#Because those warm moments of trust mean more than fireworks and roses ever could

[jinx-blackout-84]

Goodnight guys <3

I love you and I hope your night is full of rest. I hope it sits over your shoulders like water, I hope your blankets are warm and inviting and I hope your mind is quiet and tired. I hope it smells like lavender and warm flannels when you fall asleep. I hope you can hear a poem rattling in the back of your mind and I hope it tells you that I love you. I love you because you are sunlight and you keep all of the constellations in those little flecks in your eyes. You are possibility and a universe and flesh and song and love. You are love and I love you. But most of all, I hope that you can set down the weight of being everything and nothing. I hope you can drop the weight of existing that weighs down on your shoulders and I hope you can rest in a night made of collages and green plastic glow-in-the-dark stars that hang above your head to remind you of warmth and peace. I hope your night is serene and I hope the night wraps around you like a hug. I love you.

Goodnight.

[maryniss]

burn the letters so that you never find the burn in my heart

‘Today I came back. And I hope that you are still somewhere there, I am still here waiting. I am going to search for you, so just stay there and also wait for me. I am still your most devoted believer.’

Hua Cheng looked over at his horrible calligraphy, feeling rage burn deep inside him. He didn’t want to blame himself, he knew that he was still a little weak, proof in how his hands were shaking uncontrollably, proof in how his head was spinning with the past events, with the past feelings that the death of his soul couldn’t wash away. He wanted to burn it all, his love and his hatred because he felt so confused, and he felt so unworthy, unworthy of even worshipping the god of his life.

He could die a million times more and he still wouldn’t know if His Highness would feel the love Hua Cheng himself had felt when Xie Lian caught him during the parade. He wants to show Xie Lian just how much that meant for him, how his heart and will to live were light up, fireworks to mirror the ones Hua Cheng associated with the Crown Prince.

It was the first time somebody looked at Hua Cheng like that. It was the first time when a glance didn’t stab his bloody soul that had been cut and torn to pieces so many times again and again and again; it was the first time Hua Cheng thought that he maybe wasn’t that bad, that he maybe was worth something, that he could now maybe find a meaning to his life.

He knows he didn’t ask for that much, yet why does it feel like two deaths weren’t enough to show Xie Lian his utmost devotion?

He could not put it into words, he could not show it with his actions. Then what was left for him do to?

‘I don’t know what to do, but I’ll continue to follow you even with my eyes closed.’

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‘It was only the moment when I died, that was the moment when I saw you looking at me from the other side of the field. It was dark and maybe I didn’t see it right, maybe the glint in your eye wasn’t worry, but I like to think that at that moment you looked at me and you felt the love that exploded once my body which contained it disappeared. Even a ray of it would have been enough, a fraction for you to know that you are not alone, that there is somebody still believing in you.’

Hua Cheng was somehow relieved that his handwriting was so ugly and that no one could actually understand it. He rested his head on the paper and he thought that he could hear a breath somewhere far away, whispering soft words he could not understand in his ear. How warm he felt at that moment!

But then why was he crying and dirtying the pages he tried so hard to write? Why couldn’t he control his face? From under his eyepatch, trails of blood fell down on the words and mixed in with the ink.

He felt so alone. He wanted to feel again loved and worthy of something.

‘I, will never leave your side, for which I know how it is to be left in the dark with only the dogs of your thoughts to bite and scratch at you over and over.’

It was cold. It was empty.

Hua Cheng could wait for the sun to shine, though. He knew that, at some point, golden streaks of light will set his heart’s fire up once again.

‘I don’t know what to do, but I’ll continue to follow you even with my eyes closed.’

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‘Today I cried. For no reason at all. It’s getting tiring. There are too many things to do, all at once, there is so much pressure that I can’t handle. I have to be perfect in their eyes or else they won’t accept me as their leader. I have to scare them off, I have to be the strongest.

But it is so, so hard to scare somebody when you can’t even look at your own reflection without wanting to punch it so hard, to shatter the mirror and never see that face again. I am getting scared of myself, what should I do?

I am still following you. I haven’t found you, but one day I will and I will make sure that you will never have such bad thoughts about yourself as I do.’

Hua Cheng folded the letter and stacked it next to the other letters that have been growing over the years. He had been writing to His Highness for over 200 years, but he never found him, he never caught a glimpse of that brightness again.

He wondered if that’s how Xie Lian felt. He wondered if that was the pressure Xie Lian felt daily, the weight of a smile that hanged hard above his shoulders, pulling the corners of his mouth down. How did he deal with all of this, alone, on his own…?

Hua Cheng tried to be there for him. He did everything he could, he tried so hard, but he in the end failed. If His Highness is still out there in the world, does he know that he is still not alone? Does he know that? And if he would, would it help revive some of the pain that built inside of his rose shaped soul?

Hua Cheng wants to be there with Xie Lian, every day, at any time, whenever he is needed. He wants to at least have the chance to worship his god properly. Is that really too much to ask?

He guesses maybe it is. Maybe he doesn’t deserve that. Maybe he had already used up all of his chances.

He rests on the bed in Paradise Manor, falling asleep with the thought of bringing Xie Lian there one day.

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‘Today was such a great day! I saw a white flower and I thought of you again. Its petals were so delicate when I looked at them, holding up big tears of rain; I picked it up and I brought it back home. I put it below the altar and I still hope that one day I can find you again, maybe just by chance, as I did with this flower.’

That was the only letter Hua Cheng still had after somebody sneaked in and stole his chest with treasures. It was during one of his moments of weakness, when his head was throbbing with unbearable pain and his eye could no longer concentrate enough to connect with the butterflies.  

He didn’t care about all of the gold and jewelry that was there; but the letters, the letter were so important to him, it was his whole soul on thin papers, written in an ugly and unreadable handwriting, a reflection of his feelings and mind.

Those were only for Xie Lian to see. And he wanted nothing more than for them to find him.

Hua Cheng continued to write after that incident happened, he wrote everything that felt important to him. It was weird to think that he found comfort in exposing his soul to a person that was not there, to a person that might not be there anymore even.

He could hope still. He dedicated his life to Xie Lian, was there anything left other than hope?

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When the vendor offered Xie Lian those pieces of paper, he was reluctant to take them. He had no need for such objects, so why would he?

“Here, take them, please, I don’t know what to do with them. These are some letters, and some of them seem to be so old, yet the handwriting is the same. Please, take them, I don’t want the one who wrote these letters to come after me!”

Xie Lian wondered why the man stole them still? But such questions never left his mouth and after a lot of pleading, even begging by Xie Lian’s feet, the past god ended up with a pile of letters almost as tall as him. There were a lot and he, not knowing what do, stood down under the shadow of a tree and opened the first one.

It felt like his eyes had been gouged out with a fork. How could anybody have such a handwriting, such a messy handwriting? His head started to hurt as he looked at the letters on the paper. He looked at the words splayed unruly across the page, starting to distinguish some of the characters. The first letter he opened was nothing like he ever read or hear before. It almost seemed like the person who wrote it was talking to their lover after not being with them for a long time.

He started to get accustomed with the writing and soon he could easily read what was written there.

‘I didn’t know it would be this hard. To live. I was foolish back then, but looking at it now, I still don’t regret listening to you. It would just be so, so much easier if you were here. I can handle it still.

But there is no day that I don’t think about you. The warmth I felt when I met you for the first time; it burned me, it was the first time I felt like that. I told you this before in previous letters, but I need to show you, even by repeating my words a hundred times, how much I owe you.

I often find myself asking what you would do if you were in my place. I still hope one day we will find the solution together.

And I am sure we will, as I still follow you, even with my sight not as good as before.’

Xie Lian laughed at the last bit for a second, before wondering what happened to the person’s eyes. It was endearing, there was something about the letters that made Xie Lian want to open more of them up and read them, to find out the secrets hidden between the walls of that thorny writing.

But, as he swam through the emotions exposed there, he felt like he should give some of his story too, to reciprocate the accidental sincerity he was being faced with. He took a coal from his sleeve and started gently writing on the back of those pages.

‘I am glad that you think your love is still worth fighting for. In this world, you must always have something that makes you go forward. It’s just so much easier. I-I remember how I once told someone to keep living for me.

Now that I think about it, it really was foolish of me and too much to ask. I was young back then, I didn’t know how easily trust could be betrayed and how easily people left. I am still thinking about it till this day. I am thinking about that person that listened to my words so carefully and I wonder what he’s doing right now. Truth to be told, I would want to meet them again, to apologize to them. I don’t know if they are still around though.

I want to tell you something, as I’ve seen you struggling. I know it’s hard without somebody by your side; but you can fight for them if that’s what you want to do. Continue on fighting even if you start to bleed, if that’s what is the right thing to do or so you appreciate.

Maybe I am not the best to talk about this. I was stubborn when I was young and I always tried to fulfill my goal, to never give up. And I ended all alone, but I managed.’

Xie Lian stopped for a second and looked up. Clouds were gathering above his head, but something told him it wasn’t going to rain. He let out a soft chuckle and then a sigh.

‘I honestly don’t remember so much of my teenage years. I wanted to save the people all of them, that’s how I was thinking back then. I know it’s not possible, but I am still trying to this day. I can never let it go; it’s just my guilt creeping up on me for letting all of those people die back then.

I remember that there was once a ghost that helped me when I was at my lowest. I couldn’t save them in the end, I couldn’t and that has haunted me for more than I can remember. I wake up in cold sweat remembering how I couldn’t, at the end of it all, save them. There were other people before that that I couldn’t reach out to. But my memory has caved itself and everything from that period is a little blurry. I still remember some things…to well even, things I wish I could forget.’

A drop of water landed on the paper and Xie Lian didn’t know if it was his tears or the rain that started contrary to what he believed. He folded the letters and run quickly back to his improved home in the village, to hide from the rain.

It wasn’t so bad, talking to somebody who would listen. Shame they were not there.

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It was a rainy day at Puqi Shrine when Xie Lian found that letter again. It fell from the sleeves of his robes and he picked it up curiously. Where did that come from?

“What did you find there, gege?” Hua Cheng peeked over Xie Lian’s shoulder, nestling his chin in the crook of his neck. It was still something new for them both, and at the same time, something that they were long used to, each other’s presence.

“I am not sure, San Lang, let me take a look.” He unfolded the paper, holding it gently, feeling that it may disappear under his hands if he handled it without care. Xie Lian was met with Hua Cheng’s messy writing and he was confused for a second.

“San Lang, did you write this now…” He could not finish his thoughts as he read the first words; they seemed so familiar, a mirror made out of water which his arm could only pass through. Why did he suddenly feel surrounded by a warmth enveloping him like honey, smothering over him, cradling him close? Was this…?

Hua Cheng took the letter from Xie Lian’s hands. “Gege, where do you have this from?” Xie Lian looked as surprised as him.

“I thought you wrote it? Shouldn’t you know? Didn’t you put it there?” Hua Cheng flipped it over and his eyes roamed the back of the paper.

“…but this is your writing here?” said Hua Cheng as he handed the paper to Xie Lian. The Crown Prince glanced at it and he remembered.

He remembered the vendor that wouldn’t let him alone no matter what, he remembered the cloudy day and how he cried that day. It struck him, all of sudden and he could not stop himself from putting the pieces together. He looked up at Hua Cheng.

“Did you…Were these letters meant for me?” Hua Cheng glanced down, red in the ears, and Xie Lian was stunned that something like this could make him flush so darkly. He smiled fondly.

He loved him.

“Gege shouldn’t look anymore,” murmured he as he stepped out with the intention to take the letter away from Xie Lian, as far away as possible, burn it afterwards so that Xie Lian never found the burn in his heart. “They are unfit to be read by Gege. I was just saying nonsense there, don’t worry about it…”

“But if I can’t look once more time, again, at San Lang’s words, neither can he read my response,” said Xie Lian promptly. Hua Cheng took in a deep breath, something gleaming in his eyes. Hope, love, or just the stars that could be seen splattered across the sky?

“Gege’s…response?”  Xie Lian smiled again and started to read aloud what he wrote that time, under the alone shadow of a tree. His face was getting a little bit pink, he knew it, but Hua Cheng was way worse than him, almost as red now as his robes.

When he finished reading, he looked up and to his surprise, tears were rolling down Hua Cheng’s reddened cheeks. He stepped closer and ensured one of his arms behind his beloved’s waist, keeping him close, the other hand wiping away the tars gently, stroking the pale skin there.

“I am sorry, gege…” Hua Cheng took Xie Lian’s hand into his and tenderly kissed it. “I just…Back then I didn’t expect you to be alive, I…” He let out a shaky breath. “It’s just… I don’t know how to say to say it but I feel like I gained another part of myself right now. I feel so full. I am so happy. I always wanted to show you these letters. Yes, I did wrote them down for you and I…” Xie Lian brushed his lips across Hua Cheng’s erratic ones, shutting him up.

“I remember reading the letters and thinking…” Xie Lian’s eyes glanced down at Hua Cheng’s mouth and he thought about all of the words that came out of it, about all of the kisses laid on his skin with that mouth (his face got a closer to red) about everything that Hua Cheng ever said to him and how those simple words hold him up for so long.

“…that they were probably for the lover of the one who was writing. I never thought they would turn out to be for me.” He could see Hua Cheng shivering as his hot breath gasped over the cold skin. And maybe that was love, hope or maybe just the stars reflected in his eyes.

He leaned down and kissed Hua Cheng, slow, molding their lips together, not pushing too far. It was a sweet moment draped in even sweeter honey. He wanted to say so much to Hua Cheng but his mouth would get tired of all the unspoken words his soul had to carry alone.

But, he never grew tired of kissing Hua Cheng. Of the striking feeling that that man was him to kiss and love and adore and exchange secret letters. It was a feeling that bathed him completely, almost drowned him in his magnitude.

Hua Cheng shyly licked at Xie Lian’s lips and the Crown Prince slightly parted them, letting his beloved explore him once more time, like the first time. It was always going to be like the first time.

Words were not enough.

Kissed were not enough.

So how could the two possibly show their love for each other?

Maybe it should be a secret, maybe it should be a surprise like the letters.

Or maybe they should wait for the burn in their heart to heal sot that their soul could once again feel as light as once. Then, they could share their love and fill each other’s hearts.

But, for tonight, kissing didn’t seem so bad. They had an eternity ahead of them.

An eternity and a death. And it still didn’t seem enough.

‘I don’t know what to do, but I’ll continue to follow you even with my eyes closed.’

   and they were infinite like the stars in the sly, they were infinite because of the path their loved set ahead of them

reblog if you enjoyed it!

[inspired-by-the-music]

For You: 4 O’Clock

Taglist: @jineunwootrash​ @jamies-kpop-reactions​

Chapter 14: A Fool

By the time Taemin’s lips parted from mine, the fireworks overhead had almost entirely ceased, and most cars had vacated the parking lot below. 

Breathless, I was almost hesitant to meet the glittering galaxies gathered in Taemin’s eyes, all too aware of the likelihood that I would spend the rest of the evening or the rest of my life aimlessly wandering through them. However, as you know by now, I could never resist the allure of Taemin’s other-worldly beauty. 

His eyes smiled at me as his hands moved to cup my cheeks. “Do you want to do it again?” His laughter dissolved all tension in the air. 

Before pecking at his grin, I hummed, “Maybe later!” 

Narrowly escaping Taemin’s effort to catch me in another thousand-year kiss, I grabbed my mask from its corner and frowned at the high heels that were entirely responsible for the dull ache in my ankle. 

“You don’t have to put them back on,” Taemin said, following my gaze. “I’ll carry you to my car and drive you home.” When I hesitated to climb onto his back because I had been too tall for piggyback rides for as long as I could remember, he pouted, begging, “Let me give you one drama-worthy moment, jagi. Please?”

There was no way to deny him whatever he wanted when he looked at me like that— like I alone held the key to his happiness in the palm of my hand. Setting aside my discomfort, abandoning my fear of heights (or, more accurately, my fear of falling from a height), I secured my hold around him. Releasing a deep breath, I laid my head on his shoulder. 

Quietly, as if he thought that I had fallen asleep in the span of just a few seconds and he didn’t wish to wake me, Taemin asked, “Are you sleepy?”

“No,” I whispered, although my blinking eyelids had gone heavy with fatigue in the aftermath of the party’s highs and lows. “You’re just really warm, so you’re a good cuddle buddy.”

The smile on his face was audible as he repeated, “Cuddle buddy?” I wish I had opened my eyes to admire his smile, to watch if it grew when I dropped a feather-light kiss on the crook of his neck. 

Delighted by the subtle shiver that ran down his spine at the sweet contact, I hoped that my voice carried my smile to him when he couldn’t quite see me. “What’s gonna happen to the blanket and the lights and—” I gasped. 

Taemin’s body stiffened. He glanced back at my widened eyes. “What’s wrong?” 

“Your rose—” tears gathered in my eyes with the sudden sharp blow of winter wind— “I left it behind. I must have dropped it when you kissed me. I must have been too happy to hold on, and now—” 

As soon as he set me on my feet beside his car, Taemin kissed each of my cheeks. Before any tear could fall, he promised, “I’ll go get it.” He held his keys out to me. “I’ll be right back, okay? Please don’t cry. It’s our happy night.” 

I parrotted the phrase, “Our happy night.” A smile broke across my face while I cursed myself for my embarrassing attachment to symbols like the rose. But then, it was easy to forget embarrassment when Taemin smiled at me. 

Looking back, I think that he must have planned all along to return to our rooftop place to retrieve the blanket and the lights and his mask. In that moment, though, I was so giddy with the thought that Taemin had retraced our path just for the sake of the rose that I greeted his return with a broad grin that he hopefully appreciated in the two seconds before I caught his lips with mine. 

“You kissed me,” Taemin gasped as if it were the first time. Holding the rose out to me, he asked, “Will you do it again in exchange for a flower?” 

I don’t know what came over me. In all of my life, I had never been an excessively smiley, giggly sort of person, but my cheeks ached from smiling that night. My laughter seemed to have lost all meaning, but I kept laughing anyway. All I can say, I guess, is that Taemin’s kiss made me happy. Too happy. Happier than I had ever been. 

Had there been a rational thought in my head that wasn’t centered around the boy in the diver’s seat, the boy determined to lace his fingers through mine as he drove down busy streets, the boy I trusted to lead me to new heights at any corner of the universe, I might have called myself cringeworthy. 

At every point in my life, I had been prematurely fixated on the moment of goodbye. Maybe that was some sort of well-intentioned coping mechanism. I’m not sure. All I can tell you in hindsight is that I must have had no intention of parting ways with Taemin. Maybe in some corner of my mind— or in the entirety of my heart— I decided that the rest of the night would be spent in his company. 

When he parked in the driveway of my house, I realized from the sheer number of cars that there was no way I would catch an hour of sleep. More importantly, there was no way I would have been able to lead Taemin into my room undetected. Within seconds, I pieced together that Super Junior had occupied my home to a.) celebrate the new year, b.) celebrate their years of friendship with Mom, and c.) to celebrate the union of Momhae. 

When I relayed that information to Taemin, explaining what it meant for our sleeping arrangements, he suggested, “We can sleep together in my room at the SuperM house.”

From his smirk and the mischievous glint in his eyes coupled with the dropping of his jaw when I eagerly nodded my head, I figured that Taemin hadn’t been entirely serious. No, Taemin was always serious about falling asleep together. He must have expected me to place some boundary against falling asleep together in his bed. 

Sinking at the thought that I hadn’t explained how much I loved sleeping at his side, I dropped the rose onto my lap so I could trace stars on his knuckles. “I’m sorry if this sounds too clingy or dependent, Taemin, but I— I want to spend every night with you. Even when we go back to living separate daily lives after the tour is over, I want to spend the nights with you. That time when I get to remove my mask and lay my head on your chest and just exist—”

Taemin squeezed my hand and raised it to meet his kiss. I had to smile at that sweet gesture as my heart swelled and overflowed with affection. The fond wrinkles that formed around his eyes encouraged me to continue to confess, “That time holds me together. I— to tell you the truth, I don’t know what I would do if that time were to end.” 

Taemin said, “It won’t,” so assuredly that the lump growing in my throat dissolved. Shallow lines etched into his forehead as he asked, “Why did you tell me all of those beautiful things, jagi?”

I shrugged, startled by my total lack of embarrassment as I met his twinkling eyes. “I just thought that it would be kind of tragic if you never knew what time with you means to me. Earlier, you asked me to tell you what I feel, and I— I’m going to try, but you should know that I feel a lot, and— if you could, I would like for you to kiss me when I ramble, please—”

Immediately, Taemin took the hint. He kissed me like he planned to feel my lips without the invitation.

. . . 

“I like it when you’re like this,” Taemin said on our way up the stairs to his bedroom. 

From my place on his back, I bit back my giggles for fear of waking the SuperM members who, judging by the almost eerie silence and empty driveway, weren’t even there. “Like what, Taem?” I kissed his temple, careful not to drop the champagne bottle he looted from the party onto the hardwood floor. “All over you?” 

“Well, yeah.” He smirked as he kicked open the door to his pure white room. From first glance, it seemed to be a place beyond earth. “But I actually meant that I like it when you’re honest with me. I love it when you trust me with everything locked away in here.” His index finger tapped on an inch of skin exposed beneath my bangs when he set me down on the small sofa by the window.

The cushions were as light and fluffy as clouds. Maybe with Taemin, every day, in one way or another, I enacted my dream of being something that belongs in the sky. 

“You’ve always been easy to trust,” I told him as he filled the space next to me. “I just— it’s hard to unlearn the habit of holding back. Just know that I’m going to trust you with everything in time.” 

Taemin took the bottle of champagne, beaming. “I know. Thank you for trying for me.” 

I rose onto my knees, sinking ever-so-slightly into the clouds, to peel back the silky curtains and raise the blinds. Shining brilliantly over our garden amid a shower of golden fireworks, the moon stared back at me and stole my breath away.

“You can see our garden well from here,” I observed as I sat back, careful not to disturb my aching ankle. “If I had a view like this from my room, then I probably never would have snuck out of my house.” 

Taemin said, “Flowers aren’t meant to be admired through a window.” 

And when I glanced over at him, I found that he was watching the moon just as intently as I always had. A part of me wanted to ask if he also dreamed of a day when he could reach out and feel the moon’s kiss on his fingertips. The answer was obvious the next time he looked into my eyes, though, so the question died on the tip of my tongue. 

“I like it when you’re like this,” I said, unable to lift my voice above a whisper.

“Like what, Lei?” After setting the champagne bottle on the floor with a gentle thud, Taemin leaned across the couch to lay his head on my chest, flush against my heartbeat. Hooking his hands around my waist, he fanned his breath over my collar bone. “All over you?”

My heart raced for him, but it didn’t hurt, and I wasn’t embarrassed knowing that he could feel it too. 

“Well, yeah.” I smiled as I carded my fingers through his hair. “But I actually meant that I like it when you talk like a poet. I love it when you trust me with everything in here.” My index finger traced his heart over his collared shirt. 

Taemin wrapped his fingers around my wrist and pressed my palm flat against his chest so I could feel it— the ever so subtle quickening of his pulse as he lifted his head to breathe against my parted lips. 

I guess the night couldn’t have remained an almost perfect dream come true because I didn’t live in a fairytale. Sometime later, Taemin pressed his back against the arm of the couch opposite me. After taking a small taste of champagne, he asked, “Do you want to play truth or dare like we did the last time we drank together?” 

Because I am a fool for anything with sentimental value, I nodded my head so passionately that Baekhyun’s flower crown fell off of my head. It landed on the space between Taemin and me. Before I could return the crown to its place atop my head, he swiped it and laid over his hair. Although the flowers weren’t his, they looked prettier on him. They transformed him into a vision of an angel. 

Knowing the answer, Taemin asked, “Am I pretty?” while tucking a strand of hair behind his ear and winking as I tasted champagne. 

I giggled at the bubbling sensation on my tongue. “You’re absolutely beautiful, Taemin.” He rejoiced at the compliment, and I asked, “Who gets to go first in this little game?”

He decided with the question, “Truth or dare, jagi?” 

Obeying Taemin’s gesture to take another sip of the drink, I decided to be bold. “Dare.” 

Taemin hummed as he caught his pretty pink bottom lip between his teeth. I do not doubt that he was deliberately employing the very on-stage tactics that elicit screams from full stadiums around the world. Tugging his phone out of his pocket and flashing the timer on its screen, he dared, “Kiss me for a whole minute.” 

Although I was no longer a stranger to kissing Taemin, my cheeks burned at his instruction. “A minute?” I frowned. I can’t tell you if I was disappointed because a minute was closer to never or forever. 

“A minute!” Taemin smiled before puckering his lips. 

I trembled with anxiety during that first dared kiss, I think, because I was too aware of the passage of time. I wasted that first dared kiss by holding my breath, whittling away the seconds until the alarm permitted me to crawl back to my side of the couch. 

If Taemin was disappointed by the minute he wasted with his lips pressed to mine in the most lackluster kiss of all time— if he was disappointed that I was still as shy in the field of physical affection as I was in verbal affection— I couldn’t tell. His lips curled into a smile that I could see through the champagne bottle. 

In my embarrassment, I nearly forgot to ask, “Truth or dare, Taeminnie?” 

He squealed as he almost always did when I called him by anything resembling a nickname. “Truth.” His voice was a gentle hum. 

My eyes broke from his just long enough to glance out at our garden before returning to the pleasure of staring at him until every detail of his perfect face was a permanent memory that I could sketch out on paper given a chance. I asked, “What were you doing out there by the rose bush that night before I sat with you?”

“Waiting for you,” he answered without a moment of hesitation, without a moment of surrendering to shame. “I noticed you out there once or twice when I should have been sleeping. I knew that you were lonely because you didn’t know that we were looking up at the same moon at the same time.” While I traced the ribbon around his wrist, he said, “It was my dream to show you— to make you feel that you’re not alone.”

Even if I achieved my goal of learning every language in the world, would I have ever learned the words with which to respond to something so beautiful? I don’t think so. I believe there are some moments when the only response can be silence. 

I almost wanted to ask how he knew that I would be out there on that particular night. I almost wanted to know how the flower he held had broken. I came close to asking if he held it together in his warm, soft hands long after it was unsalvageable because he hoped as much as I did that the universe had gifted him with the supernatural ability to mend gaping wounds with his touch. 

I bit my tongue, though, because the concept of fate enchanted me as a mysterious force that should not have to suffer through questioning. It was romantic enough to hear from Taemin’s mouth that we were brought together by the moon that I turned the page on those questions without regret. 

Taking my next drink of champagne, I again chose dare, hoping for another chance to kiss my Taemin’s lips after he made my heart flutter with his talk about the moon. 

Perhaps reading my mind or maybe wanting to feel my breath as much as I needed to feel his to thank the universe for the gift of the time together, Taemin said, “Kiss me for two minutes, please.” 

That time, when Taemin started his timer, I hoped that by some miracle or happy accident, the alarm would never send me back to my appropriate side of the couch. I wanted to melt into him, to lose myself in him. It didn’t matter if I should ever distinguish myself from him again. Here— with him— is where I am happiest. 

That time, when Taemin whispered, “My Lei,” against my skin, I didn’t cringe at the thought that I— all of me, every thought locked away in my mind, every fear hidden in the darkest corners of my heart— belonged to him. 

Maybe that’s not the best way to phrase it. Maybe I mean to say that I didn’t cringe at the thought that all of me, even the parts that I considered fruitless or dangerous or flawed, belonged with Taemin. I don’t know. 

Setting aside the semantics that certainly didn’t matter to me at the time, my heart stirred at Taemin’s whisper. I took both of his hands in mine and laced our fingers together as if that would forever tether me to the moment. 

Time ran out as it always does and always will. After Taemin silenced the alarm, I stalled in peeling myself away from him. As cliche as this sounds, I swear that it’s true: it was almost painful to be separated. 

Taemin noticed, or maybe he felt a pull toward me too. Swallowing champagne, he chose dare. He probably expected me to dare him to kiss me for as long as he wanted because I was tired of the alarm jolting us apart. 

I don’t know how to describe my excitement when he leaned forward onto his knees and laid beside me on my side of the couch. It was a burning sensation that crawled up from the tips of my toes, pooled in my stomach, spread from my chest to the fingertips that reached out to trace his smile, and heated every inch of my face.

I don’t know how long we kissed that time, but I know that there was no coherent thought in my head by the time Taemin left me with tingling swollen lips. Maybe he deprived me of too much oxygen. Maybe the alcohol caught up with me all at once as my pulse quickened with each of his lingering touches. 

Taemin swears that I was drunk on New Year’s Eve, but I can’t tell you for certain because I never felt like that— hot, honest, uninhibited, stuck in slow-motion— since that one night spent in his room. Because these memories embarrass me still, I have sworn off alcohol just to safely avoid circumstances that yield reckless choices. 

Almost laughing at my dazed open-mouth expression, Taemin wondered aloud, “What are you thinking about?” while running his thumb over my crescent moon earring that matched his. 

If he expected me to say anything profound, he must have been disappointed when I asked through bubbling giggles, “Do you think it’s physically possible for me to drown in your kiss?”

No disappointment was visible on his laughing face. If he wasn’t affected by the alcohol, I don’t know what his excuse was for muttering, “Let’s find out,” before fitting his lips with mine for the millionth time. 

I am bashful about relating these acts of affection to you. I am not in any way ashamed about having kissed Taemin. It’s just— you know that I don’t regularly engage in this sort of behavior. I never really considered that I would ever breathe in sync or move in sync with anybody before Taemin found me in that hour of loneliness in the garden. 

It didn’t come to me naturally at first— succumbing to that eternal pull toward him, the one who set me alight with his tender touch— but once the habit developed, I would never break it. Maybe I couldn’t even if I wake up one day and decide to try. 

Anyway, there is something inherently nerve-rattling about carrying what happens in the dark in the company of the stars into daylight. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m doing the right thing by telling you everything that happened after the rising of the moon, but I— I guess I want nothing more than to share my happiness with you. I guess I want you to know that happiness is him: Taemin, my star. 

After all the nights of narrowly missing Taemin’s lips, I suppose that the damn burst all at once with the bursting of fireworks. I don’t understand it. I don’t understand him, but I don’t have to understand Taemin to know that I am in love with him. That’s why I’m trying to stop seeing the world in the logical way I have tried to add and subtract everything else in my life. I accept that some things— some emotions— some people are not meant to be put into words. 

It’s beautiful that Taemin is one such person. 

Undoubtedly drowning in Taemin’s scent of roses, I broke from the kiss to ask, grinning from ear to ear like an absolute fool, “Do you think I could get drunk from this kiss?” 

And— I squirm at this memory— he said, “I think I already am.” 

The very words that almost make me cringe in hindsight washed over me like a stories-high wave that swept me to the shore where Taemin’s lips molded with mine again, still not tired, still not bored, still so sweet and gentle but not at all timid. He convinced me that I was made for this— I was made for him— and I think I still believe that now that I am sober and the sun has risen and, for a blink in the universe, he is not reading over my shoulder. 

I ruined what very well could have been a perfect knee-weakening memory by sitting up to suggest, “Let’s play strip poker!”

Taemin laughed out loud. He gripped his sides because they were splitting until he realized that I wasn’t joking. Likely rattled by my serious expression that contradicted the last several minutes spent giggling between kisses, he gasped. “Are you being serious?” 

I must have been intoxicated. Had I been sober, that suggestion would have been a joke or, at the very least, I would have had the wit to pass off a genuine (humiliating) desire as an absent-minded attempt at flirting. Instead, I nodded, reaching out to card my fingers through his hair. “I’m always serious, sweet Taemin.” 

“Sweet Taemin?” The broad smile that brightened his face now brightens my memories. Forcing his lips into an exaggerated pout, he said, “I don’t have cards, jagi, so we can’t play strip poker. I’m sorry.” 

“Darn.” I frowned, brow furrowing as I traced my fingers over Taemin’s lips that pervaded my every blurry thought. “Oh well. I don’t know how to play poker anyway.” And then, when I should have dropped the subject before any harm was done, I asked, “Can we play strip rock-paper-scissors instead, Taeminnie?” 

Taemin snorted. “Well,” he spoke in a soft hum that almost definitely meant no. 

Being more shameless in that moment than I had been in my entire life, I felt my eyes widen pleadingly. “Please, sweet Taeminnie?” My bottom lip poked out from my frown, and my hands pressed together as if to pray. 

He sighed, “Well, alright,” and then winked as if he planned to give me my way all along. 

I squealed and clapped my hands as I sat upright on my arm of the couch. After I gulped another unneeded mouthful of champagne, Taemin took the bottle and set it behind his side of the couch so I couldn’t reach it without straining. 

I wasn’t disappointed for long. Holding his fist out, Taemin wiggled his eyebrows. “Ready, jagi?” 

Giggling, I nodded my head until I was dizzy and the game commenced. 

It was fun at first because Taemin lost the first two rounds. I think he liked that I rolled my eyes and shouted, “Booooooooriiiiiing,” when he started by removing his black socks. Then, he laughed as air passed through my rounded lips— a poor imitation of a whistle— when he slowly unbuttoned his shirt. 

Lowering back onto the couch, Taemin was careful to sit straight so that I could see each of his muscles. “Like what you see?” He smirked as if the answer wasn’t evident from my unadulterated stare and agape mouth. Like it tickled, he laughed when I reached to poke one of the muscles protruding in his abdomen because (even then) I needed proof that he wasn’t just a dream. 

My winning streak didn’t last long. I was all too easy to beat, too compromised by alcohol and the mind-numbing sight of my boyfriend to even notice that I lost until he giggled. 

After I shrugged out of Taemin’s jacket, dropping and forgetting it on the floor, I lost again. Without shoes or socks to shed, I stood and almost gnawed through my cheek as I reached for the cold zipper at the base of my neck. For the better part of five minutes, Taemin just watched me struggle with the zipper. 

Maybe he thought I was stalling to remain clothed for as long as possible, but the truth— that’s too embarrassing to admit. Suffice it to say that, having suggested the game in the first place, I was not stalling.

When the sparkling midnight blue fabric fell at my bare feet, we both screamed. 

Standing before him in only a nude bra and a pair of skin-toned Spanx, too stunned by my own action to look away from his widened eyes, I stuttered, “I— I can’t do this. Or can I?” Glancing down at myself, blushing just slightly, I realized, “I guess I already did, so—”

“No,” Taemin said as he stood. Although his eyes were closed, he walked to me without stumbling and draped his discarded shirt over my shoulders. Once I fit my arms through the silky sleeves that hung past my fingertips, Taemin opened his eyes to button the shirt most of the way up. He avoided my bewildered gaze, saying, “I’m sorry. I was just playing around. I didn’t think that you would actually do that. I’m so sorry, Lei.” 

Because I couldn’t understand why he was apologizing when we had only played the game by its rules, I asked, “What’s wrong? Did I mess something up again?” 

I must have cried. I can still feel Taemin’s thumbs brushing my cheeks just under my eyes. I hate that. I hate that I lost all inhibitions. I hate that I cried in front of Taemin just because his solemn expression terrified me to the core. I hate that I had no choice in whether or how to express the emotions I would have preferred to hide.

“No,” he whispered before enveloping me in a hug that was probably supposed to prove that nothing was wrong. He pulled my bangs out of my face and brushed his lips across my forehead. “You didn’t mess anything up. It just— if we keep going, I think you’ll regret it in the morning. I never want you to regret anything you do with me.” 

“I wouldn’t regret it.” Suddenly too flustered, too ashamed to meet his eyes, I looped my arms around his waist and leaned forward to put my ear to his heartbeat.  What once had been slow, confident, unaffected by my proximity was now rapid, anxious, all because of me. 

“Please,” Taemin begged, “don’t say things like that when I’m trying to do the right thing.” 

Before I could continue to childishly argue that there was no reason to pace ourselves or resist each other if we wanted the same things, Taemin tightened his grip around my waist and pulled me flush against his warm body. He held me there in the silence for what felt like eternities before swinging me, as if I was as light as a feather, toward his bed. 

He sang, “Let’s go to sleep,” and smiled his smile that grew more familiar with each passing second. A beauty of my memories and my present confined no longer to photographs and my wildest dreams. 

He pulled back the plush white blanket to expose white sheets, and he tugged me along toward the head of the bed, where he collapsed against soft cloud pillows. 

“But I don’t wanna go to bed,” I whined, refusing to lay with him. “I’m not tired!”

Taemin laughed when I reached for the champagne bottle. His hand wrapped around my waist, tickling me through his shirt, and pulled me to the center of the bed so that my back pressed against his side. “Let’s cuddle, then. Come here and talk to me.” 

I mumbled, “That’s my favorite thing to do,” and rolled onto my side so I could see him. 

As I started to trace my name onto his chest with my index finger, Taemin chuckled. “What’s your favorite thing? Cuddling or talking to me?”

“Both,” I answered without hesitation. My eyes flickered up to his face. He was so beautiful that I had to tell him. “Do you know why?” 

“No.” Taemin shook his head, which he propped on the arm resting atop his pillow. “Why, jagi?”

“You’re my favorite person,” I told him plainly, “because you’re beautiful.” 

“I’m beautiful?” Taemin gasped like he never before received the compliment. 

“Didn’t you know?” I removed my hand from his chest to cup his cheek, which bulged under the weight of his sparkling toothy grin. “You’re so pretty, Taemin. You’re the prettiest person in the whole world. You’re prettier than the sun and the moon and all of the stars. You’re brighter than all of them, too, and I love you more than them and—” 

True to his earlier promise to silence me with a kiss whenever I ramble, Taemin used both hands to pull me atop him and, resting one hand at the nape of my neck, he brought my lips to his.

“This is my other favorite thing to do,” I confessed, looking down at him with a smile I hope rivaled the radiance of the sun. “I never want to stop kissing you.” 

Taemin breathed, “Then don’t,” so sweetly that I kissed him over and over again until the sun rose or my eyes fluttered closed in a deep sleep— whichever came first. 

My stomach didn’t knot at any of the night’s events until the morning sun broke through the window, unobstructed by blinds or curtains, and pried my eyes open with a dull headache. When my bare legs brushed against the fabric of Taemin’s dress pants, I flinched away from him, sat upright, and choked on a gasp.

I glanced at his sleeping form, barely getting to admire the half of his face that wasn’t buried in the cloud white pillow before my eyes zeroed in on the fact that his back— his entire upper body— was bare. 

He was shirtless and right next to me. I was pants-less (except for my shapewear) and right next to him. 

And in those few seconds before the previous night’s events came back to crush me under the weight of utter humiliation, I think my instinct was to run before Taemin could notice. I hate admitting that after I swore in champagne-induced honesty that I would regret nothing. 

A confession: I was not trying to run away from regret. I was trying to run from a terrifyingly unfamiliar sense of desire that I— well, just use your imagination or something. 

I swept Taemin’s jacket off of the floor and pulled my phone out of the pocket, only to be greeted with a wall of missed calls from Lucas. Because it wasn’t even nine o’clock and we had no set schedule, to say that I was worried that Lucas was awake— let alone blowing my phone up— was an understatement. 

I wasted no time in calling him back on my tiptoed sprint into Taemin’s bathroom. 

Lucas answered as I set to removing last night’s smudged eyeliner with a cloth I found in a cabinet. “Where are you?” he asked in place of ‘hello.’ 

While I had been cognizant enough pre-champagne to text Mom that I was crashing at the SuperM house— careful to exclude the part about sleeping in Taemin’s bed— I hadn’t thought to check in with Lucas. 

“The SuperM house,” I replied, sinking at the thought that he might have been worried about me. “Specifically, I’m hiding in my—” I was going to say ‘my boyfriend,’ but my mouth couldn’t quite form the word— “Taemin’s bathroom.” 

“Your Taemin’s bathroom?” From the wave-like inflection in Lucas’s voice, I could envision his wiggling eyebrows. I imagined that his bright, teasing smile faded into a frown before he asked, “Wait, hiding? What are you hiding from?”

I was hiding from the fact that I had woken up half-naked in bed with a half-naked Taemin. I was hiding from the truth that had he not drawn a line in the sand, had he not been the first to close the door, I would have given him everything. All it took was a little bit of champagne for me to lose all sense of dignity, and I— why couldn’t I regret anything? 

There was no way in hell I was going to say any of that to Lucas, though. Instead, I said, “I don’t want to wake Taemin while talking to you.” I was picking among truths. 

Lucas’s silence carried his belief that I was hiding something, but I clung to my secrets. “Why did you call me a million times?” 

“Oh yeah. That.” Lucas chuckled. “Heechul and Donghae—” 

At their names, the two men felt compelled to bicker within Lucas’s earshot. 

Lucas sighed, “Well, you’ll just have to come home to get a clear read on this situation.”

Eager for an excuse to race home before Taemin could see my scarlet cheeks and tempt me into lovesick decisions, I asked, “Do you need me to come home now?”

Lucas’s response was delayed. He probably knew that I was trying to run, so he took his time in carefully structuring his response. “I think Heechul and Donghae will still be here long after you spend time with Taemin.” 

As if stirred awake by the most recent utterance of his name, Taemin knocked on the door. “Lei, jagi, are you in here?” His voice was raspy with fatigue. 

“I’ll see you when you get home,” Lucas said before hanging up, leaving me to confront the tension that set butterflies ablaze in my gut. 

Setting my phone down on the counter, I told Taemin, “It’s unlocked.” 

When he walked through the doorway, I couldn’t look at him for long. He was still shirtless and much prettier now that he was awake and smiling at me. I couldn’t breathe. 

While my gaze averted toward the white marble counter, he filled the space behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist, and pressed a soft kiss to my temple. He stood so close that the warmth of his bare skin radiated through the back of my (his) shirt. 

“I thought you left,” he whispered, tightening his embrace, “before I could tell you again that I love you.” 

The intimacy of this entire scene— being this close to Taemin after sleeping in his bed, wearing only his shirt over my undergarments, having spent and continuing to spend time in this place that was neither a hotel nor my bedroom but his space— burned me alive. 

I said, “I love you too,” because I did even when I trembled like a leaf tempted to flutter away from the life-giving branch. 

Taemin must have sensed my anxiety. His touch softened as his hand reached my chin, urging me to meet our reflection. “Look at us,” he breathed, and my eyes opened. 

Our faces were swollen from sleep, and Taemin’s eyes were smudged by faint traces of makeup that he hadn’t wiped away the night before— the first night that he hadn’t prioritized his skincare routine— and my eyes were wide with some emotion that I can only describe as fear— but Taemin said, “We’re beautiful.” 

Then, I saw the gentle, angelic smile that curved his lips— the lips I kissed a million times to claim as mine— and I saw the spark in his eyes, and I felt the way his chest rose and fell against my back. I saw that the blush burning my face was a pretty rosy pink that matched the color spread across every visible inch of his skin down to the fingertips, and I saw that the same spark in his eyes was alight in mine, and I felt that trembling at Taemin’s presence was okay. Trembling in Taemin’s embrace was the appropriate, proper, natural response. 

He was right: we are beautiful. 

“I’m happy,” I told him in case it wasn’t apparent from my sigh as I melted into him. “You should be the first person I see every morning.” 

Taemin smiled before releasing me and walking to his cabinet. He returned to my side, offered me a toothbrush, and winked before brushing his teeth. “I usually am these days, aren’t I?” 

His wink made my stomach do somersaults. 

Tingling as I fit the toothbrush into my mouth, I shrugged. I thought long and hard before spitting into the sink and filling the morning air with the declaration, “I’m talking about forever, Taemin.” 

Taemin blinked at me so many times that I thought the suds from his facewash had fallen into his eyes through his thick lashes. When he continued blinking after his face was rinsed and dried, I clarified, bold in my convictions despite his silence, “You should be the first person I see for the rest of forever. Or at least that’s what I think. At least that’s what I want.” 

“I—” Taemin wheezed.

That’s when I started to panic: when Taemin fell into uncharacteristic silence. Leaning against the cold counter, I closed my eyes, rubbed my temples, and replayed all of our conversations. I knew that I hadn’t been the first to mention forever. Taemin was. Just last night at the party, just before he kissed me, he said that he would love me forever. 

Had that been a sweet nothing with which to fill the silence? I knew that a lot of people say forever without meaning it, but I— I never have. I thought Taemin was like me: someone who feels the weight of forever. I didn’t think that he would say something like that just to say it, just to hear it said back, just to make me fall in love with a fairytale illusion. 

I think I know enough of broken hearts to tell you that mine was shattered before Taemin wrapped his arms around me. His touch filled every void, healed every wound, and I knew how happy that rose was to have been held by him that night in our garden. 

“You made me so happy just then,” he whispered in my ear, “that I forgot how to speak.” 

Just like that, he mended and melted my heart. Just like that, he opened my eyes to his sincere smile, and I had to tell him, “You hold all of my heart in the palm of your hand, Taemin.” 

He told me, still in a whisper pressed to my ear, “You hold all of mine too, Lei. Forever.” 

Staring forever in the face didn’t seem so scary anymore. 

Before I could even try to comb through the bird’s nest on my head, Taemin tightened his grip around my waist and lifted me off of the cold tiled floor, not quite high enough to trigger my fear of falling. 

“Come on, jagi.” Once we stood in his bedroom, he motioned for me to climb onto his back. “ Let's make breakfast downstairs!”

Knowing well that— combined— Taemin and I had a total of about fifteen minutes’ worth of experience in the kitchen, I decided that it would be fun to visit unexplored territory with him. It would be like playing house, a game that hadn’t interested me since early childhood years in Grandma’s kitchen in Atlanta. 

My ankle healed almost entirely overnight, so I didn’t need Taemin to carry me. I think I never needed him to carry me in the first place, but maybe I wanted him to. Maybe I liked having romantic k-drama moments with him when nobody could see and laugh and point out that I looked out of place in such a scene. 

Because Taemin giggled loudly every time I dropped a kiss on his cheek, neck, or shoulders while descending the stairs, I didn’t hear any signs that Ten stood in the kitchen. Given that I was a guest in the SuperM house, I guess I should have been prepared to see another member at some point, but I would never have expected to see an outsider— a girl!

Before I hid my burning face in the crook of Taemin’s neck, I watched the girl trail her fingers down Ten’s arms, bare under his ruffled pink apron. I watched her long black hair fall over his shoulders as she tried to distract him from the sizzling stovetop with open-mouth kisses pressed to Ten’s jawline. All at once, I realized that both of them were almost completely naked. 

All I could think was that the girl, even though I couldn’t see her face, was stunning in the way that she carried herself without any degree of shame. 

Why couldn’t I be like that? Is shamelessness an inherent trait, or can one learn it and call it confidence? 

I stifled my surprised gasp against the skin of Taemin’s shoulder, but Ten must have heard anyway. He somehow must have turned his eyes away from the girl long enough to find me clinging to Taemin at the foot of the stairs. 

He said, “Hey, Lei!” in a bright tone that didn’t imply the embarrassment that would have seized me should anyone catch me in an intimate act with Taemin. “Have fun ringing in the new year?” 

Although I couldn’t bring myself to meet Ten’s teasing gaze, I knew that he believed that a scene similar to the one playing out in the kitchen had played out in Taemin’s bedroom. Too embarrassed to speak even to try to correct him, I kept my eyes fixed on Taemin’s back as I straightened my legs, relieved by his willingness to let me go. 

I hoped that Taemin was the only person who watched my dash through the front door, clad in only his shirt that— thankfully— reached my mid-thigh. 

“Goodbye,” Taemin called after me through laughter. I was glad that he wasn’t offended that I left without breakfast. “I’ll call you later!”

To my further humiliation, Ten laughed too. 

. . . 

Had I been thinking clearly, I would have entered the house through my bedroom window instead of running around to the front door, shivering in the cold. It’s a miracle that I was greeted only by Lucas, who was too busy scribbling on a piece of paper on the coffee table to notice me until I closed the door with a soft click. It’s a miracle that Mom, Donghae, and Heechul were too involved in their discussion in the kitchen to notice that I stood in the living room, cheeks painted red by the winter wind and the vulnerability of existing only in Taemin’s shirt. 

Rubbing at my temples, where a headache formed at Heechul’s sudden increase in volume, I groaned, “And here I thought we were finally at the happy ending.” 

Lucas’s brow furrowed. He chewed on his chapped bottom lip as if he hadn’t heard me. 

My frown was instinctual, a natural response to the absence of my best friend’s smile that accompanied every hello and brightened every day. “Are you okay?” My voice was gentle as I tiptoed to sit by his side. Reaching for the paper, the focus of his glare, I asked, “What are you drawing?” 

No matter how intently I stared at the list of names and lines and hearts penned in rainbows of crayon colors, I couldn’t make out any picture until Lucas replied, voice raspy from a lack of sleep— maybe he tried and failed to fall asleep during the Super Junior New Years Afterparty— “Our family tree.” 

At the top of the page was Mom written in pink, sandwiched between orange Donghae and red Heechul. Lines connected my name, a pretty shade of blue that reminded me of a daytime sky, and Lucas’s, a deep purple, to Mom’s to mark us as her children. Then, a line accented with hearts linked my name to Taemin’s, and almost illegible yellow, to define us as soulmates. 

Below my name and Taemin’s was an unfamiliar title: “Lucas Tue,” written in green. 

Cocking my head, I pointed to that foreign name. “Who’s that?”

The relief that overwhelmed me when Lucas broke his concentrated scowl to grin from ear to ear was shortlived. I choked on my breath when he explained, “That’s yours and Taemin’s baby! See how I wrote his name in green? That’s because he’s the perfect blend of you— blue— and Taemin— yellow!”

It was kind of cute that Lucas spent just as much time as I did (if not more) imagining a future with Taemin. 

Rather than reminding Lucas that there was no baby or insisting him that there wouldn’t be one for quite some time, I asked, “Is this supposed to be an alternate spelling of, like, Lucas 2? As in, you expect me and Taemin to name our child after you?” 

Lucas nodded eagerly. “I think it’s pretty clever. To make it less confusing, I propose we call the little ray of sunshine ‘Tue.’”

I blinked at Lucas, nearly on the verge of laughter. “If it’s really important to you, I’ll talk this over with Taemin, but my vote on this name suggestion is a resounding no.” 

The wide-eyed offended expression that dashed across Lucas’s face easily gave way to a goofy grin as he swung his arm over my shoulder and ruffled a hand through my knotted hair. He laughed in my ear. “Aw! You want a baby with Taemin!” He cheered so loudly that Mom, Donghae, and Heechul should have heard. 

I guess they didn’t, thank God, because none of them came barreling out of the kitchen. 

“Cut it out!” I blushed as I wiggled out of Lucas’s embrace, inciting more teasing laughter. I flipped over the family tree so it couldn’t fluster me further. “Why are you drawing family trees anyway?”

“I’m trying to make sense of the world around me.” Lucas shrugged, staring blankly at the SpongeBob episode playing on the television. “Donghae is Mom’s boyfriend, but Heechul is the one who’s almost always here for dinner and dramas. Now that they’re both competing for roles in Mom’s life, I’m wondering which one is our dad.” 

I gawked at Lucas. I was amazed by his genuine sense of confusion. 

“Neither is our dad,” I said, thinking that should have been obvious. Instead of reminding Lucas that Mom was my Mom like I probably did at the dawn of our friendship, I told him, “Family units don’t need strict clear cut roles, you know. All that matters is that we’re happiest when we’re together. Donghae and Heechul should realize that they don’t have to compete for a place in Mom’s life and ours by extension.” 

Lucas folded our family tree into a paper airplane as he considered my perspective. Pursing his lips, he conceded, “You’re probably right.” 

I tugged my knees toward my chest. Crossing my arms and laying my head against the bend of my elbow, I breathed in the scent of roses on Taemin’s shirt. My shirt. The shirt I would keep (probably) forever. 

“I’m almost always right,” I boasted, sending Lucas an uncharacteristic wink. I don’t know what was wrong with me. Happiness makes me weird. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Lucas rolled his eyes even as he grinned. His eyebrows pinched together as he gathered the fabric of my sleeve between his fingers. “Hey, where’d you get this shirt?”

The resurfacing memories — the memories that I admit never once sunk below the surface, if I’m entirely honest— of Taemin from that morning and last night and every night passed that he had stolen my heart piece by piece struck me speechless. I couldn’t explain that the shirt once belonged to him while my heart swelled in my chest, knotting my throat and stomach and everything in its path. 

While I struggled to breathe, Lucas’s eyes trailed down to my legs. His eyes nearly popped out of his head, and I almost wanted to laugh at his expression, but I was suddenly far too embarrassed to do anything but hide my face in my cloud-soft sleeve. 

“Lei!” Lucas shrieked in a whisper because he didn’t want to attract attention from our parental figures. “What happened to your pants?” 

All I said was, “Shut up, Lucas,” too mortified to meet his gaze. 

Rather than staying to endure his interrogation, which I knew even in the darkest depths of embarrassment was genuine well-intentioned curiosity, I stood, pulled the bottom hem of Taemin’s shirt as far down my thighs as it would go, and ran upstairs to my bedroom. Somehow, I went undetected by Mom, Donghae, and Heechul. 

Believe me: I appreciated that freedom while it lasted. 

Until I was alone behind the closed door, stepping into white pajama pants that were a little too big because they once belonged to Lucas, it didn’t occur to me that my silence might have been damaging to my reputation. Yes, I thought of my reputation even with Lucas. No, I really hadn’t changed from the paranoid principled person I had been at the start of this tale. I’m sorry. 

My silence implied that there was a scandalous reason why my dress laid on Taemin’s floor. Whatever scene Lucas imagined when I ran up the stairs was probably similar to whatever Ten imagined when he found me at the foot of the stars. 

I can’t tell you why I squirmed at that thought. I should have been comforted by the reality that a.) nothing that scandalous happened beyond eternal kisses and an embarrassing game of rock-paper-scissors and b.) I wouldn’t have taken it back for anybody if something that scandalous had happened beyond eternal kisses and an embarrassing game of rock-paper-scissors. 

But I wasn’t comforted. My stomach coiled with the realization that people thought I threw away every rule and reservation for Taemin. 

It was true. With ease, Taemin walked through every door, even the ones I swore I locked. He made me want to fall face-first into the sky, but you probably couldn’t tell from my forced grip around the safety rail, ever submissive to the fear of falling alone, still scared that he couldn’t catch me even if he fulfilled his promise to try. 

No longer consumed by the tension between Mom and Donghae because I could hear their laughter interrupting Heechul’s rant about who-knows-what, no longer distracted by the demands of the tour, my only thought was Taemin. And it wasn’t because we finally shared our first million kisses or because he was unashamed to lay shirtless by my side or because he set me on fire with his touch. 

Taemin pervaded every idle daydream because of those moments when he made me feel safe. Maybe all I ever wanted was security, and I found it in his steady heartbeat. Maybe I found it in the way his shirt hugged me and made my skin smell like roses. Maybe I could never let go. 

Maybe I hated that Ten could pervert pure love with his playful smirk. Maybe I never bothered to correct him by explaining that bond formed in the garden— which exceded the limits of all words anyway— for fear of misunderstanding or seeming as vulnerable as I had always been behind my mask. 

Maybe I was shy, and maybe I always would be, but there was— is— there is a part of me that wants to shout from every rooftop that I will be forever in love with Taemin because every moment is like that first in the garden. A part of me wants to tell everyone that everything else, every hand held and kiss shared and love-stained word whispered in the dark has been an act of gratitude because he saw me. 

Taemin saw me. Taemin loved me. 

And sometimes, I realize that I still don’t know how to thank him or God or fate or the universe or whoever I’m supposed to thank for miracles. 

I was contemplating this, my blooming garden of miracles, when Taemin’s voice filled my quiet room. “I have something for you, jagi.” 

My scream would have brought Heechul and Donghae racing up the stairs (likely bickering about who gets to obliterate the demon serial burglar who dared to burst through my window in broad daylight) had Taemin not silenced it with a long kiss as he climbed onto my bed, where I had been laying with my eyes closed. 

“Here you go.” He dropped a rose— the fragmented one from the party, which I must have forgotten somewhere again— onto my pillow. It landed by the crook of my neck and tickled my skin with its petals. 

“Thank you,” I smiled. 

Before Taemin could secure me in the embrace I never wanted to wake from, I walked over to my vanity. Catching my cheerful blush in the mirror, only briefly meeting Taemin’s gaze through the glass, I fit the rose into the vase with all of the others. “What about Baekhyun’s flower crown, my dress, and my heels?” 

“They’re in my room.” Taemin kicked his shoes off onto the floor and rolled onto his back to lay his head on one of my pillows. “I can only carry so much when I scale up the side of your house.” 

Something in his childish tone made me laugh as I crossed the distance back to him. “Noted, Taem. If climbing is such a struggle for you, why don’t you just come in through the front door?” 

It was impossible, unrealistic, the dream that we could ever love out in the open, but I think I wanted it. I wanted to live in the world where we didn’t have to watch our shadows, look around every corner, lock every closed door. I just didn’t know how to get there, and I couldn’t ask Taemin to lead me to a place that didn’t exist. 

Taemin winked. “Isn’t it more fun this way? Sneaking around like we have something to hide—” he sat up to whisper in my ear, unable to see the goosebumps that formed down my arms concealed by his shirt— “isn’t it exciting?” 

My face burned, but I didn’t shrink away from Taemin’s voice or the kiss he placed on my cheek as my gaze fell onto my hands pressed flat in my lap. Breathless because of his proximity, I was almost too bashful to admit in my faintest whisper, “Everything is exciting with you, my Taemin.” 

“Look at me.” His command was more of a desperate plea. 

When I couldn’t obey, not even to see his brilliant smile, because all of me was on fire, Taemin dropped to his knees before me as he had in one of our American hotel rooms once upon a time. 

It couldn’t have happened just a few months ago. A few months is too short to contain an infinity. And yet, my love for Taemin existed outside of time, perhaps owing to the years of admiring him as an idol from afar, or the decades of secretly dreaming that somebody like him existed and was bound to come my way on some unforeseen river rapid, or maybe— 

Maybe owing to the soul bond signified by the blue ribbon on his wrist. 

“Lei,” Taemin said my name so beautifully, “there’s no reason to be embarrassed. You can look into my eyes and call me yours because it’s true.” His hands cupped my cheeks like he expected me to burst into tears. 

I didn’t want to cry, though. I only wanted to smile. So I did. 

“Really?” I probably looked like a baby staring down at him with eyes blown wide with wonder, but I don’t mind. I don’t mind being vulnerable with him. “You don’t think I’m moving too quickly or being too clingy, or—” 

Taemin’s peel of laughter made me laugh too. He said, “Honestly, I think you should move as quickly as you want. You can be clingier. I told you, I like it when you’re like this. Do it more, please?” 

It was almost impossible to deny him when he looked at me like that, like I was his favorite part of the world. I crumbled. I fell a little deeper. I wanted to be anything he wanted, knowing that all he wanted was me unrestrained. 

I told him, “It’s hard to hold back from you.” 

Returning to my side to hold me even though the sun was casting its rays across our faces, he urged, “Then don’t.” 

But I— I had to hold some parts for myself, right? I had to keep some things locked in that internal box so they would be intact should a storm blow through and destroy everything or— worse— should he gather his things, including the pieces of me, to continue on his separate way. I— I had to at least be able to tell my future self that I tried to prepare for the worst. 

“Please,” I begged, reaching for the television remote on my nightstand to downplay my reference, “don’t say things like that when I’m trying to do the right thing.” 

I tried to ignore the ensuing silence and distract myself from Taemin’s stare by flicking through a thousand boring channels. 

Taemin didn’t react well to losing my attention. He moved to sit before me, deliberately blocking the television so that there was no choice but to meet his eyes despite the resurgence of butterflies. 

“So,” he laughed bashfully when I raised my eyebrows. His hand rubbed at the back of his neck. “You remember— um— that?” 

I nodded, blushing mainly because he blushed first. I picked at a button on my shirt. “I remember well enough to quote it.” 

All he said was, “Oh,” before he crawled back to my side and pressed his back to the headboard. 

I didn’t know what to say or what to make of his “Oh,” which was over too quickly to carry any tone with which to gauge his thoughts. Turning my gaze, which followed Taemin everywhere, to the television, I hoped (as always) that the tension would disappear— or at least stop growing— if I didn’t acknowledge it. 

It was like I hadn’t learned anything from my journey of self-discovery. And why? Because I was blushing? Was my hard-won strength really so fragile? 

No. 

Having outgrown foolish, childish coping mechanisms, I rolled my eyes at myself and admitted that it was unfair to leave all silences for Taemin to break just because I was afraid to accidentally shatter something that never should have been mine. I read once that progress isn’t always linear, so I kept that in mind when meeting Taemin’s eyes. 

He had gotten there first. He was watching me. Waiting for me. Quietly. Patiently. Maybe he knew that it was my turn to speak first. 

“I don’t regret anything that happened last night,” I admitted in one breath. “Maybe I should because I have never kissed anybody like that before, and I’ve definitely never taken my dress off in front of anyone before. I don’t know how much I should blame the champagne, but I know I acted like a fool. The problem— if you can really call it a problem, and I know you wouldn’t— is that I don’t mind being a fool for you.” 

If Lionel Ritchie and Diana Ross could sing that in “Endless Love,” then I could say it to Taemin. Or at least that’s what I told myself. 

Taemin beamed at my honesty as he always did. Sensing that it was safe to do so, he draped an arm over my shoulders and pulled me into his side. Normally, nobody lies to feel small, but I was comfortable sinking into his embrace. 

He said, “I don’t regret last night either,” apparently forgetting his apologetic efforts to get our night back on track after we screamed. “I never regret any moment shared with you. I kinda thought you were adorable, to be honest.”

“Adorable?” I scoffed through my grin. “You define things weirdly.” 

“Nuh-uh,” Taemin argued with the shake of his head. “It’s cute when you cling to me and tell me that you love me more than the sun, the moon, and all the stars. Adorable!”

Blushing at the restatement of my ramblings, I said, “I’m not arguing with you. Things like cuteness and beauty are subjective, so—” 

I was going to say that he just had weird taste by my standards, but Taemin interrupted. “Not this time! Objectively, my composed, dignified Lei is graceful— my emotionally expressive Lei looking up at the moon is beautiful— and my carefree, affectionate, drunk-on-kisses-and-champagne Lei—” 

Composed and dignified once more, if even for a fleeting second, I interjected, “I was not drunk.” 

But Taemin didn’t so much as dignify that with a pointed argumentative look. “You were precious last night. I was happy to see you without a worry in the world even if it was a once in a lifetime event I play over and over again like our first kiss or meeting in the garden or receiving your ribbon.” 

Oh, I smiled, so he revisits our memories too. 

Because I had been dying to know for as long as he wore my ribbon and I couldn’t remember if I was ever brave enough to ask, I seized the chance to wonder out loud, “Why do you love me, Taemin?”

I didn’t doubt him. At that point, I would have believed any beautiful lie he wanted to tell. I just— maybe this is vain, but I loved to hear what he thought of me spoken into the world. 

Taemin glanced away from his ribbon, which I traced with my free hand, or at our interlaced fingers— whichever he was studying— to fix all of his attention on my curious stare. His eyes didn’t widen in surprise; they crinkled joyfully like I had finally stumbled upon the question he longed to receive because he held the perfect answer. 

“Come close,” he said, feeling as I did that sitting hand in hand, shoulder to shoulder, was not nearly enough, “and I’ll tell you.” 

At his command, I leaned closer like I wanted to all along. 

A shiver ran down my spine when he whispered in my ear, “Beauty aside, you’re the gentlest spirit in the whole world. You always walk on your toes, and you look both ways before crossing the street, and you’re sensitive to every change in the wind, and you burn brighter than the sun, but you never try to mark anybody with your flame.” 

I hummed, perplexed that anybody could equate me, the girl who found her reflection on the moon, with something like the bold and beautiful sun. I didn’t argue with Taemin, though. I was too lost in his voice to find mine. I thought that his worldview was more beautiful than mine, and I imagined that by holding him and hearing him I could live in his world. 

Deep down, I think I always wanted to live by the sun. Maybe Taemin didn’t see me how I was— he definitely didn’t see me as I saw myself— but he saw me as I wanted to be. 

He continued, “You think you’re as mysterious as the moon and stars. Sometimes, I want to let you believe that because they’re your idols and I know why. It’s because they taught you how to shine in the dark. I understand, but— even if you’re a mystery to yourself and the people who haven’t been lucky enough to hold the sun— you’re not a mystery to me.”

“Taemin,” I wanted to say, but I couldn’t speak. 

“I see you clearly,” Taemin boasted, wearing this smile that was childlike in its beauty like seeing me in this figurative sense gave him an advantage over every other person in the world. “I always have. How could I not love you with all of my heart?”

“Taemin,” I finally breathed raggedly because his name was the only thing to say. 

Still, he wasn’t finished speaking. He could have talked forever, and I would have listened forever. He pointed out the window. Because he drew the curtains on his way in, I had to squint through the blinding light to find our garden off in the distance. 

“Notice how I told you all of that in the sunlight?” He tugged me closer and sat me between his legs, clad in black sweatpants, so that my back was pressed to his chest. Holding tight around my waist, almost squeezing the air out of my diaphragm because it wasn’t enough to steal my breath with his words, he laid his head on my shoulder and hummed, “We’re not a dream. We don’t melt or fade in the sunlight, so you don’t have to be afraid for the night to end anymore. I mean it when I say forever, and I don’t mind saying it again and again until that word doesn’t scare you.” 

“Taemin,” I breathed again. I was tempted to lie that I wasn’t afraid— which really wasn’t much of a lie when he held me. I almost wanted to tell him that I wasn’t afraid of a forever with him; I was afraid of anything less. 

Because there was no room in the air for my fears, I said neither of those things. Cutting my eyes at him, holding absolutely no malice or genuine desire for him to stop, I said, “You’re making my chest hurt. I can’t breathe when you talk like this.”

“Last night,” he reminded me with a smile and the subtle raising of his eyebrows, “you said that you love when I talk to you like this.” 

I did. I do. 

He would never forget anything that I said on New Year's Eve, and I wouldn’t either. I’ve read that major life events result in a new perspective on life. There is life before the incident, and then there is life after. The incident shines a new light on everything that happened prior, and the incident is woven intricately into the understanding of the present.

Giving Taemin my ribbon was one such incident. Crying with him in the garden was another. New Year's Eve, with all of its kisses and clumsy attempts at intimacy, carried the latest collection of incidents. 

True to who he had been since he started wearing the ribbon, Taemin didn’t stop pouring his heart out on me in overflowing portions just so I could catch my breath. He laid us down, holding me flush against his body so I couldn't shiver because of the winter wind blowing in through the open window; I couldn’t hide should the compulsion strike again; I couldn't mistake his sincerity; I couldn’t think to the future beyond his palms pressed to mine and his heart pounding with mine and his lips dancing with mine. 

I never thought that anything could better express the soul than words, poetry, a diary addressed to a most beloved friend, a metaphor, music, the piano, the violin, a voice in a foreign tongue that carries your darkest fears into the light that recolors them dreams, a lifelong glance at a sky of moon and stars, watching the sea run and return to the shore at the moon’s command, but Taemin’s kiss. Taemin’s kiss. 

It’s strange to say that I found more of myself there than anywhere else. Is that what it means to be soulmates? I don’t know, but I’m going to believe that the answer is yes even if that makes me a fool. Don’t tell me if I’m wrong or delusional or walking in a dream.

e.e. cummings was right: ‘kisses are a better fate than wisdom.’

My thoughts were tangled and blurred, but I remember thinking that I couldn’t breathe, but it would have been harder to breathe if he should ever go away. I remember sighing, relieved that we laid on my bed (that wasn’t nearly as cloud soft as his) because my legs were jelly and I almost certainly couldn’t stand. I remember thinking that this— being with Taemin— was what it felt like to fly. 

And I didn’t know how to stop— I didn’t want to stop— so I flew with him until the sun descended and the stars and moon, my old friends, ascended in its place. 

And that’s how Mom found us: impossibly close and still, still too far apart. 

[yoongi-sugaglider]

A portion of a Halloween collab with the lovely @btsstan4life

Jimin x reader

Finding the costume contest hadn't been too hard as the crowd was pretty sizable by the time I arrived. Quickly I scanned the tops of people's heads in the hopes of spotting Jimin's bright blue Bashful hat.

“Come on Jim Jam where are you?” Groaning under my breath I began pushing my way through the crowd, hoping that if I got closer to the stage I might have a better chance of finding him.

“Jimin!” I hollered at the top of my lungs, “Hobi dances better than you!”

“He does not!” An outraged voice chirped from just behind me. I squeaked at the voice and spun around to smack the pouting man on his arm.

“Omg you scared me!” I said, gripping the silky satin top of my Snow White dress as I tried to calm my racing heart.

“Good, you deserve it for what you said.” He continued to pout, arms folded over the the yellow fabric of his shirt.

“Aw, don’t pout Bashful. I didn’t mean it.” Quickly I wrapped both my arms around his left arm, fluttering my eyelashes up at him as I stuck out my bottom lip in a pout to match his own.

He glanced down at me,pout still present as he tried to pull his arm out of my death grip. “You did too. You wouldn’t have said it if you didn’t mean it.”

“Babe, I only said it to find you. I didn't want to be here by myself. It’s bad enough the whole group left me behind but not finding you would have been just awful.” I used the full effect of the fake lashes Taehyung had convinced me were a must have for the costume, fluttering them once again so hard I was sure they would yeet off into the sky like twin doves done with my pathetic pout session.

And yet it worked perfectly on Jimin. He turned and pulled me into his arms, placing a gentle kiss to my forehead and grinning down at me, the half moons of his disappearing eyes showing me that I was forgiven.

“Alright, okay, I get it.” He chuckled, turning me in his arms and tucking me gently into the curve of his lean body. “Now, I’ve got good news and bad news, which do you want to hear first?”

My heart dropped. Knowing him, any news given in the middle of a crowd like this immediately spelled a recipe for disaster. “Um...the bad news first. Rip the bandaid off quick Chim Chim. With all the horror going on tonight I’m not sure my heart can take it.”

He giggled, kind of inappropriate considering what I just said but the sound of his laughter eased some of the pressure in my chest. “Well it’s not really bad but.” He picked up a large bag from the ground beside him, shaking the contents of it excitedly before continuing.

“The bad news is that I’m changing my costume.”

I quirked my head to the side, staring at the bag for a moment before looking back up at him. “But why? I thought we were sticking to the Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs thing?”

He shrugged before pointing to the stage that stood in front of us.”That’s the good news Jagi. I entered us into the costume contest.”

“You did what?” I pulled away from him, anxiety hitting my instantly at the idea of being way up there and getting judged by so many people. “But how is that good news? Jiminie, I don’t think I can go up there!”

“Hey, hey now, relax.” He began pulling me away from the crowd, dodging person after person in an attempt to get to the backstage area reserved for the contestants. “I’ll be right up there with you. We’re entering into the couples division. We’re gonna win for sure with the costume I bought. I’m just glad you decided to come to me because it would have been really awkward to go up there by myself.”

“But...wait!” I squeaked as he tugged on me, pulling me to his chest to avoid me colliding with a man dressed in a massive inflatable T-rex costume.

“Do you trust me?” He asked, eyes staring deep into my own as he held the entirety of my focus.

I didn’t have to even think about the answer, knowing deep in my heart that I would give my life for him. “With every bit of my soul I do.”

A blush rose to his cheeks as he brushed his lusciously soft lips against mine. “Okay, wait here for me. I’m going to go change real quick. I’ll be right back I promise.”

He dashed off, leaving me to stand off to the side of the stairs leading to the stage. I wrapped my arms around myself, huddling against the banister as my eyes darted nervously around at all of the other people gearing up to step on stage for their respective places in the costume judging contest.How did I get myself into this? Going to the haunted house with Yoongi or riding night coasters with Jungkook would have been SO much safer.

But honestly I still would have rather been with Jimin, even if it meant getting up in front of hundreds of people just to parade around like a little kid at a school play.

Finally Jimin returned, and my jaw dropped instantly at the outfit he’d chosen to wear. The white pants of his new costume hugged his thighs like a second skin, showing off the dancer’s muscles he’d worked so many years to build.

He wore a blue coat, the silken material trimmed in red around the wrists, waist, and collar. White tassels hung from the white shoulder pads and white ruffles hung from his throat, pinned by a silver brooch that sparkled in the fading light of the day. Several silver chains hung from various places on the coat and pulled the entire outfit together. He’d wet his hair slightly and swept it off to the side, exposing the delicious skin of his forehead and pulling the entire look into a breathtaking costume that set the blood rushing beneath my skin on fire.

“Prince Charming at your service my dearest Snow White.” He bowed dramatically, taking my trembling hand in his and pressing dewey lips to the tender skin on the back of my hand.

“Holy…” I had to take a moment to catch my breath, unsure as to what thoughts flooded my mind but knowing for sure that if he decided to fully get into character my night would definitely become a lot more interesting.

“I take it the costume is a hit?” His eyes searched mine, suddenly seeming nervous despite his earlier cockiness.

“You look amazing babe.” I grinned, standing on tiptoes to wrap my arms around him and place a kiss to his exposed forehead.

Before he could respond an announcement was made, calling the couples to the stage in order to be judged. Jimin offered his arm to me and I eagerly hooked it, earlier nerves pushed to the side in favor of walking on stage with the most handsome Prince to ever grace Seoul.

Moments later and to the uproar of cheers from those gathered around we’d won first prize, the votes having been almost unanimous in our favor, to the pure delight of my adorable Prince.

We walked towards the open fields arm in arm, having texted the other to meet up beneath the tree line so that we could watch the fireworks together. Jimin held his trophy proudly, every now and again holding it up in the light to grin at the first place plaque with pride.

“I knew we’d win.” He said for the fifth time, the apple glow of his smiling cheeks warming my deep down in the cool fall air.

“Y/n!! Jiminie! We’re over here!” Taehyung waved us over, excitement evident in his face as he patted the giant blanket the others had laid out for us to sit together on.

We made our way over, sitting side by side beneath the clear night sky. Jimin took no time at all to show off the trophy, bragging to the other who didn’t seem nearly as surprised as I had been that he’d changed his costume.

“I helped him pick it out.” Hoseok said proudly as he flipped the tassels hanging from Jimin’s shoulders happily.

“It looks good on him.” Yoongi commented as he handed me a lamb skewer from the large bag of food Jin had brought over from the food stalls.

“It sure does.” The others chimed in, much to the pleasure of the compliment loving boy.

I smiled softly, kissing his cheek happily before snuggling up to him.

“That he does. I was very happy…” My words were interrupted when the first of the fireworks went off, filling the air with the smell of gunpowder and the ooh’s and ah’s of the massive crowd that watched the sky.

Jimin wrapped his arm around me, his face lit up by the vibrant colors that filled the sky with light.

“Thank you for coming with me Angel. I’m so glad we got to spend time together tonight.”

“I would go anywhere with you Jimin.” I whispered.

He leaned in close, eyes shining with joy and love as his focus narrowed in only on me. I felt like the only being in the universe. Surrounded by explosions and people, the only thing I had eyes for was the amazing man in front of me.

“I love you Prince Charming.” I said, slightly breathless with the emotion that welled deep within me.

“I love you too my precious Princess.” He said as his lips met mine in a feather light kiss that held the promise of the world.

[stayminho]

MAMA

part 1

recommended song: 2! 3! by BTS 방탄소년단

Love comes and grows in many ways. We watch it like plants, such as a flower or a tree. The first sprout of green would always be taken by chance, bursting through the shell of its seed and slowly inching, seeping through the ground to rise to the surface. It’s the first spark of a firework, working its way up the dark black night sky and past the dissolvable wisps of clouds covering the far-away constellations of diamond-like stars.

But a flower wilts eventually and a firework disperses into nothing in a matter of seconds.

Barely we see a love wounded to the bone, burned from a fire so red and hot to the skin, but risen from the ashes left behind.

That is when we know, love can be ever so incredibly real.

They say Korea is the “land of the morning calm”, in which the sun rises in the east and sets in the west with a warm smile, but it is also the land of happiness and hardships. Here, you feel the thrills of a nightclub, playing upbeat popular songs from the Western industry or the Kpop industry. The neon colors dancing off the walls in the darkened room makes you wonder if they got high or drunk, in tune to the boosted base. You can listen to the endless laughter that echoes ever so deep into the smallest crevices and corners of the Earth. They say home is the true hearth of rawness, but it is harbored within the hearts of people no matter where you go. For example, the variety shows broadcasted daily on the same TV channels. An amusement park filled to the brim with excitement. Movie night on the couch with popcorn.

At the same time however, you can watch the days blend together into a monochrome canvas weighted heavily with negative emotions as well.

Like in the country’s midst, a simple ghost town that used to thrive, now deep underground left in the heart of a city. Quite ironic though, because it seemed that every passing season of rain and gray skies had chosen the seemingly abandoned district as its canvas, making sure the shades of color never strayed from their favorites. The only thing they could never decide was how their masterpieces were left ruined by the imprint of human beings.

No one ever comes to these parts anymore, for everywhere seems like open space, exposing the unspoken secrets of merely nothing. To them, maybe even just the thoughts of “nothing” must’ve been more than just “nothing”. Broken memories that tore even the thickest of materials. An uncomfortable loneliness left to salivate every inch of the body to an endless hunger. Or possibly a dark horror that forcedly dragged them down to a cold, oceanic abyss. This kind of feeling pulls up defenses in various distraught ways.

Yet, for her, not only was it alarming, but also comforting.

The deafening silence masked and kept hidden away even the evilest of fears in an invisible small box made of glass mirrors on all sides that night. It made a reflection that could never be touched, both sides parallel in relation, similar to a wall of two rooms. It is likely that some would have determined otherwise, that the Earth was holding its breath, but instead, both sides only seemed to hold a staring contest at the moment, chaos not ensuing for once. The only thing that seemed to be heard was her breath, her chest distinctively rising and falling in attempts to calm the overused, lasting adrenaline in her veins and the desperately needed oxygen.

Her legs had grown weak, no longer able to withstand the loss of strength, soon collapsing herself into the room. The past long nights had turned into endless running to the void of nowhere, her instincts forgetting the meaning of sleep, and instead, taking over the directional path she took. Her destination eventually became a room in an abandoned apartment building, presumably, because she only caught glimpses in her rush to where she now found herself. Exhaust had finally taken over, letting a few tears roll down her cheeks in the process. Not long after, it became a beautiful cascading waterfall, painted by its glassy delicacy and touch of heart, but her emotional cries of pain had scared what was left of the hours of night.

Soon enough, dawn rose above the horizon in splurging colors of golden yellow, pure white, blush pink, and hints of maple leaf orange. Streaks of light  settled through the open window, dancing and giving hope across the ruined gray cement walls. This new revival kissed the young woman, enlightening the dark chocolate brown strands of her tangled hair and the tone of her skin that riddled with specks and dashes of dirt. It also utterly struck her with so much awe, she had forgotten how persistently tight she was to her own being, never letting go, but only now loosening the embrace of the bundle she had held very close in her arms in that moment.

The bundle only holds the beloved memories of a past godforsaken home and time whisked to dust, but when big round shining eyes looked back at her, it didn’t matter.

Finally, this one sunrise was when she could feel herself genuinely smile and let it reach her eyes. She was filled with joy. And that joy, caused by this lovely bundle, was all hers. It was finally over.

“Ma-ma.” He smiled grinning back at her in the best way that he could.

“Yes, Mama’s here. And she loves you very much.” She rubbed her against his, earning multiple entertained claps and sounds from him. Taking his small hands and fingers, she rocked him slowly and gently, cooing at his existence and having relief take over once more.

The years of the past seemed only to be in the span of yesterday, and that today would even be the breaker, but tomorrow is the future, the one thing that can be truly made yours.

She just has to take it before someone else did.

And matter-of-fact, it was laid out right in front of her.

“Mama...”

“What is it baby?” She let her gaze fall away from the pretty skies, that brought her infinite thoughts, with gentle care.

“Mm...ng...”

Her eyes widened, a little frantic. “No, no, no, no, no, don’t cry, love. Are you tired from all the running? Do you want to nap?” She swayed with a little more movement, and at the same time, she looked at him, taking in his sweet and soft features, noticing that his breathing slowed in weariness. She didn’t know what it was, but there was just something about him that made her want to believe it was going to be okay. No matter what.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get to sleep soon,” She carefully brushed the growing hair on his head too. “I know, we both are, we’re both worn out, but listen to mommy, okay? I need you to watch me with those big brown eyes of yours so I know you’re with me while I’m talking.”

With him in her arms, she just knew she couldn’t let seconds go by just yet.

At least, not before promising something.

She first offered him a smile. A smile that could never be forgotten. Ever. “My sweet, look at you. You’re so precious and pure for this world. I couldn’t have asked for anything more.” She would’ve started tearing up, but all of them had dried up already.

“The lives we live in this world are too bittersweet for our tastes, especially for your father. He loved you so much, but he fell out of it too soon to envision the future for us. He may never be the same as before, so I cannot, no, I won’t let you  live a life like his, but one day, maybe he’ll realize and come to his senses.”

The little stayed quiet, as if urging his beloved resilient queen to continue.

“Although, as of right now, we’re not the most fortunate, huh? I don’t have much to give you. For you to stand up on your own feet and smile with pride. But that’s what dreams are for, right?”

“But as of now, you’re my dream. Complete family or not, you’ll always be my dream, okay? My most beautiful moments in life. My wings that will take me places. My love that will reach for the stars. My airplane that could never leave me behind.” Her legs had begun to feel color again, so she let them out from under her so they could start to regain vigor. She even let a few moments pass just so that it could sink in for a little contemplation until the finishing touches would be made.

“And yes, trust me, I know that’s a lot to take on, to keep a hold of. But I feel that you’re a strong one, probably even stronger, and greater, than me. Because, in this lifetime, and eventually, hopefully, not just me, but you’re all I need, you’re my everything, and that’s all that matters.”

She kissed him on the forehead, pouring not only her heart, but also her soul, and sealing the oath that would never once be unkept.

“Jung Hoseok, you are my hope.”

masterlist

[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine one-shot - “It’s a Kind of Magic” (Rated PG13)

Blaine has Kurt under his spell, and that isn’t just a cliché turn of phrase. (1920 words)

Notes: This is a re-write. Assumes that Kurt and Blaine met in New York, and not in Ohio.

Read on AO3.

“Do it … do it again,” a breathless Kurt giggles, rolling partially on one side to look in his lover’s eyes.

“Are you sure?” Blaine whispers, fingertips dancing centimeters from Kurt’s goose-pimpled flesh. “I mean, we’ve been at it for most of the evening already. Aren’t you getting a little dizzy?”

“I don’t care.” Kurt giggles again, snorting in his loopiness. “Keep going … please?”

“Alright.” Blaine grins. He shifts forward to kiss Kurt on the mouth, capturing each shiver that trembles Kurt’s chin with his lips. “Your wish is my command.”

Blaine keeps his lips locked to Kurt’s as he begins again, whispering words of seduction in his mouth, words Blaine conjures only for him, and Kurt closes his eyes, preparing to be swept away.

Kurt isn’t a fan of drugs. He dropped acid once in college - his singular moment of hardcore rebellion. But he didn’t groove on it, not in the way he’d feared he would. It had been a tricky rope he was walking. He wasn’t looking for an addiction, he just wanted to detach from life for a night, and Jell-O shots with Santana weren’t doing the trick. He’d been warned by a friend he was with that tripping on LSD could be unpredictable, which was supposed to be part of the appeal - exploration into the unknown without having to leave his mind. Admittedly, Kurt prefers predictability. He likes to know how many times the road is going to turn, if it’s going to be rainy or sunny outside, if he should pack a lunch or bring a sweater.

After the car accident that took his mother’s life when he was eight, his father’s sudden heart attack while Kurt was in high school, his father’s cancer scare while Kurt was in college, and his stepbrother passing away unexpectedly, Kurt put any love he had of surprises to rest. But he was willing to try it since, from what he’d heard, the experience was exactly what he was looking for.

Not until the windowpane was melting beneath his tongue did someone mention that it might make him retrospective if he had heavy issues on his head. All Kurt had in his head were heavy issues, so he was terrified he’d end up stuck in a corner, reflecting on his life, focusing on the bad and crying his eyes out. But it was too late to do anything about it at that point, so he gulped down the nub and held on for the ride.

Luckily, Kurt was at a party at a friend’s place - a friend he trusted thoroughly. And since said friend was playing “trip master”, Kurt felt safe. The mood was lively, the music bumping, and he was among friends, so his one experiment with acid wasn’t altogether bad.

Even if he did puke for about two hours after.

But it made him realize that he does enjoy having his mind altered a bit. The visual distortion. The hallucinations. The lifty feeling, like being lighter than air. Taking acid left him with so many moments of wonder, marveling at his existence. He spent part of the night dancing, getting drawn into the energy of the crowd, and part of the night lying on a floor covered in overstuffed pillows, petting his friend’s cat. But mostly he sat on the balcony, smelling the breezes as they passed by, gazing at the stars overhead, lost in his own strange, magical world.

That was the part he liked. That was what he wished he could have more of. But he didn’t want the Russian Roulette of chancing a bad trip in order to get it.

When Kurt shared this with his boyfriend Blaine during a game of ‘Never Have I Ever’, Blaine offered Kurt a unique opportunity to experience those things again safely, and without the aid of pharmaceuticals.

That offer preceded Blaine coming out to Kurt … as a wizard.

He offered to practice his spells on Kurt, help him relive the beautiful moments without the subsequent nausea or the fear of a bad trip. After the initial shock and disbelief, Blaine proved it – creating a rose using the snow that had settled on the windowsill outside. And Kurt jumped at it. He figured it couldn’t hurt, if Blaine used the right kinds of spells.

Kurt trusts Blaine. Trusts Blaine with his love, his body, and his life.

Blaine always seems to know exactly which spells to use, which ones will make Kurt feel perfectly sublime on any given day. When he starts to think that his usual repertoire is getting old, he breaks open the spell books and learns a few new ones.

Because he loves Kurt, he wants to make sure that the fabulous world he creates for him never dulls its shine.

Blaine’s talents engage all of Kurt’s senses: the sparks that fly from Blaine’s fingertips like fireworks dazzle Kurt’s eyes; the complicated tastes he layers on Kurt’s tongue tickle his palate; the music that fills Kurt’s ears, composed especially for him, makes his heart swell; the memories Blaine’s magic evokes lets Kurt relive the dearest moments from his past.

Through Blaine’s magic, Kurt got the chance to see his first ever ballet recital when he was five. He’d fought with his instructor, Madam LaCroix, to wear a pink tutu over his black leotard tights to match the girls in his class – and won. Adult Kurt didn’t remember much from that day except for the parents of the other children laughing and pointing at him, so originally it wasn’t one of his favorite memories. But getting to see it from an outsider’s perspective – how happy he was prancing around in his tutu, the smile on his face, the pride in his eyes – turned it into one of his favorites again.

Kurt got to see his father teach him how to ride a bike without training wheels. He saw the many times he fell, his father racing behind him to pick him up and put him back on the seat every single time until Kurt finally got the hang of it and his father could let go. He’d never realized how exhausting that had been for his father, how hard he had to work to keep up after a while. But he’d done it, and with a smile of his face.

It made Kurt love his father that much more.

He saw his mother sitting with six-year-old him on his bed. He heard her read to him from The Little Prince, and felt her kiss him goodnight. It renewed his recollection of specifics he’d forgotten, like the freckles on her nose, similar to his; the specks of greenish-gold in her blue eyes; the smell of her Ivory soap mixed with the lavender lotion she used on her hands; the soft, musical sound of her voice, whose echo had faded in his ears years ago.

It broke his heart, but it mended it as well.

For his part, Blaine enjoys casting spells on Kurt because it shows the complete trust that Kurt puts in him, into his abilities. And that makes his magic stronger.

“How was that?” Blaine asks, reluctantly pulling away from his moaning boyfriend. He would enjoy nothing more than to keep going and going until Kurt cums from pure bliss, but he likes to check in on him, especially when they get in deep the way they have tonight.

“Try another one?” Kurt begs before the last spell even fades, rolling over on his back to give Blaine space to decide which spell to use.

Blaine chuckles at his boyfriend’s impatience. “Okay, okay! This one’s an oldie, but a goodie.” He raises his hand above Kurt’s stomach and wiggles his fingers, and white sparks shoot from his fingertips. They land on the surface of Kurt’s skin and burrow their way in. Kurt bites his lower lip as the spell hits, squirming on his back on the bed. Blaine knows he’s fighting not to laugh, but he wiggles his fingers again, and Kurt can’t help it.

“Okay, okay, okay! Stop! Stop!” Kurt gasps, wrapping his arms around his waist and giggling as the aftereffects leave him. “I’m pretty sure that one’s my favorite!”

“Why’s that?” Blaine asks, closing his hand into a fist to stop the spell.

“I don’t know.” Kurt rubs his palm over his belly. “It kind of feels like champagne bubbles popping in my stomach, but not really. It makes me … effervescently happy.” He snorts at his own pun. “It’s … it’s difficult to put into words.”

“I know what you mean.” Blaine snaps his fingers until his hand glows white, then moves it up Kurt’s body. He brings his hand to hover flat over Kurt’s chest, filling everywhere it moves with a sensation of warm, tingly, and slightly numb. Kurt closes his eyes to focus on the heat, and Blaine hears Kurt’s heart race.

“Do you try these on yourself?” Kurt asks, shifting positions to direct Blaine’s hand where he wants it to go. Blaine follows Kurt’s silent command and adds to the heat - small spirals that seek the dark behind Kurt’s eyelids and fill it with soothing waves of color.

“Of course. There’s no way I’m going to do something to you that I haven’t done to myself first. I wouldn’t want to get it wrong and hurt you.”

“You’d never hurt me,” Kurt whispers, talking beneath the music starting in his ears. “I know you wouldn’t. You’re just too good.”

“I appreciate your faith in me.” Blaine lowers his hand to Kurt’s skin, making the heat more intense.

“So, which is your favorite?” Kurt bends to follow Blaine’s movements, sighing as his hand settles above his heart, sending the heat pulsing through his body with every beat.

“To tell you the truth …” Blaine watches Kurt react, and lets his body react along with his - “I think I like the good old-fashioned kind of magic best.”

“And what kind of magic is that?” Kurt breathes in deep as the scent of vanilla fills his nostrils. He pictures rabbits being pulled from hats and cards flying out of sleeves. That’s about as old-fashioned as it gets.

“The magic that you do.”

Kurt opens his eyes, twisting his neck to look Blaine’s way.

“What?” He figures Blaine has to be teasing him. But past the spray of color obscuring his view, Blaine seems serious. “But … I don’t do any magic.”

“Of course you do.” Blaine brushes the backs of his fingers against Kurt’s cheek, scooting closer while he talks. “It comes from the sparkle in your eyes. It’s in your designs, in your cooking. It’s in your voice when you sing” – Blaine moves his hand down Kurt’s body and laces their fingers together – “It’s in your hands on my skin” – He runs the tip of his nose against Kurt’s, his voice so far below a whisper, Kurt feels his words in the space between their lips – “The touch of your mouth against mine.”

The colors swimming in front of Kurt’s eyes turn into fire when Blaine kisses him, flames climbing high and glowing a rainbow of colors, ending in pops and sizzles slingshotting through his brain. It dies down when Kurt pulls away, a dizzy smile on his lips.

“I think I like the magic we make together best,” Kurt says.

Blaine nibbles Kurt’s lower lip, asking for another kiss.

“Yeah,” he agrees before Kurt gives it to him, “I like that, too.”

[dangoghz]

sunsweet

(a sequel to chlorine kisses.)

word count: 1.5k

summary: dnp get married! in the maldives! very warm and fluffy, not really much action goin on here except a lot of soft words about how the sun is heating phils cheeks. lol i wrote it really fast and it’s probs bad but enjoy

———————

Dan’s thumbs cradled the bow tie pinned to his suit. He had been adjusting it for two minutes straight. His stomach felt like little tiny ribbons were being rubbed in its crevices—an oddly specific yet very unpleasant feeling. The young man looked up at the mirror in his tropical hotel room, taking a deep, sensitive breath. He nodded at his reflection. It was the day.

It was the day he would marry his dream boy, his other half. He knew it was cheesy but it could be said they were soulmates. Eight years and his heart leaped more every day to see those black locks and glitter blue eyes. The ribbons fumbled and tumbled.

“Mister howell?” An assistant called, “Are you ready? Everyone else is set.”

Dan took another sharp breath. “Yes.” He scratched at his shaved side and opened his hotel room door. The attendee guided him down the hall.

The music was already playing, meaning Phil, his parents, and Dans dad were already making their way down the carpet. Dan had decided to walk with his mom down the aisle. It was a small wedding on the beach they had planned. Just family and a few close friends. But it made him nervous nonetheless.

The employee and Dan walked through the resort until they reached two buildings. The carpet was obscured by palm trees and the walls of the buildings, and it was a curved path, so Dan wouldn’t be able to see where the ceremony would occur until he walked out. He read the name tag on the assistant who had led him there: Aishath. He thanked her as she urged him forward with a pat on the back.

As Dan stepped onto the velvet, he felt sprigs of nervosity intensify in his torso, but he ignored them. He had been waiting for this for years. Like, a decade. There was no going back. No going back from the way Phil cupped his check. No going back from playing Mario Kart for six hours straight while calling each other ‘nasty twat’ fondly. No going back from ogling each other at the top of the Manchester Eye, unaware of how their lives would entangle like a hybrid flower.

Okay. Stop thinking. Just walk.

Dan gulped and stepped. One, two, three. The trees cleared and sunlight streamed into his blushly face, revealing his family and friends. They stared at him, and dan began to wonder if there was something wrong. He felt to make sure the lily flower hadn’t fallen out of his black suit pocket, and it hadn’t-so why were they staring? He was just a guy from Wokingham…and then he remembered! This was his wedding. It was real. It was good. It was everything he had ever wanted.

As Daniel Lester (that’s right!) strided towards the podium, he could see a gleam on his little brother’s face and a timid but proud look on his parent’s. He didn’t dare look at Phil yet, taking in Bryony and Willow and Louise and PJ, who all looked splendid, first.

And then he glanced up at his fiancé. He saw in those big, whirlpool eyes their whole past, like a fairytale book being flipped through. And how the book started.

A twitter request and an accept. Skype calls for eight hours and forty two minutes. October 19th, 2009: the train station, a hug diminishing all other hugs. Pinof 1, the sky bar, the Uma Thurman poster, the Christmas adventures, the laundry visits, the move, the other move, the tour, the book, the other book, the other other move…….

Oh my god. And their tale had just started. Phil smiled lovingly and held his hand out for Dan, helping him step onto the podium. Phil looked like an angel as always, in a white suit with a red, red rose in his pocket.

The priest cleared his throat. Dan didn’t really listen to anything he was saying. A bunch of stuff that amounted to nothing compared to the way that Phil looked at him and the way Dan at Phil. Everyone could tell they were in love, no matter how they hid it. And it was okay—no, more than okay. Glorious.

“Now, the grooms will say their vows.”

Phil went first. “I’m going to make this short. I love you, you bumbling idiot. I love how you smell like teakwood and how you laugh and how you remind me of Winnie the Pooh. You used to be my fan but now you are the love of my life.” A slight breeze blew through the ceremony, as if to add depth.

“I can’t imagine how my morning would be without you there to eat cereal with while watching Adventure Time reruns on the couch as an excuse to cuddle. You are so much more than you think you are. I hope I am always enough for you. Until death. Please don’t have an existential crisis because I said the word ‘death’.” The audience chuckled. “Yeah. Uh. Love you, BRO!” He ended the speech with a punch to Dan’s gut to emphasize their Bro-ness. Very Phil.

Okay. This was it. He took Phils hand in his, inhaling at the warmth of his palm. “Okay, I was going to practice this and perfect it because that’s what I always do when I want something to be perfect, but I decided that this had to be special. It’s not a video script. I’m winging it.

I love you, Philip Michael Lester, and I have only loved you more every day since seeing that toothy grin through a Skype viewfinder as we talked about Muse and Battlestar Galactica and Attack on Titan and everything else because we were and still are nerds. I can’t put into words how you make me feel. I feel safe with you. You’re like a soft blanket. Wait, no, that’s weird. Uh. You make me feel. Warm. No! That sounds wrong! Fuck it. I love you. Marry me, you bitch!”

Louise started howling in laughter, and Cornelia joined in.

The priest barely had time to say “you may kiss” before Dan grappled at Phils hair and knocked him backwards with a smooch. They parted for a second, Phil laughing, and then Phil kissed him back suddenly. They touched foreheads, light bouncing off of their hair and noses and sand-dusted shoes.

The audience applauded and rose to go to the reception.

—— two hours later ——

Dan and Phil, freshly married, had somehow ended up making out in a cubicle of the bathroom of their own wedding hall. They couldn’t help it—dinner was over anyhow, everyone was dancing, and they could spend their wedding however they wanted, right? Or at least, that’s what Dan told himself as he dappled pecks along Phil’s jawline. Phils breath smelled of red wine.

He could hear muffled music coming from the ballroom. Britney Spears…what state was he in when he made that playlist to put her song in? Whatever.

“Hey Dan,” Phil gasped.

“Yes, hubby?” Dan said with an exaggerated smirk. His tipsiness has made him say hubby like ten times in less than an hour.

“You’re such a good kisser. This is what I married you for. My face is in heaven right now.”

“I know it. And I married you for your sweet, sweet smile which imma kiss right! Now!” And with that he pressed a heavy, wine-stained buss with his lips on Phil’s still open mouth, and stuck his tongue in and out, quickly, as a tease.

They stared at each other for a good minute then, panting. The song ended in the other room. “We should probably go back in—“ Dan suggested, opening the door. And then he heard it. The song. He tumbled out of the cubicle, Phil following him. “It’s-“

“Interrupted by Fireworks,” Phil finished for him. “I put it on there. To dance with you.” Their song, a part of their history.

“Oh, dang it. Sorry we aren’t in there to dance to it.”

A curious smile arose on Phil’s lips. “What do you mean?” He swiftly wrapped his arms around Dan’s torso and pulled him close. Smooth as ever, even in a men’s bathroom.

Dan laughed. “Here?”

Phils rose flopped as he nodded.

“Okay,” Dan managed, lacing his own arms on Phils neck. They swayed to the song gently, as if they were still on the beach and not a meter away from a toilet. The chords strummed gently in Dans ears, nostalgia surging through him. It reminded him of everything. Everything.

Phil looked at him tenderly. Everything but Phil and the song faded as if the lights were dimming. Dans eyes welled up. He was married. To Phil. Phil Lester. How could he be so lucky?

Phil cupped his cheek, a tear cascading silently down his own face. He beamed. “It’s okay. You can cry.”

And Dan did. He sobbed, his filling with tiny reservoirs of water. Salt and memories and joy soaked out into the open, out of pure and ethereal joy. How was this happening? Oh my god.

Phil lifted Dan’s chin up with his hand softly. “Want to watch Haikyuu when we go back home?”

Dan rolled his eyes despite the emotion of the previous moments. He could always trust Phil to lighten it up. “Sure.”

[brokensoulstory]

Broken Soul: Twenty Four

About an hour had passed. While Ashes was mingling with a few other guests, October happened to glance toward the main entrance and noticed a familiar face enter the building. "Erick?" October was confused and quickly approached him. "What are you doing here?" She noticed Myra was with him. "Evan told you to stay at the inn."

"Something wasn't right there," Erick explained. "It didn't feel safe. I thought if I brought her here, the presence would leave."

"Since you're inside, at least look like a vampire or a donor," October suggested. He took her advice and changed his black eye color to a glowing blue. Erick guided Myra along, linking his arm with hers. She was still lightheaded from losing blood.

They were let inside and after sifting through the crowds, October spotted Ashes and Dannie waltzing again. They were about to join them but were approached by Leighton. "Good evening," he greeted with a smile. "Welcome to my home."

"Good evening, sir," Erick replied.

Leighton nodded an acknowledgment to Erick, then turned his attention to Myra. His electric eyes expressed concern. "Is that young lady alright?"

"She's my donor," Erick lied. He wanted to sell the facade that he was a vampire. "She's feeling a bit ill. Would you happen to have a spare guest chamber where she could rest for a few minutes?"

"Yes, of course," Leighton replied, taking Myra's arm. "This way." He led her upstairs and down the hall. The room was dark but warm. Myra laid down on the bed and didn't even bother taking her shoes off or putting the blankets over herself. She was asleep almost instantly. Leighton closed the door and went back downstairs. October was at Erick's side as they entered the ballroom.

Ashes and Dannie's waltzing came to an end when Leighton interrupted. "Sorry to disturb you, but we have business matters to discuss."

"Oh, yes." Ashes remembered as he stepped back from Dannie. A young brunette woman with a red dress on approached Leighton's side and whispered, "The Jaces have arrived, dear," in his ear before turning her curiosity toward Evan, who had just joined the group.

"Thank you, love," Leighton replied then introduced her. "This is Amanda, my donor." He held her right hand in his and pulled her closer to him. Her crimson lipstick grin grew; her whole face was radiant and her eyes were a bright yellow. Dannie secretly wondered if she was spelled or if she really did like Leighton.

Evan, Ashes, and Leighton stepped away to converse while Dannie and Amanda stayed behind. "Don't worry, they won't be long," Amanda said to her and then lifted two glasses off of a tray a passing waiter was carrying. She offered one to Dannie. As parched as she was, Dannie hesitated and just stared at the crystal glass with the dark red beverage in it. "Oh... That's not..."

Amanda laughed. She knew what she meant. "No, of course not. It's just red wine."

"Ah, well... You never know around here," Dannie declared and accepted the glass. "What exactly are those three talking about anyway?"

"Business."

"And what kind of business do vampires discuss?"

"My dear, have you ever wondered where Evan gets all of his money?" Amanda inquired. "Because if you have to ask that, then you obviously don't know."

"Property, right?" Dannie felt a little nosy but really, what kind of conversation was expected at an event like this?

"Yes, estates," Amanda replied. "Rumor has it when your vampire first arrived here, he bought large amounts of land that had been on the market for years. He snatched it dirt cheap. It was soon discovered that time had been kind to the land and now it's rich in resources and Leighton wants to purchase a vast amount of it."

Dannie remembered what Evan had told Dusk when they had talked about territory. "Wait... I thought Evan only owned fifty acres."

Amanda laughed sarcastically. "He owns a lot more than that. What he probably meant was that he only resided on that lot. He owns countless lots all over this place."

"Who knew vampires were civilized members of society?" Dannie remarked then took a sip of wine. She wasn't a big drinker so the taste caused her to grimace in disgust but she tried to hide it.

A tap on Dannie's shoulder startled her. She turned around and grinned from ear to ear when she saw who it was. "October."

"Care to waltz, Miss Saroya?" she asked and held out her hand for Dannie to take.

Without hesitation, Dannie set her hardly used glass down on the table a few feet away and gladly accepted, placing her hand in October's. Dannie was guided onto the dance floor, both of them locking eyes. They didn't look away from each other once. Their hands were together, and October's other hand on Dannie's waist and hers, up on October's shoulder, and they started to waltz. For the longest time, they didn't even say a word to each other. There wasn't a need for it. Dannie smiled the entire time. She didn't even realize she was doing so.

October just gazed at her; her face mostly expressionless. Dannie could see the tiniest hint of emotion glistening in her eyes. October would probably never admit it and but Dannie could see something was there.

When the song was over, October took Dannie's hand and led her outside. They walked alongside the backyard terrace in the moonlight. October's falsely lit eyes glowed at her. She noticed Dannie couldn't stop smiling, even still. "You're still beaming, Danielle. I don't think I've ever seen you like this."

Dannie entwined her arm with October's as they walked. "It's just this...This place and this whole evening, attending a ball in a palace; it's like every little girl's dream. I used to read fairy tales and books about things like this when I was little and wished I could be Cinderella or one of the 12 dancing princesses. And, as time went on, I guess I forgot about the stories and just...grew up. But now, it's happening. And I'm not even sure how I should really feel. I mean, the eight-year-old inside of me is thrilled. But the 22-year-old me still doesn't completely believe this is real."

"So, you feel conflicted?" October asked.

"Maybe just a little," she admitted. "I never really thought I'd ever be waltzing with a demon in a palace full of vampires. But, this evening turned out a lot better than I hoped it would."

October was silent for a long moment. She was thinking something over while Dannie stood at the edge of the terrace, staring up at the starry night sky. "Danielle." She looked at October once again. "I think the time has come."

Dannie's heart literally skipped a beat. She froze, expecting October to do something. But she didn't. "The time for what?"

"To show you how to use some of the abilities I gave to you," she said, taking Dannie's hand once more and led her out into the woods beyond the terrace.

"Wait, are you sure we should go outside of Leighton's property?" Dannie asked her. She was having a little difficulty walking through grass and over sticks and rocks in her heels. Luckily, she didn't fall over.

"Don't worry," October replied. "You're safe as long as you have that cross." It was still hanging around her neck.

They walked a little deeper into the woods until October decided to stop. "October, they won't need us, will they?" Dannie worried.

"We're fine," she promised and turned Dannie to face her. "Now. One useful skill is making your own light."

"Light?"

"Just do what I do." October set her hands in front of her side by side, palms up. Dannie repeated the act and awaited further instruction. "Now, concentrate and picture light inside of your mind. Do you feel it?"

"I feel...ridiculous," she admitted.

" Danielle, listen and it will work," October promised. "Just trust me."

"Fine," she sighed and tried again. This time, she closed her eyes and attempted to put all of her focus on to her instructions. October stepped behind her and grasped on to her hands, almost, causing her to open her eyes but she refrained. Dannie froze at the sense of ice-cold fingers touching her. She suppressed a shiver.

"Feel the energy inside of you and let it flow to your palms," October said, her words spoken softly against Dannie's ear. Again, Dannie winced away a chill. October really wasn't helping as much as she intended to.

Dannie shook off every emotion she was feeling and finally concentrated. A rush of warmth surged through her, pushing its way down her arms. "I think it's working..."

"Good, don't let it go." October released her and moved in front of her to evaluate her.

Dannie's eyes opened just in time to see her palms turn electric green. The light inside of her rose up through her skin in the shape of a sphere. She couldn't believe her eyes. The warm orb hovered an inch above her palm, illuminating her face. A victorious smile appeared on her lips. "I did it."

"Well done," October said. "Now try throwing it."

"Really?"

"Yes."

Dannie didn't question her further and winded her arm back and tossed the orb away. It left behind a green streak in the air and crashed into a tree and pieces splashed off of the bark and vanished like fireworks. A green spot remained on the tree where it had been hit. It was still glowing and looked like it had burned into the tree, sinking a round black singe into the bark. Dannie curiously stepped over to the tree and lightly tapped on the green burn, jumping back after feeling that it was still hot. She checked her finger for a blister but it didn't even leave a mark. Before she could even ask, October said, "It was your light, it cannot harm you. But it can be fatal to others if necessary. Only humans though."

"Oh, how lovely," Dannie remarked sarcastically. "Evil vampires and demons are after me, what good does that do me?"

"Your light can easily distract or slightly injure them," October explained. "You can also make your own darkness."

"Excuse me?" Dannie wasn't so sure about this one.

"Extend your arms up." Dannie did as she was asked. "Now move them as if you're painting everything you see with black."

As silly as that sounded, she gave it a try. Dannie moved her right hand first, imagining the view of stars and tree branches above her was a canvas she could cover with black paint. The silver stars melted away from her sight and she froze in disbelief at what she had done. "Don't lose focus, Danielle," October spoke up, snapping her out of her brief daze and she continued to cover the rest of the world with shadows. Everything was pitch black until October told her to make light again. She did so flawlessly this time. Dannie saw October's face looking at her in the green fabricated glow and she couldn't help smiling. It felt like they were the only two beings left on Earth. For a moment, she had forgotten about everything else.

"Erase the darkness now," October said, breaking the silence. "Throw the orb directly up and it will turn everything back to normal."

Once Dannie threw it, the orb silently exploded like a firework again and the sparks diminished the shadows and allowed the stars and blue moonlight to bestow the world with warm illumination. October didn't want to waste any more time. She had to show Dannie how to defend herself now.