mother, nervous herself, is shivering, he can feel her body shake as he presses against her. She takes off on quick steps to follow his father from the building. She would have left him behind if he hadn’t been gripping tightly to her skirt, nearly dragging him off balance with her speed. They get into the car silently. Aaron climbs behind the passenger seat to the back and tries to melt into the corner. The air is snapping with electricity as a fast moving spring rainstorm darkens the sky around them. The tension makes him want to scream. He knows better.

“I’m sorry, there wasn’t time,” his mother starts, her voice embarrassingly plaintive.

"Shut up.”

Aaron’s eyes dart back and forth between his parents. He sees his mother hang her head, rounding her shoulders ever so slightly. He sees his father’s knuckles turn white as he grips the steering wheel. He knows this was his fault but he doesn’t know how to fix it. He opens his mouth to say something but right then lightening cracks across the sky in front of them and they are all dazed by the flash.

Later, after they get back to the house and Aaron is sent to his room, the crashes of thunder mingle with his father’s shouting, his mother’s cries. He shivers beneath his too thin blanket, his lungs still feel new and foreign. Like they have been scraped raw and newly exposed to their purpose of pulling oxygen into his small body. He has suspected it before but this experience has solidified in his mind that he shouldn’t be here, that his presence only causes distress. He knows his mother would be better off if he had died, he knows his father would be less angry about that than whatever humiliation he feels he’s just experienced at the hospital. For some reason, despite his wishes to the contrary, he only brings about waste and pain. He had only wanted to meet the tiny creatures, to see if their busy movements, their buzzing hearts matched his own.

*

As he gets older, he grows tired of the care, he wishes more and more to be ignored. If only his father cared less, he could fade into the wallpaper, disappear into the shadows of their house. If no one cares, he can’t disappoint with his shortcomings. He can just float around in a fog that softens the world around him, never caring too much about anything, never feeling that sting of caring. If he doesn’t care, nothing matters, nothing can touch him.

Aaron has completely accepted the fact of his own unimportance by the time he is a teenager. He does everything he can to blend into the background. To escape the notice of others because being noticed is never safe. It reminds people that he dares to take up space, dares to make use of resources better allocated to creatures more deserving, less hateful.

Something shifts once he hits puberty, a sort of recklessness sparks inside him. Though he is still careful to avoid the attentions of adults, he starts to bite back when other kids tease him. They had been teasing him his whole life. For his strange haircuts and too small or too large clothing. For never having new things. They told him he was dirty, they told him he was weird. All the usual small cruelties children hurl at one another.

Now that he is in high school and has gone through a growth spurt, not yet his full size but much larger than he had been, he has some power. He notices the way the other kids step back when he stands up quickly, only with the desire to run and hide, but he notices it nevertheless. I’ll remember that, he thinks as he walks, rather than runs, to escape from their taunts.

Part way into his freshman year he breaks someone’s nose. While not exactly justified it wasn’t unprovoked either. They had been picking at him throughout the day. Purposely running him into lockers, knocking over his lunch tray and pinching him as he walked by. There are so many of them and they are so quick about it he is never completely sure who is doing it. His irritation grows inside him such that he wouldn’t be surprised to see smoke drifting out of his ears. The pokes and jabs are bad enough on their own but what the other kids don’t know is that they are just layering over deeper bruises, ones he does his best to forget about. If he thinks about those too much he’d go crazy.

The older he gets the harder it is to hold together the fractured reality he lives inside of. The one where a man can be both a hero and a monster. He has known since he was little about the danger his father carries but as he got older and saw more of the world around him he has realized that this is not the same for everyone. And not only is it not the same, his experience is somehow invisible, inconceivable to all the eyes of his hometown. As an adult he will look back and realize that some people did know, they just didn’t do anything to help, for whatever complicated reasons adults tell themselves that they shouldn’t get involved in others’ business. Even if the cost is taken out of a child’s nightmares.

So when Luke Gatson pulls his too-long hair and calls him a fag at the end of the day, he’s had enough. He swings his fist blindly but with all the force of years of built up anger. He is surprisingly accurate, maybe having absorbed more knowledge of inflicting pain over the years than he realized. There is an audible crack as the other boy collapses on his knees, holding both hands over his bleeding nose. Aaron stares at him, hand still clenched in a fist, eyes burning. Luke’s friends crowd around him, glancing between the two, wondering if they are meant to get some sort of revenge for their friend. Aaron can see that they are surprised, probably the reason that they haven’t jumped him immediately. He also sees the tears on Luke’s face that he is trying to hide. That makes him feel bad and he loses any sense of the burning hatred that had taken over.

“Sorry, Luke,” he says sheepishly.

“Fuck you Hotchner,” Luke replies, scowling at him.

Aaron shrugs, he’s heard worse, and walks away toward home. As afternoon becomes evening, Aaron’s stomach is in knots over the thought that his father will find out what he’d done. He is sure the man will not be pleased about it. He is so anxious he can’t even pretend to eat what is in front of him at dinner, a frequent struggle that earns him glares from both parents. He can’t stop darting his eyes to the phone, waiting for it to ring and deliver his sentencing.

He is washing the dishes when it finally does and he nearly drops the soapy ceramic, startled by the sound. He forces himself to stay still, to keep doing what he is supposed to, maybe his mother will intercept it. But his mother is putting Sean to bed, only his father is downstairs and he can hear him grumbling about people’s lack of decency calling so late. Aaron can only make out muffled sounds from the other room as his father has a short exchange with whoever is on the other end. He hasn’t been able to move since the phone started ringing and his hands start to shake as he hears the small click of the receiver, the footsteps coming toward the kitchen. He carefully sets the plate in the sink but continues to grip the sponge like it might be some sort of shield. He feels his father’s presence behind him and slowly turns to face him.

Victor is looking at him curiously from the doorway, eyebrows pulled together, corners of his mouth drawn down slightly.

“You got in a fight.” It is not a question, he is not interested in the details or whether his son might have different information.

Internally Aaron panics, trying to think of a way to escape this situation. He’s had plenty of time to consider how his father would react and how he might possibly minimize the fallout. Outside he is perfectly still, eyes downcast, breathing measured. Maybe he should run. He hasn’t tried that since he was small, too small to understand there was nowhere to run to. Maybe he would be fast enough now. Then he hears the least expected sound. He has to look up to convince himself he is interpreting it correctly. His father is laughing. His eyes go wide with alarm, he can’t remember his father ever laughing before. Maybe this has unlocked some new level of anger.

“Must have been a weak little shit to get taken down by you,” he says.

Still in shock, Aaron has nothing to say. His dad rubs his face with his hand, a little chuckle escaping. He drops his hand and looks at Aaron.

“Never fucking do that again. You won’t like what happens after.” All humor gone, the stony glare reappears. With that he turns and walks away, his steps only slightly unsteady.

*

Despite knowing better Aaron gets into more fights and his father delivers on his promise. Rationally he knows he can stop this. Maybe he doesn’t always have control over what happens to him at home, but this, the fighting, is completely a choice. After the first incident a few other kids test him, seeing if his breaking Luke’s nose was only luck. They quickly discover that he is able to back up that first knock out. Aaron is a natural fighter. He is on the scrawny side but what he lacks in mass he makes up for in pure rage. After a few more black eyes and split lips, the other kids grow more cautious, give him space when they walk by. No one teases him anymore.

But those fights taught him something. He discovers he likes the experience of being on the attack rather than only receiving. He never fights back at home, it is unthinkable to try to defend himself against what comes at him there. But out here in the world, for a few moments, he becomes something else. He becomes electricity and thunder, the one operating the crane that swings the wrecking ball, demolishing years of pent up confusion with his fists. He starts fights now. It does’t matter that it means he goes home to a matching fist, a coordinating set of bruises. He would be going home to that anyway, wouldn’t he? The blood in his mouth tastes like winning.

A couple years into high school and this is all he is now. Something dark and dangerous, he walks through the hallways, glaring at others, raising his fists any time he can find an excuse. If people notice he has more bruises than ever before, dusky marks on his cheek, his neck, the angry red patches of skin exposed during scuffles, it only makes sense given how much he’s taken to fighting.

Sometimes he sees flashes of fear in their eyes as he gains the upper hand and for a split second he is remorseful, identifying with that fear. But then, just as quickly, he is angry again. Angry that this fear is so new to them when for him it’s been a close companion all his life. He resents their normalcy and their parents that scold and worry, making a big show of taking away privileges when they have to come to collect their misbehaving child from the principal’s office. His father never makes a big show, barely says anything at all, simply apologizing to the principal, promising he will talk it over with his son, will make sure he understands the gravity of the path he is heading down. He can’t look at his father during these meetings, afraid he might scream, if only to drown out the ringing in his ears.

One time it is his mother rather than his father picking him up after yet another fight and he makes the mistake of making eye contact with her. The tears are instantaneous. He brushes at his face roughly with the heels of his hands, but nothing he does can stop them. He is frightening to see cry, making the people around him very uncomfortable with the way he is completely silent. The principal doesn’t bother giving his mother the usual speech, only ushers them out the door, his mother offering a quiet thank you. Looking into her eyes had shown him that she knows, that she knows what is coming and she will do nothing to stop it.

She had given up on him when Sean was born, writing him off as a lost cause. She will give everything to Sean; if only she can keep him safe, she won’t be a total failure. She felt guilty at first, trying to reason that Aaron was old enough to take care of himself but the nagging feeling of abandoning her responsibility was hard to escape. As he grew older, however, he had become this stranger she no longer feels anything for but shame. She can’t wait for the day he is old enough to leave the house. She knows there will be no peace before then.

Aaron fights with a determination that reveals how little he takes into account his own safety. He’ll fight with anyone; bigger, older, more experienced, it doesn’t matter. He’s even started to pick fights with adults, daring them to react. Nothing anyone does can touch him. Without a sense of self, a drive for self preservation, there is no reason not to throw himself entirely into the burning of the world. He would deny it but his deepest secret is the hope that if he keeps at it, perhaps someone will notice, someone will care enough to tell him he is worth compassion. Every time he fights and no one asks why, it reinforces this idea: that he is worthless, just an embarrassment to minimize. So he fights harder. He doesn’t know if he is trying to prove them right or wrong.

He only slows down when his father breaks his wrist and threatens to send him away. Alone in his room, doing his best to immobilize the joint with an old brace, he cries, hot and painful tears. Not because of the injury but for how twisted he’s become, how the only comfort he has found has been in turning this brutality on others.

*

Wandering the halls after school one day, prolonging the time before he heads home in the rain, he hears singing. Mindlessly he walks toward it, curious who might be the owner of such light that they can spill it out of themselves in sound. He comes to an open door and finds clumps of students standing or sitting, all facing toward a makeshift stage. Standing alone at the front was the singer, her face as beautiful as her voice suggests. He is magnetized. Her song ends and he feels it like a loss, barely registering the exchange between the girl and the two adults in the room as they thank her and make some marks on a clipboard. Suddenly there are fingers snapping in his face and he glares down at their owner, pulling his injured wrist in against his chest, protecting it from whatever action he is going to take. When he finds a small freshman boy looking up at him with an expression not of fear, only interest, he is confused. He is not accustomed to anyone looking at him without some degree of anger.

“Are you here for auditions?” The boy seems a little exasperated, like he’s repeated the question dozens of times already.

Aaron blinks at him. Auditions? As he is trying to understand the question, another kid steps into the spot last occupied by the singing girl and says a few words before beginning to sing as well. He notes that they are good as well but nowhere near the sweetness he was drawn in by. He looks around the room trying to find the girl, he is fairly certain he’s seen her before, maybe in one of his English classes. He never paid much attention to the other kids outside of which ones might deserve a fight. He spots her in a corner whispering with another girl, ducking her head and smiling, playfully knocking her friend’s shoulder. The strange feeling in his chest is his heart melting. He looks back down when he feels a tug on his shirt sleeve. He is ready to bite the head off of this annoying child.

“There’s a spot left if you want to audition. You have something prepared right?”

Aaron Hotchner has nothing prepared, nothing in his life could have prepared him for this moment but he’d do anything to get closer to that smile. He nods.

“Sure.” He can barely get the word out, his throat is dry and raspy. The kid looks at him quizzically, Aaron almost laughs at the way one of his eyebrows rises up. He can already imagine him as a crinkled old man.

“You have something to sing?” he questions more directly, doubt clearly apparent.

Aaron shrugs, he can come up with something. On the better days, the spring and summer days, when the light gets longer and he can wander in the woods for hours, he sang with the birds. Singing was nothing new to him. Singing for other people though, he does’t like that idea at all if he lets himself think about it. But there is no time to think. He is giving his name and being jostled into the room. Before he has fully taken in his surroundings, his name is spoken with some confusion as he is called up to his turn.

One of the adults is his civics teacher from his freshman year. She frowns as she looked at him and he feels a wash of anxiety, remembering who he is, remembering he is not made for good things. He opens and closes his mouth but no sound comes out. The room is quiet and he can feel everyone’s eyes on him. He exhales, angry with himself, looking up to glare out at this roomful of people who’s only crime is agreeing with him that he is worthless. But he sees her again—she is smiling, barely, but it is enough.

He clears his throat and starts to sing. It is a quiet sad song, a hymn he’s heard a hundred times as he forced himself to stay awake during services. There is not enough penance in the world to absolve him but he likes the music sometimes. This one has been a favorite for many years. His voice gets stronger as he settles into it, staring at the floor just beyond his shoes, trying to picture himself out in the woods, surrounded by his only companions—the silent trees and the birdsong. When he stops they are staring at him and he hates it. He rubs one foot against the back of the other calf, considering just walking out of the room before anyone is forced to say anything, to embarrass him further with some pitying words.

“That—that was great!” the teacher finally says. “We needed a baritone, you would be perfect.”

Aaron just nods, cheeks flushed as he risks another look to the corner where the girl had been standing. She is still there, looking at him more carefully now, her expression an odd mix of emotion. It is enough to give him the courage to smile back, just slightly, the tiniest twitch of the corner of his mouth.

“Rehearsals start next week. Everyday after school. Can you do that?”

He nods again, dragging his eyes back to the adults in front of him. “Yes, ma’am,” he says, just as quietly as when he started.

As he walks away, he hears his old civics teacher mutter to the drama teacher, “I had no idea he could sing. I’ve barely heard him speak.”

The other teacher hums back in agreement, just as confused.

*

Many months down the line and Aaron has softened a little. No longer an instigator of fights, he has other things on his mind. The anger hasn’t gone anywhere but he holds it back so that it doesn’t disturb the peace he finds with Haley. She is the best thing to ever come into his life and he knows he doesn’t deserve her; knows it is only a matter of time before the world rights itself and takes this gentle soul from him. He knows she is not a second chance, no one will ever forget what he is, he can never outrun the dark looks that follow his name. But he’ll hide in the solace she provides as long as the world lets him.

To her credit, she doesn’t make him feel foreign or pathetic as she learns new layers of his reality. Inside she cringes at every revelation but she is careful, keeping an invitation on her face, making space for him to bleed out some of what poisons him. He is hesitant and slow to share, sure that each slip will send her running. But when she does’t run, when she only pulls him closer, he trembles with the desire to be seen the way she seems to. That relentlessly denied hope gaining strength—that someone might care to look past the barbed wire and broken glass he’s made a home within.

There are good days and bad, they are only children after all. Sometimes he can’t explain his feelings. They are too big and all he wants to do was rip apart the world to find a place he can bury them. He tries to hide from her but she’s caught on to his tricks, seeking him out in all his usual unusual places: behind the gym, near the creek, the empty fields around his home. She grabs his shaking hands and pulls him to the ground, leaning against him and stroking the back of his hand while he shivers out the small pieces of a story that he thinks she can handle. The reality is it is much more than she can but much less than he needs. But they do their best.

She waits until she is alone or with her sister to cry for the ways life has harmed him, has doubled back on its promise and turned something she thought was a gift into nothing but torment. It is the first time she’s really understood what people mean when they say life is unfair. But she is stubborn and believes everyone deserves kindness, if no one else was willing to provide, she will be his reprieve.

At first the other girls laugh, thinking it is some kind of joke, a cliche, the beauty and the beast. But as they watch him change, catching smiles and held hands, they are in awe of Haley Brooks. While they can’t forget their distaste for the weird and angry boy they’ve known since grade school, they think perhaps there is something they missed. The softer-hearted among them root for their success; the others, once over the novelty, do their best to ignore the couple. Soon it isn’t even worth a comment when Haley turns up to some social event, towing along a brooding but behaved Aaron Hotchner.

*

It is Halloween and she’s convinced him to come to a party. Not a big deal, she promises, just a keg and some idiots in the woods. He gives in easily because he knows how badly she wants to go and he tries to give her whatever normalcy he can. He is uncomfortable at parties but appreciative that this one will be outside, in the woods, his woods, as he likes to think of them. The party is uneventful, he even manages to get a laugh from a group of tipsy sophomores when he makes a dry observation of the likeness of warm beer to peanuts. He hadn’t been trying to be funny but their laughter feels nice anyway.  

They wander away from the party together, walking towards the neighborhood they both live in. He has handed over his jacket to supplement the impractical blue gingham dress she is wearing. He’d resisted her requests for a couples costume and frowned unhappily when she thrust a flannel and a straw hat at him as they were headed out. He’d put his normal jacket on over it as soon as she was distracted by a conversation and “lost” the hat somewhere in a bush. At least without the hat he could feasibly be wearing a normal outfit though he would never pick out something quite so green.

They hold hands as they walk down the sidewalk, tugging on one another slightly just to feel the comfort of the opposing weight. Occasionally there is a sign post and he drops her hand to split around it, only to grab it back and pull her in closely for a kiss. She giggles, enjoying this looser version of him. He doesn’t drink in front of her very often, usually too nervous to lower his guard and make himself vulnerable in that way.

As they get closer to town, he steps further into the street when he lets go of her hand. There is more traffic here and she is confused by what he’s doing. Maybe he is getting tired, not paying attention to his actions. She isn’t completely wrong, though it’s not the sort of inattention she’s thinking of. Every headlight that burns their vision pulls at him. The promise of impact, of un-ignorable damage draws him closer. He laughs as he stumbles, veering back to the sidewalk with smaller and smaller margins. He seems to have forgotten her, instead he is focused on this private game without a possibility of winning. It makes her nervous but she tells herself it isn’t a big deal. All boys are like this, flirting with destruction.

As yet another car passes with only a few feet of clearance, she can’t take it anymore.

“Aaron! This isn’t fun for me,” she is upset and the tone of her voice cuts through the drunken fog of his mind. He’s almost forgotten he isn’t alone, hypnotized by the weave of light and dark. Immediately remorseful, he jumps back to the sidewalk, planting his feet heavily and grabbing her around the waist. He pulls her in close, tucking her head under his chin, closing his eyes against the rise and fall of the horizon.

“‘m sorry,” he whispers into her hair. She shakes her head but squeezes him, arms wrapped around his torso. He takes another breath and opens his eyes, watching as another car passes them, oblivious to their small drama. The lights still pull at him but he clings to her, holding on for all he’s worth.

[fenristheorem]

My OC, Fenris

... and the Eldarya AU that she’s in, because I just can’t see her in the original Origins storyline with her differences from Guardienne/Erika. And I think my AU has some pretty interesting ideas. I’ll explain it after I introduce her.

Yea, I know, Fenris Theorem, Fenris, it all connects, huh? Hehe. I like the name, that’s all.

(This page is informational, so it’s written in a bit more of a note-taking fashion rather than a story fashion. It’s written in a very choppy manner but it’s comprehensible despite not having any stress on having it beautifully written.) 

This page just introduces you to my OC. I decided to create a page on her for the poll (now ended) because I think some people will really like small excerpts on her story with Lance, but obviously you need to know about her before deciding that for sure. You’ll notice that some theories I may have posted on Lance in the past are a part of this AU - these theories have been in my mind and I posted them only because I thought they could exist in the actual plotline (it’s where a lot of my theories come from, and then some ideas fit into the AU, and then some ideas could exist in the actual plotline as well based on what I observe), so this is where some of those theories come from.

For the poll - if anything, I would recommend reading the paragraph titled “*Her story in Origins (where many things are explained in moderation, because if I went in-depth I wouldn’t need to write stories on this):” above all else because that describes what I will be writing if the poll results shows that that’s wanted. Everything else is just extra information for you to know my OC and the AU better. The paragraph is at the bottom of the post.

Above all else, this is an AU, and a fantasy world. I like to try to give rationality and logic to a lot of things, so you’ll read a lot of me explaining things, but at the end of the day it’s all fantasy and can be perceived - and therefore approved or unapproved of - in a multitude of ways. If you like my AU but find it illogical in some ways, that’s no problem! Just enjoy reading about it if you enjoy the ideas within it. 😊

~ This is long so continue below the cut ~

A lot of this information can be a bit vague at first but it comes together when I explain the basic plot.

Her basics: She goes by Fenris but her actual name is Dakota. However, people usually call her Kota, or occasionally Ko (Fen is used later for Fenris, first by Ashkore / Lance, but later when she was discovered by the guard as well). She was 18 when she came to Eldarya via mushroom circle (like Guardienne/Erika). The guard test placed her in the Obsidian guard - she’s very happy with that outcome. Was in a relationship with Valkyon before leaving him for Lance (*explained later).

Physical Appearance: Unfortunately I don’t have a picture of her and nothing in Eldarya describes her and her clothing very well, so you’ll just need to imagine the physical features that I describe on Eldarya’s Guardienne sprite. Also, she’s pretty flexible with how she styles her hair and dresses, so I don’t think a single picture of her would describe her well.

Fair and light in skin tone, perhaps a slight tan-ish tone. Thin, but broad shouldered. She’s well-muscled (later on, less so when she first arrived), which gives her a bit of thickness, but not too much. Nicely curved. About 5 ft. 5 in. (167.64 cm). Dark hair, but not exactly black, with brown-hazel eyes. Her hair is medium-length and is usually braided in a multitude of styles. Her eyes occasionally glow a brilliant gold (explained under ‘abilities and genetics’ and ‘her story in Origins’).

Usually wears dark, ancient / tribal-like clothes (think Norse Vikings) with thin, form-fitting but strong armor around her forearms, lower legs (below the thigh starting from knees) and chest/midriff. She wears a good amount of red, blue, gold, silver or dark green clothing and accents with the black base for color. Usually nothing over-the-top, she likes to have her own unique style and express herself but doesn't like to draw unnecessary attention. Doesn't like most faux fur as it doesn't look nice in her opinion, but may wear some that she likes occasionally. Is more likely to wear real fur from hunted animals, but doesn't wear it too often. She wears a sword on her hip, and has a few semi-concealed daggers placed on her body (thigh, boot, torso) for quick use if needed.

Personality: She has a wide spectrum of how she acts depending on people, situations, what she knows, and her current mood. She's typically quite calm, and doesn't seek for trouble or drama, however, she does like to hear the recent news/gossip from around the guard; to stay updated on things, know what may effect her, try to think ahead and just for the sake of knowing. She's very curious and typically observes the situation around her, but in a very subtle way. Is a planner and likes to think ahead, and usually knows how to react to anything because of her observations and forward thinking. Around friends, she's very kind and welcoming. They can talk about anything to her and she'll keep her mouth shut - she has a good loyalty streak (but it does have a limit). However, she doesn't have any friends that are like family to her, but on the day she does find friends like that her loyalty will truly be endless. It's ride or die, and she'll always stand by their side. She has a major independent streak and can’t be around people for too long, otherwise she’ll crack and get a bit irritated more easily. She likes her alone time. In general, she's very cordial with people. Again, she doesn't like to cause unnecessary trouble or drama - she's had a rough past (discussed under ‘history’) and quickly shuts down anyone doing so in a professional but aggressive, don’t-argue-with-me sort of way. She can be harsh, cold and withholding - especially with people she genuinely dislikes - but doesn't like to act this way. On the note of people she dislikes- it's hard to get her to truly dislike someone, but it can be a bit easy as well. In general rule, as long as someone is conscious of the reality of the world around them and doesn't seek to cause issues, she's fine with them, but the instant someone starts continually spreading rumors that are clearly false, or acts (especially in a way that hurts others) solely in their selfish interests, or takes part in willful ignorance (purposely ignoring an issue that you know shouldn’t be ignored), she keeps note of that person and reminds herself to be wary of them in the future. They could be a source of trouble or misinformation that may need to be stopped, and she won’t be very forgiving. However, this is just a general rule, it doesn't always apply - remember she can change based on the situation and what she knows. She recognizes that sometimes people dislike things that are good for them, or like harmful things, and sometimes the villain is actually the hero, history and set rules are created by the winners and anyone against it is considered the villain, and sometimes you need to be cruel to be merciful. She's fully aware that sometimes the bad of life is good, and may defend that, but she's always sure to think long and hard about it before giving a decision like that. A lot of terrible things have happened to her, so she tries to avoid being a source of those terrible things for the world. She feels emotions very deeply and can be a bit impulsive, but fortunately she’s not typically hurt or gets others hurt due to her impulsivity. Again, she is very curious and observes things a lot, so she can usually get a good read on anything new she comes across and work from there, or she can use other information she knows and apply it to the situation. That being said, she won’t drag her friends or anyone else into her occasionally dangerous impulsive decisions. She’ll offer it if they’d like to join her, but she won’t pressure them. Their safety is their decision, and she’ll do her best to protect them although she can’t truly guarantee it. Being in the Obsidian guard, she can’t really condone anyone to risk their safety for fun, especially if it’s her idea. She has a good sense of responsibility when she works for what she believes in, and will sacrifice some of her comfort and fun making sure that she follows her responsibilities if needed. On the topic of her guard - when she first came to Eldarya and joined the Obsidian guard, she wasn’t too bad of a fighter upon basic training, but it was when she started training with Ashkore / Lance where her skills greatly improved until she was perhaps the best fighter in the guard, rivaled only by a few other warriors - including Valkyon. She’s not against helping others improve, but she’s very careful with what she tells the guard - if anyone knew her skills were due to Ashkore, she’d be in massive trouble and may be treated as a complete accomplice. She doesn’t like to lie unless truly necessary, so she’ll usually withhold lots of damning information, and she thoroughly thinks over everything she says, any possible answers to theoretical questions, how her words can connect with other things, and how it might be taken from someone else’s perspective, before revealing any information. Did I mention she’s very cunning and smart, especially after knowing Lance? She has prior knowledge in how to utilize sarcasm and wit, but that’s also improved after meeting Lance. 

She changes in time to be quite a bit more harsh and unforgiving when she starts working with Lance.

(For media reference, think of Lagertha from Vikings and Octavia from Netflix’s The 100. She’s a bit of a combination between the two, both in personality and appearance, although Octavia represents her a bit better in appearance.)

Abilities and Genetics: When she first came to Eldarya, she had no idea of her faery genetics. She never felt as though she belonged with humans and always felt that something was off, but she truly thought she was human genetically - until the guard had her take a test and realized she apparently had some faery blood in her (like what actually happened in the original plotline). She went a good while not knowing about what her genetics were, until Lance told her she was a dragon. She learned her abilities under his mentorship, and found that - to be more specific - she’s a shadow dragon. Her shadows appear usually like a pitch black fog, but can be manipulated into almost any form; hard or soft, thin or thick, curved or straight. It has a bit of a cold feel, but she can’t actually control the temperature of her shadows. She can adjust the color of her shadows along a grey-scale until it looks like any grey or silver, even looking like normal fog, but she can’t make it lighter than silver. She can also make pre-existing shadows darker or lighter depending on what she wants. Being a dragon, she also has a dragon form and can shift into a half-transformed body (like what’s seen with Tia). She has premonitions and prophecies as well. This ability typically manifests in dreams and can come to her the night before it manifests in reality, or even sometimes years in advance - there’s really no way to know. She struggles a lot trying to learn this - and to learn the difference between a premonition dream and just a normal dream - and has some basic understanding of it’s rules. She has absolutely no control over when she has these dreams, but she can occasionally put herself in a bit of a calm, meditative state where she can observe her surroundings enough to faintly feel energies, and from there she can receive some premonitions. When she receives premonitions or prophecies while awake, her eyes glow a brilliant gold - this stems from a more spiritual side of her genetics (*explained later). This ability to very hard to control, though, and can rarely be done despite her persistence in it. 

History: She... didn’t have a very peaceful life. Since her birth, her parents had basically been at war with each other. She grew up under a distinct combination of good influences and bad influences from both parents, but for the most part her mother was her major support as her father failed to be there for her. Neither extended family had much impact, but her father’s family knew of the terrible things he did and didn’t do anything. She continues to hold a grudge against many humans for being forced to live an endangered upbringing when she and her mother were so clearly crying for help. However, she’s aware that this is also what drives her some days, as she didn’t live through all of that just to die shamefully with an unlived life. In time, her grudge against humans has calmed, but it flares back up whenever she’s reminded or learned about something terrible that humans have caused or do currently - it’s a continuous battle and she has a hard time giving an honest opinion on humanity due to her complex emotions. She came to Eldarya when she was 18 (like Guardienne/Erika) and the rest is history (*and is explained below).

Relationships: Miiko is... alright. It’s a bit of a love hate relationship sometimes, but Fenris is usually quite cordial with her. Nevra and Ezarel were irritating at first, but Nevra’s lovableness and Ezarel’s humor slowly grew on her. She liked Valkyon when she first arrived and somewhat quickly pursued a relationship with him. She didn’t mind Leiftan - he was always very kind and left her alone while being cordial (remember, she’s not an angel in this so Leiftan wouldn’t be into her like how he was with Guardienne/Erika). Karuto is like the good father she never had, but she puts her foot down with him on occasion - she doesn’t like to be told what to do, scolded, treated like a child or anything. This is only because she views him in a bit of a fatherly way, and doesn’t want a repeat of her original father. She makes sure he knows that she truly appreciates him, though. Jamon is a bit of a brother if anything, but he’s really just a close friend / colleague that she likes a lot. She appreciates his gentleness and protectiveness for everyone. Ewelein is basically a second mom, she reminds Fenris a lot of her mom back on Earth and has a deep respect for the Elf. Chrome is a bit like an irritating little brother, but she also has a sisterly affection for him. Ykhar and Kero are the panic colleagues; she has a hard time seeing them doing anything else than panicking. She worries a bit for their health as long-term stress is destructive and tries to be as comforting and as nice as possible with them without betraying her personality and morals. Karenn and Alajea are close friends, almost sisterly, but not exactly so. She’s a bit closer with Karenn than she is with Alajea. Cameria is similar to Karenn in the way that she has a bit of a sisterly relationship with Fenris, but in more of a battle partner way. They have a tendency to train together a lot, and they heavily trust each other to have their back in war. Huang Hua is a bit of a friend / leader - she respects the phoenix a lot and has a bit of a close friendly relationship with her. Feng Zifu is a bit of a father figure in the manner that she respects him a lot. She likes to listen to his advice and appreciates his formality.

The AU: So before I explain the plot of the AU, I need to explain a few basics of how I set up the world. In this AU, the crystal breaking could destroy Eldarya, but if it’s shattered in a certain way with certain spells and chants, it’ll release the spirits of the dragons (who sacrificed to create the crystal) and allow them to retain a sort of half-living form - basically they’re alive but... not? It’s weird to  explain. Why does the crystal breaking in this way not destroy Eldarya? The sacrifice allowed a release of energy that originally created the world and then primarily manifested into the shape of the crystal that maintains that world, so this ritual that would be preformed upon it’s shattering would basically allow the energy of the dragons to maintain the world while allowing them to roam around in a different form - hence why they’d be half alive in a way. They’d be physical, but they have additions and limits on what they can and can’t do because they’re still technically dead. However, this isn’t common knowledge (because the guard protects the crystal, they’re the ‘only’ source of ‘accurate’ information on the crystal and both Yonuki Kaze and Miiko have stated that if the crystal breaks Eldarya will fall), only Lance has figured this out (and many of his mercenaries believe him or are working with him because of his destructive habits), so due to this, his ambitions are sort of split in two; destroy the crystal to revive the dragons, and destroy anyone who may try to stop him. In terms of history, Lance in this AU witnessed Miiko (and Nevra - there’s a history behind that that I won’t go into right now) sacrificing dragons to the crystal when he was a part of the guard to try and maintain balance and confronted her about it, only for her to threaten him (in basic; she was convinced sacrificing was the only way to keep balance, and that’s because Yonuki Kaze influenced her into thinking that, so from her perspective Lance coming along and saying it was wrong and had to stop was basically him saying to let the world die) to not tell anyone and stay out of it. Lance then spent a while researching and devising an idea on how to actually balance the world and this included destroying the crystal in a specific way to release the energy (technically there are two ways; the sacrifice was supposed to happen with dragons AND angels, so the ritual was devised to work with the two, but a ritual originally for two races used only with one is basically a ritual preformed improperly, and therefore bound to yield improper results - hence the infertility of the world and shiftiness of it. Undoing the ritual would allow the world to stay while “canceling out the sacrificial imbalance”, but if an angel or demon were to willingly sacrifice - preferably alongside a dragon at the same time - then it would be solved in that way as well). Lance tried to explain this to Miiko later, only to barely get past “I have another idea” before being shut down again. He kept quiet because he feared for himself and his brother (and the only reason Lance could have known that dragons were being sacrificed - without being a dragon himself - is that Miiko said it during the sacrifice he saw, so he didn’t want to raise suspicion onto him and his brother). Later on, Lance is sent to lead an army in a foreign land and is nearly killed, but he saw a chance to escape the guard and took it. From there he’s been Ashkore.

Basically this AU - instead of being “oh no, he’s trying to destroy the world because he’s angry and hurt” - is actually more like “if you had listened the world could be stabilized and also a powerful race could be revived.” It takes the trope of hero and villain and twists it, so the villain is actually a bit of an underdog, villainous hero while the hero’s are - in a way - villains who are heroes because their damning stories haven’t been revealed in a wide-spread manner. Overall, it’s supposed to blur the lines of good and bad, and right and wrong - showing that both sides have good and bad within them, and which side is ‘good’ can depend solely on perception and one’s life anecdote.

*Her story in Origins (where many things are explained in moderation, because if I went in-depth I wouldn’t need to write stories on this): Dakota came to Eldarya by accident via mushroom circle and was placed into the Obsidian guard. She adjusted in time (and willingly took the potion in episode 13 to ease her family / mother of pain and worry) until she got used to things and entered into a romantic relationship with Valkyon. She was sent on basic missions and such and met Ashkore a few times in war (and around the guard), and then she met him accidentally while alone later on outside of the guard. He offered to train her (more like threatened if she didn’t?) and she accepted in time. They trained at night, which was a bit of an issue as she now shared a room with Valkyon and, therefore, had to sneak around. Her skills quickly improved, and her relationship with Valkyon began to decline as he began to become a bit confused / suspicious about her sudden and seemingly random upturn in skills. There were feelings of neglect as well. This carried on for many months and Dakota learned more about Ashkore as well as herself. He eventually admits that she’s a dragon and that he’s investing some of himself into her because of that, and she does her best to explore her abilities with him after that. Eventually she accidentally discovers his actual identity, but keeps quiet about it. As they grow closer, she begins to ask more about him and his reasoning, and he explains his motives for going after the crystal while brushing on the topic of why he’s ruthless to some, but leaves others alone. As she discovers the truth about the dragons and Lance, she realizes that her feelings to the guard were based on lies and false implications, and she begins to grow mentally and emotionally closer with Lance. She becomes less empathetic / sympathetic with Valkyon and eventually sleeps with Lance. This happens a few more times and they enter a sort of limbo where they don’t talk about their relationship with each other but know there’s something heavy going on. Back in the guard, she’s still with Valkyon, and she begins an internal war on what exactly her plan is knowing that she’s sleeping with two guys on the opposite side of a war and that it can’t continue. Her and Valkyon break up in time and she invests her full time into training with Lance, expressing interest in joining his cause. They begin to work together and he gifts her with a specific outfit / armor (that can alternate between identity concealing and revealing for her comfort and safety) so she can go on missions with him. They develop an elaborate scheme to allow her to go on long-term missions with him without suspicion from the guard. She’s eventually sent on a mission and it’s on that mission that she discovers her relation to an ancient dragon named Fenris, and then expresses her interest in taking that name to Lance and the rest of his allies that she’s met (from then on she’s known as Fenris with Lance and Dakota in the guard). Back at the guard, she continues training with Lance and maintaining some sort of odd relationship with himin secret. She’s found elaborate ways to get out of the guard without their suspicion so she can spend many days at a time alone with Lance in a cabin he has hidden in the forest. Over the span of many months / years, she goes on missions with the guard to foreign towns / establishments that are attacked by Ashkore - whether she knows that prior or not - so as she trains she also has actual encounters where she needs to truly fight Lance without actually hurting him while looking as though she’s truly trying to hurt him. When she’s allegedly away on some missions from the guard, she wears the armor that Lance gave her to campaign with him and this occasionally leads to her fighting against the guard if they’re around. In this time and when they’re alone, Lance and allies calls her Fenris as she’s requested them to do. Eventually they go to Memoria together and find out that they have a deeper connection than they think - Fenris (who was an ancient dragon that Dakota took the name of due to her relation with him) and Tia actually knew each other and had a complex history that carried forward to Lance and Dakota / Fenris, and there’s a prophecy of sorts surrounding them. Their relationship after that is still complex, but is more stable as they confirm an attachment to each other. Lance’s identity is eventually revealed to the guard, and sometimes later Fenris is revealed as well, and Lance - in very short, important seconds - offers her to join him completely outside the guard’s walls. She accepts and they flee the guard for a while and plot. Eventually they attack the guard in a final push and get to the crystal, successfully breaking it with... some losses. From there is the skip to ANE, but New Era is... complicated. I haven’t yet thought how she fits into ANE, as many things would be different. Maybe I won’t put pressure on creating her story in it, but if I do I might list it here. Her story in ANE would need to be based off of her story I have here in Origins.

If I write excerpts of this, there may also be many more adventure scenarios that are written but aren’t mentioned here (Lance offering to “help” the guard bring down another greater threat and then turning his forces on them in the midst of war for his own gain, sending them on a wild goose chase, the guard tracking them through rough, unforgiving landscapes trying to catch them, etc.) depending on how the details of her story manifest.

I apologize; that’s a lot to read but I can be very specific and this AU has a lot of important detail that separates it from the original Origins storyline. And this talks over my OC’s details and an AU, which is a lot since there’s not a lot of referencing because I’ve never talked about either before... However, if you’ve read all the way through this post - congrats, and I hope you’re interested in it!

Again, writing excerpts about my OC and her storyline in this AU is an option you can vote on in my writing poll that determines what I’ll write now so I can post later when I can’t access my Tumblr for a few weeks, so if you’re interested in reading about this then please read the info I have about the poll here and feel free to vote!

[elizabeatrice]

Episode 12 - The Little Mermaid

Let’s Talk About JSHK Anime #3

Warning: Manga spoilers for The Little Mermaid arc, The Clock Keeper arc, and chapter 64!!! (just a bit, skip point no. 5, 6, and 10 if you don’t want to get spoiled) Also … this ended up way longer than I intended.

Well that was one heck of a feels trip. It’s probably my new favorite episode, just because everyone is here being wholesome lmao.

This is mostly hananene meta I ain’t even gonna lie.

Before we begin, shout out to Black Canyon, our newest anime cutie pie. Just look at him, folks. Just chilling with his sunflower seed.

He has no idea the kind of life his owner leads.

I said before that the best part of episode 12 is how it made Daydream worse, so now I’m gonna ramble about it.

“Maybe different species can’t understand each other after all.”

“Maybe it would be better if I were an apparition too.”

This is my favorite part of the episode. And no, not in the sense that I want Nene to die just so that she and Hanako can be together. But because of how Lerche actually explored deeper what was said only once in the manga.

Well, both in the manga and anime Nene ended up accepting the mermaid’s blood because of her desire to be popular, but the anime decided to revisit what she said earlier in the episode.

Not only did that make her decision kinda less selfish, it’s also just … sad. Thinking that your friend, someone you really cared about, doesn’t trust you enough to tell you things about themselves, to the point where you’re willing to go to such lengths as turning into an apparition just to understand them.

And if you think about it, isn’t this part of her true wish? To have her feelings be reciprocated? Man I just realized that as I wrote this and I am mindblown.

She thought she finally got her wish with Hanako. I mean, he said it himself in the first ep (”You wanted someone, anyone, to return your feelings, right? And as far as you’re concerned, sharing a bond with someone is the same thing, right?”). So it must’ve hit her really hard when she thought he didn’t trust her. Especially with all the wrong ideas the fishes were feeding her mind.

Then we got this little flashback. At first I was like, “Girl, you really be thinking that he doesn’t care about you while recalling the moment he apologized to you and hugged you? Are you insane?”

But after some thinking of my own, it occurred to me. Maybe she was too used to having her feelings not reciprocated, she couldn’t believe it when someone finally did. Not to mention Hanako did kinda trick her with his fake confession a while back (heh, he’s not the only one with trust issues, eh?). And that just made the entire thing even sadder.

So when Nene said, “But I thought, if I were an apparition like you, I could get closer to you. Then, maybe I’d be able to understand you, Hanako-kun. Although I know I probably don’t mean anything to you.”

That was a harsh wake up call for Hanako.

(Btw even more full circle, Hanako brought up Nene’s wish to become human again in the first episode. Nice.)

So. We got one daikon girl who’s afraid of not having her feelings reciprocated, and one ghost boy who’s afraid that daikon girl wouldn’t be his friend anymore if she knew about his past.

While in actuality, said daikon girl already decided she wanted to and would be his friend no matter what, and ghost boy had grown to care about her more than he thought he would.

He heard what she said to Tsuchigomori. He knew all about regret, too.  I mean, honestly, I think if she had said no, he’d let her walk away right then and there, no questions asked. But she didn’t.

Nene’s wish finally came true here. And the best part? It wasn’t the work of magic or curses. Just Hanako finally shoving his fear aside, offering himself as he was, and letting her decide.

And she still chose to be with him.

Heh. Lemme just. Sob for a bit.

Is my hananene trash brain reading too much into this? Idk. Maybe.

So props to the production team for managing to add even more weight to this arc. Which, they had to, since it’s the season finale and all. But I love what they did!

Onto my commentaries!

1. The KouNene

Good shit. She was worried about him but he didn’t want her to worry so he just smiled it off? These two are precious. Thought they were gonna interact. Sadly not. Buuuut! (see point 12)

2. Hanako’s classroom visit

He. Is. So. Adorable. Someone please take his babey license away he’s too dangerous.

Hanako’s classroom visit is like my absolute favorite clingy Hanako moment, so I’m really happy I get to see it this season. Ugh. My kokoro. Hugging her from behind, that semi confession vibe … Smooth mf.

The Mokke brushing Nene’s hair!!! The radish hairdo tho lmao.

On a sidenote, as a history nerd I appreciate that they’re actually putting lessons in the background. And the teacher talked about Apollo 11 again??? While my boy was in the room? That ish both hurt and pleased me.

3. The Clock Keeper rumor drop

Heeeeeehhhhh? What’s thiiiiiissss?

4. This freaking thing

*flips table* Darn production team been knew I’m hananene trash how dare they do this to me.

And lookie here there’s Kodama chilling.

5. Fishies! (!!!manga spoiler for The Little Mermaid arc!!!)

Pufferfish didn’t die. Well, good for him. Also I can’t believe they just call the other fish ‘yeah yeah’ lmao what the freak. Has it always been like that in the manga?

6. AOI AND AKANE (!!!spoilers for chapter 64!!!)

I swear I did not intend this numbering coincidence.

*claps* Boi. Nene asking Aoi about cutting ties with someone she’s interested in? And then Akane just swooped in and say he’d rather cut his head off than cut ties with Aoi? What about getting impaled, huh, boy? Would that do?

The not-so-subtle call out to these two pairs’ parallel? BOI.

7. Nene and Yako

These two just chilling together having girl talk, and Yako let Nene pet her? That’s some adorable shit right there. Admit it Yako you like her.

Yako also be really hitting home with what she said. It was extra heavy coming from her, considering what happened to her and Misaki. Boiiiiii.

8. Tsuchigomori

Oh my God, his laughter. Just … oh my God.

Tsuchigomori in dad mode is always one of the highlights of the episode/chapter.

By the way, in this scene according to the sub, Nene asked Tsuchigomori who Tsukasa is. But she knew who he is already. Is it possible that the sub misinterpreted it? ‘Cause I think what she actually meant was, “What happened to him and Tsukasa-kun in the past?”

If someone who speaks Japanese could share their wisdom, please do!

9. The 5 pm bell and twilight

Look how pretty they are!!!

Lo and behold, another important hananene interaction while the 5 pm bell plays in the background. Also, twilight? Y’all giving me Kimi no Na wa flashbacks.

“Twilight, when it’s neither day or night. When the world blurs and one might encounter something not human.”

Huh … kinda fits the ‘boundary’ concept but it still hurt.

Anyway they still had Hanako tell her what she already knew. And I did say in my ‘Walking Blind’ post that it’d be redundant. But since the episode kinda emphasized Nene’s desire to understand Hanako, having him actually tell her himself, even though she already knew it, was a big deal. It’s not about what she knows, it’s about him opening up to her. So I’m super cool with it.

10. The Broadcasting Club (!!!spoilers for The Clock Keeper arc!!!)

I love how Natsuhiko and Sakura are actually decent people. When he told Mitsuba that he was free to choose to stay with them or not? That’s solid, man. Though, of course, Tsukasa might not be as kind.

Speaking of, I know it couldn’t be anything else, but I’m still not sure if Tsukasa’s drawing was confirmation for season 2. Don’t wanna get my hopes up. Imma just enjoy what I currently have.

Kinda curious, though. Because Clock Keeper wasn’t Tsukasa’s doing. Maybe he was the one who released Mirai? But tbh I’d prefer if it wasn’t so. Because having more cases of supernaturals going loco without it being one of Tsukasa’s games is interesting, and kinda underlines the need of The Seven Wonders to keep supernaturals in check.

11. Kodama just chilling

12. The Adventures of Minamoto and the Summer Vegetables

You go, Kou! I’m rooting for you oh my God you’re so precious.

And look at that ikemen smile! Him supporting Kou is just top notch sweet y’all I can’t-

Ngl this was the biggest surprise of the episode. Teru finding out that summer vegetables = Nene? Broooooo. Interesting. I don’t think this little addition warrants any changes to their future interaction, so it should be safe. Clever replacement, too, those veggies.

It’s so sweet that Nene delivered those veggies to Kou! Just imagine the Minamoto family having veggies for dinner. Awww.

(Also, Nene wrote her name in hiragana instead of kanji. Is that a reference to how bad Kou is with kanji? Lol, so sweet)

13. The Coda!!!

Look at him. Just look at him. Look how lovesick he is y’all I can’t-

THEY’RE SO ADORABLE.

All in all, I love this episode. Sorry for how long this post is. I’m just dealing with so many feels right now. Gaaahhhhh.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

from an anon, about parents and school

(it's just long, that's why it's under a break XD)

here's my proposition: make parents understand that not every child should conform to whatever traditional career paths that exist. as an asian, i could feel the pressure to take science like a fucking boulder on my body. i have to rant a bit.

i am the younger sibling, my brother is two years elder to me. i was never instilled any curiosity in anything science related, i was kinda left all by myself lol. my brother tho, maybe because he was older or because he was a guy (yeah LMFAO), was encouraged AND involved in a LOT of coding, mechanix (its a construct-ur-own-stuff thing).

i guess i never really noticed until i was leaving middle school, that i was not as smart as him, and would probably never be. but i had other strengths he didnt have. i love writing, im pretty good at it. i am analytical and subejctive, i like thinking and making conclusions about things. i mean i guess i've figured out what i could be better at, right? but the problem?

its that my parents dont see it. its as if they dont know me or they DO know me and are just forcing the things they need onto me. it feels selfish of them to completely forgo my actual strengths. like YES OK i UNDERSTAND i can never be as smart as my brother, but u dont have to pretend like i can. because pretending that i can achieve whatever he has, is just going to affect YOU. because i have accepted long ago that some things arent for me.

they think i dont want to put effort into anything i do. that im lazy and want the easy way out. god, every time they say this i want to honestly show them that its the things IM interested in, where i put in the work. its so belittling.

ive written articles abt bts, their music, about how carl jungs theory of archetypes and i occasionally ask a lot of questions about the world to you (hi lol). i just dont get why they want me to waste energy on something im clearly uninterested in.

short answer, point to BTS and say, "They're Asian, they make tons of money. Leave me alone."

just kidding XD

If I'm being serious, I don't think they will change their mind. They will continue to force their ideals onto you, because they believe in certain career paths had assured success and that is what they are after. They either want you to make a certain amount of money, have a certain status in life, or simply know that you can obtain a stable job. To be honest, these are not really traditional career paths at all if you think about it. Becoming a doctor takes many, many years and it is hard ass work. Parents just make it seem as if these are the only jobs available to you, even if you know it's not true.

Men vs women in Asian countries, well, I feel everyone knows this, but many Asian parents born in their respective countries put more effort into their sons than daughters. Firstborn son? He probably walks on water to them XD

I understand what you mean when you say your parents do not understand. This might sound egotistical (it does now that I'm writing it, I am very sorry) but I was the one in my family who got the best grades. None of my siblings got better grades than me (basically I had a 4.0 from middle school to university), and do you think with all that I would be immune?

Nope.

I am good at the sciences and I am good at the humanities as well. I had an interest in reading, writing, and drawing. Reading fiction, I could pass it off to educate myself. Writing? I could pass it off as something for school. But drawing?

Woo, boy.

This was a constant fight. I do not back down (a rebel, wcyd) and I drew and it would get ripped apart. I drew and it would get torn up and thrown away. I drew and and would be beaten, yelled at, constantly belittled for my interest in it even though I was good at the sciences and math. To my mom (my dad doesn't count, he had zero interest in parenting) - if she did not think it was going to make money in the future, it was useless. If I could not spin it into profit, I should not be doing it (very fun childhood I had, yes). The most ironic thing is, after I became an adult, she suggested I start drawing again and sell it to make money.

Hello?

You literally forced me to stop drawing because you constantly connected it with negativity???

(not now, I have since stopped talking to her and started drawing again and it is purely for myself, not to show anyone else, I do not even post it on social media or show anyone irl)

Not saying your parents will act like mine, btw, only sharing my experience.

The idea that you'll never be as smart as your brother? That's bullshit lol. That's like saying intelligence is only valuable if it's science or math, which, as you know, is not true. You are you. He is himself. It is not you cannot do those things. It is that those things are not what you want to focus on. You have a limited amount of time in this life and you have chosen the things you want to delve into and explore.

You don't have to be good at everything. Everything is just not good enough for you.

I am of the mindset that you should try and learn everything you can about this world. I love learning, personally. I think knowing everything I know, from the humanities to the sciences, enriches my life and gives me a broader perspective.

But I totally understand how you feel, because being pushed into something makes you end up hating it. Parents push their kids to learn this or that and kids end up resenting schoolwork because it doesn't feel like something they wanna do anymore. It's just adults yapping in their ears and it feels pointless. Grades aren't everything. You think anyone cares that I aced Physics with Calculus I and II as an adult? LMAO, no one gives a shit. You passed, good enough XD

Here's how I think you should treat school. It's not the content that matters. It's you understanding how you learn each subject. Every subject is different and how you learn them is different. It is not because you are bad at the subject, it is because you haven't figured out the best learning style for you. Teachers have to teach a mass of students and, yes, I understand this seems very tedious to have to "teach yourself".

The skill in learning to learn becomes so, so valuable as an adult. It is how you maintain interest in things, how you develop new interests, and how will come to find meaning (in whatever you want to focus on finding meaning for). I'm not saying that you will be able to find your perfect learning style in every subject, but I am encouraging you to simply see it in that light.

And, you might find certain things to be not that important to you, in which case, just pass the class, it's totally fine if it's not going to help you for the career path you're going for XD Nobody asks me about the themes of William Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet" (tbh, a pair of overdramatic loons) or how I feel about Sigmund Freud (actually a twat, but that's neither here nor there).

Let them talk. That one that walks your path is you. Focus on what you want to focus on. They are set in their ways and they way to show them there are different paths is to walk them.

[glimmerglanger]

Whumptober 2020 - Day 12

Part 12 of the oof!au. Hey, the day matches the prompt again, today! We’re deep into emotional and mental fall-out of what they went through, now. (Not) fun times!

General Information: Post Order 66 Vader-Captures-Obi-Wan au. Past/eventual Codyway. Past one-side Vaderwan. Eventual happy(ish) ending. 

WARNINGS: Again, relatively minor. Attempts to process past torture, non-con, and mind control. Considerations of suicide and mercy killing. Emotional trauma. Injuries.

No 12. I THINK I’VE BROKEN SOMETHING

Broken Down | Broken Bones | Broken Trust

 Cody hated the feeling of a dead ship. He’d spent so much of his life aboard massive cruisers and had gotten used to the thrum of them, the way they seemed to have a life of their own. The heart of their stolen vessel had, apparently, given out, leaving them floating still and quiet in space.

Bones protested when he saw Cody on his feet, but some situations needed the presence of a commanding officer, and the ship dying under them was one of them. He pulled a spare uniform on, gritting his teeth as each movement tugged at the wound in his gut and back.

He was almost surprised he still lived, but, then, Bones was very, very good at his job.

Someone provided a spare uniform for Obi-Wan, as well. Cody glanced towards him, only once, while he was pulling on the clothes, scars and fresher wounds disappearing beneath familiar black. They were almost of a height, all his brothers and Obi-Wan, so at least the clothes mostly fit, even if they hung off of him, a bit.

He’d been slighter and taller than they were, not built for brute-forcing a solution, once upon a time. And he’d lost too much weight in Skywalker’s care, fed nothing but a thin, nutrient gruel. Enough to keep him alive, and not much else. Skywalker had taken too much from him, and Cody’s gut clenched, hard, at the empty sleeve hanging at his left side.

Obi-Wan hesitated, looking at it, and Cdoy watched his expression crumble, just briefly, in the harsh red light all around them. Cody wanted to step towards him, wanted to just - just curl around him and hold him until that expression went away, but--

He had a flash, inside his head, of his hand pressing Obi-Wan’s head to the floor, of Obi-Wan gasping, “Don’t!” and he shuddered, looking away, his skin crawling. He jerked, a moment later, when Bones stepped forward instead.

“Here,” Bones said, reaching out, “let’s try this.” And Cody watched, out of the corner of his eyes, as Bones neatly knotted the sleeve, drawing scissors from somewhere - the medics truly operated differently than all the rest of them - and snipped off the extra fabric. “How’s that feel?” 

“Fine,” Obi-Wan said, his voice so quiet. Cody wondered if it would ever come back, return to the soothing, familiar timbre he’d grown used to, during the war. “Thank you, Bones.” He tried a smile, but it didn’t sit right on his face.

Cody said, “I’m going to find out what’s going on,” and headed for the door, before his heart could break any further in his chest. He slowed his steps, a moment later, when he heard Obi-Wan following him. Force knew the last thing Obi-Wan needed was to be rushed around the kriffing ship.

#

It turned out, Cody discovered, after making his way down to the engine room, that there’d been an accident. Tektek and Crys had been working to remove what they assumed was one last tracking device - Imperial ships were full of them - and they’d hit a conduit they shouldn’t have, or, perhaps, the device had been rigged to cause the destruction if they tried to remove it.

“I wasn’t trained on these engines,” Tektek said, scrubbing a hand back over his head, leaving behind streaks of grease on his shiny, shaved scalp - he must have shaved immediately, they’d all worn the same haircut while they were chipped - after he explained. He was scowling, darkly, still frowning over at the engines. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Can you fix it?” Cody asked, wondering where they were, how far out into the black they’d traveled before the engines gave, if they were close to a major hyperspace lane, if they’d be found…

He doubted, severely, that anyone who found them would be in the mood to offer them a rescue. The Empire had spread quickly, like a cancer across the galaxy. He doubted there was much of a bounty on their heads, but Obi-Wan… He looked sideways, at Obi-Wan, who was frowning over the dimmed computer consoles. 

He wondered, if they were boarded, if the Empire found them dead in the water, what the kindest thing to do would be for Obi-Wan. And then he had to swallow the vomit that rose into his mouth, disgusted with himself for even considering the options--

“We’ll fix her,” Crys said, determined, sliding out from under one of the coolant vents, grease staining his fair hair dark, until he almost matched the rest of them. “Just give us some time to figure out what’s going on. And we’re going to need more help. Lots more help. Bones managed to wake up any of the other engineers, yet?”

“I’ll find out,” Cody promised, and turned. He hesitated, shivering, when Obi-Wan turned to follow him.

“We’ll get you quarters,” Cody said, as they moved back through the halls, the ship quiet around them. It was meant to hold far more than their little complement. It was meant for war. Cody had some thoughts about how it might be put to use, if they managed to get her operational, again.

“I’d appreciate that. Later. I think we’ll all be needed on these repairs, first. If we can get communications systems up, I might...” Obi-Wan hesitated, only for a beat. “I might be able to get us help.”

Cody nodded, taking that information in and processing it. They could use help and it felt so… strange. Just falling into conversation, as though the past three years - the past three months - hadn’t happened. As though they were back on the Negotiator and Obi-Wan had just returned from a mission and--

“Cody?” Obi-Wan asked, hand brushing Cody’s arm, gentle, enough to make him realize that he’d stopped in the middle of the hall. He flinched away from the touch, remembering how Obi-Wan had shook, under his hands, like he was going to tear apart inside. He heard Obi-Wan make a little sound, almost hurt, and jerked further away. Obi-Wan cleared his throat. “Are you…?”

“I’m fine,” Cody lied, wishing it were true, unable to even look towards Obi-Wan, seeing him too clearly in memory, anyway, the way his eyes had been so wide, blood streaking his face and his shoulders and-- “I need to talk to Bones.”

#

By the time they made it back to the medbay, it had filled with a terrible, noxious smoke. Bones was gesturing at Mav, who was trying to explain that the intake valves were malfunctioning.

“I think I remember how to fix those,” Obi-Wan said, brightly, stepping into the middle of the argument just as Mav took a step towards Bones with frustration all over his expression. Mav froze, jerking in place, and Obi-Wan looked back and forth between the two of them. He said, after a beat, “I could probably use some help. Mav?”

Cody watched them disappear around the corner with a pit opening in the bottom of his stomach. Obi-Wan hadn’t been out of his sight since he woke up, since he killed Skywalker. He’d been able to just look over, and, though it had hurt to see him, Obi-Wan had been there. If anything had gone wrong, Cody would have been able to do something. He shook his head, swallowing, as they turned the corner. The pain in his side was eating into his focus. 

Bones tched at him, lifting the bacta patch on his stomach to look beneath without so much as a by-your-leave, and Cody said, “We need more engineers. Wake up Lux next.” 

“Already got him scheduled,” Bones said, undertones in his voice that said he didn’t need to be told how to do his own job. “You shouldn’t be walking around yet.”

“I’ll live,” Cody said, and gritted his teeth as Bones did something that shot cold fire up into his chest and down the entirety of his right leg. “How’s the General doing? Really?”

Bones hesitated, went still all over for just a moment. Cody heard him swallow. His hands stayed steady as he worked, though. He said, “He’ll live,” and then snorted. “He’s - he’s healing. There were internal injuries; they’re much better. Jedi heal fast. If he rests, he should recover.”

Cody nodded. He wondered, absently, if any of them would ever get to rest. Maybe if they got the ship fixed. The itchiness under his skin was getting worse. Last time he’d left Obi-Wan out of his sight, he’d come back to find that Skywalker had him, again, found him chained and threatened and--

“How long until you’re finished?” he asked, shifting around, nerves thrumming unpleasantly. 

“Be done faster if you sit still,” Bones chided him, and Cody bit his tongue against a sharper retort, staring at the far wall. Bones had moved to tending his back before he spoke again, his voice quiet when he said, “And how are you doing, Commander? Really?”

“As well as the rest of us,” Cody snapped back, and felt Bones flinch, just a little. “Finish up.”

“In a hurry to go somewhere?” Bones asked, tone getting sharper, and Cody considered how far it might take to push Bones to outright anger. Wondered if he wanted to. He felt… adrift, a bit, in his own head. Planning and doing what needed done had given him a focus back on Mustafar.

But Skywalker was dead. His brothers - some of them - were free. Obi-Wan was safe. Healing. Would be fine, according to Bones. For the first time since Cody had woken up free, he didn’t know what step he needed to take next. The future stretched before him, a dark, impossible void.

He scowled, shaking the thoughts away, resisting the urge just to stand. “I need to check on the General,” he said, because it was true. Force knew Obi-Wan was always getting into trouble. Cody had thought the pressure sitting on his chest might ease when he wasn’t looking directly at Obi-Wan, but it just changed shape, grew sharper and dug claws into his chest. “Make sure he’s alright.”

He jerked out of his thoughts when Ults snorted, across the room. The other medic hadn’t looked directly at Cody since he woke up, hadn’t said so much as a word. Cody blinked over at him as Bones did something to his back that lit his spine on fire. He asked, “Something to say, trooper?”

“That’s just bantha shit,” Ults said, all sharp edges, “coming from you.”

Cody stiffened, heart jerking in his chest. He said, voice coming from far away, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ults looked over at him, finally, eyes flat and hard, mouth twisted up into a grimace. He said, “I saw what you did. To him.” His expression twisted, agonized. His hands, Cody noticed, had balled into fists. “I was there.”

Cody’s stomach turned to ice and the chill of it spread out through him, all in a wave. Nausea climbed his throat. He didn’t need to ask for an explanation. He remembered Ults’ face, remembered him standing there, still as a statue as Obi-Wan pleaded, “Please, Cody--”

“You made sure he wasn’t alright,” Ults continued, mouth curling up into a snarl, “you hurt him, you--”

“That’s enough,” Bones cut in, stepping around the bed, his gloves stained with blood and bacta, his shoulders set in a line.

“He kriffing held the General down and--”

“And what did you do?” Bones snapped back, head cocking to the side, the temper Cody had learned to be leery of years ago sliding out, all at once, like a claw unsheathed. Anger and something else, something closer to hatred, turned inward. “While he was holding the General down? Did you try to stop him? Did you push him off? Or did you just stand there and watch? Maybe you lik--”

“Kriffing hell!” Cody snapped, a second later, when Ults went for Bones, throwing a punch that landed solidly against his jaw. Cody grabbed Bones, shoving him back and stepping between them, a hand on Ults’ chest, pushing. “That’s enough. We don’t have time for this. This ship is dead in the water and it needs repairs. Pack it the kriff in, both of you. And do what needs doing.”

“He said--”

“It doesn’t matter what he said,” Cody ground out, gripping both of them by the front of their blacks. None of them, he’d noticed, were wearing armor. No one had said anything about it, he’d certainly given no orders. And yet… He shook that thought aside to consider it later, perhaps. 

“If we don’t get the engines working again, we’re just going to sit here until the Empire finds us. Maybe they’ll put chips back in our head.” Cody would put a blaster against his head and pull the trigger, first, but that seemed less than helpful to say. “Maybe they’ll just kill us. Fine. What the kriff do you think they’re going to do to the General?”

He watched Ults flinch back, blinking rapidly, mouth twisted as he turned his face away. Ults said, “Right, Commander. Sorry. I’ll--” he gestured to the side, vaguely, and Cody released him, let him get back to whatever task he’d set for himself.

Cody turned after a moment to look back at Bones, who was breathing hard, and said, “Wake up Lux.”

“I’m not done with you, yet,” Bones said, his voice raw and ragged. 

“Yes,” Cody said, patting him once on the chest and turning away, “you are.”

#

If nothing else, repairing the ship gave Cody something to keep his thoughts and his hands busy. It wasn’t so easy to start thinking about what he’d done, about Obi-Wan’s hair snagging around his gloved fingers, about the bloody marks he’d left behind, when he was trying to keep their vessel from flying apart.

One thing after another broke, kriffing Imperial boody traps, and there weren’t enough of them to fix everything all at once. They did the best they could, subsisting on caff and shreds of adrenaline.

He tried to keep an eye on Obi-Wan, as much as possible. Leaving Obi-Wan out of his sight for more than a few moments made his gut start to hurt, left him distracted and worried, despite his responsibilities.

Bad things happened to Obi-Wan when he wasn’t there. 

Bad things happened to Obi-Wan when he was there. 

Cody swallowed, focusing on welding together a ruptured coolant line, and ignoring the ache in his side and back of a wound healing improperly.

#

They’d been adrift for at least three days - Cody was having a hard time keeping track - by the time they got long-range scanners operational again. A runner from the bridge came to find him - they didn’t have communications up, yet - and by the time Cody got there Obi-Wan was already there, and for a jarring, confusing moment, Cody felt like he was stepping into the past. 

Obi-Wan had always seemed like he belonged on the bridge, the heart of the Negotiator, and--and that had all twisted sideways and wrong. Obi-Wan was wearing blacks that hung baggy off of him, his hair too long and his beard growing in uneven, dark bags under his eyes, his left sleeve knotted into place, and--

“Commander,” he said, glancing over his shoulder, towards where Cody had frozen in the doorway, “there you are. It seems we may have guests.”

Cody nodded, gripping the edges of his control and stepping forward. “Imperial signature,” he said, looking over the scans, his gut clenching cold and hard.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, expression still and calm, and something about his steadiness seeped into Cody, the way it always had, let him breathe a little easier. 

He looked over at Crys, who had fixed the scanners, apparently, and said, “Are we going to have engines back in time to get out of here?”

Crys grimaced and shrugged. “Maybe, sir.” 

Maybe wasn’t the answer he’d been hoping for, but it was better than ‘no.’ “We could evacuate,” Crys added, mouth twisting down in the corners.

Cody shook his head, harshly, but it was Obi-Wan who answered, like he was picking thoughts up from Cody’s head, the way it had always been, between them, voice a rasp, “To what end? They’d just pick up the escape pods. Oh, maybe they’d miss a few, but out here… You’d just drift. Die of dehydration before anyone found you.”

“Get everyone who might be taking some bunk time up,” Cody said, watching the blip on the scanners get closer. “Let’s get her moving again.”

“Sir,” Cyrs said with a sharp nod, before he turned on his heel and marched away. Cody took a breath and glanced over to find Obi-Wan watching him already, blue eyes bright even with the dark bags under them, and if the Empire took the ship, if they got their hands on Obi-Wan again, Cody wondered if he’d have the wherewithal to save him…

“Cody?” Obi-Wan said, quietly, head cocking to the side, and Cody wondered what Obi-Wan might be picking up from his emotions. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Cody lied, taking his hand away from his blaster. “We should get to work.” He’d keep Obi-Wan close, stay beside him, until they resolved this situation with the Imperial ship, one way or another.

#

The next hours were a blur. There was nothing else to do but throw themselves at repairs and hope. There weren’t enough of them, really, to operate such a large ship. They were scattered, working on repairs that became easier as the engineers got comms back up, allowing them to coordinate their efforts more easily.

Every one of them worked, desperately, even Obi-Wan, who knew next to nothing about repairing ships. The Force was very useful for holding things into position, if nothing else. He was holding a coolant vent into place as Cody stretched under it, re-calibrating a control pump, when the engines thrummed to life, all at once.

Cody felt the vibrations come up through the floor, into his back, and let out a hoarse, relieved sound. He heard cheering, from somewhere down the corridor, and a moment later the ship jerked into proper motion; his men knew their jobs well enough to get them the kriff away without waiting for him to give a specific order.

He aligned the last sensor with a swell of relief and slid his way out from under the coolant vent, panting out, “All done.”

“Good,” Obi-Wan said, across from him, and lowered his hand, the vent settling back into place before he stumbled a step back, far enough to lean against the wall, his breathing shallow. 

Cody looked away from him, pain clenching around his ribs, and said, “Can’t believe that worked.”

“I can,” Obi-Wan said, dragging Cody’s attention back. His mouth was quirked up in the corners, a shadow of what his smile used to be, as he continued, “I knew you’d all get her flying again.”

Cody wished he’d had so much faith. He wondered how Obi-Wan managed it, how he’d been able to trust that they’d succeed, after they’d failed so terribly, over and over again. He swallowed, hard, blinking to try to get rid of the stinging in his eyes.

There was, abruptly, nothing that needed his immediate attention. The engines were working, they were - somehow - getting away. And Obi-Wan was leaning against the wall across from him, trembling and trying to hide it, his hand curled into a fist and pressed against his thigh.

Cody had stuck close to Obi-Wan, couldn’t seem to bear to be far away, but he’d--they’d barely spoken, and when they had it had been about the ship and repairs. Necessary tasks that had allowed him to keep focused.

He swallowed, his mouth bitter and his throat tight, and said the words that had been clogging up his head, for days, weeks, months, “General. I’m - I’m so sorry.”

He heard Obi-Wan’s breath catch. “You--you don’t need to--”

Cody shoved to his feet all in one movement, thoughts lurching in his head, heart jerking in his chest. “I hurt you,” he said, voice strained. “I do need--”

“It wasn’t you,” Obi-Wan cut in, taking a step away from the wall, reaching out towards him, and Cody jerked back, remembering the way he’d shaken and trembled, and-- Obi-Wan froze into place, expression agonized for just a moment, before he mastered it. His voice was a rasp, when he continued, “That - it wasn’t you doing it. It was -- you weren’t in control.”

Cody barked a laugh, hands aching as he clenched them into fists. He didn’t need the reminder that he hadn’t been in control. “I should have been,” he said, and shivered, all over. He should have been. Obviously, he’d had the ability to break the control. He’d just - just taken too long. 

Obi-Wan had his arm curled in and close, keeping his distance, and Cody didn’t blame him. “You didn’t--” 

Cody wondered how Obi-Wan could even look at him, and cut in, because he thought if they spoke anymore he might tear apart, inside, “You needed to contact someone. Communications are probably up.”

He felt Obi-Wan staring at him, but kept his face turned away, and, after a moment, Obi-Wan said, “Yes. They probably are. I’ll just…” He trailed off, and then turned on his heel, walking away. 

Cody let out a ragged breath, turned and slammed the side of his hand against the bulkhead, shoulders curling over as he panted, trying to regain some modicum of control. Obi-Wan could claim it hadn’t been him. But Cody remembered. Remembered each thing he’d done, remembered beating Obi-Wan, remembered holding him down, remembered--

Cody had never - never touched anyone, before. Not - not intimately. He’d only ever recalled wanting to touch Obi-Wan and the war had stood between them, and… he’d been content to wait. He’d never touched anyone, but he had touched himself, he knew what it was like to find completion, pleasure cresting high and--

And he’d held Obi-Wan down and forced him and -- and Obi-Wan could say whatever he liked, about how it hadn’t been Cody. It had been his body, regardless of anything else. His body, and he’d -- he’d came, found release with Obi-Wan shaking and pleading with him, blood in Obi-Wan’s hair tangled around his fingers, and--

And he knew very well what that made him.

Not all the threats to Obi-Wan were outside the ship.

Cody hit the wall, again, taking a sort of comfort in the ache up his arm, the splintering pain. He swallowed the bitter saliva in his mouth and scrubbed a hand across his face, getting itchy under his skin and up his spine.

There really wasn’t any thought to pushing away from the wall and going to find Obi-Wan, just to - just to make sure he was alright.