#But that might just be a me problem and that only applies for a few vacancies most don't ask this

[suddencolds]

.~

[phagodyke]

SUDDENLY STARTED RAINING SO HARD WE ARE SO FUCKING BACK

[mrsbarnesblog]

the zipper

masterlist

summary: when you ask Bucky to help with your dress while you two at the gala, it doesn't go the way you planned

words count: 2.1k

warnings: semi-public sex, fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, mild dominance, light overstimulation,

a/n: I guess there are already tons of fics with congressman Bucky at the Gala (even though I still haven't read any of them), but this has been on my mind for a few days, so I have to give it to y'all.

The gala was in full swing, with way too many important people wandering around, talking, and pretending that they like each other. Bucky didn’t like it. He didn’t like the crowdedness, the tight and fancy suit, and the fact that he still couldn’t fully figure out what Valentina was doing irritated him even more. 

At least he had you by his side, and most of the time you were on his arm, soothingly rubbing his back or placing a kiss on his cheek when you noticed him getting overwhelmed. You were a good distraction—his favorite and only one. 

Though while he was talking to Congressman Gary, Bucky couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that you went to the bathroom about fifteen minutes ago and still didn’t come back. His mind started wandering off, barely listening to the man in front of him, even if it was extremely important. He just couldn’t focus when he didn’t know where you were and what was happening. 

In that exact same moment, his phone rang with a notification from you. 

Buck, I have a problem with a zipper. Could you come and help me, please?

He physically felt himself relaxing, knowing that you were just struggling with your dress, and he excused himself from the conversation as he went down the fancy hall. Bucky knocked a few times at the door until your head poked out of it with a shy smile, and you gestured to him to walk in. He locked the door before fully taking you in when you stepped further into the room. 

Hair pinned up, with a lip gloss in your hand, you applied it standing in front of the mirror. Bucky’s breath hitched when his eyes fell lower, at your chest, to be exact. Probably that was the reason you called him, because the zipper on your back was only halfway done, making the front part of your dress hang dangerously loose. The fabric barely covered your boobs, as it slid so low that Bucky could see that there was no bra underneath. 

You stood there unbothered, looking at yourself in a mirror, and completely unaware that within a second you caused him to have a hard-on. 

“...and I took it off to remove the label from the inside, but I can’t zip it back.” His ears caught only the last part of your sentence, while you were still innocently focused on your reflection. “I’ve tried so hard to reach it, but I’m afraid that I might break my nail… Buck, you okay?” Your soft voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he stepped behind you, metal hand on your waist. 

“Yeah, just fine, doll.” He mumbled in a gruff voice. Bucky was higher than you, so standing behind your back, he could perfectly see that your loosely hanging dress left basically nothing for the imagination. He looked down at the smooth skin of your back, framed by the soft color of the silk fabric, letting out a deep sigh as his other hand hesitated in the air. 

His cock was pulsating in his suit pants, desperately craving your attention, the feeling of you. So before he could think of anything better, his hand tugged the zipper down to your ass, and he groaned, looking back in the mirror to see the full front part of your dress falling down and bunching at your hips. 

“Bucky!” You gasped at the feeling of cold air against your bare skin. Your hands instantly shot up to cover yourself, your lip gloss fell on the floor and was probably ruined, but Bucky moved quicker, wrapping one hand around your body. “We’re… at the gala…” 

“Like I care, baby. You don’t know what you’re doing to me.” His head fell forward into your neck, stubble scratching your delicate skin, lips ghosting just enough to send shivers down your spine. He pushed his hips forward, grinding his bulge against your ass and groaning at the feeling. You gasped again, instinctively melting in his arms, when his metal thumb brushed around your nipple. “No fucking bra, God damn, do you want to kill me here?”

“You don’t wear a bra in such dresses.” You mumbled weakly, throwing your head backwards and barely able to hold back your moans when Bucky teased each of your breasts. 

“Mhm, you should wear them more often then.” 

His other hand trailed down your stomach, using a high slit on your dress to sneak in between your thighs and press his palm against your core. He palmed you shamelessly, feeling the warmth of your pussy through the lacy material, which already started to get soaked. Bicky knew your body better than he knew himself, so the subtle movements like the tilt of your head to the side, parted lips, and barely noticeable rocking of your hips gave him everything he needed to take you right in this bathroom. 

You knew that you shouldn’t do anything in the middle of the gala, when you still had to go to the main room afterwards and face people, pretending that nothing had happened. But it was Bucky, the one who could make you feel lightheaded with only one touch, who always found an excuse to fuck you anywhere and everywhere, who was currently intoxicating you with his cologne and fingers that he already pushed inside of you.

“Oh, please—” You whimpered as he pumped his fingers into your dripping hole, pressing a thumb against your puffy clit. His other hand was still busy with your boobs, twisting and pinching your nipples, almost sending you to tears. 

“‘M gonna fuck you, baby. Fuck, you’re so hot like this.” He groaned against your ear, withdrawing his fingers with a loud, wet sound and immediately reaching for his pants. You felt him fidgeting with the buckle, then pushing your dress up for easy access. His hand softly pushed in between your shoulder blades until you bent over with your hands on the sink and your ass on display for him. 

Bucky’s metal hand pushed your legs further from each other, then slid your panties down until they were bunched around your ankles. At that point you wanted to cry from desperation, looking at him through the mirror and basically dripping from how horny you were. But then you felt the blunt tip of his cock sliding through your puffy folds, teasingly nudging your clit, as Bucky let out a loud moan. “Just soaking my cock, doll. You need it bad, huh?” He teased, slapping your ass once, just nudging your entrance but not pushing inside. “We got five minutes before someone notices. Think you can be quiet for me?”

“Yes. James, just please…” Your eyes rolled back the moment he slammed into you in one smooth motion, stretching you wide around him just the way you both liked, not even giving you time to think when he started slamming into you with full force. Bucky’s eyes stayed locked on the mirror, obsessed, addicted. Your reflection was pure sin—mouth parted, brows knitted in pleasure, tits bouncing with every savage snap of his hips. You tried to muffle your sounds, biting your lip until it hurt, but your breath kept catching on broken little gasps that made Bucky thrust even harder.

He groaned behind you, gripping the flesh of your ass, probably leaving marks on the skin, and keeping you still so he could use you the way he wanted. The wet sounds of your bodies slapping together filled the room, mixing with the faint music echoing from the gala. 

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He rasped, voice rough like gravel, forehead slick with sweat as he leaned over you. “You were made for me, doll. Fuckin’ made for me.” Your walls fluttered around his cock, making him twitch deep inside you, and Bucky let out another guttural groan. 

His relentless assault on your G-spot easily pushed you closer to the edge, making you gasp for air in poor attempts to not moan out loud. When an orgasm washed over you, Bucky didn’t stop or follow you the way you expected him to. Oh no, after mumbling a bunch of curses mixed with praise, the palm of his hand pressed on your lower stomach, and his fingers reached your clit, moving in circles. 

“Gonna cum again, doll? Soak my cock, huh?” He growled, breath hot against the shell of your ear, his fingers working your clit with maddening precision while his cock kept pushing into your sopping cunt.

Your answer was a strangled moan, your body trembling as overstimulation surged through you like fire. The first orgasm hadn’t even faded, and he was already pushing you into another, forcing your body to submit, to unravel under his touch again and again.

“Jesus, Bucky—” You whispered, your voice wrecked, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as your thighs started to shake. “Too much, I—” He hushed you softly, his metal arm wrapping around your waist to keep you steady as he pounded into you mercilessly, lips brushing your ear.

“You can take it. You will take it. Give me another one, sweetheart. Be my good girl.”

That tipped you over the edge. Again.

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, your nails scraping at the counter as another orgasm ripped through you, harsher this time, your vision nearly whiting out from how intense it was. Your whole body went limp, but Bucky held you upright, grunting as your walls clamped down on him like a vise.

“Fuck, baby—fuck.” He hissed, his thrusts losing rhythm as you dragged him over the edge with you. One final snap of his hips and he buried himself to the hilt, spilling into you with a moan and then pushing his cum into you like he didn’t want to waste a single drop. 

“You’re insane…” You managed to mumble, barely able to straighten up. Bucky shifted behind you, slowly pulling out with a groan and tucking himself back in his pants. He bent down to help you pull your panties back in place, and then, as if nothing had happened, he fixed the back of your dress, lifted up the front, and this time properly zipped it. 

“That’s your fault.” Bucky shrugged casually, giving you a shit-eating grin after spinning you to face him. You slightly wobbled in your heels, and you gripped his shoulders for some stability. He placed his hands on your waist, leaning in for a slow and soft kiss. Being a gentleman, as if he hadn’t just railed against the sink like there was no tomorrow. “Still shaky?” He whispered against your lips, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You gave him a playful glare, but it was half-lidded and dazed. “Gee, I wonder why.” You took one look in the mirror—your hair still mostly intact, makeup a little disheveled but passable, and your eyes? Yeah, they were screaming just fucked, and you wondered how many people could pick up on that instantly. “I guess we have to go back now. Even though I look totally fucked. Both literary and figuratively.” 

“You look perfect, I promise.” Bucky chuckled lowly, his hand slipping into yours as he led you toward the door, his fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary. “I’m more interested in seeing how you’re gonna keep that poker face of yours. You’re gonna have to hold it together, doll. Until we get back home.”

You shot him a sidelong glance, fighting the flush that threatened to creep up your neck, knowing exactly what he meant. “Oh, I can do poker faces.”

“Mm-hmm.” He didn’t sound convinced, but the playful gleam in his eyes told you he was looking forward to watching you try.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

back pain. l Joel Miller

Summary: Joel had back problems, someone had to help him

Warnings: smut (+18), unprotected sex (don't do that), breeding kink, oral sex (f!receiving), Joel has back problems, Ann shows up, Hazel is mentioned, a bit of jealousy

A/N: like many of us i also saw ep 2 tlou2. i had this chapter already written, i thought it might cheer you up. joel deserves everything and i'm trying my best.

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

It had been going on for a while. It started with discomfort after returning from patrols, but Joel put it down to the time spent in the saddle. Then the pain came after a nap on the couch or a long day at the stables.

You couldn’t ignore it when Joel groaned loudly one morning as he got out of bed. You tried to help him. You massaged the aching muscles on his back and shoulders, applied warm compresses to ease the tension. It all helped, but only for a moment.

“Ann told me there was a woman next door who did professional massages,” you said one night. You were straddling Joel, naked from the waist up, lying on his stomach, accepting the touch of your hands. “She’s helped a lot of people in Jackson.”

"I don't need help." he groaned when you pressed a particularly painful spot. "You're doing great."

"I have no idea what I'm doing." You mumbled. "What if I only hurt you more?"

"Don't care. I'm not going there." He replied, and you rolled your eyes.

"You're so..."

"Old?"

“Stubborn!” He patted him on the shoulder. “Your back has been bothering you for a long time. You should do something about it. You want a baby, so how are you going to get up for it at night?”

You shouldn't have used that argument, but it was the only thing that came to mind. You had been trying to conceive for months, but you weren't panicking. Whatever was coming, you were just willing to accept it. Joel's aching back was worrying you, so you tried to do everything you could to help him. Even Tommy and Ellie had pitched in to convince him to rest, but Joel was... Yes, stubborn.

You hadn't brought it up since that night. Joel had been busy renovating more buildings in Jackson, and you had your hands full as well. It wasn't until you met Ann, who was with Elijah at the store, that you found out something was wrong.

“I’ve been seeing Joel lately,” she said, stroking the boy’s head as he slept snuggled up to her chest, a scarf wrapped securely around him. “I asked him what he was doing, but he was acting strange.”

"Strange? What does that mean?" you wondered.

"I don't know." Ann shrugged. "Do you think Hazel asked him for help again? She lives a few houses down from us."

You saw Hazel occasionally, sometimes at the Tipsy Bison or on the street in Jackson, but you didn’t talk. You knew she always felt more comfortable around Joel, but he hadn’t mentioned her in a while. A hint of jealousy rose in your heart, though you knew that if Joel hadn’t told you about Hazel, it was just so you wouldn’t feel bad. “I don’t know. He’s been pretty busy lately.” You replied. “Maybe he has a job in your neighborhood.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” She smiled softly and picked up the basket. “Are you coming over later? Shane’s going on patrol with two new guys, I don’t want to be alone. You know how it is.”

"Sure. I'll come."

You couldn't pretend that what Ann had told you didn't interest you, and where Joel was headed was starting to worry you a little. Every morning he'd say he was going to the construction site or on patrol, but you didn't really know if he was actually there. You didn't feel the need to check on him, because why would you?

Hazel entered your thoughts again. Maybe she'd asked him for help, and Joel just didn't want to worry you? No, you weren't angry. Just worried.

You were halfway through washing the dishes when you heard the door slam and the familiar heavy footsteps.

"Baby?" Joel's voice echoed through the house.

“Here.” You replied, dipping your hands into the suds and washing another plate. “Are you hungry? I have some more stew, Ellie and Dina didn’t eat all of it. We’ll have to start hiding food from them.”

You heard footsteps but no voice. When suddenly a solid body pressed against your back, almost pushing you into the sink.

“Jesus! Joel!” you squealed in surprise, pulling your hands out of the water and grabbing his arms that were wrapped tightly around you. “What happened?”

His low, deep voice resonated against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "I want you. Now."

He wasn't lying. The hard bulge pressed against your ass, you swallowed hard.

"Now?" you repeated, bewildered.

There was no response. A low groan tore from Joel’s chest as he released you, crouching down and throwing you over his shoulder in an instant. You were so surprised that you fisted your hands in his shirt dramatically.

"Joel! Your back!" you chuckled as he headed towards the stairs. "Joel! That's not safe!"

“Then stop squirming, for God’s sake!” he muttered as he climbed the stairs. Luckily, you listened, because the idea of ​​falling on your face wasn’t interesting. He kicked open the bedroom door, and a moment later it slammed shut behind you, and you landed with a thud on the bed.

“Joel!” you were too confused. It all happened so fast, and Joel looked like he was going crazy. His fingers deftly unbuttoned your pants and in a quick movement slid them down your back along with your underwear. “What the fuck?!”

"I already told you, I want you. Now." he replied, as if it was obvious. He came for what was his, for you.

You didn’t say anything else as he spread your thighs, his head disappearing between them. You took a breath, gripping the sheets in your hands as you felt him start to eat you out like this was his last meal, like he’d been starving for years. Your brain couldn’t process anything but the violent pleasure that was taking over your body. But it didn’t last.

Joel rose, his beard glistening with your juices, looking at you with nearly black eyes. The belt made a familiar sound and he pulled down his pants, freeing his hard cock. Maybe he had lost his mind, maybe something had possessed him, but you couldn’t lie—you wanted him more than ever.

Without taking his eyes off you, he took off his shirt, revealing his broad chest and strong arms. Despite his age, he still had it. And you still only wanted him.

When his hands grabbed your hips and turned you on the bed almost like a rag doll, you just squealed softly. He lifted your hips, his hand sliding down your back, pressing you to the bed. You knew what was coming, but when with a quiet, “So fucking sexy…” he slid inside you in one hard movement, you squeezed your eyes shut, unable to stop yourself from moaning. His cock was deep, all the way to the base. At that moment, Joel could do anything to you, because your brain and body had stopped working properly.

Every thrust, every movement, every sigh drove you crazy. The orgasm built in your body at a dizzying speed. You had made love many times before, in different ways and at different speeds, but this was different. Almost primal, animalistic, passionate. But at the same time, with Joel, you knew you were safe, even as his fingers dug into your hips as he pounded into you with all his might.

Suddenly he leaned down, his arm sliding under your body and lifting you up so he was pressing you against his chest. Joel’s hand slid under your shirt and bra, squeezing your breast tightly.

“Take it all... I can feel you close...” His voice was heavy as he whispered in your ear, “You’re squeezing me so tight, baby. Fuck, take it.”

You reached back, gripping his hair as he nearly bit your neck. A hard shudder wracked your body as you came, your throat aching. Joel was right behind you. His movements became frantic as he pounded into you. “I’m gonna fill you up… Until it fucking takes hold.”

He squeezed you so hard he could break you, and then he came deep, with a deep groan. You stayed like that, until the last twitch, breathing deeply, slowly regaining your senses. Finally, you managed to find your voice, despite your sore throat.

"What was that?"

He turned his head, kissing your neck, inhaling your scent. “That’s how babies are made, darling.”

You giggled, and after a moment, Joel did the same. His arms slowly released you, and you fell back onto the bed, feeling your limbs go limp. Joel collapsed next to you, breathing deeply and feeling completely at peace and comfort. Silence filled the room, and you steadied your breathing, trying to get back to reality.

“I’ve been going to that woman you were talking about for a week now.” You turned your head and looked at Joel’s profile. His eyes were closed, a few curls stuck to his sweaty forehead. “The massage lady.”

"That's good. Did she help with your back?"

He turned around and looked at you with a sly smile. "Didn't you notice?"

“Jesus!” you covered your face with your hand. “And I thought you…”

"What?" Joel rolled over and rested his head on his hand. "What did you think I was doing?"

With a heavy heart, you told him what Ann had told you, that she had done it in good faith, about your concerns about Hazel. Joel listened patiently, never once suggesting that what you were saying was stupid or irrational. Finally, he smiled and leaned down, lightly kissing the corner of your mouth.

"You're amazing, you know that?" he said and seeing your surprised look he added "The fact that you're a little jealous of me is really flattering. But you also know that I'm completely devoted to you. I'm yours, baby, no one will ever change that."

She stroked his cheek, smiling. “And you really think that kind of sex can produce children?”

"We could always do it again." He shrugged, "Just to be sure."

You pulled him closer and kissed him tenderly. He was yours, body and soul. And you were his.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven @underneath-the-sky-again @callmebyyournick-name @hiroikegawa @mandaloriankait

[inbabylontheywept]

Kartchner Caverns

The first time I traveled to Tucson I was in a car full of zooted children. I would've preferred being one of those children, but alas, any medication that makes me sleep also makes me sleepwalk. And after an incident where I tried to climb out of the car while it was still going sixty (thank God for seatbelts), I was condemned to a childhood of car trip sobriety: No more poor-man's time travel. No more ambien. One less morally ambiguawesome parenting decision from my crazy-ass dad.

I was talking with him when it happened.

I can't remember exactly what we were talking about - something to do with our final destination in Mexico. But at some point, we woke up my little brother. 

(Nothing good happens from waking the dreamer. Best case scenario, the dream ends. Worst case, it doesn't.)

I remember starting when I felt one of his small cold hands reach up to grab my shoulder. Our dad did the same, and it jerked the car a little bit - startling someone whose hands are on the steering wheel has its risks. Dad and I both turned to look at him, but he wasn't even looking at us. He was leaning over the console, staring into the red and purple sunset ahead, watching the rolling skyline of Tucson like it was drowning in dreams. Like he was drowning in dreams. 

We waited for him to speak. It took a while. Normal social conventions don't apply to people when they're unconscious. The fact that he could talk was just some broken line code in the fabric of the world. 

"Wow," he said at long last. 

"Beautiful, isn't it?" my dad replied. And my little brother shook his head like he just heard the silliest thing in the world. 

"It's terrible," he said. "Awful. Is Mexico always like this?" 

"We're still in America," my dad said back. 

My little brother squinted into the sunset, doubt and derision etched into his face. After a few seconds, both emotions softened, and he nodded in wonder. 

"Eagle feathers," he said, chuckling softly. Like he'd just solved some clever little riddle. Then he fell like an angel into something deeper than sleep. 

𓆙𓆙𓆙

(There is a word for angels that fall.)

𓆙𓆙𓆙

The second time I went to Tucson, I hid from the sun. 

You'd be surprised how easy it is to do down there. Society accommodates it in ways you just won't find anywhere else. When it's 109 outside with single digit humidity, of course you stay indoors. Of course the outdoor markets open at 6 pm, and of course they don't close until 11. Of course. You make the sun mean enough, and everyone becomes a vampire. 

So I roamed the streets at night, kicking up red gravel, watching coyotes wander in between the sea of strip malls. Strip malls are such an Arizonan atrocity. Nobody bothers to build up because there’s nothing to be gained from density. The city will never be walkable, because the problem isn’t infrastructure. It's the sun. And you can't solve the sun, so you might as well lean into driving. Mash the whole city flat and crawl through the dust like rattlers. 

(I met a man once, by the canals, that said the strip malls were some sort of American curse upon the inheritors of Johnny Appleseed. There's one God in this world, he said, and it's the god of don't-eat-apples. But then we invented apple pie and gave it to everyone. So this is our hell.)

Still. It made the days long down there. Lurking at night and hiding all day gives you something like cabin fever. I needed something to do outside. Something that was outside, but also, somehow, inside. What's inside and outside at the same time? What kind of klein-flask ouroboros nonsense fits that bill?

Kartchner caverns. 

𓆙𓆙𓆙

I wouldn't say the caves were like walking into Dante's hell - more like finishing the journey. At some point in my life, I'd blown past limbo, lust, gluttony, greed, and anger. I'd spent two decades plus change living in the fires of heresy. Every layer past would only get colder. 

And each step into that cave did. 

My tour guide and psychopomp was a friendly old man. Familiar in the way that all old people feel familiar to me. I view the world more as a pile of metaphors. He viewed it primarily as water-soluble minerals. 

It was a good work dynamic. 

"These here," he said, gesturing to a long, slender series of impossibly frail stalactites, "are called soda straws."

They were beautiful. I can wax poetic at the keyboard, but in real life, my exclamation of wonder is primarily Hot Damn.

"Hot damn," I said, and he nodded good naturedly. 

"They're pretty fun aren't they? Took a few eons to make 'em but I think it was worth the wait."

I was charmed by the way he talked. I knew it was just a fluke of tenses, but there was something funny about the way he described them - as if he personally oversaw each of the dainty little spires. We went further, and he pointed out more formations as we came across them. 

"Behold!" he said just a few feet further. "Fried eggs!" 

And I had to admit: There were fried eggs. 

"Behold!" he said further still. "A shield!"

And lo, there was a shield. It didn't look terribly shieldlike, but who knows - maybe he made the shields first and got better as he went along. The eggs were beautiful.

We kept walking, deeper, and deeper into the cave. At the surface, it had been hot enough for my sweat to dry into a stinging white powder. Down there it was cold enough to see my breath. The feeling of descending into hell was replaced with the feeling of being swallowed by some ancient, fossilized snake. 

"We call this serpent-stone," he said, gesturing to an expanse of wall. 

And then all I could see was the snake that was swallowing me. 

Now, I want to bring something up right about now. At this point, you might be tempted to write off the unease that I was feeling as claustrophobia. Which would make sense - caves unsettle a lot of people. But not me. I'm borderline claustrophilic. When I was a child, I didn't feel comfortable reading until I was wedged somewhere. Behind a shelf, or in a cabinet, or even underneath the beanbag my parents had intended for sitting. Those were my happy places. I liked being crammed into tight spaces. 

I did not like that cave. 

The section of serpent-stone narrowed the further we went. The room started off maybe six feet wide, but eventually it narrowed down. First to five, then four, then three. Two. And it didn’t stop at one. 

The old man put me in front at that point. Said that if I got stuck, he could just push me forward. Didn't occur to me until I'd gone another hundred feet forward, sideways, that maybe getting dragged out would be better. But I was strangely reluctant to bring it up. I’d already let myself get cornered. There was nothing to be gained from letting him know my thoughts. 

But the only way to keep them secret was by going forward. So I poured myself through the crack, slick as slip.  

There's a grain to the scales of serpent-stone, both in the shape of the formations and in the texture of the individual pieces. They're metamorphic, but there's enough sediment left to ‘em that they have a grain. They bite when you go one way, and slide when you go the other. It felt like I was ratcheting myself in. Even if I could slip forward more, I didn't think I could go back. Not without wearing myself down into something skinless and screaming. 

Water began to pool up in sections. It was cold enough to avoid the stink that still waters normally carry, but things stranger than algae festered in the waters beneath my feet. The puddles felt thick, almost slimy. A dozen steps later I saw little ropes of the stuff trickling down my feet. 

Eventually, it got so narrow I couldn't turn my head. I could still hear the old man behind me, but only through little things - the occasional sharp inhale, or steps just an eighth of a beat off from my own. But never words. I remember stopping at one point, just to get pushed, just to know he was there. And he refused. All I heard for fifteen minutes was his breathing behind me. 

He'd called my bluff. There was nowhere to go but forward. 

𓆙𓆙𓆙

I don't know why it took so long to get dark down there. I wasn't carrying a flashlight, and if the old man had been carrying one, I'd have seen it bob with his steps. There was a sort of soft glow to everything but that had faded hour by hour. Eventually it didn't matter that I couldn't turn my head sideways - I wouldn't have been able to see the man if he'd been two inches in front of me. I walked, and I walked, and I walked, and just when I was about to get stuck for real - stuck in a way where I wouldn't be able to step forward, where I'd have to be pushed (or dragged back along the sharpness of the scales) - I popped out of the serpent stone crevasse like a cork from a bottle. 

Plunk. 

I can't tell you the relief that I felt at that moment. It didn't matter that I didn't know where I was, or how I got there. I'd never been claustrophobic in my life, but at that moment, I couldn't stand even the proximity of the crevice. I scrambled forward, stumbling over the rough cave floor, desperate and eager to find the next wall. To get some sense of where I was. 

I never did. Even as I calmed down, even as the relief of being free of that infernal vice sat upon me like a crown, I never found another wall. Anywhere. I walked until fear made me crawl, as low and blind as any worm. I crawled until my pants tore and my knees bled and my spine ached. 

And I found nothing. 

When the vastness of the space truly sank in, when I realized that leaving that first wall had been a mistake, I turned back. But some choices can't be unmade. There were no walls. Not anymore. No matter how far I crawled, how hard I tried, there was no end. There was nothing but perfect darkness, broken stone, and endless snaking trickles of cold cavern water. 

I dipped a finger in one of the rivulets. Just to feel it. Just to ground myself in something. I felt the waters slither past, and I found something like sight in their motion. 

Water always goes down. Whatever else I lacked down here in the stone, in that moment, I knew up and down. And for the first time in hours, I had a choice. A real choice. No instinct or panic or too late realizations: Up or down. 

I went down. 

𓆙𓆙𓆙

I’d visited a rope factory once. Watched the threads dance and spin and weave into something mighty. I got a blind man’s sense of that from my trickle. I felt it meet more of its kind, braiding into them like thread. I liked pretending it was still my rivulet, but eventually, I had to admit it was lost in the mess. Picking out one thread from a rope would be easy, compared to picking out one trickle from a river. 

Funny how water can drown in itself. 

The first contaminant to the water was iron. I could smell it in the air -  strong as blood. It should have unsettled me, but I’d smelled water like that before. My grandpas well-water stained everything it touched rusty red. His sinks, his showers, his fields. Even his teeth. He was wealthy enough that he could've wiped the stains off decades back, but he told me once that he liked the way it made other people uncomfortable. The way it reminded everyone who saw him smile that by sacrament or soil, they too drank of god. 

The next contaminant was the thick water from before. Apparently, the stagnant pools weren’t as still as I’d thought. Somehow, over strange eons, they too could seep through the stone and make their way into this deep river. It was scentless, but I could feel it catch around my ankles on some steps. It seemed like a memory from a different life. I just didn’t feel like the same person that crawled through the serpent-stone crack. I was just some stranger wearing his shed skin. 

Then at long last came a smell of deep sulphur 🜏. It was an odd contrast with the sharply cold air, and the strangely warm waters. It was the least pleasant of the bunch, but I endured it well. I followed until the tears streaming down my cheeks felt as normal as breathing. Until the rush of the river was replaced by the pounding of waves. 

I’d arrived on a beach. I couldn’t see the ocean in front of me, but I could hear how vast it had to be. There was a terrible stench, worse than the sulphur - the smell of some vast death. Godly carrion. A wound in the world long left to fester. 

I sat there on the beach of that ocean. Afraid to let those dark waters touch me. Thinking and waiting and worrying about what would happen next. 

A voice spoke just twenty feet behind me. I recognized it. I never would’ve recognized it before, but there was a knack to the way this place wore me thin. Like a razor getting sharpened instead of a shirt going ratty. 

“You’re very close,” the old man said, and I remembered him from all those years ago - sitting cross-legged in the moonlight by the bank of the canal. Looking up at me, eyes dark, and calling me over to tell me a secret. 

There's one God in this world, he said then. One God. And it's the god of don't-eat-apples. But then we invented apple pie and gave it to everyone. 

So this is our hell.

𓆙𓆙𓆙

I turned around. I don’t know why. I shouldn’t have been able to see him. I shouldn’t have been able to see anything. But I could see the outline of where he was on that shoreline. Not as a  bright thing, but as a darker shade of absence. A little hole in the dark. 

I could have run. But that would’ve required taking my eyes off him, and at that moment I couldn’t bear the thought. He was the only thing to see down there. The only reason I had eyes. But somehow, more important than the joy of seeing was the feeling that as long as I kept my eyes on him, he was trapped. Pinned to this world like a butterfly on cork. 

There was a half second pause. The voice was a memory, but seeing through the gaps was new to me. The thing in front of me wasn’t an old man. It wasn’t even good at pretending. I was oddly embarrassed that I’d ever been fooled by it. What I was looking at was something older than this cave. Something trapped down here so long it could not bear the thought of light. The dream of something dead. The sloughed skin of a snake. 

The first apple eater. 

I could see shades of absence. More than the hole in the dark. I could look at the thing and feel the place where its wings should have been. Its first ones, at least. 

It lunged for me. 

I’d forgotten it could do that. 

It slammed into me like the water from the bottom of a dam. The power was nothing compared to the cold. I couldn’t see a thing, but what I could feel made bile climb up my throat. 

It was melting. Running down itself in little streams, like snow melting in the sun. Like the river I followed all the way down here. A hand ran over my face and I could feel it pouring into me, and in my fury I did the only thing I could think of: I reached up, and I wrapped my hands around its neck, and I clenched so hard that I could feel the tendons in my wrist sawing up through my skin, taut as piano wire. 

It was like squeezing wet clay. It deformed under my touch, stretching longer and thinner and smoother even as the muscular length of his impossibly long body wrapped around me. At some point the fists beating on my chest turned into wings. Stolen wings, to replace the ones that were stolen from it, and there was a scream in the cave it was so awful that I prayed it wasn’t mine. 

It was a terrible race. We were killing each other the same way. There was no question about someone dying here in front of the empty throne of god. I just didn’t want it to be me. 

Eventually, it could stretch no more, and my hands could crush more than just nightmare and shadow. The wings beat on me weaker, and weaker, until eventually some cartilage in its great neck snapped under the pressure of my thumbs.

It was like cracking a glow stick. There was a flash of light, brief as thunder, and I could see the waves in front of me. An ocean of rotting meat and bones. The outline of some great, dead serpent, fifty feet tall. And a tower of dead bodies, stretching back to ages that I could not recognize. The only corpses I could recognize were those at the top, with their strange helmets and iconic breastplates. 

Conquistadors. 

When the light went out, the body went with it. Most dreams don’t leave anything behind. Even when they’re made by gods. 

𓆙𓆙𓆙

I don’t know how I left the cave. 

I followed the river up. At some point, it stopped being the river I followed down. The tributaries feeding into it spread out like a fan, and fool that I am, I kept picking left. It shouldn’t have worked. Part of me wonders if I somehow bent the river to my will. Filled in for the dead thing bobbing in the lake, or the echo that I strangled on that starless shore. 

Or maybe I just got lucky. 

I can remember finally breaching the incline and seeing an exit into the desert. Not the one I stepped in through, but good enough. I can remember getting closer and closer, before stepping out into the burning sun. I thought it was finally over.

I thought wrong.  

I can remember looking into the bright blue sky and seeing exactly what my little brother saw on that drive all those years back. 

I don’t know what I killed down in the cave. Some dead thing in the dark, dreaming it was alive. An altar of blood and bone, designed to hold a fragment. 

But the real thing sat there in the sky. Curled up so tight and so smooth, you could mistake it for a ball. Waiting, and watching, and hating. Alive but dreaming death. The mould that stamped out the form of what lay in the cave. 

Quetzalcoatl, I learned later. The feathered serpent. 

I moved the month after that. Went somewhere north, somewhere cold, somewhere that a snake wouldn’t follow. Most days now, I look up, and I just see the sun. A flaming ball of gas. A little, red, star. 

But only most.

𓆙𓆙𓆙

𓆙𓆙𓆙

𓆙𓆙𓆙

𓆙𓆙𓆙

𓆙𓆙𓆙 𓇳

Thanks to @qsatisfaction and @foldingfittedsheets for being my editors on this piece. And thanks to @dr-robert-chase-apologist for providing the prompt.

[loveandpeaceanddoughnuts]

To be perceived: Husband!Nanami x Reader

“I don’t feel good in anything!” Your clothes are strewn around the room, victims of your self-image. Nanami holds up a dress, raising an eyebrow in a silent offer. You shake your head. “That hasn’t fit in years!”

He sits down heavily on the bed, surveying the emptied drawers and your increasingly desperate face. He tries discreetly to check his watch. He’ll call and move the reservations back, no problem.

You take off the latest rejected outfit and sit down helplessly in the middle of the room. “Kento, I’m an ugly slug.” Your husband joins you on the floor, wrapping both arms around you.

“You’re a beautiful slug, dear.”

You laugh and lean your head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I know we’re running late…”

He kisses the top of your head. “Don’t worry about it. I just want you to feel good. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, my love.”

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t have to be perceived, you know?”

Nanami nods thoughtfully. “I can’t make that happen, but maybe I could help distract people. Make it so you’re not the one they’re staring at.”

You turn to look up at him. “What do you mean? You’re wearing your scheming face…”

“Don’t worry, angel. You just finish getting ready and leave it to me, okay?” He disappears into the bathroom.

In a few minutes, you’re feeling a bit better. You’ve put on a comfortable outfit and done your makeup. Nanami’s voice is muffled from behind the door. “Are you ready, darling?”

“Yes, ready when you are!” You call back.

Your husband emerges from the bathroom, a confident smile on his chiseled face. Your mind short-circuits for a moment, not sure what to focus on first- the shock of blonde hair slipping over one eye, the expertly applied black eyeliner, or the skirt swaying around his muscled thighs. He looks beautiful.

“Kento, what is this?” You squint. “Is that my eyeliner?”

“No, it’s mine,” he says easily. “I’ve had it since high school.”

“And the hair? I’ve never seen you without it gelled up…”

He blushes a little at that. “Also high school.”

You shake your head in disbelief, your heart racing at the unexpected transformation. “Well I know that’s my skirt,” you giggle.

“Ah, yes. That’s correct. I found one with an elastic waist, so I could fit- but I’ll change if you mind me using it.”

“No, not at all!” You reassure quickly. He has a good eye for fashion, despite his usual insistence on a leopard-print tie. He’s paired the skirt with one of his own button-downs, sleeves rolled up over his ropy forearms. You step forward, cupping his cheek in your hand.

“You like it, then?” He asks softly.

“You’re beautiful,” you sigh. “But what’s this all about?”

He chuckles. “I figured that although you look stunning as ever, I might get a little more attention than you tonight. Help with the whole ‘being perceived’ bit.”

You laugh and lean up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek, careful not to muss his hair. “You’re an angel. A sexy, stylish angel.”

“As long as I’m yours,” he murmurs. “Now. I’ve moved our reservations once, let’s not be late for them again, hm?”

Nanami’s theory was correct. Every eye in the fancy restaurant is on him as the two of you are escorted to your table. Some stares are admiring, some judgmental, but he’s completely unbothered. He looks at you from across the table as if you’re the only other person in the world.

You clink your wine glasses together. “To my beautiful wife,” he smiles.

“To my beautiful husband,” you smile back.

[straywrds]

maraschino cherries | i only see you part one.

pairing: hyunjin x f!reader | word count: 25.8k | genre: romance, exes to lovers | warnings: angst ; breakup ; heartbreak ; jealousy and themes of cheating and overall bad relationships ; regret and guilt ; mutual pining ; forced proximity ; mentions of depression/low mental health ; hurt/comfort ; reunions | this chapter contains adult and sexual content as well as strong language but no major warnings apply. this work is a direct sequel to the one-shot just stay with me that i released two years ago~

You knew things weren’t great but you would never have imagined it would come to this. Maybe, somewhere, you still held the hope that things would work out. That Hyunjin loved you the way you loved him, which was to say, enough to try.

“I can’t believe you did this to me, Min. I know we went through a lot you and I but I thought we were friends.”

Minho let out an exasperated sigh. “We are friends!” He looked behind his shoulder as the newly arrived guests made their way in, bringing with them a cool breeze from outside. “Calm down, please. I had no intention to cause a scene. It’s just that he called, and then we had a conversation and I mentioned the cabin and it felt weird not to invite him. Besides, I just figured it was about time that you guys talked.” 

You raised your eyebrows, cocking your head to the side as the shock settled in. “That’s deeply fucked up, do you even realize that? Deeply.  Since when are you a couple mediator? Is that your new business idea? I see it. An office with large windows and a massive sign on the front with the name of your agency on it.” You motioned at the empty space before you as though you were showing a very real sign from a very real building. “Conci-Lee-Ation.”  

Minho scowled at you, pursing his lips. “See, that’s your problem. It’s not that you can’t move on from things. It’s that you don’t want to.”  

Minho’s words reached you much like a blade would cut you open. You stood before him with your mouth agape, silenced, wordless, the sour taste of betrayal invading your throat. His expression softened as soon as he saw the tears pricking at your eyes—he clicked his tongue, letting out a long, tired exhale. “I’m sorry—” he started, but you cut him off.  

“Don’t,” you managed, your bottom lip quivering. But you would rather lie down in the huge living room fireplace than let Minho or anybody else see you cry. “I should be the one apologizing, right? So let me. I am so, so, so sorry Minho for being irrational like this during a situation that is totally normal and not unpleasant at all. I apologize for being upset that you invited my ex to spend the weekend with us without giving me a heads-up.”

You were doing your best to keep your voice as low as possible so as not to be heard but you were becoming aware of a few heads turning in your direction. In the other room, near the front door, Changbin and Jisung were welcoming Hyunjin and Felix inside, and Hyunjin was pretending very hard that he hadn’t noticed you. You figured that the others might even believe his acting but you knew him better than they did. 

“Look—” Minho started, reaching for you. 

You recoiled, avoiding the hand that was trying to squeeze your shoulder. “Don’t touch me. Don’t fucking touch me, Lee Minho. I’m gonna go get this brain fog out of my head and then I’m leaving.”   

You walked away before Minho could even say anything. To avoid the crowd, you went out by the small hallway at the back. There was a door at the end of it, leading to some sort of patio furnished with snowed-in chairs and a functional hot tub.

You didn’t like speaking in absolutes so you wouldn’t say that being here tonight was the worst idea you ever had but it was certainly somewhere in the top three.

It seemed almost like a genuine Christmas tradition by now—you, standing somewhere outside in the dark, freezing your ass off there instead of letting anyone see you cry. 

The first occurrence of this lovely festive activity had been on that Christmas escapade organized,  that time also, by Minho—just a weekend at a cabin in the mountains for the employees of his restaurant. Oh, and you had cried quite a lot that first night. As though something about the holidays made your heart a little bit more vulnerable.

You hadn’t fully processed your breakup with Minho before that night, causing your emotions to go overboard. It wasn’t even that you had still been in love with him because you weren’t. It was just that he had moved on so easily and you were still at the same place in your life. It was just that he had recently gotten engaged to his very pretty girlfriend and you were still very much alone.

Last year had been even worse. It had been, really, the beginning of the end. Stupid arguments over insignificant things. And then it was about significant things. You told Hyunjin he was being unfair, that it was selfish of him not to let you help him. He did not like that. It made him cry. You spent an entire hour crying on your own, sitting on the stairs of the building, outside in the cold. It took two days before he spoke to you again, and what he said was, You don’t understand how I feel so you can’t help me. You’re there for me and I love you.

It was the last time he said it. I love you. Ironically, the breakup had been on Valentine’s Day.

The pain had followed you through the year. A year of ups and downs, emphasis on the downs. You earned your life well, your apartment was decent. You even had a social life. Or rather, you forced yourself to have one. Maybe so as not to worry anybody. Maybe because you wanted to remember what it was like to feel whole.

But it just felt as though nothing really mattered anymore. Nothing had been the same since.

Well. Except for the fact that one whole year later, you were once again hiding outside, the frigid winds covering the sound of your cries.

It started so well. Hyunjin and you. It had been on a night much like this one that you had come to realize you had special feelings for him. Feelings that had crossed the friendship line a while back, only, you couldn’t see it until Hyunjin announced his departure from the restaurant. It had seemed like the end of the world at the time. You couldn’t imagine your daily life without him—who would stay late with you and sweep the floors while listening to soothing music and discussing various topics? Who would come up with stupid jokes to lighten the mood on your bad days? Who would have your back when the restaurant was too busy and your section was more than you could handle? 

Who would put extra maraschino cherries in your drinks just to make you smile? 

It started so well. Perhaps too well. You skipped the ‘going on dates’ stage, jumping headfirst into this relationship because both of you believed in it and had strong feelings for the other. You didn’t doubt that. But, turns out, feelings are in no way a guarantee of success in a relationship. 

Hyunjin did leave his bartender position at Minho’s restaurant to open his own bar. A small, intimate establishment where great drinks were served. It was an instant success, mostly due to the warm, welcoming ambiance of the bar. The crowd was as diversified as it could be—on any given evening, the bar—called Nightcap—could be filled with people in work meetings, groups of friends playing board games, dates, family reunions, birthdays… Anyone, really. Hyunjin was proud of his bar and you were proud of him. 

You helped him as much as he’d let you, which wasn’t that much. He said he didn’t want it to become your burden and you respected that. You could tell he needed to achieve certain things on his own so that he could be at peace with it. And it was fine. 

Somewhere between that first night with him and just a few weeks later when you woke up one morning with your heart particularly full, you fell in love with Hyunjin. You woke him up to tell him so, even, leading to an entire day of passionate lovemaking with food deliveries in between rounds. 

Things were good for a while. Until they weren’t. You also left your job at the restaurant to work full-time at Nightcap and working with Hyunjin was amazing. Until it wasn’t. 

The worst part is that it wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t even yours. It just happened. He dedicated himself day and night to start his business and even if his plan was solid and he got help from Minho and a few other friends, a new business was a new business. At the end of his first financial trimester, Hyunjin was so shocked by the bar’s losses that he was unable to keep food down for an entire week. His anxiety levels were so high during that period that you didn’t recognize him—he was cold, distant, and even inconsiderate. 

But of course you could understand that, and it didn’t make you love him any less. 

You made Hyunjin lower your salary in the hopes that his losses would be less disastrous a few months later. To compensate, you decided to use your baking skills to make some money on the side. You found a bakery that hired—the two owners, a married couple, were close to retirement and they were looking to find good employees for when it would be time to pass the bakery along to a buyer who wished to run it. They liked you a lot and it was reciprocated, so they trusted you quickly and a lot. In the end, you became responsible for the bakery several days a week. 

You loved it but it was a lot. You’d finish your shift at Nightcap sometimes well past three to help Hyunjin close up and you would take an hour-long nap in the backroom before making your way to the bakery where you often worked until two or three in the afternoon. 

Anybody with a drop of insight would have seen it coming. But, maybe, love blinded you. Or maybe you were just too foolish. 

It was lovely. Being Hyunjin’s girlfriend. Test-tasting his signature drinks. Having him come up behind you and embrace you just so he could whisper sweet nothings into your ear. He bought you flowers. He test-tasted your cakes. He put extra maraschino cherries in your drinks, even if it was just a soda. He tried to make it all work—the crazy hours, the stress, the pressure, your relationship. 

It was amazing. Being Hyunjin’s girlfriend. Until it wasn’t.

And, months later, you found yourself hiding outside to cry in the cold. You didn’t want anybody to see your pain, your shame. You didn’t want anybody to see all of the space Hyunjin used to occupy within you because then they would know where all of your emptiness came from. 

You didn’t like speaking in absolutes but maybe, after all, coming here this weekend was the worst idea you ever had.

You swallowed your sobs when you heard a door open and close nearby. Oh no. Someone had noticed your absence—you quickly wiped your tears as well as you could, hoping the cold wind would reduce the flush on your face.

It was Jisung. You sighed in relief, glad it wasn’t Minho—how could he do this to you? It was one thing for two exes to have the same friend group, but it was another to invite Hyunjin without letting you know about it.

Jisung made his way to you, carrying an extra hoodie. “Hey.” He handed the hoodie to you, pulling the hood over his head to protect himself from the wind. “Come back, yeah?” 

You took a deep breath, looking away, staring at the scenery. The cabin Minho had rented this time around was even bigger than the first had been. Located deep in the mountains and surrounded by them, it offered a stunning view no matter where you looked. It was snowing heavily, hindering your sight, but even in the night, you could see the snow-covered evergreens and the white mountaintops. You had loved it just earlier. And now all that you wanted to do was to run away.

“I just need a minute,” you told Jisung, wrapping yourself into the hoodie he brought. It smelled like Changbin and you could only assume it was his. “You can go back inside, Ji.”

Jisung shook his head. “Nah, I think I’ll stay if that’s alright.” He mirrored you, leaning on the fence surrounding the patio. “I didn’t know he was going to be there. I would have told you.”

“I know you would have.” Out of everyone here, Jisung was the one who probably understood you the most. He, too, would have bitter memories of the other winter reunion, because it was then that he and Min-seo started dating. She left him after admitting she had cheated on him. Safe to say she was no longer a part of this friend group, but you could tell Jisung was still hurt. “I’m gonna leave. I’ll come back on Sunday to get you.” You two drove here together. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Jisung admitted, clicking his tongue. “Felix and Hyu—” He cleared his throat, embarrassed. “They said they barely made it here and that they were closing the roads behind them due to a blizzard. You would probably not make it very far. It took them almost two hours just to get from the village down the mountain to here.” 

You didn’t take that news well—it brought more tears to your eyes. You took a deep breath but exhaled it as a shaky sob. Despite the wind, Jisung caught it. He opened his arms and hugged you, holding you tight. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay. I’m sure you’ll be alright. Look at the place Minho rented!” He spun on his heels so that you faced the cabin despite hugging. “It’s huge! There’s gotta be enough space for both of you in there.” 

You figured you could just spend the entire weekend locked in your room and sneak out at night to get food or something. This way you wouldn’t see Hyunjin. At most you would hear his voice, and that would be painful enough.

You wished, so badly, that you didn’t care—everything would be easier. Because if you did that. If you hid away, if you avoided Hyunjin, he would know how affected you still were. And you were ashamed of that. You didn’t want him to know. You didn’t want him to know the impact his absence had on you, the toll it had taken on you.

As much as you wanted to run away, you couldn’t. Right? 

You didn’t want to hurt him.

But you wanted him to think you did not give a single fuck about the breakup. 

So you took a deep breath and nodded gently, prompting Jisung to pull away from you. “Let’s go back inside please, I’m freezing.”

He dragged you back toward the door without waiting, talking about dinner plans. It had been decided that tomorrow, Minho and you were supposed to cook the Christmas dinner, so naturally Jisung had a few requests of his personal favorites. You were almost certain he was making a point of being dramatic about it to distract you and you appreciated him even more for it.

You stopped him before he could turn the door handle. “Ji, is it really obvious that I cried?” For some reason, asking this question gave you a sense of deja vu.

He looked at you using the light filtering from inside to make his judgment. “Not too much. Hey, listen. It’s not by avoiding him forever that you’ll heal from it. Maybe facing that heartbreak is what you need.” 

The deja vu hit you even harder, making you lightheaded for a few seconds.

He was right and you hated that he was right. You said nothing, choosing to just follow him inside, immediately relieved from the cold by the ambient warmth of the cabin. You took a deep breath. Then another. 

The truth was that you just hadn’t seen Hyunjin at all since the breakup and you had no idea how you would react when you found yourself face to face with him. Maybe you would become enraged. Maybe you would freeze and lose your words. Maybe you would break down in tears like an idiot. 

Jisung was right. Avoiding Hyunjin would not heal the wound he left behind. But what he didn’t know—and what you were too ashamed to admit to Jisung—was that nothing ever would. You had let Hyunjin take all of this space inside you and now he was gone and you were empty. And it was not the kind of empty that could be replaced. It was not the kind of hollow that could be replenished. It would stay like that, preserved, unchanged.

You took off the hoodie—after just a few instants in the snowfall outside, it was completely drenched. You returned to the living room, your gaze fixated somewhere between the ground and one meter above it, no higher, avoiding any eye contact. The main floor consisted of one big room—the kitchen and living room were only separated by a half wall. 

You weren’t stupid. You noticed the voices quieting down as you entered but paid them no mind. Or rather you tried to look like you didn’t care and made your way near the fireplace where a few pieces of clothing and boots were already drying on the wall beside it. The cabin was completely quiet by the time you were done executing that simple motion and you could feel people’s eyes burning the back of your head. 

Felix called out your name first. You heard genuine joy in his voice but something else too—it was obvious he was trying to diffuse the tension. “It’s been too long!” 

You spun on your heels to face him. He hadn’t changed really—Felix was always Felix. Radiant and kind. He pulled you into a friendly hug which forced a faint smile on your lips despite how troubled you were. “Hey, Felix.” You tried very hard not to look behind him. “Didn’t think I’d see you here. How have you been?”

“Ah, pretty much the same.” He shrugged. “I sell office spaces and commercial buildings, exactly like I used to.” Felix had a chuckle. “Business is good though so I don’t complain. What about you?” 

You opened your mouth to respond but the words got stuck somewhere along the way, gnawing at your throat like disembodied hands. In a moment of weakness, you allowed your eyes to scan the room, and you saw him.

He’d been wearing a beanie and his thick winter jacket when they first came in and you did run away in literally less than a second, but Hyunjin, unlike Felix, had changed. Considerably. For a few seconds you couldn’t even breathe, stupefied by the mere fact that you were in the same room as him once again. You couldn’t look away from him.

And it seemed that he, too, couldn’t look away from you.

He sported much longer hair than he did the last time you saw him. It fell loosely, framing his face in a messy yet ravishing and controlled manner. He was just as handsome as he had always been. His big, brown eyes observed you from head to toe, his front teeth sinking into his plush bottom lip, showing his evident hesitation. He seemed skinnier than you remembered him and yet his sweater hugged his body at just the right places, displaying newly acquired muscle mass. You could only guess that he had become gym buddies with Changbin—you wouldn’t know. Apart from Ji and Minho, you didn’t really keep up super well with the guys from the restaurant.

But he had deep dark circles under his eyes and his energy was different than it had been. His lips bore the marks of his constant chewing at them, much like his nails and the skin around them. 

You had wondered, all this time, how it would feel when you would see Hyunjin again. Now you had your response.

It felt exactly like the day he broke up with you. Time had not soothed the pain—the sharp pieces of your broken heart pierced you from within as your forces abandoned you. You were bleeding out again. 

You gulped, your breathing suddenly shallow. Seeing Hyunjin again felt much like standing outside in a blizzard.

Felix’s facial expression became concerned and you wondered what you looked like exactly. Your pulse quickened dangerously when Hyunjin pushed himself up to come your way, followed by everyone’s gaze. Once again, the room became quiet. 

When Felix noticed Hyunjin, he offered you a flat smile, squeezed your shoulder, and walked away to return with the others, making sure to speak in an unnaturally loud voice. You panicked internally, watching, unable to move as Hyunjin approached. Was your vision blurry because of tears or because of sheer terror? God, you couldn’t let him see you cry. You just couldn’t. Not after all that had happened. 

You heard his voice when you turned away. Much like Felix, he simply called out your name, but his voice was quiet, soft, brittle. “Wait, please,” he added when he noticed you were still looking away but weren’t moving. “Can we like… talk?” 

He was standing next to you now, you could tell. You didn’t need to see to know—you could smell him, his complex cologne, his personal scent, the musky, unique smell of his shampoo. You knew he was right there because you could feel warmth emanating from his body. He had always been a walking furnace, after all. 

You inhaled shakily and, finally, you faced him. 

You could have collapsed from it alone but somehow managed to stay on your feet. You wanted to look everywhere at once. You wanted to try and read his eyes. You wanted to look at the beauty marks adorning his skin. You wanted to get hypnotized by the texture of his lips, just like you used to. 

He flinched too, almost dropping the beer he was holding. When he came to his senses, he glanced around the room, motioning at the hallway from which you came. “Can we? Talk?” 

With a nod, you walked into the private space, your heart beating at an uneven pace, making you feel as though you were on the verge of a heart attack. Your insides were cold, turned to ice, but your skin was hot, feverish, your cheeks burning. You made a point of only stopping at the far end of the hallway where the lighting was as dim as it could be. He couldn’t see you cry. He couldn’t see you blush. He couldn’t know. You did not want him to see the wounds he inflicted upon you. 

But when you two came to a stop, only silence reigned. You looked through the window in the door—in just a few minutes, the snow had erased your and Jisung’s footprints. You could barely see a few meters away from how thick the blizzard was. 

He couldn’t know.

So you tried your best to look like you had your shit together. “What did you want to tell me?” 

Hyunjin jumped, almost like he was surprised that you asked him a question. “What?” The shadows from the curtains covered half of his face, making it difficult to read him. 

“You said you wanted to talk,” you reminded him impatiently. This conversation needed to be as succinct as it could be. You estimated at about two, perhaps three minutes the time you had left before tears would inevitably roll down your cheeks. “So what did you want to talk about?” 

You had your guesses, all of them worse than the last. Maybe he wanted to flex some accomplishment to prove something to you. Maybe he wanted to tell you about a forgotten item at his apartment. Maybe he wanted to tell you he was getting engaged to Haley. 

The thought of that alone pulled all the air from your lungs—you pretended to clear your throat to help it pass. 

Hyunjin gulped. “It’s been so long. I just wanted to know how you’re doing.” 

He couldn’t know.

Everybody has a weakness, right? You hadn’t been certain about yours before meeting Hyunjin and especially before dating him. Because then you had found out it was almost impossible for you to lie to him. He said it had always been the case, even revealing that he had been able to read your mood swings long before he confessed. 

So he would definitely see right through you when you would force a smile on your face and tell him things were good and what about him, how’s the bar, everything?

“You still at the bakery?” he went on when the only response he got was silence.

You nodded. “Yeah. Were you able to secure the loan you wanted? For the renovations?” For months, Hyunjin had worked very hard to get a start-up loan for new businesses granted by the government. There was some work to be done in the building and he needed it.

A dark veil clouded his gaze. He drank from his beer as though to let a few seconds pass. “Yeah. Yeah, I got it.” He drank again. 

You let out a non-committal hm hm, unable to find an appropriate reaction. You were happy for him in a way. In a way, you didn’t wish him any harm. His well-being took nothing away from you. 

He looked tired, sure—but you remembered Minho’s first two years with the restaurant and he had that same look. A new business was much like a newborn baby, after all. Hyunjin seemed fatigued but you couldn’t see traces of sorrow on him. Maybe it was because it was dark, but he looked like he was just fine. Like he was over it.

Over you.

He could not know. That you were nowhere near over him. ‘Over him’ wasn’t even a different country—it was a whole other continent across the globe.

“Good for you man,” you heard yourself say and it sounded wrong. Good for you man. What kind of response was that?

“Yeah.” He stood there in the darkness, facing you, sometimes looking at the snow outside and other times letting his gaze linger on you. 

He used to tell you that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He used to tell you that you were his favorite person. He used to tell you that he loved your scent. Your taste. He used to tell you that he loved you.

“Has construction begun?” you inquired but you didn’t really want to know. You were looking for a way to end this conversation politely. “Are you adding a new section?” 

Again. “Yeah.” It was a flat yeah. It told you everything you needed to know, really. He wanted to talk to you because he, maybe, felt bad or something. He hadn’t been a great boyfriend at the end but he wasn’t a monster. It must be obvious how miserable you were and he felt bad that he, on the contrary, was just fine. You could only imagine he felt some sort of guilt.

“Where were those?” you asked, motioning at his beer, unable to bear it any longer. You would collapse under the weight of this conversation. “I could use a beer too.”

“Oh, Felix and I brought them. They’re in the fridge. Help yourself, ange—” He stopped before the end of his sentence, frozen in place, his mouth still agape, only able to stop the word from spilling out too late. He covered his lips like he couldn’t believe it.

Meanwhile, you battled the storm within you. Tears pricked at your eyes while waves—no, a tsunami—of memories washed over you. You wished, almost, that it was the bad memories that came back. It would make it so much easier. But it wasn’t. It was all of the good ones. It was the first time he kissed you. It was the first time he bought you flowers. It was the time he took you on an impromptu trip to the beach. 

It was all of the times he called you his angel. 

Hyunjin tried to apologize, becoming a stuttering mess, but you heard none of it—you were far away already, dashing up the stairs to your left before he could see your tears.

He couldn’t know. You didn’t want him to know. That he had made a barren place out of your heart. That you still dreamed about him sometimes and that it didn’t matter if it was a good dream or not. Either it was a nightmare in which you relived the breakup or sometimes even where he was dead, or it was a lovely dream in which he still loved you. The latter made waking up one of the most painful things you ever did. 

He couldn’t know how much you missed him.

Ten months ago 

You groaned when you heard your ringtone from the other room, trying not to lose focus as you put the finishing touches on the bottom part of the two-tiered cake you were working on. 

“Want me to get it for you?” Eric asked as he was busy with paperwork at the moment, sitting on a stool not far from yours. The cake-decorating apparatus took up almost all of the space on the work table, leaving him just a tiny corner. 

You completed the fine tracing of the flower you were drawing in pink icing before looking up. “It’s fine, I’ll check it out later. I’m almost done anyway.”

“I knew it was a good idea to put you in charge of the decoration. That cake is gorgeous,” Eric pointed out with a smile. “I bet that woman will have the best Valentine’s Day.” 

Eric was the son of the bakery’s owners—while they had decided it was time for them to retire, they didn’t want to sell the bakery to just about anybody. Eric, a self-employed accountant, had taken over most of the management to allow his parents some rest without having to give away the business they had worked so hard for all of their lives. You liked him—Eric was pragmatic and understanding, which he got from his parents who were two lovely people. He knew you worked hard at Nightcap too, and often forced you to take naps in the breakroom if he noticed you were tired. 

“Bet she will,” you responded, finding nothing else to say. You remembered her boyfriend who came in last week to order the cake. He had admitted to you he would propose to her on Valentine’s Day. 

Your plans for Valentine’s Day? Work, work, and more work. Most definitely not getting engaged.

Life used to be so much easier. It hadn’t always been simple at the restaurant but it had been somewhere you were comfortable at. You worked crazy hours and it never really mattered, it never took a toll on you. You could be exhausted and functional at once. Maybe, because you were never as exhausted as you were now. 

You sighed, grabbing a few more leaf-shaped pieces of fondant to adorn the roses you had applied earlier. Life used to be much easier but you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world, would you? Because it meant you had Hyunjin. It meant you were with him, that the both of you formed a team. You believed in his project and his vision and you wanted to do everything possible to help him make it last. There was nothing you wanted more than his success. 

But, by god, you were so fucking tired. Your only plans after this cake, which was the last of your Valentine’s Day orders, was to go home, take a boiling hot bubble bath and then pass out in bed for as long as possible. Eric had given you tomorrow off—while the bakery would be busy, his mom had come in today exceptionally to do some prep for tomorrow, allowing you some time to rest. That wouldn’t last very long though—there was a Valentine’s event organized at Nightcap, and naturally, you’d go help out over there.

At least it meant you would spend the evening with your boyfriend. 

It wasn’t what it used to be. You were afraid to admit it even to yourself but it was true. You couldn’t even remember the last time both of you had enough energy—or will—to fuck. 

It wasn’t easy for Hyunjin. He had high standards for himself, which meant he perceived any setback, minor or major, as an absolute failure. He was tense and often depressed. It put a lot of pressure on his shoulders and he did not share any of it with you. He seemed resolute to carry that burden all on his own. 

At that thought, your eyes filled up with tears. You grabbed a few random utensils on the table and went to the sink to rinse them just to make sure Eric wouldn’t see. 

Only, it was too late.

“Leave that, I’ll do the dishes…” Eric appeared behind you, his soothing voice accompanied by an equally soothing hand on the small of your back. He tried nudging you away but you didn’t let him. “Go home. You need sleep.” 

You held the batter-covered spatulas under the warm water, your gaze fixed on them, working very hard on zoning out. On purpose. These days, pretending that the outside world didn’t exist was the only way you could feel peace or at least a semblance of it. Your phone went off again but you ignored it.

There were too many thoughts in your head—it was impossible to make sense of them, but all of them revolved around the same thing.

Hyunjin. And how he was pushing you away, slowly but decidedly. A little more every day. Like he was actively trying to find ways to keep you at a distance. You knew him. You knew when he was worried or when he was sad or when he was angry. Sometimes he was all of those at the same time, but he wouldn’t let you comfort him. On his bad days, you barely recognized him. He was short-tempered and barely spoke to you, choosing to quarantine himself some place you were not.

At first, you just told yourself he wasn’t perfectly comfortable with you, maybe. You could understand that—the relationship had moved quickly, perhaps a little too fast. Not everyone is used to just displaying their deepest emotions to others, not when it was about something as significant as Hyunjin’s projects. You gave him space so that he could learn how to process these big emotions on his own, figuring that you would simply dive in when the right moment came.

But the right moment never came. 

What made it so hard was the fact that Hyunjin used to be an excellent partner when it wasn’t about Nightcap. He was romantic and showered you with kind gestures. He was vocal about his love for you and supported you in your own endeavors as well as he could. So you tried to keep the relationship working—a storm did not mean the sun would never be out again. You loved him and you wanted to be with him. At any cost.

The wall he was building between the two of you was getting higher and higher. Your calloused hands were sore from climbing and your arms could barely support you anymore. Sooner rather than later, you would fall back before you could even have a peek at the other side of it. 

Eric’s voice brought you back to the present moment. “That’s enough now,” he simply said, reaching for the utensils you were holding. They weren’t even under the water anymore—it was your hand that had been there instead. It took a few seconds for the pain to reach you, your skin darkening where the water had burned you.

He did not give you a choice—Eric wrapped his arm around your shoulders and brought you back to the worktable, forcing you to sit down while he searched a freezer for some ice. Once it was applied to your hand, he took care of carefully packaging the cake and storing it in the walk-in as you stared through the large windows at the front. Life was happening out there, as normal. You just felt like you were outside of it. 

“You’re taking the week off,” Eric said with an accusatory tone when he came back. “And do not argue. I’m not hearing it,” he added when you turned to him to protest. “If you come back here before your time off is over, I’ll fire you on the spot.”

You wanted to cry then, not minding that he would witness it, only the tears didn’t come. You absorbed the sorrow back and a little more of it just became a part of your DNA. 

“Eric—” you started, your voice foreign. 

“You gotta talk to him,” Eric cut you off. “You have to. You’re not seeing it through my eyes—if you did, you would be appalled.” 

Something ugly emerged in your belly—heavy and hard like lead but colder than the ice that was melting on your hand. “You’re right,” you replied, pushing yourself up. “I’m not seeing it through your eyes. I’m seeing it through mine. Because it’s my fucking life, not yours.” 

You regretted it as soon as you spoke—it was then that the tears made their appearance. In less than two seconds, Eric’s arms were wrapped around you and he was pulling you into a tight hug, patting you gently. Your attempt at resisting him was weak and you found your face buried in the crook of his neck, embracing him back, holding onto him like you were afraid to fall. 

“I’m s—sorry,” you stuttered between sobs. “Eric, I’m so sorry, I’m just…”

He shushed you. “You’re fine. Just breathe for me, okay? Deep breaths. Yes, like that.” He sighed, resting his chin on the top of your head. “Sweetheart,” he whispered into your ear. “He’s hurting you. Can’t you tell?” 

The sob that spilled from your lips was heart-wrenching—you closed your fists tighter around his shirt, more of your warm tears rolling down his neck. 

“It’s just that I’m useless, Eric.” You tried to breathe deeply as he advised, but only a little oxygen made it to your lungs. “There’s nothing I can do to help him. I love him. I love him so much. I think—no, I know—he’s the love of my life. But all I do is make things worse.”

Eric clicked his tongue, pulling away to look you in the eyes. “That isn’t true. And if it’s true, it isn’t on you. It’s not your fault he’s shutting himself off.”

“But it is,” you insisted, wiping your face with the back of your hand. “If I were a better girlfriend, I could do more, you know? I would know what to do, I would make him happy again.”

Eric’s silence hurt you more than anything he could have told you. He just stared at you with a saddened expression, finding no words to comfort you, or perhaps knowing you weren’t ready to hear the truth. 

What you said was also the truth, though. Hyunjin hated it when you were trying to comfort him. He would say that he felt like a burden, like a responsibility. You didn’t see the problem with that. He wasn’t a burden per se—but you had no problem with feeling a sense of responsibility when it came to his happiness. You wanted to do things to make his life better. It wasn’t a chore. It was just… love.

But he hated it. So you had learned how to conceal those attempts at comfort. You had to pretend and give him a succinct response if he told you about something that worried him. Then you had to wait. Sometimes you’d surprise him with some of his favorite foods, other times you called a few friends so that they would come over. It didn’t matter. It just needed to look like you weren’t actively trying to help him.

And now you couldn’t help but feel like he was also resenting you for not helping him. 

Maybe you were falling already. Maybe you had been falling for a long time and you just couldn’t see.

“I’ll drive you home,” Eric decided. And the truth was that you had no energy left in you to resist him, so you let him grab your bag, your jacket, and your phone and you let him drag you to his car after he carefully closed the shop. 

The car ride was completely silent—he turned off the radio as soon as he started the car. The night was cold but not windy and you rested your head against the cool glass of the window just to feel something. 

“I have a few colleagues that could help,” Eric said out of nowhere. He was a few years older than you and you knew he had a large network of acquaintances. “There’s Jake, I told you about Jake. His uncle owns a bar, you know?” You remembered vaguely. “He works for his uncle, but I’m sure he’d be more than happy to step in for a couple of days. You could go somewhere. Just you and Hyunjin.” 

The idea was pleasant in theory but you knew better. You wouldn’t become a better girlfriend just because you were in another place. If anything, it would all make it worse. He would be upset that you’d even suggest such a thing. He would never leave his bar to someone he didn’t know, not for a weekend, not even for an hour.

You used to think he was ashamed. But you knew better. 

It was just that you failed him. 

Eric stopped his car in front of your building. You were still trying to find something to tell him but nothing came to mind. Instead, you gave him a nod and you got out of the car, not even looking back as you made your way toward the entrance, searching your bag for your keys while you waited for the elevator. As you did so, the screen of your phone lit up when you accidentally brushed it. 

The wallpaper was a picture of Hyunjin and you. A selfie that he took some time last year when things were still good. You couldn’t recognize the girl in the picture. She was you only you weren’t her. Not anymore. 

You had two missed calls—the time matched the ringtones you heard while at the bakery. Both calls were from Hyunjin, but he didn’t leave a voicemail.

The apartment was quiet when you entered. You moved in with him soon after you began dating him, head over heels happy to spend as much time as possible with the man you loved. His apartment was more spacious so it just made sense for you to move in here. 

It took a few seconds for you to realize the shower was running. So Hyunjin was home, only he hadn’t turned any of the lights on when he came in. Everything was dark and still. 

Exhausted from your day and from crying, you went to the bedroom, waiting for him to get out of the shower so that you could shower too—

—and you woke up later. It took you a few seconds to understand that you had fallen asleep in the first place, most likely due to your extreme fatigue.

It was still dark outside and everything was as quiet as it had been when you came home. The same knot was still in your throat too. You closed your eyes again, taking a deep breath, extending your arm to reach the other side of the bed, fully expecting Hyunjin to be asleep next to you.

But your hand touched nothing except the cool blanket. 

You sat upright, looking around the bedroom, looking for him. He had been home after all—you had just fallen asleep while he was in the shower. About a million voices in your head started to whisper things you didn’t want to hear but you couldn’t tune them out. Maybe he came back home to shower just so he could go out again after and go fuck that waitress he hired some time ago. The one who was always after him. The one who was openly flirting with him. He kept denying it, he kept saying you were projecting.

Not really knowing what to do, you left the bedroom to check the bathroom just in case, but it was empty. So you made your way to the living room instead. And it was where you found him.

The TV was playing at a low volume, displaying the anime that Hyunjin was watching to fall asleep these days. He was laying on the couch, motionless, his chest rising and sinking slowly to the rhythm of his breathing. You felt relief and pain at once. He wasn’t out fucking that girl. But he had chosen to sleep here instead of by your side.

You swallowed your pride and lowered yourself next to the couch, giving his face a gentle caress. Hyunjin hummed in his sleep, frowning but not waking up. This time, you cupped his cheek and tugged a strand of his silky hair behind his ear. God, he was stunning. It seemed like it had been so long since you could observe him like that. He didn’t seem quite at peace, not even in his sleep, but it was better than nothing. 

You pulled yourself closer to Hyunjin and kissed his sleepy lips, just pressing your mouth onto his. He let out the familiar groan he usually did when he woke up. 

“You’ll rest better if you sleep in the bed,” you whispered, but he didn’t move. 

A scowl appeared on your brows. “Baby?” 

He shifted in his ‘sleep’, rolling with his back facing you. Only you could swear he was just pretending to sleep. It sounded crazy, it sounded insane, and it was very much unlike him, and yet you couldn’t see it any other way.

That reality was just too painful to process so you walked away, giving Hyunjin the space that he wanted but was too embarrassed to ask for with words. You didn’t cry, even if you wanted to. You went to take a shower, washing the day away, scrubbing your body vigorously as though it would make you into a new person. But it didn’t. When you turned the water off, you were still you. Just you. You were still the girl Hyunjin was avoiding. 

You lay awake in bed for several hours that night, waiting to see if Hyunjin would get up any time soon, even just to get a glass of water in the kitchen. You stared at your ceiling, your heart heavy with the memory of the sweet taste of maraschino cherries. To you, today, they just tasted like Hyunjin’s love, and you craved it more than you could say.

You dozed off without realizing you did but when you woke up, Hyunjin was gone.

You spent your entire Valentine’s Day worrying. Under normal circumstances, you would have picked up your phone to text Hyunjin and ask where he was. You even knew which response to expect—he would tell you that he was at the bar, getting everything ready for tonight’s event. But you didn’t. Not immediately at least. There was a wound on your heart and it was a little too raw to poke at it just yet. 

Instead you kept yourself busy for a few hours by deep cleaning the entire apartment. The washing machine ran non-stop until sometime around two in the afternoon. By then, your entire body was sore from all the housework done but you had finally figured out what you were going to text Hyunjin. 

You: hey! ♥ happy valentine’s day baby. are you at the bar?

Hyunjin: you too angel. yes setting everything up for later

The response was a little dry but you swallowed your tears and your pride, determined to make things right somehow. If he ever let you.

You: I figured! I’ll be right there. want me to pick up some takeout on the way there? anything you want, it’s on me!

Hyunjin: you don’t need to come. felix is here and most of the staff 

He literally did not want you there. He did not want you anywhere near him. No matter how obvious it was—and for how long it had been—you just couldn’t make sense of it, not really. Or maybe some part of your brain refused to process it to spare you, only it did not feel like being spared. It did not matter if you realized it in small increments or all at once. The end result was the same. 

He did not love you anymore.

And you didn’t know what to do about that. You hadn’t thought it was possible. You hadn’t imagined it would ever happen. If you were honest—and admitting this even just to yourself was difficult—when Hyunjin and you became a thing, you never imagined how it would end. You never envisioned the termination of it because it did not feel like there would be one. And that had been absurd, obviously. You could see that now. It had even been borderline cocky—that was not the kind of confidence you ever displayed before. To assume someone would love you until the end of times or whatever. Not that every day would be sunshine and unicorns and rainbows, but that it was the kind of love that would overcome the dark days.

How conceited, presumptuous of you.

Now that the truth was catching up with you though, you found yourself humbled the fuck down. 

You did something stupid but it was the only thing you could think to do at the moment—you searched your nightstand to find the leftover painkillers they had prescribed you last year when you sprained your ankle and struggled with physical therapy. You had one left, which you kept in case you injured yourself or something. Today seemed like a perfect occasion to put yourself into a coma of sorts. You washed down the pill with a shot of your favorite whiskey and buried yourself under your covers, staining the pillow with your tears, crying yourself to sleep. 

It was dark when you woke up. You were getting tired of waking up at night with your heart broken in more and more pieces but you pushed yourself up and made yourself shower. Then you did your hair and even put on a little bit of mascara. The truth was that you just wanted to see him. You wanted him to kiss you. You never wanted to forget what it felt like. To be kissed by him. To be loved by Hyunjin. 

The party was going strong at Nightcap. Hyunjin had organized a few games—you had even helped come up with them. The one you worked on the most was the free drink game. Single people could sign up and a number was assigned to them, as well as one free drink ticket. An entire section of the bar was reserved for them where they could meet new people. When someone was interested in another, they could go to the bar and use their free drink ticket to give to that other person. The thing is—the free drink would only be given if two people submitted each other for it. Of course, people could cheat if they wanted but it was their loss. The drink was one glass of Love Potion, a drink designed by Hyunjin several months ago, especially for tonight. Prosecco and cherry vodka on the rocks with a lime-flavored sweet and salty rim. Served with maraschino cherries. 

Because he said that it was with those that he made you fall in love with him.

You remembered his smile as he told you that. You remembered his lips too, stained with the cherry juice from testing different versions of his drink.

Life used to be so good. 

Jay—the apprentice bartender—was mixing up a few drinks, on his own behind the bar. You found it unusual for Hyunjin to leave the young man alone on such a busy night, but he didn’t show up, not even after waiting a few minutes. Yet you had seen his car in the parking lot so you knew he was here. Somewhere. 

Felix was in the bar’s tiny kitchen, doing some preparations. Nightcap didn’t serve meals per se but did offer appetizers and other snacks. He saluted you warmly, as he always did, but he couldn’t tell you where Hyunjin was. “I mean he said he was gonna get more limes at the back to slice but that was a while ago,” he said. “Is he not here?” 

No, he was not. 

In hindsight, you probably should have gone home at that moment. Or maybe not, depending on how you looked at it. But instead you thanked Felix and, ignoring the lump in your throat, crossed the kitchen to make your way toward the back. A short hallway separated the kitchen and the storage room, where an emergency exit was also located. You shivered when you passed the old door, feeling the cold breeze from outside through it. 

You were rehearsing in your head what you thought you would tell Hyunjin when you heard a familiar voice coming from the storage room.

“You can tell me what’s wrong, I’m here for you, Hyune.” It was Haley speaking to him, a waitress. A really pretty waitress who seemed to really really really enjoy working for your boyfriend. “You’re an amazing man. You deserve better than a cheater.”

Your heart halted but so did your feet—you came to an abrupt stop just before you entered the room, a hand over your mouth to cover the sound of the gasp you just let out. A cheater? Was she talking about you? 

A cheater?

HYUNE?

You knew what was happening and yet you couldn’t believe it. You stretched your neck—just a little—to get a peek inside of the room. Hyunjin was right next to the large commercial fridge where you knew he kept the limes. Haley stood before him, very close to him. She was touching him, too, squeezing his shoulder and then letting her hand travel down to his arm, caressing him. Feeling him up.

Just about a million thoughts hit your brain at the same time but it was only a few that you could hear clearly. You knew Hyunjin had no enjoyment in his relationship with you anymore. That was one thing. But to call you a cheater and then hide with his waitress to let her coddle him? Seduce him, even? What kind of nerve did he have?

Was he this unhappy with you? That he would make up stories about cheating, perhaps to alleviate his own guilt? That had to be it, right? He was projecting. He was projecting because he wanted to fuck Haley—if he hadn’t already. He would sometimes tell you that you were the one projecting but now you could tell this whole thing was just a big, messy projecting inception.

You knew things weren’t great but you would never have imagined it would come to this. Maybe, somewhere, you still held the hope that things would work out. That Hyunjin loved you the way you loved him, which was to say, enough to try.

The hit was violent. It felt a lot like you had been kicked in the chest. Or like Hyunjin himself had cut you open to crush your heart with his bare hands. 

What happened next was even worse. You bit into the hand still covering your mouth so as not to be heard when Haley pulled Hyunjin by the collar of his shirt to kiss him. 

You looked away because the sight was too much. Because it felt like you would die if you saw more of it. You took a feeble step toward the emergency exit, your legs trembling just as much as the rest of your body. 

You heard Hyunjin’s voice coming from inside the room. “What the fuck?” There were a few noises, like fabrics brushing and footsteps. You couldn’t comprehend his intonation. You couldn’t tell if he was shocked or if he was, perhaps, denying how badly he wanted it. He said something else but you couldn’t hear it over the sound of your pulse and the high-pitched ringing that echoed in your ear. 

Haley sounded displeased when she replied to him, and yet honey coated her voice. “You can pretend all you want but I see the way you look at me,” she said with a joyless chuckle. “Don’t you think about me when you touch yourself? My body, my tits? I saw you checking me out.” There was a pause during which you leaned against the wall behind you or else you might just collapse. “Tell me, Hyune, do you think about me when you fuck her?” 

You had heard enough and yet you barely controlled your body when you ran away, pushing the emergency door to put as much distance as you could between you and this fucking place and Hyunjin and that girl. You couldn’t breathe, no matter how hard you tried to force oxygen into your lungs. The February air was cold and ruthless but you recognized the signs of a panic attack, knowing what was to come if you didn’t snap out of it. 

You found your phone in your purse but you didn’t even know who to call. The only person you really wanted to be with was Hyunjin. But he wanted otherwise. You had failed him so spectacularly that he… that he…

As you scrolled through your contacts, you realized how alone you were without him. Ironically, it was Minho’s name that popped into your mind. But it was Valentine’s Day after all and he would either be with his wife or at the restaurant, or perhaps both. In any case, there was no way a call from his ex would be welcome. Eric would be busy too, but maybe you could call Jisung. But to tell him what? What was there even to say? 

You heard the door you had just come out from open again and it was closed just a few seconds after. You were on the other corner of the building, hiding there while you regained your senses if you ever would. 

“Baby? Angel? Is that you?” 

Hyunjin.

You realized he must have heard the door. In your urgency to get the fuck away from this place, you hadn’t really bothered with being quiet. 

Angel. How could he allow this word on his tongue after what he did? After he kissed that girl with it? 

It took a few seconds for your feet to obey your brain but you didn’t make it very far before Hyunjin caught up with you. Neither of you was wearing even a jacket—you had left your winter coat on a hook in the kitchen with everyone else’s, but you couldn’t even process the cold. Not the one outside, anyway.

He looked like he didn’t know why you were here. Not really here at the bar but here, behind it, running away, wildly underdressed. He also looked like he knew very well what was going on. 

“Oh my god,” he sighed when he made it to you. “Come inside, you’ll freeze. Are you okay?”

He tried to grab your hand but you dodged him. Hyunjin’s facial expression darkened—he opened his mouth to say something but no words came out. 

Part of you wanted to leave now, digest it all, and have a talk tomorrow, or even later tonight. But another, stronger part of you couldn’t bear keeping it inside for even one more second. It felt like trying to swallow a knife. 

“I saw you,” was all you said. “I just want you to know that I saw you and I heard you.”

The little color he had drained from his face. “W—What?” His bottom lip was trembling—a telltale sign that he was going to cry. “No, no, I—I pushed her away, angel, listen—”

You tsked him, shaking your head in disbelief. You could believe that. That he had pushed her away. Because they were in a public place and he was very notably in a relationship, and people would talk. “It’s fine,” you shrugged. It was not fine but you went on. “She’s hot, I get it.”

“I fired her,” Hyunjin responded without a pause, his voice flat. 

You looked into his eyes, realizing you had no idea what was going on in his head. Realizing you didn’t know who you could trust more. Him, or yourself. Perhaps the correct answer was neither.

“So? Do you?” you replied. “Do you think about her when you touch yourself? When you fuck me?”

You hadn’t seen anger in Hyunjin very often and certainly never to the level he was getting at, so it took you a few seconds to recognize that he was enraged. Something flicked in his eyes, like a warning, but you ignored it. “Are we going to pretend you’re not fooling around with your boss?” 

The question left you speechless. You took a step back, your shoulder blades meeting the brick wall behind you. “What?” You weren’t even surprised—you were properly dumbfounded, as though Hyunjin had spoken in a language you weren’t fluent in.

Hyunjin was getting impatient. A breeze blew over the both of you and a few strands of hair fell over his forehead, obstructing his eyes. “Can we skip the part where you pretend you don’t understand what I’m talking about?” he snickered, looking disgusted. “No, I’m not fucking fantasizing about Haley. But I did call you last night. Twice. To tell you I was on my way to pick you up from the bakery so we could go home. Got no answer—I figured, fine, you’re busy.” 

You thought you knew where this was going but you couldn’t even believe that you were here, right now, having this conversation.

“I saw you through the front windows,” Hyunjin went on. “It was kinda dark, but I saw enough to draw my own conclusions.” 

This explained everything about the awful feeling gnawing at you from the inside. It hadn’t left you since Hyunjin had ignored you last night.

“He just hugged me,” you retorted with a small voice. You didn’t know if you were shaking because it was cold or because you had never felt as broken as you felt now. “I was crying.”

“Sure. A hug. That lasted at least one minute, probably more,” Hyunjin commented. “I wouldn’t know, I walked away. Tell me, does he “““hug””” you like that often?” He emphasized his point by dramatically air quoting the word. How does he like to “““hug””” you? Rough? From behind? Missionary? Does he—”

Your hand left the side of your body before you even realized it—you slapped Hyunjin in the face, shocked at what you were doing just as much as what he was saying and the disdain with which he was speaking to you. Tonight was too much. All of it was entirely too much—barely two minutes ago you witnessed a kiss between him and another woman and yet it was you who was being accused of cheating?

Hyunjin stood before you, speechless, feeling the reddened skin of his cheek like he couldn’t believe it.

“Yes, a hug.” Your voice was shaking.

He cocked his head to the side. “A hug. And then he’ll try to hit that,” he retorted, pressing his lips together.

It felt like it would help you so much if you could figure out exactly what it was that you were feeling. You were furious. You were hurt. You felt sad and betrayed and hopeless. 

You were scared.

Maybe you had known deep inside you, for a while now, that it would come to this. 

“He’s gay. He has a boyfriend. He’s not trying to ‘hit that’. I’m not trying to ‘hit that’. He’s worried about me.” You took a deep breath but only managed to exhale pathetic sobs. “I’m so alone. I’m just so fucking alone, Hyunjin. You don’t even look at me anymore. You just sulk and when I try to pull you back up, when I try to be there for you, you push me away. It hurts, by the way. It hurts when you do that.” 

Hyunjin blinked slowly, his gaze becoming unfocused as though he was reviewing the veracity of your words. It felt terrible to have finally said it. It felt wonderful. Like throwing up after drinking too much. Tasted just as nasty, too. 

“So I hurt you,” Hyunjin replied flatly. “I hurt you.” 

“I know you don’t mean to,” you added. “I just—”

He cut you off. “It was about time you told me,” he said, his voice barely audible. “Why the hell are you wasting your time with me, then?” 

Your heart dropped—it was so violent that you had to press a hand over your chest. It felt like you were going to have a heart attack. “I’m not wasting my time, I’m just saying—”

“No, I got it. I hurt you. Have you ever stopped and wondered if maybe you hurt me, too?” It would have been better if Hyunjin hit you in the face. Anything would have been better than that. “You don’t know how alone I feel too. It’s fine that you don’t want to make me a priority, but it would have been nice to feel like you have my back.”

You buried your face in your hands, hiding your tears away. It couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t be telling you that. It couldn’t end.

Not like this.

“But I do have your back,” you mumbled, the pieces of your heart stabbing you from the inside. “I love you—you know that, right?” 

The expression on Hyunjin’s face gave you the response he didn’t speak. 

“Are you breaking up with me?” you asked, your eyes wide. 

“I don’t see what the point of staying together is. If all I do is hurt you and sulk. It’s quite obvious that you’ll be happier without me.”

He walked away. He just walked away.

It was Felix who found you outside some time later, alerted by Hyunjin’s awful mood, or so he said. He was nice. He brought you your coat and offered to go home with you but he was Hyunjin’s friend and he should stay with him. He insisted on calling a cab for you, but when the driver asked you where you were going, you did not give him the address of Hyunjin’s apartment—your apartment. You asked him to take you to the restaurant.

It was the end of the evening there—the dining room was crowded mostly by couples who were now eating dessert and drinking champagne. When you inquired to some of the new employees about Jisung, they all told you he was upstairs with the boss. 

It used to feel like home. This place. The smells, the sounds. It was in this place that maraschino cherries took the taste of love. You crossed the restaurant, keeping your eyes on the floor so as not to see the bar section on the other side. You went directly to the staircase, hoping to find Jisung in his office, but only he was in Minho’s. 

It was the two of them who comforted you that night—or tried, at least. You would never forget the look on their faces when you pushed the door open. It was like they had seen a ghost. Or worse. It made you wonder what you looked like.

You figured you most likely looked like a woman who had lost everything.

Because you sure as hell felt like it. 

Now

Imagine holding the best, most beautiful gift life could ever give you. Imagine feeling its weight in the palm of your hand, the texture of it too, and its warmth. Imagine it scurrying along your arm to bury itself in your chest, making a home out of your heart. Imagine taking care of it, this light inside of you, to make sure it never goes out. 

Imagine a downpour. A monsoon. Imagine not building a roof over the light. Imagine letting the light burn itself out in order to keep yourself warm. And letting it. Because maybe your brain felt like you ought to be punished for something, and what better punishment than to take away from you that one thing, that warmth that you love so much, even if it meant to hurt it all the while? 

After all, there could be only one way to separate that light from your heart, so imagine drinking poison in the hopes it would poison it, too.

Imagine the light drowning right before your eyes. 

What you would see is the state of Hyunjin’s heart. 

He had it all. He had it all because he had you. Maybe it was from missing you too much but he would say that he fell in love with you at first sight and he has only loved you more and more since. 

Maybe it was just because of the way he longed for you. Maybe it was because it was all that he had left. The longing, the yearning. The memory of you. 

Hyunjin was aware of his mistakes. He knew them a little too well—he played them in his head almost at all times. 

He had it all but he didn’t know that he did while it was happening. He was greedy. He had the bar and it was great, it was like a dream come true. Only he was too proud, and too ashamed, too. He really believed he could make it on his own. He didn’t want his problems to become yours. 

He didn’t want you to see him fail. 

He had it all but none of it was worth anything if you weren’t there with him.

Hyunjin had come to understand that a little too late—that he couldn’t just share the good things with you. That true love meant, also, sharing the burdens, the ugly stuff. Really sharing, not just pretending to.

By the time that information settled in, you were long gone. 

Those were the worst months of his life. 

Those were months of sleepless nights, of regret, of shame. Big decisions brewing at the back of his mind and at the very front of it too, crushing him under their weight. Months and months and months of missing you and knowing you deserved better than a guy like him, whose first instincts had been to sabotage the relationship instead of dealing with his issues. You deserved better than a coward.

The colder it got outside, the more vividly he remembered you. 

Hyunjin called Minho one evening in early December, only a few weeks ago. He made it look like he wanted to catch up on him—Hey, it’s been a long time man, how are things?—but really Hyunjin wanted to ask about Minho’s contacts in the food and beverage industry.

And maybe, also, he wanted to ask about you.

“Oh, business has been as good as it can be,” Minho told him after Hyunjin inquired. “Just super grateful for the staff, everyone’s working hard during the holidays.” He paused then. “Hey, Hwang. Are you free some time around the 20th?” 

Hyunjin thought about it, looking at the calendar hanging in Nightcap’s break room. “That’s a Friday. Those are busy,” he replied. Naturally, as a bar owner, he did not have the luxury to take Fridays off. “Why?”

“Ah, of course,” Minho replied politely, clearing his throat. “I rented a cabin in the mountains again since it was such a success the first time. Too bad you can’t make it, you’d be welcome, Felix too—” 

Hyunjin almost dropped his phone, his heart racing. “I can make time,” he said without waiting. “I mean, I could ask someone to take over for a couple of days, I—” He wondered if he sounded as desperate as he was. 

Minho let out a non-committal sound, clicking his tongue. “Are you only saying that because you think she’ll be there?” He didn’t need to specify who he was talking about—Hyunjin knew. 

He was right. Minho was right. Hyunjin had vowed himself he would stay away from you—he had caused you enough pain anyway. He had to pay for the terrible mistakes he made. But the temptation was just too much.

“Before you ask, yes she RSVP’d,” Minho went on. “You should come too. I think it’s about time the two of you get some closure. Fair warning though—I will beat you up if you make her cry. Don’t bring your girlfriend, only Felix.” Hyunjin tried to stop him to at least let him know he sure as hell didn’t have a girlfriend, but Minho didn’t let him. “I’ll text you the address and directions when I hang up. We’re also having a Secret Santa gift exchange. To keep it simple, I’ll pair everyone in an online randomizer. So I’ll text you about that in a couple of days too. I’ll see you on the 20th, Hwang. Good talk.” 

He just hung up. One minute later, Hyunjin was sent a Maps link with an address located in a remote village up in the mountains. 

Two days later, Minho was texting him again to let him know that he would be your Secret Santa. 

Minho: Better not fuck this up, Hwang.

Hyunjin knew he ought to call Minho and ask him to redraw the names because it just wasn’t appropriate. In all honesty, Minho might have tweaked the results. He knew he ought to call him to cancel the whole thing. Hyunjin shouldn’t go. Perhaps he would be tempted. By you.

He shouldn’t go. But he was not strong enough to resist. 

He only wanted you to know what had really happened. He wanted you to know that he was sorry, that he never fucked Haley and never even wanted to, that he never actually thought you and Eric had slept together. He was just upset. And tired. And inadequate. 

He hadn’t apologized for what he had done—you hadn’t given him the occasion to do so. The day after the breakup, you came into the apartment with Minho, Jisung, and Chan. Chan kept him company—as in, making sure he was never in the same room as you were—while the other two helped you pack up your things. You did not look at him but he heard you cry from the other room. You left the apartment. When he went to the bedroom, your keys were on the unmade bed, and his heart was in his throat.

He did not deserve to apologize, but it was his one shot at telling you the truth and admitting his faults. He wouldn’t miss it.

Imagine holding the best, most beautiful gift life could ever give you. Imagine fucking up so bad that your entire life is ruined. 

“Dinner is ready,” Jisung’s voice said through the door. He knocked again. “We made pasta with the sauce Chan brought. The one you like so much,” he added. “Min just opened a bottle of wine. Come on.” 

You sighed, burying your face into your pillow. He didn’t understand. You had tried staying—you had tried having a normal conversation with your ex, but it couldn’t work out. It meant that you couldn’t stay. You had been devising a plan for the past hour or so. While Christmas music was playing downstairs and smells from Chan’s delicious pasta sauce started floating in the air, you were checking if the motel you had seen in the village on your way here was open and if there was a room for rent. A little snow didn’t worry you. 

Good thing you hadn’t really taken the time to unpack your bag.

“Are you there?” Jisung asked, wiggling the door handle to see if you had locked it. You had not, perhaps in your hurry to run away from Hyunjin or because you didn’t imagine anyone would come after you. 

He cracked open the door, just barely, staring at you from the shadows of the hallway. Your room was dark too as you had not bothered turning on any lights during your crying fit. It was a small room but it had a nice view—like most of the bedrooms in the cabin, it even had a balcony. It had a cozy, rustic vibe to it with three of the four walls made of distressed wood paneling, the one facing your bed was built with warm-red bricks. It was such a shame. You had loved the room upon seeing it and had been actually looking forward to your weekend here, as much as you could anyway.

It was hard for you to look forward to things these days. But this weekend was supposed to be good. You were supposed to cook the Christmas dinner tomorrow with Min and you would bake some cookies and a cake, too. You had been assigned as Seungmin’s Secret Santa and you had found a bomb-ass gift for him which was a baseball shirt autographed by his favorite player. He would owe you his life after this. Okay, maybe not literally, but still. You couldn’t wait to see the look on your friend’s face when he would unwrap it.

Not anymore though. You wouldn’t be here tomorrow night. Hell, if there was a god and if that  god was good, you wouldn’t even be here in an hour. 

“I decided to leave,” you told Jisung, sitting up. “You can’t stop me.” 

Jisung fully opened the door. “You can’t though,” he pointed out. “You saw the snow.”

“It’s snow, not a horde of dragons attacking the mountain. I’ll manage.” You stood, putting on a denim jacket over your t-shirt and grabbing your bag. 

“A horde of dragons? You watch too much TV, friend.” Jisung shook his head. “Please don’t leave tonight. We talked about this just earlier.” 

“I changed my mind. I don’t want to be brave anymore.” 

Jisung tried—and failed—to stop you from getting out of the room. He followed you downstairs. Everyone seemed to be in the kitchen. It smelled delicious and you heard their conversations and the clinking of cutlery, but you did not look that way. Instead, you went directly to where you had left your winter jacket and changed into your snow boots. 

“We came in my car though,” Jisung muttered, clearly trying not to be heard by the others whose conversations had visibly lowered in volume. “You need my keys.”

“Yup.” You reached into the pocket of Jisung’s jacket which hung right next to yours and retrieved the aforementioned keys. “There. All good. I promise I’ll be careful with it. I’ll go down to the village at that motel we saw. I’ll come get you on Sunday. Okay?” 

Jisung gave up, a saddened look on his face. He nodded slowly, raising his hands in surrender. “What happened to facing your heartbreak and healing from it?” 

You glanced towards the other side of the large open space room. All of your friends sat around a huge wooden table overflowing with food and wine. All that you could see were smiles. Hyunjin was facing the other way so you could not see his face but he was eating his pasta and having a conversation with Changbin who sat next to him. 

“You’re right about that,” you conceded, your throat tight. “But I don’t think any amount of facing it and looking it in the eyes will heal me. I’m hopeless, Ji. You’re gonna have to wrap your head around that at some point.”

“Nobody is hopeless,” he insisted, but you had walked away already.

You would at least be an adult about it. While you were elaborating your plan, you had considered faking an emergency, something giving you an excuse to leave. But it would be too obvious and too childish. Hyunjin always saw right through your lies anyway. 

“Hey guys,” you managed as you approached the table. “I just came to say goodbye. I decided to leave.” 

A heavy silence fell onto the room. Hyunjin spun in his chair to see you but you did not look at him. 

Minho stood. “Don’t leave, it isn’t safe,” he said. “Look—”

“I’m leaving,” you repeated. “Let’s not ignore the elephant in the room, yeah? We’re all adults, after all, guys. I know it’s been a while since many of you have seen Hyunjin—and Felix—and I’m really happy y’all get this little reunion. But I’m just gonna go. Okay? No hard feelings. Not even for you, Min.” 

You saw Hyunin lowering his head from the corner of your eye. “I’ll go,” he muttered. You barely heard him. “I shouldn’t have come.”

“No, it’s totally fine!” You could hardly believe how easy it was for you to say all of those things in front of everyone. You imagined it must be caused by some sort of adrenaline rush. “I mean it. You should stay.” You made your way toward the door before anyone could stop you. 

Minho did follow, putting himself in between the door and you. “Wait, okay?” 

“Min, just, no,” you began. “You and I dated for nine months. We were friends before. One night you kissed me. Nine months later, you were barely looking at me, barely speaking to me. In the end you broke up with me because it didn’t feel right, because you had too much work, all that.” You didn’t care that Minho’s wife was right there. You didn’t care that literally everyone in the room was listening to you. “I got over you. Then I fell in love with him,” you added, motioning towards Hyunjin who was still looking at the floor. “It was great. Until it was not. Until he, too, stopped looking at me. Until he stopped speaking to me. Until he kissed that waitress in the back room. And then he broke up with me too. So you’re gonna step the fuck away and let me leave this place. And everything will keep going as it was before and I’m not gonna be mad at anyone here. I’m just gonna go. Okay?”

Minho swallowed thickly, sliding to the left, freeing the door. “Okay.” He opened his mouth to speak and you knew him well enough to know he wanted to say I’m sorry, only you didn’t want to hear any more of that—you just pushed the door open and walked out.

You did manage to close the door behind you but that in itself was a miracle for you had barely made it outside. The snow was reaching somewhere just below your knees—it was heavier than you had imagined, too, and you sank into it with each step you took. It infiltrated your boots, freezing your toes almost instantly.

The wind was relentless. You swallowed snow on many occasions on your way to the parking lot, located on the left side of the cabin. But you remained resolute, fueled by anger, by disappointment. You could barely make out the cars—snow must have accumulated on the spot illuminating the area and it had also covered a lot of the cars, so it was difficult to see which was which. 

It was cold but you didn’t care. Once you found Jisung’s car, you began removing the several inches of snow that covered it. You thought about Minho’s words as you angrily pushed the wet snow off the roof and windows. It’s not that you can’t move on from things. It’s that you don’t want to. Maybe he wasn’t entirely wrong—it wasn’t true for every aspect of your life, except, perhaps, this one thing. Hyunjin.

Moving on from him seemed impossible. You had seen, so vividly, your life intertwined with his in the future. You had felt a love deeper than you thought love could ever be. 

And now it was all that you had left. The memories of it, no matter how painful they were. It was all that you had of Hyunjin—the empty space he left behind. 

It kept snowing.

Hyunjin wished you had slammed the door. 

Many things happened right after you left—the group separated itself into thirds. One third tried to diffuse the obvious tension immediately by saying that by now, snow plows or something must have cleared the roads at least a little and that you would be okay. Then they continued the conversation almost as though nothing had occurred. Hyunjin couldn’t even be mad at them because he could tell it was out of good intentions. They were trying to preserve some kind of peace. 

The second group seemed genuinely worried for your well-being. Should he have been able to speak right now, he would have been one of them, voicing his own concerns about the weather and your lack of winter clothing. Felix was asking Jisung if he should go get you. Jisung shrugged. “Maybe someone could follow her just to make sure she makes it safely.”

The third group, however, had other preoccupations. Si-yeon, Minho’s wife, Ha-ri, Changbin’s girlfriend, Soren, Chan’s girlfriend, Chan himself, and Seungmin were discussing under their breaths but he could hear them very well. 

“Is it true what she said?” Si-yeon asked after clearing her throat. By the sound of it, it seemed like she was directing her question towards Minho, but when she did not get a response, she turned to Hyunjin. “Is it true? Did you cheat on her?” 

Heat burned his ears. God, he wanted to disappear. He barely managed to raise his eyes. “No,” he whispered, shaking his head. “It’s not how it happened.” 

“Did you kiss a waitress? That’s what she said,” Soren pointed out. 

“She kissed me,” Hyunjin specified. “I rejected her.” That night was the worst night of his life. He remembered everything in detail.

“Did you not tell her that you invited her ex?” Chan asked Minho. “That’s fucked up, dude.” 

A cacophony followed—everyone talked over the other, trying to make themselves heard, exposing their point. He really shouldn’t have come. It wasn’t fair to you. He didn’t imagine that Minho would have kept it from you, of course not. But he had, and now you were upset.

And Hyunjin’s heart was heavy.

He missed you. He missed you more than he could say—it didn’t matter if he locked himself in a room all weekend, making sure you never saw him. Because it would mean to be under the same roof as you once again. Even just a few hours. Maybe, if he was lucky, he would smell your perfume as you walked past his door, or maybe he would hear your voice. 

One thing was sure, he wasn’t going to let you leave. Not tonight. He’d barely managed to reach this place, after all. 

Without a word or a glance to anybody, Hyunjin pushed himself up, making his way toward the door. He ignored all the questions and comments. What are you doing? Where are you going? Are you sure it’s a good idea? Maybe someone else should go. 

In two seconds, he was in his boots again, leaving his slippers behind. 

Maybe, selfishly, he wanted you to know that he still loved you. 

Going outside felt like running into a wall, only, the wall was made of wind, ice, and snow. He coughed as snowflakes entered his mouth and even his nostrils. He was only wearing a light sweater but he hid his hands into the sleeves, also protecting his face as best he could with his arms. He called out your name but the wind was louder, so he waited a few seconds to try again. 

He could see some people looking through the windows and that did not please Hyunjin, so he quickly made his way toward the small parking lot. Snow entered his boots but he kept going, squinting as he tried to catch sight of you. He could see that some snow had been removed from a car but that wouldn’t be enough for you to be able to drive with it. There was a lot of snow on the ground and he didn’t think that a simple sedan would be able to go through it. 

He could see the car. He could also see your bag, left on the trunk. 

But he couldn’t see you. 

He called your name again, his heart dropping. It was totally understandable that you were angry but you couldn’t possibly have run off into the woods in this weather, right? 

What he saw once he reached the car was perhaps worse. You were sitting right next to it, one leg stretched and the other bent so that your foot was towards you. You were completely leaning over it, your shoulders shaking with cries. You had cried earlier too—he had seen it in your eyes. It hurt him to see you like this.

He approached you carefully, almost as though you were a feral animal. “Hey,” he said in a low voice.

You jumped, looking up, recoiling when you saw him—that motion caused you to wince and wrap your hands around your ankle.

Hyunjin got on his knees, not minding one bit the cold snow dampening his pants and freezing him. “Did you hurt yourself?” He tried to look you in the eyes but you wouldn’t let him. “Did you fall? Did you hit your head?” 

“I’m fine,” you replied. “It’s just my ankle.”

“You don’t look fine to me.” 

You sighed, wiping tears off your face. Your bare fingers were red and stiff. Instinctively, Hyunjin reached for your hand to warm it up, but you pulled away. “It’s fine. I’ll be okay. Go back inside.”

He looked around, searching for his words. “I don’t think you can leave,” he started, leaning closer to you. “Look. We can’t even see the path. We’re snowed in. And you hurt yourself. Isn’t this the ankle you sprained before?” 

You gave him a slow nod after a few seconds. “There was ice over there,” you explained, motioning vaguely behind you. “Under the snow. I slipped, and…” 

“We’ll get you back inside now,” Hyunjin said. “Wait here, I’ll go get someone and we’ll—”

“No, please.” This time, you did touch him—when he went to stand up, you caught his wrist, pulling him back. Your touch went through his body like a shockwave, making him lightheaded. “I can’t go back in there. Not after I made a scene.”

There it was. There you were. He recognized you more than ever now as you softened, as your anger dissipated. Not two seconds ago, you were still enraged. Now you looked at him with teary, pleading eyes. 

“Everyone in there is your friend,” Hyunjin pointed out. “No one will judge you.” 

“Of course they’ll judge me.” You let go of his wrist, taking a deep breath. “Help me up. I can still drive.” 

Unfortunately for you, he had seen in which pocket of your coat you had put Jisung’s keys—he was easily able to reach into it to retrieve them, effectively stealing them from you.

You stared at him with your mouth wide open, shocked. “Fuck you!” 

“Yup, fuck me,” Hyunjin retorted, this time standing up for good. “Hold on!” he quickly added when you, too, tried to stand, but it was obvious you couldn’t put much weight on your ankle. 

“This is the second most humiliating day of my life,” you muttered as Hyunjin went to help you up. “The first on the list is when my boyfriend dumped me on Valentine’s Day.” You shot him a venomous gaze.

He sighed, the pang in his heart undeniable. He had never really been confronted with it before. The pain he had caused you. It had all been abstract up until this point. He had thought about it a lot, of course, but to see it with his own two eyes was a whole other thing. Your damp cheeks, the redness in your eyes. The expression on your face when you looked at him—it wasn’t even anger, or disgust. It was worse. It was disappointment.

And yet. You were there. You were right there. It was the first time in so long that Hyunjin saw you, that he spoke with you. And it wasn’t an easy thing to admit, not even to himself, but it still felt so normal to be by your side, to just speak with you. Sure, there was an awkwardness that could not be denied. But there was so much more beneath it. All the memories, all the time spent with you, all the love, the intimacy. It seemed like that bond hadn’t been severed. 

“What a fucking loser,” Hyunjin said with an exaggerated snort. “Good riddance, yeah? Nobody needs a boyfriend like that.” 

You stared at him, speechless, blinking slowly. Maybe it was the stress or the pain, but you burst into laughter that you had to control in order not to hurt your ankle even more. It was music to his ears. It almost felt like being revived after cardiac arrest. “Come on, help me up instead of working your stand-up comic routine.” 

Hyunjin positioned himself behind you, not hesitating before wrapping one arm around your waist and another under your arms. “I got you, just don’t use that foot.” You smelled good. Your perfume was the same—its delicate yet bold notes hit his nostrils like a warm spring day. 

Much like ripping a band-aid off a wound, Hyunjin pulled you up right away—you helped by standing on your good foot and by holding onto the car next to you, but you had to lean against it as soon as you stood, wincing in pain. “Wow,” you said nonetheless. “You’ve been working out, haven’t you?”

He shrugged. “Helps me keep my head clear.” He grabbed your bag and returned to you, wrapping his arm around your waist again. You held onto him and hopped as best you could toward the cabin as he let you put all your weight onto him. “Careful, you’ll slip again,” he warned. “I’ll carry you—”

“Not a fucking chance. I’d rather die frozen in the snow than go back in there carried princess-style by the guy who dumped me on Valentine’s Day.”

“Really gotta rub it in, don’t you?” Despite the gloomy essence of the conversation, the tone was light-hearted. “Not that I don’t deserve it…”

It didn’t matter that it took several minutes to make it back to the porch—Hyunjin was not cold. Not when he was so close to you. Not when he was touching you, holding you. 

“Don’t let them make fun of me,” you warned. 

He glanced inside—pretty much everyone was back around the table. “I won’t,” he promised, grabbing the door handle, but he didn’t push it open. “I really want you to know that I didn’t cheat on you. I didn’t want to cheat on you,” he said, turning to you. “I know that you saw what you saw and I’m not asking you to forgive me or anything like that. Haley kissed me and I pushed her away. I just want you to believe me. Please.”

You frowned. “You literally broke up with me five minutes later, though.” 

“I had my reasons. But nowhere among them was Haley. I promise you.” His heart felt lighter now that he had told you. 

“She had been flirting with you for months,” you reminded him. “Very openly. Often right in front of me.”

“I should have fired her way before,” he conceded. That was one of the many mistakes he made—obviously, Hyunjin wasn’t worth much when put under stress, like he lost any ability to think clearly. “But I don’t want you going around thinking that you got cheated on. Because you didn’t. I would never have done this to you.” 

You remained quiet—Hyunjin could sense that you needed to think it over, so instead of insisting on the topic, he opened the door. 

You were obviously uncomfortable when you followed him inside. “You have no idea how humiliating this is for me,” you muttered under your breath. “All of it.” 

It was his fault, after all, so there was no way in hell Hyunjin would let you be uneasy because of him.

The guests around the table became quiet when they noticed that you were with him. Jisung immediately got up, followed closely by Si-yeon and Soren. 

Jisung gasped when he saw the state you were in. “Oh my god, are you okay?” 

“It’s my fault,” Hyunjin said immediately. “I insisted that she should stay and I chased after her.” He found it rather simple to lie when it was to make your life easier. “She tripped and twisted her ankle trying to run away from me.” 

“I’m fine,” you said but nobody believed you. 

Hyunjin was gently pushed away as everyone came to take care of you—Chan and Soren helped you to the couch while Jisung was preparing a bag of ice for your ankle. Minho inquired about the amount of parm you wanted on your pasta as he filled a plate with food for you. Felix stood with Hyunjin and, together, they observed the scene quietly. You were given a hot pack to warm up your fingers and a thick blanket to wrap around you. 

In no more than five minutes, you were comfortably lying on one of the sectional couches of the living room, eating a generous plate of pasta with your foot elevated on two cushions. Jisung, Soren, and Chan were sitting with you, eating and drinking, while others had returned to the table and a few people were standing near the kitchen island, chatting and putting leftovers in containers. 

Hyunjin stayed in a corner after sending Felix away—he didn’t want his friend to miss out on a good evening on his behalf. He wasn’t hungry anymore. He was just troubled. He hadn’t been able to predict how he would feel once he saw you again, but even if his guess had turned out scarily accurate, the real thing was a million times more intense.

Hyunjin had known from the start. He had known from the moment you walked away from him that Valentine’s Day that he still loved you and that he wouldn’t stop loving you. But to know one thing and to experience it were two very different events.

His eyes met yours when you looked up from your plate. This time you didn’t avert your gaze.

Yup. He was fucked.

He was still head-over-heels in love with you.

“I think it’s sprained and that we have to wrap it tightly,” Jisung said, his eyes on his screen after looking up first aid advice. 

“We’ll get you to a doctor as soon as the snow allows it,” Chan assured. “Do you want another glass of wine?” 

The ambiance was much quieter than it had been—everyone was dispersed around the cabin, just enjoying the overall coziness of the place. You were still in the living room with Chan, Soren, and Jisung but you could see Minho in the kitchen, chatting with Felix and Hyunjin while he did some prep for tomorrow’s Christmas meal. You knew a few people were watching horror movies in the basement—and you were especially grateful to be anywhere but there.

“No, thank you,” you told Chan, forcing a smile on your face. “You guys don’t have to stay with me you know? I’ll be fine. Didn’t you want to play board games?”

“Won’t you play with us?” Jisung asked. 

“I’m tired.” And it wasn’t even a lie. Your entire day had been a roller coaster of emotions and you felt drained, empty, and your ankle was still excessively painful. “If someone would be kind enough to fetch me some elastic bandages from the first aid kit, that’s all I need. I’m used to it, I can wrap it myself.” 

Chan tried to insist but in the end, Soren dragged him away so he would help her choose a board game—maybe she understood you a little better than the guys. Maybe she knew that you just needed to be alone for a little while.

It was Jisung who brought you the bandages. “Are you okay?” He squeezed your shoulder, taking a deep breath. 

You stared at the rolls of bandage in your hand, thinking it over. Today felt much like a fever dream, like nothing about it was real. Like it could not be possible that you were currently in the same building as Hyunjin. Like it could not be possible that he had spoken to you softly, that he had held you, touched you, and that it made your heart flutter. 

“I don’t know,” you admitted to Jisung. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to be feeling,” you added, keeping your voice low.

“I don’t think there’s any way you’re ‘supposed’ to feel right now,” he told you. 

You nodded, sending him away so that he could join the game. Felix and Hyunjin also voiced their desire to play. “I’ll make us a round of drinks before,” Hyunjin decided. “Anyone interested?” 

You heard responses coming from the dining area and then silence fell over the room. From the corner of your eye, you noticed that several heads were turned your way. Hyunjin called your name, his voice cracking as he did so. “Do you want a drink?” 

“Sure,” you replied out of habit, mostly to make everyone look away.

You focused on unwrapping your supplies, doing your best to chase the thoughts swirling in your head. God, why were you a little glad to see him all of a sudden? You had been so upset about it earlier—with good reason!—and while you were very much still pissed off, you couldn’t help but feel a certain relief after his revelation. 

You didn’t want to believe him. That he didn’t cheat on you, that he never even wanted to. So why was your heart… like that? Why wasn’t it raising its defenses, why was it leaving you exposed and vulnerable? Had it not learned from the betrayal it suffered? Why had it been so easy for Hyunjin to sneak his way back inside of it? 

For months, the simple idea of meeting Hyunjin again had haunted you as you had no idea how you would react. But sometimes—usually after a few drinks—you started to imagine crazy scenarios. Like him calling you out of nowhere and asking to see you or even him showing up unannounced at your job to beg you to take him back. You were usually quick to banish these thoughts, trying to drown them in the most painful memories you held. Like all the times he kept you at a distance when all that you wanted was to be there with him, just so he wouldn’t be alone with his dark thoughts. 

When that didn’t suffice, you had to bring out the big guns. Like replaying in your mind the kiss with Haley. Or the subsequent breakup, and the tone with which he spoke to you, making it very clear that while you had good intentions, you did not have the means to help him—no matter how hard you’d try, you would never be enough to soothe his heart. 

Except he was here tonight, whether you liked it or not. And you could still feel the ghost of his hand around your waist. You had never known addiction before and would a drug addict had told you about their experience, you would have empathized with them of course, but not understood. If it’s an addiction and if it’s dangerous, then why keep doing it, even if it feels good?

Because. Because it felt so fucking good.

You were so lost in your thoughts, barely paying attention to wrapping your ankle, that you didn’t notice Hyunjin when he approached, holding two glasses. You jumped when you saw him, immediately telling yourself that your heart rate was increasing because he had surprised you and not because he looked exceptionally handsome in the warm lighting of the fireplace. 

And certainly not because he was handing you a glass with a very familiar drink in it—you recognized it instantly as one of his signature drinks. He called it, simply, Merry Christmas. You had participated in its creation in the form of drinking many versions of it to review them. Sugar around the rim, some limoncello, a little bit (or a lot) of vodka, and a drop of vanilla syrup in some seltzer. But the best part was the maraschino cherry juice, which gave the cocktail its festive look along with a piece of rosemary resembling a little evergreen tree in the glass. 

“There,” Hyunjin said, waiting for you to pick up your drink. He seemed to hesitate but ultimately went on, “I added some extra cherries in yours. I hear they’re very good at promoting the healing of ankles specifically.”

You stared at your glass and then at his own drink, which only had one maraschino cherry in it. As though you needed to make sure, you glanced around the room, trying to see how many the others had gotten. Because Hyunjin had put an entire mini-skewer of cherries in yours. 

He used to do that all the time back at the restaurant. His special drinks. Just for you. They didn’t always contain alcohol but he always made up some scientific facts to justify them—to boost serotonin, to clear headaches, to ease a sore neck, to heal a cold. And you’d always accept the drinks with a witty remark and it forced a smile on your face, no matter what. 

In hindsight, you couldn’t believe that you hadn’t noticed his feelings for you before it was almost too late. He hadn’t even been subtle about it, had he? 

And there he was, doing it again. This time, though, your brain came to your defense—this wasn’t him flirting with you like it had been at the restaurant. This was simply Hyunjin trying to be nice after daring to show up here. 

And yet, almost like muscle memory, your lips curved into a faint smile. 

“I’d really love to see all these medical articles you read,” you retorted, accepting the drink from him. “It’s crazy all the things I learn with you. At this rate, you’re basically some sort of healer.”  

Hyunjin seemed just as surprised as you to hear your response, but once the shock set in, he chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you my secrets,” he replied, sitting on the couch next to the cushions on which your ankle rested not long ago. “The more I tell you, the more dangerous it is for you. It’s best if you stay in the dark.” 

“Sure thing.” You took a sip from the drink—it was ice cold and just as delicious as you remembered it. Or maybe even more. It had been so long. “I didn’t know there was a cocktail mafia out there. I got it—I won’t tell a soul.”

“I knew I could trust you.” Hyunjin winked at you, also tasting his drink, glancing at the others who were now preparing their board game on the table. “Seriously though, are you okay?” He motioned at your foot.

You rested it on the cushions again, lifting the leg of your pants to display it. It was definitely very swollen and a little bruising had started to appear in places. You winced, sucking air between your teeth, quickly drinking more in the hopes that the alcohol would help. “It could have been worse,” you said nonetheless. “I don’t think it’s broken.”

“Yeah, it looks exactly like the time you sprained it,” Hyunjin confirmed with a nod, observing it closely. “Give that to me. It needs to be wrapped quickly to control the swelling.” He showed you the bandages left on the couch next to you. “I think it’s better if someone does it for you.” He stopped then, averting his gaze. “I can get someone else if you want.” 

Gun to your head, you would not have been able to understand addiction before tonight. 

“It’s fine. Thank you.” You handed him the bandages, sitting more comfortably now. “You’re the healer, after all. Makes me wonder why you settled for bartending when you could be rich—like, a literal millionaire—performing miracles on the daily. You could have it all. A palace to live in, all the riches you can imagine, all the girls, too—” 

You stopped mid-sentence, biting into a maraschino cherry, releasing its sweet juice on your tongue. It hadn’t really occurred to you that Hyunjin could very well be in a relationship right now. If it wasn’t Haley then it was someone else. Surely. A man like him—kind, funny, handsome, with a huge cock and the talent to use it. There was no way in hell he wasn’t seeing someone. 

Hyunjin put his drink away, choosing to begin his task instead of responding. He gulped, reaching for your ankle, pausing just a few millimeters away from it almost like he was asking permission. He used to do that a lot. Except it was with his mouth on your pussy, and he did it to tease you just as much as to ask for your consent—because it turned him on a lot. 

Just how much alcohol was in this damn drink?

You took another sip anyway, hoping that holding the glass in front of your face for a few seconds would allow for the dramatic flush that had appeared on it to fade away a little. 

Slowly, carefully, Hyunjin lifted your foot to lay the bandage underneath your ankle. It quickly returned on the cushions, and if you were honest, it had caused you a lot of pain to move it and yet you found yourself wishing he would do it again. The sensation of his fingers on your skin was as frightening as it was intoxicating. It reminded you of when he would caress your leg, your calf, your ankle with the back of his fingers while the two of you lounged on the couch. Sometimes naked, sometimes not, just existing alongside one another, watching TV. 

It reminded you of all the times he would wrap his fingers around your ankles, pulling them up, resting them on his shoulders so he could fuck you deeper. 

Oh no. No no no. You couldn’t feel like this. You couldn’t even let those thoughts wander in your mind—it was too dangerous. The fact that he was here tonight was a coincidence, albeit a sinister one. It didn’t mean anything. He was nice to you because of his guilt and maybe because he had gotten over that dark episode in his life and he wanted some closure. It was hard to tell. In any case, none of this meant anything. Him being sweet. The maraschino cherries.

You couldn’t let it mean anything—because in less than forty-eight hours you would both leave this place and go on your separate ways. And you did not think you could go through it another time. You did not think you could lose him again. It might kill you this time. It really might.

Fortunately for you, however, a strong gust of wind blew over the mountain as you took a few more nervous sips of your drink, and the power went out. 

There was only one second of complete silence before an uproar of terrified screams echoed from downstairs, where a bunch of people had been watching horror movies. Ultimately, Seungmin’s voice could be heard louder than the others as he urged people to ‘chill the fuck out’ because ‘it’s just a power outage’. 

Minho cursed from the kitchen. “I can’t see shit.” 

The cabin was very dark with the exception of the large fireplace in the living room and a few dim security lights here and there. Being so close to the fire, you could see Hyunjin very well—he did not seem bothered by the sudden turn of events, continuing his careful wrapping of your ankle, making sure to be as meticulous as he could be. 

People downstairs quickly came back up, telling a tale of the power going out at the exact moment some disturbing scene happened in the movie, scaring all of them to death. Minho reminded everyone that an electrical generator would continue to give them power for the two fridges as well as one tank of hot water and that he did not want anybody arguing over that. 

“We’ll still have food and be able to wash up,” he said while Felix was holding the flashlight on his phone over his shoulder to light up the counter where he was cutting up vegetables. “Nobody is allowed to take extensive showers like some people like to do. Okay?” 

“This felt targeted, Lee,” Hyunjin chuckled, shaking his head. 

Hyunjin was known for his very long and very warm showers—it had become a running joke among the employees. You giggled too, remembering the friendly bicker between these two back when you worked at the restaurant. But your amusement was cut short by the memory of Hyunjin’s bathroom after he exited his shower in the apartment you shared with him—he usually doodled something in the condensation that was covering the mirror. For you. A heart, a smiley face, or he’d just write I love you. You even made it a habit of going to see what the surprise was after his shower, even if you didn’t need to be in the bathroom.

You drank more, remaining quiet as everyone took place on the couch or on big cushions on the floor. By the time most were comfortably installed, your ankle was tightly wrapped and Hyunjin had even pressed more ice onto it.

He stayed there when he was done, sitting, and drinking in silence. You tried to ignore the curious glances, eyes fixated on the flames in the fireplace. 

“It’s running late, we could just go to bed and hope the power is back by tomorrow,” Seungmin suggested. 

“The heating system relies on electricity though,” Minho explained. “There are loads of blankets, but maybe it would be safer for some of us to sleep here in the living room by the fire?” He gulped nervously. “Especially those who, huh, aren’t sharing a bed with someone else. I’d hate for someone to freeze in their sleep.” 

“Wow,” Jisung scoffed with a playful smile. “Looking out for your single-as-fuck friends. Truly heartwarming.” 

“I’m just saying,” Minho responded, shrugging, but he was smiling too. “Those who want, we could go grab the mattresses upstairs?”

“OH MY GOD, A SLEEPOVER! YES!” Jisung exclaimed, pushing himself up even though it had not been a minute since he sat down. “Singles only. All of you who are fulfilled and content and happy can go freeze your asses upstairs.” 

As usual, Jisung’s comment brought laughter to the group. Most of the guys were on mattress duty while others were trying to find all the extra blankets, or exchanging woolen socks to make sure everyone’s toes would be safe from the cold. Naturally, you were forbidden to move, so you just drank, each maraschino cherry reminding you of how alone you were. 

And yet you were surrounded with all of your friends. People you cared about and who cared about you. People who called you on your birthday, who sent you memes in the middle of the night as a love language, who brought you soup when you had the flu. It wasn’t fair to them. This loneliness that you felt. And you didn’t want any of it, but it was stuck somewhere in your throat, slowly but surely preventing your lungs from getting the oxygen they needed. 

And here they were, devising architectural plans for a pillow fort while you were holding your tears. You wouldn’t have called yourself a bad person or a bad friend before but it was tonight that you realized that you were one. Because it felt like so little mattered since the breakup. Months. Months of just watching life happen around you—as the audience, not the actor. 

It just seemed like your existence itself was lackluster now that you had tasted life with your soulmate. Everything you did, you did it without Hyunjin. Without Hyunjin as a qualitative, descriptive way to describe the state you were in. You woke up without Hyunjin. You celebrated your birthday without Hyunjin. You went to the grocery store without Hyunjin. You went to work. You visited your mother for dinner. You went out for drinks with friends. You watched the new season of your favorite TV show.

You existed without Hyunjin. 

But it just wasn’t the same. 

It soon became clear that Hyunjin intended to be present for Jisung’s sleepover, which made you panic on the inside. On one hand was your ankle and you weren’t sure how well you’d do in the stairs. On the other hand was the dreadful notion of sleeping in the same room as him. It wouldn’t matter how many people would be there also—you would be able to recognize his breathing patterns, his soft, sleepy sighs when he rolled over. 

You had never been one to sleep easily before him. You’d spend hours just waiting for sleep to come. And then there had been Hyunjin and it used to feel like you didn’t have enough hours in a day to be with him. Like you didn’t even want to sleep at night. You’d lay in bed, sleepy, often a little sore between your legs but full of cum, just existing alongside him. Listening to him fall asleep. His arms around you. It was impossible not to drift to sleep then, because you had never felt safer than in these moments.

Needless to say—now that you slept without Hyunjin, you did not sleep very much at all. 

Carefully, you removed your ankle from the cushions, preparing to get up—Hyunjin spotted you, quickly dropping the pillows he was holding. “Wait! You can’t do that!” 

You rolled your eyes—it seemed easier to act annoyed at him than you let him show the true state of your heart. “I sure as hell can. I can’t spend the next week sitting on that couch. I need to pee.” 

He grunted something under his breath. “Alright. Let’s go. You always have to pee.”

“Oh shut up,” you retorted, nudging him and yet still allowing him to wrap his arm around you once again, helping you up. He quickly pulled away, letting you lean against the wall. “I’ll manage. Thank you very much.” 

You pathetically limped your way to one of the downstairs bathrooms, locking yourself in there using your phone for light, quickly splashing cool water all over your face. You should have tried to leave. By now, you might have been in a motel somewhere, all alone, away from Hyunjin and all the memories he brought back. 

You were walking around the bathroom, testing whether you could make it upstairs or not, when someone knocked at the door. 

“Coming!” 

“It’s me.” Hyunjin. “I just figured, like, do you want me to go get your toothbrush and stuff from upstairs? Maybe?”

What the fuck was going on? Was that going to happen? Being… friends? With him? After everything that had happened? Despite all the complicated feelings you had?

You opened the door. “It’s fine, I’ll sleep upstairs,” you assured.

He raised an eyebrow, looking at you and then down at your ankle. “Not a good idea.” 

“It’s fine,” you repeated, going past him, making your way slowly and painfully toward the stairs. He followed you closely—you could feel his hands ghosting you as he prepared to hold you if you collapsed. 

Maybe it made you want to collapse. 

“Hey, are you not coming to my sleepover?” Jisung called. He was busy making the beds with Felix. You counted five of them which could only mean one thing. “I told them to bring a mattress for you. Thought it would be best for your foot.”

You stood there, basking in the warmth of the fireplace. Sure. Sure, it all looked super cozy. Part of you wanted to sleep on the cold hard floor upstairs. Another part of you wanted the exact opposite.

“Listen to your friend,” Hyunjin advised. This time, he pressed his hand on your lower back, sending your mind spinning and your heart racing. His hand was so big and so warm. Just above your ass. “I’ll go get your stuff upstairs. You really need to be careful, there was a lot of swelling.” 

You almost asked Jisung to go instead but if you had to be totally honest with yourself, if someone was going to look into your luggage and see your underwear, you’d rather it was somebody who had once been intimate with it. So you just nodded. “Call me when you’re up there, I’ll guide you.”

“Does that mean you packed at the last minute and everything is chaos in your bag?” Hyunjin playfully asked. “When will you learn?”

You pushed him, limping towards a couch in a quiet corner. It was a little farther away from the fireplace and all the action, but you could use the peace, even if it was a little cool. “I don’t think you have any lessons to give me, Hwang. Just how many airpods have you lost by now? We must be at five or six pairs, right? More? When will you learn?” 

Hyunjin stuck out his tongue at you, choosing to climb upstairs instead of responding to you. You sat down, breathing deeply. You couldn’t let this go any further. You couldn’t even be his friend, not even if it somehow turned out to be true that he had never cheated on you. You couldn’t watch him fall in love with another. Certain things are just too heavy to bear. 

Jisung pretended to need something on the table to have an excuse to stand closer to you. “Looks like things are good between you t—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off. “There are no ‘things’ between us. I just decided to be civil, same as him. It’d be a shame to waste Minho’s weekend. He spent a lot of money on this.” 

“Hm-hm.” You heard Jisung suppress his laughter. “Sure thing.” He turned to you. “Look—I really think you two need to talk. Let me finish,” he added when he saw that you were going to interrupt him again. “I get it, he hurt you. But you don’t see the way he looks at you, do you?” 

Your phone rang in your pocket—you pulled it out only to see Hyunjin’s number appear on the screen. It had been months since you had seen it there and it made your heart flutter.

“He doesn’t look at me in any special way,” you replied, suddenly very aware of the taste of maraschino cherries lingering on your tongue. 

But Jisung was gone already, returned with the others in their quest to create the most comfortable sleeping nook known to mankind. You allowed yourself a few seconds to pretend Jisung hadn’t said anything and took the call.

“I’m with your bag,” Hyunjin said immediately. “Where’s your toothbrush?”

You tried to remember the moment when you threw everything in your luggage. “Probably at the bottom. I have a small toiletries bag. Bring the whole bag.”

You heard shuffling and brushing noises—it became obvious Hyunjin had put you on speaker, probably using the light from his phone to see inside your bag as he searched it. “Got it! What do your PJs look like?”

“It’s just a pair of dark blue shorts and a black tank top. It has a jellyfish on it.” You definitely had not planned on being seen by Hyunjin in your pajamas. You might have picked something a little more… a little less… simple. 

Or not. Because none of this mattered. He probably definitely had a girlfriend and nothing was happening. 

“Found them,” Hyunjin replied. “Love the tank top, it’s really cool. Do you want socks?”

“Yes, the fuzzy ones. Bring my underwear too.” You sighed, burying your face in your hand. 

There was a silence on the other end. Just a few seconds. “Which one? Oh, this one’s cute. With the sheep.” 

Yes of course. Out of all the panties you brought today, he had to come across the ones with a sleeping sheep pattern on them. “Sure, whichever.” You sighed. “That’s all, thanks. Oh—wait, I have a power bank too. We could charge our phones. In the left pocket I think?” 

You really had thrown everything in there at the last minute. You tried to remember a little better but Hyunjin let out a strange sound—a gasp of sorts—and it snapped you back to reality, putting all of your memories exactly where they belonged.

No. No, your power bank was not in the left pocket. 

“You still have that thing?” Hyunjin asked with an intonation that was impossible to decode. 

That thing as in the bullet vibrator he gifted you for your two-month anniversary. That thing as in, that bullet vibrator that you had put in the left pocket of your bag just in case things were a little boring up here.

Flames engulfed your head whole—you sat there, speechless, trying to find something to say. But really you were remembering the evening he gave it to you. And the things he had done to you with it that very night. Edging you and teasing you until there were tears in your eyes, until you begged him to let you cum. Playing with you using that toy and his mouth and his fingers and the tip of his cock. Sinking into you only when you were on the brink of insanity, finally giving you what you needed, fucking you into a delightful bliss. 

“Well, it still works,” you heard yourself say. “Would be a waste to throw it away.” That wasn’t even a lie—that little thing packed a punch. 

Hyunjin chuckled. “Want me to bring it to you?”

You clicked your tongue. “You’re hilarious. Maybe you want some alone time with it? If I recall well, you probably wouldn’t be against it.” And you knew that your memories were accurate—how could you forget brushing the vibrating toy up and down Hyunjin’s straining cock, slowly, languidly, just so you could collect his precum and lick it off him? 

“So funny, ha-ha-ha. Alright, be right there.” Hyunjin hung up. You stared at the dark kitchen in front of you, unable to grasp onto the thoughts that visited your mind. And yet it was all that you wanted. It was all that you needed—to figure out what was going on in your head and in your heart. 

Hyunjin came back wearing his own lounging outfit—just sweatpants and a graphic t-shirt with a hoodie, nothing unlike him. He also gave you a small, battery-powered camping light which he had found upstairs, but he barely looked at you as he handed you the pile of clothes he went to fetch. To be fair, you barely looked at him, too—it was already a lot to find yourself stuck on a snowed-in mountain with your ex, after all, and the fact that he had just gone through your stuff, panties and vibrator included, did not help, and you eagerly locked yourself in the bathroom, glad to be away from the others for a few minutes.

As you changed, it became obvious that the sleepover had already started in the living room. Jisung had apparently officially closed the door upstairs, ‘blocking’ the access to his Singles-Only night. Felix and Seungmin were arguing playfully about video games. You listened to their conversation with a smile on your lips, choosing products at random from your toiletries bag, just whatever you needed to freshen up a little. 

In truth, you knew that this uncertainty was no better than whatever had been occurring in your mind before. A discussion had been launched—only it wasn’t even a discussion. It was just Hyunjin dropping information on you without you having any chance to respond. But you had questions. You had many of them. And either you were getting answers tonight or you weren’t going to sleep at all.

As soon as you were cleaned up and cozy in your pajamas, you returned to the main room only to find Hyunjin alone in the dim kitchen, adding slices of orange into a pot on the gas stove. You looked on the other side of the cabin where both Jisung and Seungmin were sitting around Felix, who was playing on his Switch. The three of them paid no attention to you whatsoever. 

With a deep breath, you painfully made your way to the counter and sat on the nearest stool. Hyunjin glanced behind his shoulder as he stirred whatever was in the saucepan—but from here, you could smell his mulled wine. His recipe was the best you ever tasted. 

You sat in silence for a minute, trying to find the right words, realizing there were no right words. 

“It smells good,” you said in a low voice. 

“Thank you. I put loads of oranges, just the way you like it,” Hyunjin replied, turning to you. There were only a couple of candles lighting up the entire kitchen and you watched as the flames danced on his skin. “And extra honey, too.” 

It was strange. It was a little messed up. To act like this when he hadn’t seen you in months. When he had dumped you on a cold February night. 

“What you said earlier…” You averted your gaze, reliving the memory. “Was it true? Was it really really true?” 

Hyunjin frowned as he tried to understand exactly what you were referring to. “What do you mean?”

“That you didn’t cheat on me.” Your voice was barely more than a whisper. “That you didn’t want to.” 

He did not speak just yet—instead, Hyunjin grabbed two mugs and carefully filled them with warm wine using a ladle. He slid one over to you. “Careful, it’s hot.” 

You wrapped the mug with your hands to warm them up, inhaling the familiar scent. It smelled like winter nights and sitting on the balcony, dressed up from head to toe, just to drink mulled wine and kiss under the snow. 

“I swear,” Hyunjin responded, leaning on the counter on the other side of it, looking right into your eyes. “I promise you. I made mistakes—I made all the mistakes, actually, except that one.” 

You didn’t want to believe him. But you believed him. 

“I… I was so upset after what I had seen at the bakery,” Hyunjin explained. “I couldn’t believe you would cheat on me. I didn’t really believe it. I was just hurt. My mind was dark. Which is not an excuse, by the way. I’m just explaining.” 

You took the smallest sip of wine, careful not to burn your tongue. It was warm but it wasn’t hot—suddenly, you remembered Hyunjin’s ability to always serve a beverage at the right temperature. 

You did believe him—but there was another, darker question on your mind.

“Can I ask you something else?” You bravely found Hyunjin’s eyes—he tilted his head to the side, nodding as an invitation for you to go on. “What was it, then? Is it something I said, something I did? Something I didn’t do? What is it that made you fall out of love with me?” 

Hyunjin recoiled, straightening up, looking away, obviously troubled. Maybe he wasn’t ready to tell you about that yet but selfishly you didn’t care very much. You just needed to hear it from him. He would, of course, word it kindly. But you needed him to tell you about the ways you had failed him.

“Guys,” he called out, turning away and grabbing more mugs. “I made mulled wine. Who wants some?” 

“I’ll have some, thanks, man.” Seungmin pushed himself up, making his way to the kitchen to get his wine. 

As though they were waiting for someone to get up for them, Felix and Jisung asked him to bring them a cup too, causing more friendly banter.

“How’s your ankle?” Seungmin asked you while he was waiting for Hyunjin to fill the mugs—and he was really taking his time, stopping after each mug to gulp down a lot of wine as though he needed to make sure he wouldn’t remember tonight. 

“Not too bad,” you replied, your voice weak. “It could be worse.” 

“Good. Thanks a lot,” Seungmin added when Hyunjin slid a small, Santa-themed platter before him. He had placed the mugs of wine on it as well as a few chocolates. “It’s good to have you back, and I’m not saying that just because of the drinks.”

“Yeah he is saying it just because of the drinks,” Jisung said from the living room, causing more chuckles. 

Seungmin walked away, calling Jisung a few names. You focused on your own wine, drinking some more of it, but it did not have the effect you were hoping it would have. You shivered, suddenly becoming a little too aware of the lack of proper heating in the place. Everything—save for the bickering—was quiet, allowing you to hear the howling wind outside. You drank more to warm up. While you were definitely starting to feel the buzz from the drinks, you were still way too sober for this. 

“You should have brought winter clothes,” Hyunjin reprimanded but his voice was gentle. He shook his hoodie off himself, removing it and quickly resting it on your shoulders before you could say anything. “And, by the way, nothing.” 

You frowned, confused and shocked. The hoodie’s soft fabric caressed your skin, warm and comforting. It smelled like him. Like Hyunjin. You slid one arm into it, then another, unable to resist it. “Nothing what?” 

“You asked what made me fall out of love. My answer is nothing did.” Hyunjin kept himself busy by cleaning up the saucepan and stove. 

Nothing.

Nothing as in it happened without a reason? Or nothing as in he didn’t fall out of love? Those were two very different things. 

“But you broke up,” you managed, your hands trembling. 

“Because I thought it was the best thing for you.” Hyunjin left the stove, standing right next to your stool, his hair falling over his face a little. “Do you understand? It’s not something you did. You were perfect. You were… You were too good for me. Can’t you see that? It wasn’t because I didn’t love you anymore. It was because I loved you that I let you go.”

A strange mix of rage and anguish rose within you. You stared at the bottom of your mug where only a little wine was left—you emptied it, still deep in your thoughts. This couldn’t possibly be happening.

“So you’re telling me,” you started, your voice low, “that you were still in love with me on that Valentine’s Day? And you broke up with me for my own good?” 

He gulped and bit his lip. It was dark but you could still see the flush on his cheeks. “Yeah.” 

You stood up, unable to stay still any longer. You went to the sink to let your empty mug soak and limped back towards the nearest window just to watch the blizzard. Hyunjin followed you quietly. 

“That decision wasn’t up to you, Hyunjin,” you whispered. “You made it, but it wasn’t yours to make. I was and still am more than capable of deciding what’s good or what’s bad for me.” You looked behind you, at this handsome man hiding behind his hair. “We were so good together and you ruined it.” 

He let out a shaky breath. “I know,” he muttered. He hesitated but not for long. “You’re the best thing that happened to me.” You turned to him, trying to see the expression on his face better. “It broke me. It took me months of therapy to feel almost like a person again. Months to realize the fact that I broke up because I felt inadequate and that instead of trying to be better, I went the cowardly way.” 

Therapy? “Hyunjin—”

He shook his head, his long hair moving with him. “I know I have no right to but I want to apologize. I’m so sorry. I’m not asking for forgiveness. Just saying sorry.” 

You listened to the room around you. There was laughter coming from the living room and the crackling of the fireplace and the wind outside. But your heartbeat was louder. He had gone to therapy? Hyunjin? 

Inadequate? 

“Hyunjin,” you breathed, reaching for his face. He flinched—barely, but he flinched, undoubtedly remembering the slap he had earned himself on that awful night. Still, you pushed a strand of his hair away, displaying his big, sad eyes. The flames of the candles flickered in the tears collecting there. You did not know what to say. “It broke me, too.” 

He pressed his lips together, holding his tears. You cupped his face briefly, just to feel him under your fingertips. When your hand retreated, he touched his cheek as though he couldn’t believe it. “I’m so sorry. It’s such a waste. It was all for nothing.” 

Any animosity you might have felt for him had melted a while ago. Your heart felt like the first day of spring with remnants of snow and puddles of water on the ground, but with a bright blue sky and the sun warming up the world again. Hyunjin had not cheated on you. He had been a little bit stupid because he did not respond well to pressure. 

He had hurt himself hurting you. 

“It wasn’t for nothing,” you replied. “I know you were so stressed because of the bar and I should have helped you more, I just didn’t know how, I should have known how. But don’t say it was for nothing. Nightcap is your baby, and—”

“No,” Hyunjin interrupted you. When you tried to insist, he shushed you more insistently and this time it was him who framed your face with his large hand, cupping your cheek, resting his thumb on your trembling lips. 

A jolt of electricity went through your body. How many times had he held you like this? Exactly like this? Seconds before he would pull you into a kiss and say something sweet or something nasty to you. Time stopped for a while—not for the rest of the world, no. The snowstorm was still raging outside and the guys were still playing in the living room and the flames were still flickering on the candles and in the fireplace. Time stopped for you and for Hyunjin only—time stopped being linear. Instead, it brought you back, just for a few instants, to the past. To the way things used to be when you were still whole. 

Hyunjin looked into your eyes as though they were a work of art in a museum that he wanted to study. His gaze trailed down to your lips, lingering there much longer than it should, before returning where it was. 

“Yes,” you insisted but your face was so warm you could feel it. “You worked so hard for it and none of what you sacrificed for it was for nothing.”

“I put it up for sale some time ago,” Hyunjin revealed, struggling to get the words out. “I don’t want it anymore.”

It would have felt the same if he had been the one to slap you in the face right then and there. You pulled away, the intimate bubble you two were in breaking instantly. You whispered an outraged cry at him. “LIKE HELL YOU’RE SELLING IT!” You pushed him away almost like he had attacked you. And he sort of had. “There’s your blood, sweat, and tears in this place, you’re not giving up on it. I forbid it.” You became aware that the living room was eerily quiet all of a sudden.

“It’s already on the market. Besides, I’m not changing my mind.” Hyunjin shrugged, looking over your shoulder to stare at the snow. “You’re wrong. What I sacrificed for it was too high a price.”

“But it was your dream.” You could not believe you were having this conversation.

“A dream can become pointless,” Hyunjin replied. “Mine did. That’s why I called Minho. I wanted to ask if he knew anyone who might be interested in buying. And if he’d have me back at the restaurant.”

“This is not happening.” You shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest. “Is Felix in charge of selling it? FELIX?”

“There’s people in bed upstairs,” Hyunjin urged you but you were already gone—you did your best to get to the living room as quickly as possible.

Felix had paused the game, leaving his Switch on the coffee table. “What’s going on?” 

“Are you selling his bar?” Felix’s facial expression turned suspiciously contrite—he did not need to say anything, you already had your answer. “What the fuck? Isn’t he your best friend or something? How can you let him do that? Don’t you remember all the hard work he put into it? All the love? You were there, same as me!” 

Felix looked somewhere next to you where you could only suppose Hyunjin was standing. All the while, you noticed Jisung’s concerned look as he observed the scene. 

Still, it was Seungmin who spoke first. “People change their minds sometimes.” 

“But not about this,” you insisted. “This is the equivalent of a mother selling her child.” 

“Hyunjin thought long and hard about this,” Felix explained. “He tried many things, but…”

“But at the end of the day, no matter what I tried or even what my damn therapist would tell me,” Hyunjin finished for him, “the fire was gone, and it was all meaningless.” 

You found nothing to say about that. In fact you found nothing to say about anything. After letting the silence grow heavy the more time passed, Jisung tried to break the uneasiness that had infiltrated the room. “My laptop’s got a full battery,” he said. “How about we put on a movie and try to get some sleep? I bet Minho’s gonna be working in that kitchen at 5 AM tomorrow.” 

Everybody agreed a little too eagerly, however your voice still hadn’t returned. You left the guys while they were setting up the laptop and choosing a movie to retrieve your power bank in order to charge your phone overnight. Nightcap. It simply could not be gone. It made no sense—the more you thought about it the less sense it made, in fact. Hyunjin had invested a lot of money in it. Who in their right mind would waste this away? 

“Dude, I’m not sleeping next to him, sorry,” you heard Seungmin. “We all know he basically runs a marathon in his sleep every night.” 

Hyunjin clicked his tongue. “I just move around a little bit, you’re being dramatic. Fine, take this bed then.” 

The exchange brought a little bit of warmth back into you as you recalled Hyunjin’s insane sleeping habits. It’s not that he talked in his sleep or that he sleepwalked, but he would go to bed wearing something with a certain amount of blankets and wake up the next morning butt naked with only a quarter of one blanket left on the bed, covering nothing at all. It was funny but it still resulted in you being rather cold, especially during the winter months, so you had to sleep in separate blankets than him. 

God, you missed him.

You still missed him even though he was right there, just a few meters away. 

Most of the kerfuffle was over by the time you joined the living room again where the five mattresses had been laid down next to one another. Felix slept on the far left, then Seungmin, then Jisung. The next bed was empty, and the one on the far right was occupied by Hyunjin who was scrolling his phone. He looked around as you approached, realizing that nobody had taken the space beside him. 

There were three awkward seconds before he came to help you sit down to make sure you didn’t strain your ankle too much. “I’m sure Ji would trade places with you,” he told you as you sat down on the mattress. It was soft but not too much, and comfy. The blankets were smooth. 

You probably should trade places with Jisung. For your own sake. “I’m good if you are,” you said nonetheless. It must be the wine. “Besides, I’m far more used to your antics than any of these guys.”

Hyunjin let out a faint chuckle. “Do any of them know you snore?”

Your mouth fell open in utter shock. “I do not!” 

“Sometimes you do when you’re really tired,” Hyunjin recalled, lying down in his own bed. He spoke to Jisung behind you. “If it gets too annoying, you’ll have to tickle her until she wakes up and stops.” 

“How is that fair? I don’t go around and reveal all your secrets?!” You lay down too, pulling the blankets over you, immediately reaching a level of snugness not yet known to mankind. The fire was keeping the entire room warm. “I didn’t tell anybody when you cried at the movie theater watching Inside Out!” 

Felix actually spat out the water he was drinking. Seungmin begged for details but you decided to leave it there because it was funnier this way. Jisung started the movie and everyone settled in. You had already seen this movie but it was one that you liked so you paid attention, watching as well as you could from your mattress on Jisung’s laptop screen. 

It was unfortunately Jisung who fell asleep first—so much for his big sleepover. By then, your comfort levels had gone down significantly due to your sore ankle. You winced in pain, trying to stuff some of the thick blankets underneath your foot to elevate it a little. 

Hyunjin rested himself on one elbow, leaning next to you. “Are you alright?” he whispered. His breath smelled like sweet mint—he was still using the same toothpaste as he used to. “Does it hurt?” 

He was very close. Close enough that you could see the texture of his lips. “A little. It’s okay.” 

He wasted no time. “Hold on.” In less than two seconds, Hyunjin was up again and going to the freezer to fill a plastic bag with ice. 

When he returned, he kneeled down at the foot of your bed to apply the ice under your covers—he also used one of the pillows from the couch to elevate your ankle. Your heart skipped a beat every time he touched you. “Better?”

“So much better. Thanks.” 

Hyunjin nodded and looked at the other guys. With a playful roll of the eyes, he simply closed the laptop’s lid. 

“They’re all asleep. Children,” he giggled under his breath, returning to his bed. And you would not admit this to anybody but you could swear he was much closer to you than he had been before. “Goodnight. And wake me up if you need to get up. I know you’ll have to pee like a million times.” 

You elbowed him gently yet firmly. “Goodnight.” Without the laptop screen lighting up the room, the whole place seemed warmer, like amber was coating everything. 

You closed your eyes and yet you knew sleep would not find you. You were still thinking about Nightcap and what it meant for Hyunjin. 

And his arm was dangerously close to yours. If you moved even just one inch, your hand would brush his. 

After it had been agreed it was best for everybody if you two slept under separate blankets, Hyunjin had gotten into the habit of finding your hand under all of those layers separating you and holding it as the two of you drifted to sleep.

You missed him.

You missed being loved by him.

“Hyunjin,” you mouthed, your mind haunted by visions of Hyunjin behind the bar at Nightcap, mixing his kick ass drinks, chatting with his favorite regulars.

“What? Already?” He rolled on his side with a puzzled expression on his face. You had been right—his hand ghosted yours as he did so but he made sure to keep it away. “You need to get your kidneys looked at.” 

“Oh shut up, I don’t need to pee.” You rolled on your side too so you would face him. “You can’t sell Nightcap.” 

His eyes darkened. He licked his teeth, sighing. “I’m selling Nightcap. Case closed. Now, sleep.” He closed his eyelids, almost like a child would when they pretended to sleep. 

You tugged at the sleeve of his t-shirt. “Don’t play with me. Look at me in the eyes, Hyunjin, and tell me you no longer want to have your own bar.” 

It took a while but Hyunjin yielded, opening his eyes, his gaze finding yours. He stared at you then slid even closer—he was on the very edge of his mattress. “I no longer want to have my own bar.”

“But why? Everything you did… It’s the best damn bar in town.” The conversation was barely audible and yet you two understood each other perfectly. “I know it isn’t easy, but you can do this.” 

Hyunjin held his breath for a few seconds. “Nobody ever believed in me as much as you did,” he muttered, dejected. 

You clicked your tongue. “Bullshit. That isn’t true. Everyone believed and still believe in you. Felix! And Minho, Chan, Changb—”

He shook his head, disagreeing. “No. I mean. Yes, but it’s not the same. They believed in my business, in my drinks and in my chances at building something good. But you, you believed in me.”

It pulled the air out of your lungs—you stayed there, motionless, your gaze slowly blurring as tears pricked at your eyes. You hated this. You hated all of this.

You hated speaking in the past tense with Hyunjin. 

“I still do,” you managed, exhaling shakily. You closed your eyes in the hopes it would stop you from crying. 

It did not. You tried burying your face into your pillow but Hyunjin was quicker—you jumped a little when he touched you, wiping your tears with the back of his fingers before caressing your cheek with his thumb. A strong chill went through your spine, tickling you all over your body. Especially between your legs. 

Oh fuck. 

“See? It’s just how I said. Nobody believes in me the way you do,” Hyunjin whispered. He must have gotten closer because you could feel his breath on the damp skin of your face. “I’m selling Nightcap because it lost its meaning. I was not quite enough for it back when I had you by my side. Now that I’m alone, I’m properly inadequate.” 

You opened your eyes not minding the tears anymore. You couldn’t shake this anger inside you. “You gave up on me,” you said. “And now you’re going to give up on your dream, too?” 

Hyunjin remained quiet for an instant, his gaze dancing from your eyes to your lips to his hand, still very close to yours. “I had the idea for Nightcap when I realized I was in love with you and I didn’t think you would ever return my feelings,” Hyunjin explained. “I couldn’t stand the idea of working at the same place as you. It was torture. But by some miracle, you did fall in love with me. Nightcap—that dream—and you became intertwined in my head. Don’t you get it? The tables have turned now—I can’t stand being in a place where you are not.” 

He wiped your tears again, taking his time, caressing your lips. The tingling came back in your extremities while a distracting pressure pulled at your loins. You had to resist the urge to kiss his hand. You had to resist the urge to forget all the pain you had been through and kiss him.

“Can I please ask you something? Just one thing,” Hyunjin went on, tucking your hair behind your ear like he used to. “But only tell me the truth. If you’re going to say anything but the truth I don’t want to hear it.”

You nodded, wondering if he could feel your pulse through your skin. 

“Have you been happy? Have you been living a good life, falling in love, making friends, enjoying each day?” 

This hurt a whole lot more than your sprained ankle. This hurt more than a blade through the heart. A blade through the heart was swift, merciful. This was more like a serrated knife wielded by some psychopath. Your reflex was to retreat both of your arms underneath your blankets as though it would protect you.

The truth. “I’ll tell you if you tell me,” you chose to say. 

He thought about it. “No. I haven’t been happy, but it’s a bit better with the meds that the psychiatrist prescribed.” He licked his lips, a slight frown appearing between his brows. “There hasn’t been anybody else. Your turn now.”

He was single? Not just single—he hadn’t seen anyone else since last Valentine’s Day? Hyunjin? This young god? Business owner? Handsome as hell? Charming without even trying to be? How could it even be?

You took some time to ponder over it. “I don’t know. I don’t remember what it felt like to be happy. I remember moments of it, but it’s like they happened to somebody else, or like I saw it in a movie. My heart forgot how to be anything but heavy.” 

This seemed to make him sad. “Have you fallen in love?” 

Your body was warm under the blankets but you refused to take off Hyunjin’s hoodie. You let his scent invade you. You let it remind you of the first time he kissed you.

“No. My heart forgot how to do that, too.” 

Hyunjin said nothing but his eyes did not leave you. You felt his hand sneak underneath your covers, searching for yours—he held it when he found it, squeezing it gently. “Sleep,” he whispered. 

Muscle memory is one hell of a thing. Despite the turmoil within you and despite the unexpected fire between your legs, the familiar feeling of your hand in Hyunjin’s, joined together under a separate layer of blankets, appeased you. Or maybe it was the wine. And the drink before that. But your eyelids became heavy and your chest a little lighter. 

Maybe it was just a dream, but you felt Hyunjin press his lips on your forehead, whispering inaudible things as you surrendered to sleep.

Maybe it was just a dream.

to be continued...

Note: Happy holidays everyone! I have been working on this for a while and as I mentioned in the masterlist, I truly intended on releasing everything as a one-shot for Christmas. Unfortunately there have been complications at work and I had to pick up a few additional shifts... So instead of rushing or not finishing it on time, I've separated the story in two parts!

It was great to revisit bartender hyun<3 it made me very nostalgic from the period of time when I originally wrote Just stay with me. I'd like to say thank you to all of my readers, of course, but especially those who have been sticking around with me since then or even before! But thank you to everyone and to those who give me and my stories some love. Thank you for your kind words and for supporting me. I appreciate it <3

I will try to release part two asap!! Let's pray that things settle down at work.. You guys take care!

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[henneseyhoe]

What A Woman Wants; Taste

Trevante Rhodes x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: SMUT, Chiron an eater in this but when is he not, pussy slapping, slut shaming (kinda), fingering, dirty talk, drug use(just a luh weed) no actual PinV, !!Unedited!!.

SUMMARY: The beginning of various stories about the reader, her diary and her many favorites.

✮✮✮✮

Whore, slut, fast, hot, easy. What really is the definition of promiscuity? Maybe just a woman who sleeps around. Or someone who’s had many boyfriends and flings. Would she be a whore if she slept with a married man? What if she didn’t know? Would she still be a whore?

The word was as complex as sexual relations in itself, but in her mind, everyone was a whore. Everyone had whorish ways. Some people liked to be smacked on the ass when they fucked, some liked to be spat on, tied up, scratched, degraded, praised, and then some. So what was the problem that she got what she liked but from different people? Nothing, she thought.

She had men from one end to the other side of the pond. Short, tall, muscular, skinny, masculine, feminine, you name it. She’s seen dicks nearly the size of her forearm all over the globe. She kept track of the ones she liked in a diary and tossed the ones that were no fun.

One of her favorites who also happens to be an old classmate from college ate pussy like a starved man and only got up when she told him to, and that’s exactly how she liked her men; doing what she told them to do.

A blunt in hand and tattooed legs spread from one end of the bed to the other, he drank from her fountain, quenching his thirst as she gushed around his fingers. His other free hand softly caressed her bare pussy, fingertips dancing along her mound before they pressed against her aching clit.

Pulling his tongue from alongside his thrusting fingers, he looks down and admires the wet and dirty scene in front of him, the second pair of your lips shining like he had just applied baby oil to her.

“Pretty ass pussy”

“Yeah?”

He nods. “Mhm. Looking like this and you expect me to keep my mouth off of you?”

She hums out a moan, her pretty toes curling at that.

“I missed you all month, you might be in this position for a while”

He smirked and pulls out of her, watching as her hole winked and shrunk back to it’s small size that once accommodated his thick fingers. Pulling the hood of her clit back, the pink button pops up from underneath, greeting him with a few twitches as her pussy clenched around nothing.

“Fuck, baby…”

She watched him with just as much affection, but his eyes were too fixed on her heat to glare back at her. Blowing cold air onto the bundle of nerves, he pulls a long moan from her and he smiles in return before taking four of his fingers a licking across the tips of them, his other hand still occupied with the hood of her clit as he did so.

He pumped fake a few times, lifting that hand to her pussy and making her flinch before his hand finally came down and spanked her sensitive clit, the woman nearly dropping the spliff in her hand as her chest rises, a shock of both pain and pleasure running through her core.

“Fuck!” She breathes, smoke exiting her mouth. She was quick to sit the drug down in an ashtray laid on the bed next to her, the man on his knees in front of her still laying smacks to her pussy until her legs were shaking and she was squirting all over herself. Swirls in her stomach and stars in her eyes, she almost thanked god that her ass was halfway off of the bed so her sheets didn’t get wet but she soon realized she celebrated too early, the large palm of his hand beginning to rub her entire pussy instead and replace the teasing strikes, all of the juices that were once just falling on the hardwood floor spraying on anything within ten inches of her. That included on herself too.

She couldn’t speak and tell him to let up off of her if she wanted to, her stomach felt like it caved in as she had yet to let go of her breath to continue receiving oxygen.

He opened his mouth and welcomed all that she gave onto his tongue, a smile also playing on his face. He loved it when it was messy, wet to the point where it could be considered soaked even. His goatee covered in pussy juice showed and proved that to be true, droplets of her dripping from his chin.

Even after she was finished he still went in and licked her up from her clit to the puckering rim of her asshole, fixated upon the idea to make her cum again if she’d let him.

✮✮✮✮

💌~ startin this thang off with some good ole pussy eatin, iktr!😼💀 hope yall enjoyed tho, i think imma really enjoy this lil series just cause it’s a bunch of random shorts and not an actual storyline 😭 like everything and everyone is connected still but it doesn’t matter until brought up lmao.

[onbearfeet]

In Which the Wizard School Books Are a Hammer

Okay. I'm gonna tell this story once, and only once, because I think it might help people who are struggling to finally, FINALLY boot J.K. Rowling from their lives.

I can't precisely say I sympathize, but I definitely know how you feel, because I have already had to do this dance with someone I guarantee you've never heard of. I've had all the feelings you've had. I had to find a way through all by myself, and now I'm going to help you so you have an easier time. Okay? Okay.

Content warning: discussion of child sexual abuse (mentioned but not described in detail).

So there's this writer. I refuse to speak or write his name these days, so we'll call him Evil Bob. ("Bob" is my default placeholder name, and this Bob is evil.) Evil Bob was a damn good writer and, frankly, an underappreciated one in his time. I picked up a few of his projects out of the bargain bin on impulse when I was about 12, and after that he was one of my names to conjure with. If Evil Bob had written it, I wanted to read it. He had a kind of perfect workman's style--he did a lot of things pretty well, and he did them in such a way that a bright 12-year-old could see how the trick was done. I learned a lot of basic writerly technique from Evil Bob--things about dialogue and pacing and how to convey character through action and lots of other stuff. Evil Bob unlocked something in my brain, and I really blossomed as a young writer by applying the lessons of his work.

Evil Bob's fiction started to fall off in popularity eventually, so he switched to nonfiction and wrote a damn good history book that won a lot of awards. I read it in college. The man could really interview, I tell you what.

I even got to interview Evil Bob myself, eventually. I was working for a small magazine that wanted to publish an article about a certain minority group's representation in a certain fiction genre, and Evil Bob had written one of the seminal works in that niche, so I tracked down his contact info, called him up, and we had a lovely hourlong chat. He was kind and gracious and funny and --

Yeah, this is where you learn why I named him Evil Bob.

A few years ago, people in Evil Bob's old fiction genre started circulating a list of, shall we say, disgraced writers in the field. Think of it like a MeToo list. The list got passed around every time a new name was added, and at a certain point, after a much more famous name had just been added to it, the list crossed my feed for the first time in a while. I dutifully scanned down it in case there was anyone on it I'd missed; after all, I attended conventions for this genre, and some of these fuckers were on the list for assaulting fans like me, so I wanted to know who to watch out for.

And there, in the middle of the list, was Evil Bob.

Weird, I thought. Evil Bob had seemed chill when I spoke to him, and usually, being 22 with big boobs (as I was when I interviewed him) brought out the perv in these guys if there was any perv to bring out. Well, maybe this was something else--maybe he used a slur on an old tape or something. I googled.

It was something else, all right.

As I sat there googling, Evil Bob was sitting in a federal prison a thousand miles away. He was there because, according to his Wikipedia page, he had been convicted of having so many CSA images on his hard drive that the judge in his case became physically ill. Honestly, I want to know where he got a hard drive that big in the year he was arrested, but I absolutely will not be asking him.

Evil Bob was EVIL. Fuck the carceral state, but also never let that particular dude near kids or a computer again.

So now I had a problem. I was going to stop buying Evil Bob's stuff, obviously--I would drop the man like a hot potato--but I couldn't so easily remove his influence on me. I'll never be 12 years old and digging through the quarter bin at the used bookshop again. There's no way to re-learn the foundations of my artform without Evil Bob. The bastard is part of me, whether I like it or not. He's left his fingerprints on my brain. And while I have negative interest in creating my own criminal hard drive, it's a little hard to shake the irrational guilt (especially since I had been raised in a high-control religious environment where any contact with sin could permanently stain one's soul, and Evil Bob's writing was part of how I escaped, and--you get the idea). I couldn't shed the stink of Evil Bob. I'd written that article. I was covered in the fuckin' ooze.

I'll spare you the six months of angst and self-flagellation. I've been to therapy since this happened. Here's what I eventually decided:

Evil Bob is like a hammer.

My dad gave me an old hammer when I moved out, along with some other miscellaneous hand tools in a paper bag. I bought a toolbox, I put the tools in it, and I use them when I need tools. My dad is an asshole who abused his children, but a hammer is a hammer. Scratch the previous owner's name off the handle, and you can build a pretty fine house with it.

What I learned from Evil Bob are the tools of a trade, and tools are not inherently evil. He taught me how to put sentences together--but I decide what my sentences say. He showed me how to convey character--but I choose what I'm conveying. He made me a writer--but I'm the one writing now.

So I still use Evil Bob's tools, with his name scoured off. I still teach some of those lessons, but he's the one source I don't cite. Oh, that dialogue hack? I picked it up in grad school, pinky swear. Here, let me share it with you for free, with no credit or compensation to the bastard who taught it to me.

I won't pretend Evil Bob wasn't an influence on my younger self, but you'll never hear me speak his legal name. I was one of the few people who really counted themselves fans of his work ... and he'll never get a whisper of a hint of that support from me again. I guarantee you won't be able to track him down from this post, and that's just the way I like it. There's a reason I haven't identified what genre he wrote in, or what his seminal fiction work was about, or whom he interviewed for that prizewinning book.

Damnatio memoriae, motherfucker. This is my hammer now, and it always has been.

So how do we give JKR the Evil Bob treatment?

Unfortunately, the Terf Queen has a larger media presence than Evil Bob ever did. One sad ex-Potterhead won't be able to erase her from culture. But there's a lot more than one of you, isn't there?

The thing is, cultural trends fade faster than you expect. Plenty of celebrities and famous artists of your parents' generation are nobodies now, and it's usually because their work spoke to your parents but not to you. I once witnessed my brother trying to read his sons a 1912 book about Spanish naval history as a bedtime story, and let me tell you, it did not go over well. Some art burns hot and bright and then it burns OUT.

The Potterheads are the parents now. Imagine how easy it would be to just ... stop talking about her. Stop buying the merch. Don't watch the new TV show or play the new game. Don't tell people you used to be a fan--not because you ought to be ashamed, but because you're not going to give her the satisfaction of saying her name. And when your kids ask about your tattoo, just tell them not to get blackout drunk in college.

Damnatio memoriae, motherfucker.

And if you feel the need to explain where you learned your kindness and courage, your unshakable loyalty to your friends (especially the trans ones), your hope in the face of overwhelming darkness ...

... why, that's your hammer. And it always has been.

[bekolxeram]

The sheer number of times Eddie is mentioned when Buck comes out to Maddie has been pointed out time and time again. Some take it as a sign that Buck is subconsciously in love with Eddie, some see it as foreshadowing for these two to be romantically involved in the future, while others simply think it's an Easter egg left in by writers as a nod to shippers.

The way I see it, there is a reason why Eddie keeps being brought up in this scene, but it's not what you think.

If you've rewatched this scene as much as I have, you'd remember that Buck actually isn't coming out to Maddie on purpose in this scene. He originally goes there to talk and ask for her advice, because he feels bad about the hot chicks incident when Eddie walked in on him and Tommy at the restaurant.

In fact, he fully intends to keep the identity of his date hidden. He can't even risk Chimney getting wind of it, in case he or Eddie puts two and two together and figures the whole thing out.

Maddie is always there to talk things out with her brother, but she would never turn down a chance to gossip.

He completely dodges Maddie's question and quickly changes the subject. He needs to tell Maddie the full story of his disastrous date, but he can only refer to Tommy as his date, or "this person". The more he does this, the higher the risk of slipping up, Maddie would likely ask more questions about this mysterious person as well, so Buck frames the whole narrative around the only person he can safely refer to: Eddie (and Marisol, but she isn't important in this story).

Maddie picks up on Buck's secrecy, now she really wants to know who this person is and why Buck refuses to reveal their identity. Buck again immediately shuts it down, and brings the topic back to Eddie.

While I'm sure Buck feels bad for lying to his best friend, especially when there's no reason to expect Eddie reacting with anything less than acceptance, when Buck starts actually talking about his behavior and what upsets him the most, it isn't really about Eddie. He's ashamed of himself for lying right in front of Tommy. In fact, he's so upset over Tommy cutting the date short and leaving him on the curb that he accidentally uses a gendered pronoun.

Maddie "I am 9-1-1" Han makes a career out of being a good and thorough listener, so of course she notices the pronoun. From this point on, the subject of the conversation shifts from Eddie to Buck's newly discovered sexuality, and later, Tommy.

Buck knows he goes to Maddie because he feels bad, but he still hasn't fully processed the fact that he's into men too and what it means to him. He's still calling himself an ally, a supporter of queer people, but he's confused as to why it doesn't seem to apply when it comes to himself. Maddie correctly points out that he's no longer just an ally, and the recency of his discovery might have been the cause of his strange and panicked behavior during the date.

This is the prime example of acting turning the same line into different meanings. The first "wow" seems to me like Maddie is finally connecting the dots. She practically raised her brother, it's not unlikely that she has previously witnessed Buck having boy problems. I feel like it's a "wow, everything makes so much sense now" wow. It looks like Buck takes a little offence at it and asks Maddie to clarify what she means by "wow". Maddie tells him it's more like a "wow, this is a nice surprise" wow.

Oh, boy is completely clueless. Maddie is just trying her best to keep up with Buck's increasingly oblivious statements.

Buck suddenly brings up Tommy, probably because he hasn't been able to stop thinking about him since the kiss. Apparently, he's so attracted to Tommy both physically and as a person, it makes him realize his interest in men, something no other has achieved thus far. Maddie recognizes the name her brother has been harping on for the past few weeks.

Poor Maddie must be so confused. First her brother and husband-to-be keep talking about how cool this pilot who saved everyone is, then he becomes Eddie's friend and Buck gets all jealous about it. Most recently, Maddie is horrified by Buck's action on the basketball court, because he only has a history of hurting himself to get someone's attention, not the target of his attention seeking. And now Buck has gone on a date with Tommy? So Maddie decides, one step at a time, let's not get ahead of ourselves. Buck initially tells Maddie about lying to his best friend and how he feels like a fraud, so she tackles (no pun intended) this part first.

If you come into this scene with preconceived notions, the word "feelings" being in proximity to the name Eddie may seem like to you that Maddie is pointing to "Buck's misplaced romantic feelings towards Eddie". But if you put these lines into context, Buck simply isn't sure of how he feels about his bisexuality in general. In fact, the only thing he's certain of in this entire conversation is his attraction to Tommy. Maddie also isn't bringing up Eddie out of the blue because she thinks her brother is secretly in love with his best friend. Again, Buck originally does want advice about lying to Eddie, albeit partly using his name to avoid revealing his date's identity, so Maddie gives it to him now, no need to read too much in between the lines, especially after the "wow" exchange.

Now that the Eddie stuff is out of the way, Maddie can comfortably gossip about Buck's new hot pilot crush. And Buck looks absolutely smitten at the mere mention of Tommy.

Eddie is undoubtedly a very important person in Buck's life, and it must be killing Buck inside for lying about something so important to his best friend. Though in this scene, Buck seems to be mostly using Eddie's name to circumvent the necessity of mentioning Tommy's name and to deflect any probing question about his identity. Once he accidently lets it slip that he was on a date with a guy, he pretty much drops the whole Eddie act entirely.

[cripplecharacters]

Hi! I was actually wondering if you all could do a really in-depth post specifically on canes versus forearm crutches. I’ve noticed a couple of the recent asks pertain to it, and I think I myself still have one in the queue related to it, but in all of the posts y’all link us too in your answers to those asks, I have found the information is still very sparse and doesn’t directly compare the two in a lot of detail. I would really really love to see a specific dedicated post that breaks down the differences Between them directly, and goes into a lot more detail about what kind of person might prefer a cane and what kind of person might prefer forearm crutches. Differences in conditions, pain levels, fatigue levels, location of issue on their body, other symptoms, examples of disabilities that might more commonly default to one over the other, all that stuff. I’ve looked through basically all your posts on the subject I can find, and still feel like it’s really only scratching the surface, so if there’s a way y’all would be willing to do one big post on this topic specifically, I know at least I would really love it and I think others would as well! Most of the existing posts are a little too broad and surface level, and while I have found them super helpful as a starting point, I would love to see one that zooms in just on these two mobility aids rather than a broad overview of all types of mobility aids being compared like most of the existing resources y’all have. Seriously love what you all do and I would be extremely grateful for this!

Hey anon, just for you:

On Writing Characters Using Canes vs Crutches

[large text: On Writing Characters Using Canes vs Crutches]

This is a writing advice post that doesn't cover every single possibility because that's too impossible to try and do. It's simplified to be coherent for writers who have little to no experience with these sorts of mobility aids, and I encourage anyone who wants to write a character using either of these to treat this post as a small part of a larger research process. This post will contain generalizations for the purpose of me wanting to actually finish it. This is writing advice, not medical information, nor something you should be applying to real life.

Please keep in mind that a lot of the disability examples will only be shown in a single category because otherwise this would be a comical block of text. So yes, I know that a ton of conditions outside the "chronic pain" category also come with chronic pain, but I want this list to be actually easy to look through.

This will compare the cane (singular stick) to crutches (two sticks). Differences between a singular crutch and two canes will be at the end.

Canes

[large text: Canes]

The most primitive mobility aid that's out there. A wrist-height stick with a handle. An incredible invention. You hold it in your hand (at a rather natural angle) and that's mostly it - it's meant to follow a standard (left leg forward, right arm forward) gait and be a support meant for generally milder mobility issues. A cane can take up to 25% of body weight, so like half of what a leg does.

As a TLDR, here's what they could be:

One leg unable to bear the entire weight (but not completely unable) - this could be a result of a problem anywhere from the bottom of the foot all the way to the hip.

Milder balance problems - largely neurological, so either a condition that affects the brain, the spinal cord, or the nerves in the leg. There are also some autoimmune, respiratory, and cardiovascular causes as well, plus a few more.

Back/trunk problems, most commonly pain.

To use a cane you need two legs, most people who use canes for leg reasons will have a “good leg” and a “bad leg”. If this is the case, you'd typically hold the cane on the good leg side, as that redistributes the weight - and pain - between the bad leg and the cane.

The good leg needs to be able to bear the whole weight comfortably, the bad leg needs to be able to bear, at the very least, half of the weight. If the disability affects legs to the point where either:

both have problems weight-bearing;

one can't bear weight at all (e.g., amputation, flaccid paralysis, pain too severe);

then two crutches (or other mobility aid, like a wheelchair) would be the move. The cane doesn't replace an entire leg and is meant to be a minor support.

Examples of what would cause someone to use a cane:

Monoplegia or hemiplegia that is spastic (rigid) in the leg. This could be a result of stroke, traumatic brain injury, cerebral palsy, multiple sclerosis, nerve damage, Brown-Séquard syndrome, polio, encephalitis, transverse myelitis, progressive multifocal leukoencephalopathy, alternating hemiplegia of childhood, hemiplegic migraines, or being a hemispherectomy survivor. And many more things.

Chronic pain; arthritis, hypermobility spectrum disorders, chronic patellar instability, h-EDS, neuropathy, peripheral artery disease, past injuries (e.g., broken foot that healed incorrectly), systemic lupus erythematosus, joint replacement, chronic bursitis, and a lot more.

Relatively minor fatigue - most fatigue disorders will be on a wide spectrum, and people's symptoms often vary a lot. But a cane could help with fibromyalgia, Charcot Marie Tooth disease, POTS, scoliosis, severe kyphosis/lordosis, COPD (and other respiratory conditions), or milder forms of CFS/ME. Someone undergoing chemotherapy (or taking some other fatigue-causing medication) could also use one.

Muscle conditions, which are an even bigger spectrum. Spinal muscular atrophy type 3 and 4, early Limb-Girdle muscular dystrophy, tibial MD, Becker MD, or early myotonic dystrophy type 2 can all be reasons to use a cane. Keep in mind that these have drastically different presentations from person to person, and it's not entirely unusual for two people with the same kind of muscular dystrophy to use very different mobility aids (e.g., a tilt-in-space powerchair vs ...no aid at all). These are just the ones where I'm aware of a person who 1) has it, 2) uses a cane, even if it's not the most common aid.

Prosthetic leg on one side; usually below knee (high level amputees will more often go for crutches, even if they use a prosthetic).

The second biggest reason why people use a cane is balance. For this the cane can be held in either hand; some people have a preference, generally for the non-dominant hand for convenience - although many people with balance problems will also have a coordination disorder that might make using their non-dominant hand too difficult. Some people will switch the side they hold it on.

For a lot of people with balance problems, a cane might be the aid they use at home, and use a rollator or a wheelchair outside.

A good cane for balance purposes is a quad cane - it has four legs at the bottom and offer more stability than the single point equivalent. However, the larger base might also mean that for some people it can be easier to hit it with their foot, which ranges from annoying to dangerous.

Examples of disabilities that affect balance;

Many of the things included in the first section - primarily those that directly affect the brain or nerves.

Conditions that cause vertigo - again, many of the same things as before because a lot of them tend to originate in the brain. So other than aforementioned meningitis or stroke and the like: Ramsay Hunt syndrome, migraines, basically any sort of brain damage, POTS, Meniere's disease, labyrinthitis.

Respiratory problems, like chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, severe asthma, or lupus.

Coordination disorders - again, a lot of overlap with aforementioned disabilities, so I'll skip to things I haven't mentioned yet. Ataxia could be caused by a lot of things; some include the Chiari malformation, ataxia-telangiectasia, Friedrich's ataxia, Parkinson's, brain tumors, or Niemann-Pick disease. Dystonia is usually a primary condition rather than being caused by other things (although it can be). Dyspraxia is also a coordination disorder generally milder than ataxia, and canes can be potentially helpful for it as well.

As mentioned before, some coordination disorders will affect the upper limbs as well, and it might be too difficult to use a cane. For disabilities like Huntington’s disease, or ataxia that significantly affects the hands, rollators and wheelchairs tend to be more helpful.

Anything that causes the person to fall. Fall risk is the primary reason people use canes.

A cane can also be used for back/trunk issues. One can lift off some weight of the body from above the Problem by putting the weight on the arm instead. I have really severe kyphosis as well as (partial) trunk muscle atrophy/coordination problems and quite literally can't straighten my back for more than a few minutes at most - my cane allows me to do that more easily and without needing to think about it as much.

Examples of some conditions that cause that include;

sciatica;

degenerative disk disease;

past spine injury;

scoliosis or severe kyphosis/lordosis.

In my experience, you need fairly good arm strength to use a cane comfortably. For people with more significant weakness in upper limbs, rollators tend to work better.

Grip strength is also important; there are canes designed to mitigate this (the platform cane/crutch comes to mind) but they're not the most common because often (not always) when someone has this issue they already require a larger mobility aid.

Canes are often a "starting" mobility aid, i.e., a person starts using it at first but later transitions to using something else as their disability progresses (or they realize that it wasn't adequate in the first place, it mostly happens with slowly progressive conditions - when they decide to get a cane, it's often just too late). A cane can be useful at the very start of an onset of amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, but it's basically worthless beyond that.

Similarly (kind of), a cane can be the "smaller" mobility aid for someone who uses multiple of them at the same time. Someone dealing with fatigue could use a cane at home, but need a rollator for going out, or a wheelchair for longer trips. Another person could use a cane when going out with a prosthetic leg on, but use a wheelchair or crutches at home when not wearing the prosthetic.

Crutches

[large text: Crutches]

These are more complex and provide more help. Crutches directly affect your gait depending on the exact disability, and take away both hands. They can potentially take up to 100% of body weight for parts of the walking cycle if you have good upper body strength and balance, and 50% otherwise (so, one good or two half-good legs still required).

Crutches are used for a lot of things (realistically too many to cover here) so I'll just go with the main categories that encompass most of them.

A) Both legs can't fully bear weight;

The same things as in the cane section, but present on both sides rather than one.

Hypotonia; can be caused by thousands of things. Some include Down syndrome, Tay-Sachs syndrome, achondroplasia, being born prematurely, brain damage, and congenital hypothyroidism.

Paraplegia that's low-level and/or incomplete, or quadriplegia that's incomplete. Quadriplegia is a huge spectrum as well, and it will depend on the amount of strength and flexibility that the individual person has in their arms and hands.

Bilateral amputation with prosthetics. (Someone who can bear weight no problem but has a milder balance problem could use a cane instead.)

B) One leg can't bear any or a lot of weight;

The same things as in the cane section, they're basically all on a spectrum, so some people choose a cane and others choose crutches.

Unilateral amputation, or congenital limb difference.

Limb length discrepancy where it doesn't touch the ground or barely does so.

C) Significant balance issues;

Same things as for canes, but either more severe or just someone's personal preference.

D) Back/trunk pain;

Same as C).

Additional note based on things I have seen: you can't use crutches if you have no legs and no prosthetics. You can't walk literally just on crutches. You need at least a single leg or prosthetic.

(Yeah I'm aware that there's probably a guy somewhere who does tricks where he does exactly that for a short video. That's Crutches Georg and he should not be counted because 99.9% of crutches users won't be doing that ever.)

Crutches will provide much more stability and relieve more pressure than a cane, but there is a wide range of the amount of support depending on how they are utilized.

What the disability is can actually present itself in the person's gait - there are a few main ones that are associated with crutches;

Four-point. The two legs and two crutches work as four different points of support, and three of them are in contact with the ground at any time. A lot (not all) of people who use it will use crutches full-time and/or not be able to stand without them. The most stable and the slowest out of all of these.

Three-point. Probably the one most people have in mind when thinking crutches. The crutches both move at the same time, along with the bad leg, then the good leg follows. This is the "broken leg in a cast" way of walking.

Two-point. The closest to how non-crutch users generally walk. It's like having a cane on each side; left crutch forward, right leg forward. Fairly fast.

Step-to. The crutches work as one point of contact, and the legs as the other - both of each will move forward at the same time. In the step-to, a person puts their feet at the crutches' height. Fairly fast as well.

and step-through. I'd say the most difficult, least stable, providing the least amount of support. The same as in step-to, both crutches go forward before both legs, however here the legs get swung through them while the person is only holding up on crutches. This is the fastest that it gets, and can definitely be faster than an abled person walking. You can run quickly like this.

If you have issues visualizing them, there are a lot of great demonstrations on YouTube that you can look up for clarification.

There are a lot of subtle differences in which one people end up using, but as a rule of thumb, the more balance they lack, the more points of support they need. To provide some examples;

a person with quadriplegic cerebral palsy might lack balance and coordination, so they might use a four-point gait.

A person with one-sided tarsal tunnel syndrome can walk with a three-point gait, as it can be used to mitigate weight-bearing fully or partially - if the pain gets worse, they can just not touch the ground with that leg.

A person with incomplete thoracic spinal cord injury could also work with a three point gait, though they would put both legs on the ground. If someone has good strength in the arms and trunk, they can get both crutches in the front along with one leg, then try to get the second one to go forward as well. This is how a lot of crutch users with a disability affecting two legs, but with decent balance and upper body strength, walk.

A person who had a traumatic brain injury and now experiences balance problems but not as much leg issues could opt for a two-point gait. It does help with weight redistribution, but primarily provides a lot of balance.

Both step-to and step-through are primarily used by single-leg problem havers (like unilateral amputees) in my experience, but I've seen people with diplegia or incomplete low-level spastic paraplegia use it too. You need very good balance and good upper body strength. I've seen dudes do backflips and ride skateboards on crutches like this. You can run as well and be way faster than you think.

The same as canes, crutches require arm strength. The more you're looking to take away from the legs, the more will go to the shoulders. If someone doesn't have the needed arm strength, a rollator will be more helpful. Walkers not so much as they still require some strength to turn.

More Direct Comparisons

[large text: More Direct Comparisons]

The differences between pain and fatigue levels might be somewhat evident from comparing the sections above - to generalize the subject as much as possible: the bigger the pain or the fatigue, the higher possibility of using crutches over a cane is. They provide more relief for both, as well as providing more balance.

Now, there's always exceptions. Someone might not be able to use two sticks, because of a disability affecting one of the arms - hemiplegia is a common example. In this case, the person could prefer to use a single crutch rather than two. They could opt for platform crutches, which don't require as secure of a grip. They might need a rollator instead. They might have a powerchair that they operate with their good arm.

Another thing is that some people will use crutches even if a cane would work just as well. Some people like the grip more, or find them easier to use. They could also like that crutches are seen as more medical than a cane, which could be seen as a fashion accessory. Maybe they can be faster on crutches than with a cane (e.g., if their disability is limited to a single leg, getting it out of the walk cycle might be more convenient) and that matters to them.

And to go with this, some people just don't like crutches. I personally don't like the forearm cuff because I tend to swing my wrist around with my cane rather than hold it perfectly straight, so the cuff seems annoying. For someone else that could be more than a preference, e.g. if they have a limb difference that affects the length of their forearms to be much shorter - a person like this could prefer two canes.

As to what mobility aids are better for which disabilities, it's highly individualized, but to heavily generalize again: canes tend to be more helpful for relatively milder disabilities, and crutches for relatively more significant ones based on the amount of support they provide. But that's an oversimplification so simple that it's not really useful.

Someone with neuropathy in parts of their foot might find a cane completely sufficient, but it wouldn't be as useful for someone with nerve damage that caused flaccid paralysis from the hip down; they would probably prefer crutches. But then again, someone with mild vertigo could use crutches because they prefer them (even if a cane would work just fine) while someone else might have incomplete C6 quadriplegia and use a cane with leg braces over crutches because they enjoy having a free hand.

For more similarities between the two; overuse injuries can happen to both cane and crutch users, generally in the shoulder(s). They're not very common unless you're putting more weight on them than you're supposed to. They're very annoying because it drastically tanks your mobility until they get better (unless you can walk without them just as much that is), but they're treatable with physical therapy.

Now for the two canes and a singular crutch. Let's start with the fact that the latter is infinitely more popular than the former. It's basically the same as a single cane but more supportive; it's good for people who need more balance than a cane provides but can't use both hands. Two canes is very rare and I can't tell you what the actual pattern of choosing them over other options is outside of personal preference because I have no idea.

The general conclusion of the post is that crutches and canes really aren't that different, and are more of a spectrum of usable sticks by the amount of support they provide to the user. That's why often you'll see canes and crutches listed as the same thing when it comes to "management of XYZ disability" type resources - for a lot of them they're rather similar in practice, especially when compared to rollators, walkers, scooters, or wheelchairs.

I hope this was more in depth and therefore more helpful, if this still leaves you with some unanswered question feel free to reach out again.

mod Sasza

[mental-ch-illness]

pro tip for recovering addicts

TW: Addiction, Alcohol dependency

as someone currently working through a moderate addiction to alcohol, there is something that actually really has helped me recently: replacement and going nuclear.

i would like to say that this method is not fool proof, and it will not work for people who have not completely accepted their addiction or have severe addiction. also, i am only dealing with alcohol dependency, so this may not work for others. even if you are struggling with alcohol, this might not work for you, but here's something that has helped me.

going nuclear, so don't even bother with trying to convince yourself it's going to be just one sip or one night. if you didn't trust yourself earlier that day, you probably shouldn't trust yourself now. so i've been doing the Most™ and simply applying brute force against myself. here's what i've been doing.

bought myself a timer lock. i put my alcohol in a cabinet and then use the lock on the cabinet. that way i have to wait to get to it. i can have a drink and then put it back and reset the lock. this prevents me from going back for more before the effects actually kick in. usually i make it a few hours. this method is great if you have a problems with delayed gratification because you can watch the numbers go down. also, you can set it to a longer periods of time to prevent day drinking. it's pretty easy, so you can set it up during those periods of clarity and yet it still holds up once the urges start up again.

i now leave my driver's license in the lock box of my car whenever i go to the store. this helps as i typically go to the store telling myself i won't buy alcohol. then when i'm actually passing by that aisle i find myself picking up some bottles and convincing myself it will be fine. it's not fine. just like above, take advantage of those moments of clarity and lock up your ID.

i've been deliberately diluting my alcohol by making premade mixed drinks. a go too of mine is measuring out three parts fruit juice and one part vodka (so it should be... like... 8% ABV, but don't quote me on that). i typically just mix it into an already emptied bottle of fruit juice. that way, instead of just doing shots of straight vodka, i am forced to actually drink a whole cocktail. there's only so much my stomach can hold, so it forces me to slow down.

i started taking medication to help curb addiction urges. currently, i am on a daily dose of naltrexone (as a pill) to help curb the urge to drink. it's not a cure all, but it does provide a sort of speed bump. not just with alcohol. i've sometimes found myself questioning impulse purchases and the like much more often. there are other medications that can help, so it might help to talk to your doctor.

here's another thing that isn't really 'nuclear', but has helped: i got a snow cone machine... just a tiny one i found on clearance. whenever i got the urge to drink, i'd make a snow cone. i didn't think it would work as well as it has, but i think the dopamine hit from that does help to curb things.

not everyone can quit cold turkey, but everyone should do their best to outsmart their addiction when they can. you'll fuck up, but that doesn't mean that you are a fuck up. it's gonna be okay. maybe not today, or tomorrow, or the next day, but it will be one day.

[tarotofhope]

Masterlist | Paid Services

Note: These are just my random personal observations, I hope you guys resonate with this. You can apply this to both western or vedic placements. There are some triggers/negative traits as well in some points, but please don't take any offense. I'll be writing mostly about Sun placements mainly because we don't get to know about people's other placements easily.

☾✴ Taurus moons or ascendants especially the ones with Rohini Nakshatra look gorgeous, soft, sensual and sexy. They have these beautiful big round eyes, button noses and full prominent lips. They have great sex appeal.

☾✴ I've noticed that people who have Libra placements in the big 3 have pale or lighter skin color than other people, no matter what ethnicity, culture, religion you belong to, I mean to say that, whether you're brown, black or white, If you have this placement, you will have either a fairer, more lighter shade or paler skin than other people. These guys rarely have skin problems because their skin is very healthy, clean, free of acne, almost like baby skin.

☾✴ Gemini Sun women mostly have curly or very wavy hair. They like to have shorter hair length and love to change their hairstyles often. Gemini Sun men are also very conscious about their hair, they also love to fashion their hair in different styles.

☾✴ Aries Sun men and women are very emotional from the inside, they would punch you in the face if you get them angry but then they'd also feel very bad about it later. They would cry for their loved ones very easily but people are always fooled by their rough and tough exterior.

☾✴ Cancer Sun women know very well how to hide behind their emotional veil even when they're at fault. Playing victim, they'd attack from behind that veil, making the other person look faulty. They're very uncomfortable around other strong and confident women, so they use their only weapon(emotions) to bring them down. They mostly see straightforward behaviour and confidence as a bad attribute or a threat.

☾✴ Virgo Sun women assume the weirdest of sh*t about other people's personal stuff, especially the things they're not aware about. I can give you n number of examples for this because I kid you not, I've mostly met Virgos all my life uptil now, all genders, all ages. They are good at rational analysis but this habit comes off as different to me from their otherwise popular traits. I've noticed this mostly in women, like many years ago, I had a bad cough and cold for a few days(not during Covid), I took a day off, went to the doctor, took my meds but had to go to office next day, so while in office, this one colleague who was a Virgo sat in the next cubicle besides me, so I was coughing most of the time, she looked at me and asked, "Are you suffering from TB? Haven't you seen a doctor? See, I'm telling you, it might be TB, you must go check." I was like wtf..!! I said, "No! It's not TB and I did go to the doctor. It's just common cough and cold, don't assume just anything." More than looking worried, she talked in a tone like I was dumb and stupid. My mom(a Virgo Sun), makes similar kind of weird assumptions, almost everyday.

Love, light, peace and hope to you..🌸🍁🌻🌼

Thank you so much for being here. I post PAC & Astrology Observations. Do love and support by reblogging, liking or following.

——————————— ♡ ♡ ♡ ———————————

[sam-loves-seb]

the bathroom drawer

"Mickey!" Ian yells. "Did you move my cologne?"

"Your what?" Mickey calls back, appearing in the bathroom doorway while buttoning up his shirt.

"My cologne."

"No. I don't even know where you keep that shit."

"In here!" Ian says, shaking his head as he rummages through the drawer below their bathroom sink. "I swear I left it in here."

"Lemme see," Mickey says, nudging Ian to the side. "You're shit at looking."

"I'm not shit at looking, it's just not fucking there."

"Yeah, yeah," Mickey grumbles, moving the junk in the drawer around. "Jesus Christ. How much shit do we got in here?"

"Too much," Ian muses, folding his arms over his chest and leaning his hip against the sink. "But it doesn't matter anyway. It's not in there. I've been looking for--"

"Found it." Mickey holds up the blue bottle with a smug grin.

Ian grabs it from him. "Whatever."

Mickey raises his eyebrows. "Whatever? That's what I get?"

Ian leans in and gives him a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek. "Thank you," he says instead.

"Better," Mickey grumbles.

Ian spritzes the cologne onto himself while Mickey keeps rummaging around in the drawer. He pulls out an empty toilet paper roll, a broken comb with too many teeth missing, and an old phone charger with exposed wires.

He throws them all in the trash. "This thing is a mess."

"Yeah," Ian says with a sigh, checking himself over in the mirror. He paws at his hair a bit. "We gotta do a deep clean in here one of these days. Closet's a disaster too."

"What the fuck is--"

Ian looks over at his husband when he doesn't finish his sentence.

Mickey's brows are furrowed as he holds up a thin black stick in front of his face. "Is this makeup?"

Ian huffs out a faint laugh. "Yeah."

"Debbie's?"

"That thing's old enough to be Fiona's," Ian tells him, taking it from Mickey. "But no. It's mine."

Mickey raises his brows. "Yours?"

Ian uncaps the tube, twists the end so the little black tip pushes through the end. "Eyeliner."

"Holy shit," Mickey says slowly. "How fucking old is that thing?"

"Old," Ian says, trying to read the chipped writing on the side for any kind of date. "Probably expired."

"That shit expires?"

"Supposedly. But who knows."

Mickey tilts his head, watching Ian examine the eyeliner. "How the hell did it end up here?"

"No idea," Ian tells him. How it survived in the Gallagher house for as long as it did and moved to their west side apartment is beyond him. "Probably got boxed up with some of my shit a long time ago."

"Huh," Mickey muses. He crosses his arms over his chest. "Can't believe you used to put that shit on every night."

"Me neither," Ian says. "You ever tried it?"

"What, make up?"

"Yeah."

"For a disguise once or twice," Mickey tells him with a shrug. "Never like, just 'cause."

Ian starts to grin. "You wanna?"

"Fuck no," Mickey says instinctively. He bites his lip. "Why? You gonna wear it tonight?"

"Why not?" Ian asks, facing the mirror and leaning in close. "We're already going to a club. Might as well get go all out."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah." Ian glances over at his husband. "You got a problem with that?"

Mickey shrugs. "No."

"Okay."

Mickey watches with rapt attention as Ian applies the eyeliner to himself. The stick is old for sure, and it takes a few passes to really get the make up on his eyelid. It only takes a minute though, and then Ian's eyes are outlined in black.

"There," he says, blinking and turning to face Mickey. "How do I look?"

"Weird," Mickey says.

"Sure, but like, crazy weird, or hot weird."

Mickey's brows pinch together. "...Hot weird."

Ian grins. "It's kinda doing it for you, isn't it?"

"No. Shut up," Mickey says quickly.

Ian laughs. "You should try it," he tells his husband. "It's fun."

"It looks like it's gonna get in my eyes."

"Maybe," Ian says with a shrug. "But I bet you'd look hot with it."

"You say that about everything you want me to wear."

"And I've never been wrong once."

Mickey makes a face. "Does it hurt?"

"No."

"...Can I take it off if it looks stupid?"

Ian's face relaxes. "You can take it off whenever you want," he says softly. "Doesn't ever have to leave this bathroom."

Mickey glares at the eyeliner, his face slowly melting into apprehensive reluctance. "Fucking... fine."

"Really?" Ian asks, perking up.

"How do I do it?"

"I can do it," Ian offers, holding up the eyeliner and his open hand. "Lemme put it on you."

Mickey sighs through his nose, then steps closer. He tilts his chin up and fits his face into his husband's waiting hands.

Ian kisses his temple. "Close your eyes."

Mickey does as told. His eyelashes flutter at the first press of the stick, eyelids scrunching at the new, weird sensation.

"Hold still," Ian whispers, trying not to poke him in the eye.

"Feels weird," Mickey mumbles.

"Yeah, but..." Ian pulls back, smiling at his work. "Open your eyes."

Mickey blinks them open, eyebrows bouncing with it. "So?"

"Damn," Ian says, grinning. "You look good, baby."

"Fuck off with that," Mickey grumbles, turning towards the mirror. He makes a face. "I look like a fucking alien."

"A hot alien."

Mickey gives him the side eye, but he doesn't immediately wipe the eyeliner off. He leans in close to the mirror, tilts his head this way and that. Pulls at the skin on his cheeks and his temples. "Weird," he says quietly.

"So," Ian starts, capping the eyeliner and tossing it back in the drawer. "You ready to go, or what?"

Mickey sighs heavily, taking one last look at himself in the mirror.

Ian slides in behind him, curls a hand around his hip. "Don't overthink it," he whispers, kissing his husband's temple. "If you like it, go with it."

"I don't know if I like it."

"That's okay too."

Mickey leans back against him. "It looks good on you."

Ian smiles softly. "Thanks."

Mickey hums. "Fine," he says, standing up straight. "Let's go. But if anyone says anything about it--"

"I know," Ian says, hands on his husband's shoulders as he follows him out of the bathroom. "You get to punch them."

"I get to punch them."

"Fine." Ian kills the bathroom light. "And we might have to hit the 24 hour CVS on the way home. I definitely don't have make up wipes."

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Fourteen: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, sexual content/fantasizing, pervy behavior, panty/scent kink, mask kink(Ghostface), gaslighting/manipulation, public/semi-public, spitting, cumplay, nude vids/pics, masturbation, oral, PIV, dick piercing, forced orgasm, bondage/blindfolds, biting/slapping/spanking/cutting, rape kink, NONCON/DUBCON/CNC, Somno, blood, knife, gun play, GEN. SMUT [all possible tags, not necessarily all apply]

Info: Ghost is whiny, He’s feeling petty, he told you so!![diary entries from Ani] extremely not proofread. Stalker!Anakin Character art (as Ghost) MDNI 18+

Diary Entry: September 2nd

I lied. I said I wasn’t mad at you, but I am.

It’s not like I tell you no to anything, so why wouldn’t you just ask me first? Are you just desperate for a moment away from me and too nice to tell me that? Running from your problems won’t help especially when your problem is me.

I did what I should’ve done a long time ago. A new software has been installed on your phone, very similar to the screen cloning software linked to my laptop. Only this one is active all the time, a constant feed of live audio that I’ve taken the liberty of flagging a few words within the code.

Anakin, hate, love, Ghost, annoying, angry… so on and so forth.

The software flagged several sections of audio within the timeframe of your drive to the cabin. I must say, I’m surprised about the things the two of you talk about, I’m never going to be able to look Han in the eye ever again.

I also lied to you about something else. I don’t work tonight, or tomorrow. I switched up my schedule with April for you, cause I have a little something planned for you. A little thing I’ve had tucked away, actually never intended on getting it out and doing anything with it really. It was a gift from Cliegg after there was a murder on the college campus last year.

Don’t worry, it wasn’t me that time.

Anyway, I think it might be fun. For me at least.

“Okay but I don’t get it.” Luke said, propping up his feet on the dash while you drove.

“What about it don’t you get?” You snorted, slowing to a stop at a traffic light. “I think it’s pretty self explanatory Luke.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t come equipped with a cooter and I’ve never, nor wanted, the opportunity to see one.” He crossed his arms and tilted his head back and rolled his shoulders. “I just don’t see the benefit.”

“First of all, it’s pretty.” Holding a finger up and adding a second, “second, it feels heavenly.”

“I am a gay man.” Luke scoffed, “Dicks aren’t very pretty. A little jewelry can’t fix that.”

“How does it even work? Does he have to take it out to piss? That’s inconvenient.”

“No!” You laughed, covering your mouth as you turned the dial to quiet the radio. “No, he doesn’t have to take it out. To answer your other question, it’s the metal balls on either end of the jewelry. That’s the point of the piercing you know? It rubs up-“

“Okay that’s enough, thoughts have been thunk.” He covered his ears and did a dramatic shiver of disgust.

“You asked!”

“I didn’t know you’d be so descriptive!”

“You described in great detail all about the massive ingrown hair on-“

“Oh my god! I told you never to mention that again!” Luke reached across the console and whacked you up the back of the head.

“I’m driving!” You squealed, your hand shooting out to the side and shoving his shoulder. “No, don’t you dare touch that radio! For fucks sake if that’s-“

“It’s ABBA.”

“Go to hell.”

————————————————————————

After two hours you reached the small lakeside cabin that was to be your home for the weekend. A cute little place with a loft and two small bedrooms. The kitchen was… lackluster; a fridge and a stove with a whopping number of three cabinets. The living room however did have a pool table, which in Luke’s eyes made up for the fact that your sister beat him to claiming the loft room, because she’d driven separately and arrived before you.

You chose the room to the left of the living room and Luke chose the one on the right. The view from your window was beautiful deep forest green, leaves and moss and huge tree trunks. While Luke’s was the deep blueish green lake water, the occasional white wake following a boat zipping past.

After tossing your bag onto the floor in the general direction of the nightstand you jumped onto the squishy and super cheap springy mattress on the tacky ‘rustic’ log bed. Pulling up Anakin’s contact you tapped the call button and listen to it ring on speakerphone.

“Hey pretty baby.” Anakin’s rich timbre flooded the line.

“Hi Ani.” You smiled despite him not being able to see you. “Just got into the cabin and picked my room.”

“Oh you got to pick?” He said curiously, “you got the loft didn’t you?” You could hear his grin.

“No, my sister did.” You scoffed, “I thought Luke would have a cow over it but he decided the pool table here would offset his disappointment.”

“Pool table hmm?” Anakin tsk’d.

“Hot tub too.” You grinned.

“A fuckin’-“ he groaned and let out a loud huff, “a hot tub?”

“Yes sir.”

“Hmph.” He snorted, “someone finally taught you some manners huh?”

“W-what?” You asked nervously, bringing the phone closer to you and hopping off the bed to shut the door. “Manners?”

“You just called me Sir didn’t you?” He laughed. “Been taking some etiquette classes?”

“Oh shut up.” You breathed out a sigh, a breath you’d almost choked on. Your guilty conscience was really beginning to steam roll your daily life, even on your mini-vacay you can’t escape your wrongdoings. Ghost was still haunting you all the way out here.

“Just teasing doll.” He snickered, “Anyway, what’s on your agenda?”

“Nothing for tonight, probably gonna sit on the dock and have some drinks, do a little bonfire, hot tub maybe.” You told him, beginning to relax again.

“Drinks? Be careful baby. It’s not exactly safe to drink and get into a hot tub.” He chided, “I’m serious.”

“I know.” You sighed, rolling your eyes.

“Good girl.” He said, pleased enough with your response. “So what room did you say?”

“Oh! I didn’t actually oops. I got the one looking out into the woods, it’s real pretty, I’ll send you a picture after we hang up.” You said, shifting your weight to sit more comfortably.

“Aw thanks babydoll.” You could hear his little smile through his words. “Well, I should probably let you get back to it huh?” He sighed.

“If you wanna talk more-“

“I always wanna talk more but I don’t want to keep you from your fun.” He said a bit quieter. “Uh, just don’t forget to call and leave me a message before bed okay baby? I’d love to hear your pretty voice when I get off work tonight.”

“Okay Ani,” nodding even though he couldn’t see you. “I’ll talk to you soon then… I miss you.”

“I love you too.” He made a kissy noise and hung up quickly, leaving you with a frustrated, pinched brow that you reached up to sooth with the heel of your palm.

After snapping a quick picture of your view through the bedroom window, you rejoined your trio in the living room where Luke was teaching your sister to play pool. You stood and watched for a moment, seeing them bicker like they were just reminded you of how much you loved summer trips with them.

Growing up with a sister close in age to you was fun, except for when it wasn’t. She went to school before you did, made friends before you did. Of course you were only two grades behind, but there is a big difference between kindergarten and 2nd grade. She had always been happy to play with you until then.

So when she was meant to be paying attention to you, or at least making sure you were alive, while you were both outside… she was busy on the swing set in your backyard. Which is how you found yourself with scraped knees and (surely, most definitely) a broken ankle from your scooter.

A new family had moved in across the street from you not too long before the summer started, you hadn’t met them, didn’t even know they had kids, until you were being pecked on the shoulder by another child’s finger. After that, Luke was found wherever you were; glued at the hip was an understatement, your families were convinced you were soulmates, that you’d grow up to be married.

Jokes on them.

His sister Leia was outgoing and confident in ways that Luke lacked, so during that first summer she gravitated toward your sister. The twins became a binder, something that held the four of you together. Bridging the gap perfectly between kindergarten and 2nd grade as 1st graders.

It stayed that way, for the rest of your school years and after.

Your parents got along swimmingly, the four of you floated between the two houses. Nights often ending up with a pair of kids asleep in the floor, where one of those children did not belong. A quick phone call to the house across the street to make sure your sibling was there, then all was well and your parents would scoop Luke and you up and tuck you in.

You were seven the first summer your parents had the grand idea to spend a week on the lake. It was a tearful goodbye, kids who spent every possible waking moment with each other are not easily pried apart.

Your parents drove the full two hours to a cute lake house they’d found online and within the first 30 minutes of being there your father had enough of the sniffles and whines. By dinner time Luke, Leia and their parents were sitting around fire pit with you.

Thus your annual tradition was born and kept even after the horrid aftermath of Luke’s unexpected outing. Sans parents of course. Your father supported your mother even if his views didn’t fully align with hers. He was a ‘be gay, just don’t be gay in front of me’ type of person, while your mother was more of the ‘send him to conversion camp, he’s tainting my children’ type of gal.

That didn’t really jive with the whole ‘love and positivity’ approach that the twins parents had about the situation. Which leaves you where you are now, reminiscing on those happy childhood memories before everything got complicated, before you discovered the world outside of your safety net, before the consistent visits from your uninvited house guest.

A loud clap broke you out of the fog and suddenly you were hyper aware of your sister’s nose right in front of your face.

“Lauren!” You gasped, your eyes wide before softening into a grin.

“You’ve been staring into oblivion for a solid minute,” she giggled, “I thought about sticking my finger in your mouth but I was afraid you’d bite it off.”

“My mouth?” You asked confusedly.

“Yeah you’ve been catching flies, looking like a mouth breather.”

“Eew! Don’t call me that!” You scoffed, standing up and following her over to the pool table to discuss your evening plans.

——————————————————————————

Anakin watched your little blue dot travel back and forth from the cabin to the dock, he listened the chatter between the three of you as he drove the two hours out to the pine forest your weekend getaway was taking place. The mile long gravel driveway was perfect to stash his car off to the side of, no one would be coming in or out of the drive all weekend.

He walked through the woods, backpack slung over his shoulder, his hood up and mask on. It was 9:57 and the three of you were still on the dock. He could hear you talking about getting into the hot tub through the Bluetooth earbud he had in, that new software was really paying off.

He hadn’t planned to do this next bit, but he couldn’t help himself. He purposefully got his left shoe dirty, twisting his foot side to side in order even dirt for a proper footprint. Then he left his mark on the first step up to the front porch.

*ping*

‘Having fun?’

You laughed, picking up your phone and leaning back in your chair as you crossed one leg over the other and switched the sound off. You’d only had it on for when Anakin texted, and now he was. Or you thought he was until you realized the text came from your own number.

‘No. Don’t engage. He’s not going to know where you are, how could he possibly know?’ You thought to yourself. ‘I planned this in person, I told Anakin at his place not mine. All Ghost knows is that you’ve left for the weekend.’

You swiped the message away and let out a huff, deciding to take the opportunity to walk back up to the house and call your boyfriend.

“Guys I’m going up to the cabin, gonna call Ani.” You said, standing up and taking your hard lemonade with you. “Need anything?”

“Nope, we’re about ready to head back anyway.” Lauren answered, waving you off. “We’ll be up soon.”

With that you walked away, taking the worn dirt path back up to the house and dialed Anakin’s number, waiting for the voicemail to pick up your call.

‘Hey Ani.’ You smiled, crossing one arm across your chest to rest your other elbow on while you talked. ‘I’m probably not going to bed just yet, but I am going back up to the house. I just wanted to fill you in a little bit I guess.’

Once your shoes hit the gravel you absentmindedly kicked a larger rock off to the side, swinging out your leg and shifting your position to walk backwards, looking down at your sister and Luke on the dock.

‘We’ve been just hanging out all evening, made some sandwiches and had drinks by the water.’ You pivoted again as you neared the porch and looked down to ensure your footing before taking the first step up. ‘We’re going hiking tomorrow morn-‘

You scrunched up your face and took another look before backing away from the steps completely, your eyes scanned the porch and saw the cabin door was still shut.

‘Sorry, thought I saw something…’ you muttered into the phone, spinning slowly in a full circle to take a better look at the tree line. ‘I- okay, anyway. Going hiking tomorrow… probably swim too. There’s a canoe moored down there so maybe we’ll try that out.’

Off to the left of you behind your sisters car you swore you heard gravel crunching underfoot, but when you looked toward the dock, Luke and Lauren where still sitting there. You marched over to the opposite side and saw nothing, going so far as to look under her car and yours.

‘Okay well…’ You were certain now that someone was outside and you were not alone, your phone buzzed against you ear and you pulled it away to swipe away the message, not even registering the sender before holding your phone back up to your ear.

‘Uh alright well I’ll talk to you in the morning,’ you quickly walked back over to the porch steps and side eyed the footprint as if you’d expected it to disappear by now. ‘Goodni-‘

A strange feeling passed over you, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up and a chill ran down your spine like a drip of cold water. You were almost afraid to turn around.

‘I gotta go, Miss you bunches… goodnight.’ In your panicked state you didn’t have the same thought process you normally would, you’d simply ended the call and whipped your head around, expecting to find someone, something, that might’ve caused that hair-raising fear. There was nothing.

Breathing a sigh of relief you laughed at yourself. It had probably just been a rabbit, maybe you’d startled it and it kicked up some gravel. The footprint… it could have been there when you arrived, it could’ve been made by one of your group, including you.

You checked the message you’d swiped away and your blood ran colder than ice. Your rational explanations were bulldozed in seconds.

A picture of you, standing in the drive way, taken from behind your sisters car.

The breath was stolen from your lungs. Your sight was locked into tunnel vision, all you could see was the front door as you ran to it and pushed it open. Colliding with something solid and warm as you stepped inside.

Something living and breathing that gripped your hair and cradled you to its chest, something that kicked the front door shut and pressed a cold, blunt object to the temple of your head.

Something that made you want to scream.

Diary Entry: September 2nd continued

I have time to kill and nothing to do while I wait for you. So I figured I’d write alittle bit.

I’m currently sitting under a tree, watching you and your cute little ponytail swishing around while you giggle. You’re so beautiful. Everything you do is beautiful. I’ve never seen something as exquisite as you.

Maybe that’s part of the reason I want to ruin you so bad. Leading you, my innocent doe, down the path of corruption could quite possibly be my life’s work. How would you like that sweetheart?

You wanna be my magnum opus?

Though of course we do have the one small identity issue to take care of. I need to get my shit together and figure out what the fuck I’m going to do. It’s not like I can tippity tap it into Google: ‘how to tell my girlfriend I’ve been stalking her for almost a year’.

No thank you. I don’t trust WikiHow with the fate of my love life.

Let’s be for real. I don’t even trust myself with the fate of my love life because I’ve already managed to fuck shit up. I’m continuing to fuck shit up. What I’m about to do? It’ll fuck the fuck out of the shit.

What can I say other than love makes people do crazy things?

“Ghost.” Your voice was wobbly and unsure. “Is that a-“

“Gun? Absolutely.” He grunted, pressing the barrel into your skull.

“What are you doing? They’re gonna be back soon, you can’t be here!”

“I came to chat.” He said simply, leaning his head down to put the cheek of his mask against your warm skin. “I missed you.”

“Did you miss me? Is that why you left your boyfriend back home? Wanted to let me have you all to myself for a weekend?”

“No!” You snapped at him, twisting your head away from his.

“Heard you on the phone.” He cooed, “still can’t say the L word? Why’s that?”

“If Luke sees you… my sister- they’ll call the cops, you know that.” You pushed against his chest and felt it rumble with a low laugh beneath your palms.

“Stop deflecting, answer my question.”

“I told you I wasn’t going to talk about Anakin with you!” The whisper left your lips tainted in unease.

“I’m aware. That’s why we aren’t talking about it. You’re going to tell me.” He barked, holding you close to his chest and walking backwards toward your chosen bedroom.

“N-no, I won’t. That’s not fair.”

“It’s not fair?” He scoffed. “I don’t care if you think it’s unfair.”

“How did you find me?!” You wriggled from his arms the moment he closed the bedroom door.

“I know everything about you baby.” His voice low and much too confident for you to believe anything otherwise. He looked relaxed in the way that he reached behind himself and locked the door, leaning back on it and crossing his arms, one long leather finger running parallel to the barrel of the pistol.

“I just wanted one weekend!” You shouted taking off your sneaker and throwing it at him, he gave you no reaction and it only pissed you off more. “Just one!”

“One weekend away from you! I know you can see everything on my phone, you see and hear everything I do, why do you think I wasn’t the one planning this trip? I didn’t want you showing up here!” Yelling at him in a way you never had before as you stalked toward him with your other shoe pointed at him. “I don’t want to talk about Anakin with you! I don’t want to tell you how I feel!”

“Do you want to know how I feel?” He asked calmly.

“I don’t give a shit!” You chucked the shoe at him and he batted it away easily.

“I think you do.” The gun raised up to his mask as if he were scratching his forehead with the barrel. “I think you care a lot and that’s why you won’t tell me.”

You didn’t answer, because he was right. You did care and you did care a lot. You’d been avoiding telling Anakin you loved him to spare Ghost the hurt of having to hear you say it to someone else.

“No.” You stuttered, hesitating and hating the taste of the word on your tongue.

“Don’t lie to me.” He barked, holding out the pistol and motioning for you to move. “Kneel. Now.”

“Gods, seriously? Put your arms down, you idiot.” He scoffed as he watched you lift your hands and put them behind your head like you were being arrested as you knelt down slowly.

“Well I’m sorry. I’ve never been held at gunpoint before.” You snapped, scowling up at him.

“I’m so lucky to have to honor of being your first then.” He grumbled, tucking it into the back of the waistband of his jeans while pulling the pink silk from his pocket and tossing it at you.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” His voice gruff as the toe of his shoe tapped your knee. “Put it on.”

Ghost shook his head, undoing his belt buckle, the tail end of the leather now forever imprinted with your teeth marks. You did as you were told and heard his pants unzip along with a soft grunt.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” He asked, holding his flat palm out to the side to make sure you couldn’t see, rearing back to slap you.

“How should I kn-“ *smack* “ow?! What the fuck?”

“Just making sure.” He snickered, taking off his gloves and putting them in his hoodie pocket.

“Asshole.” You mumbled.

“What was that?” He asked with a playful tone. “You want me to fuck your asshole? Is that what you said?”

“Shut up. You know that’s not what I said.” You muttered, unable to keep your lip from curving upward just a fraction of a centimeter.

“Ah well, the offer still stands.” He chuckled, tapping the side of your jaw with the cold metal barrel of his pistol.

“You’re making me nervous waving it around like that.” You huffed, jerking away from it.

“Good.” He snorted, “open your mouth.”

You did exactly that, thinking you’d feel the warm weighty head of his cock hit the tip of your tongue. Hoping for a taste of the salty precum that wept from his cockhead. You weren’t expecting something small, cold, metallic and pellet shaped.

“Don’t swallow; this is the only time you’ll ever hear me say that so you better listen.” You could hear his smarmy grin. “Roll it around, you feel that?”

“Mhm.” You nodded, feeling the smooth metal and the grooves carved into it, opening your mouth again and he plucked it off the tip of your tongue.

“Your initials, or well… what your initials should be.” He mumbled the last bit.

You hear a series of mechanical and metallic noises, followed by the unmistakable sound of a firearm cocking back.

“You did not just-“

“I did.” He snickered, holding the gun sideways and pointing it directly in the center of your forehead. The blunt edge digging into your flesh and pressing down against your skull.

“Spread your fingers.”

“Why?” You asked as you splayed your hand.

“Do you have to question everything?” You felt thick metal circle your middle and ring finger, dropping to the base of each digit, barely making any contact with your skin on its descent. It really put in perspective just how much bigger than you he was.

Even more so when you felt his warm, calloused fingertips weave their way between yours and squeeze gently. The tender gesture did nothing to quench the fear sitting heavy on your chest. A loaded gun, a loaded and ready to fire gun was about an inch from your brain.

“C’mon, you don’t want to talk? Not even like this?” Condescension dripping from his lips. “Loaded gun to your head and you still won’t talk about your feelings.” He tsk’d.

“It’s not your business.”

“See that’s where you’re wrong. We’ve already had this discussion haven’t we?” He crouched down in front of you, air rushing past from the quick motion. “It is my business. You were mine first.”

The curved edge of the barrel traveled down your forehead, across your cheek and rested heavily on your bottom lip.

“Give it a kiss for good luck little doe.” Ghost spoke low and steady, almost monotone. Considering your situation you did as you were told once again.

“Good girl.” He stood back up and pushed the waistband of his boxers down by hooking his thumb beneath the elastic. “Now get to work, bitch.”

His tone had changed again, now a sharp and hard edge that smacked you like a cold wind. Emotional whiplash was to be expected in every encounter you had with Ghost, but none so far was as bruising as this.

He’d never brought a gun to a knife fight before.

You hesitated for a moment longer than he was willing to wait, so he dropped your hand, the small bit of comfort he’d allowed you to have. Grabbing the back of your head and forcing his swollen cockhead past your lips, cool metal returning to the center of your forehead.

You gagged and spluttered around his length, the hot and leaky cockhead bruising the back of your throat. Ghost seemed to love the sound, loved feeling you cough and try to gasp for air, his hand tightened in your hair as he let out a loud and gravely moan.

“You suck cock so much better with your life on the line.” He laughed, pulling you away from him and releasing your hair. He watched you cough and wipe drool off your chin and neck with the back of your hand.

“Ready to talk?” He asked, his breathing heavy and uneven.

“Fuck you.” Spitting the words out with venom.

“Sorry sweetheart that’s not on the agenda tonight.” You felt the rush of air before his palm made contact with your cheek, your hand immediately lifting to cradle it and feel the heat radiating from the irritated flesh.

“C’mon doe, I don’t have to be mean about this.” He barked, “Just use your big girl words.”

“L-Luke’s gonna be back up here any minute.” You stuttered, lifting your head in the general vicinity of where his would be.

“You realize you’re only making this more difficult for yourself right?” He asked, not giving you the opportunity to answer when he fisted your hair and forced your lips to meet the tip of the barrel of his pistol.

*shk* *click* **click** nothing.

Before you had time to process the fact that he had just pulled the trigger of a loaded gun in your mouth, you were being choked and not given any hope for breathing. His forefinger and thumb tightly clamped over your nose and his cock lodged in your throat as he fucked your face. Instinctively you tried to draw in a breath, accidentally breathing in saliva, making you cough so hard that Ghost had no choice but to back off.

“Ghost...” You dry heaved on your hands and knees. “I’m n-not gonna tell you.”

“What’s it gonna take huh?” He asked angrily, you could hear the sound of clothes rustling just before he lifted you up and shoved you over toward the bed. “What’s it gonna take for you to admit that you love me?”

“I don’t!” You yelled, taking off the blindfold and tossing it aside.

“I didn’t say you could take that off.” He snapped at you while pulling his gloves on, snatching the ring off your middle finger and shoving it down in his pocket. He whipped his head around toward the door suddenly.

“Shit.” He shoved the gun in the back of his waist band and grabbed his bag without explanation.

“What?” You asked sitting up on the bed.

“Gotta go.” He grumbled.

He grabbed the blindfold and slipped it back over your head, grabbing your jaw and tilting your head back, his lips met yours in a soft embrace. His tongue piercing gliding across the slit between your lips before pushing past them slowly, the taste of cigarettes and gum flooded your senses. He hadn’t tasted like this last time he kissed you.

He took one of your wrists in a gentle grip and brought it to his cheek. Ghost kept a loose grip on your wrist but he allowed you to feel the smooth skin beneath his eyes, your fingertips collecting the smallest amount of moisture in the outer corner of his eye.

He was crying.

He broke the kiss, your lips begging to stay connected to his. As much as you hated to admit it to yourself that kiss felt like home. The fact that he was shedding tears was unsettling, the car crash that was this relationship had officially gone beyond whiplash and into ‘trapped inside, in need of the jaws of life’ territory.

He took the same hand and pressed it to the center of his chest and left it there to put both his gloved hands on either side of your face, pressing his lips to your forehead. Their warmth left your skin and you immediately wanted it back.

He took the blindfold back off and smoothed out your hair quickly, putting the silk in his pocket and putting up his hood. The mask back where it belonged, those black pits where his eyes should be held an emotion that was pouring from every inch of his being. You felt like he was staring through you and straight into your soul. He stood beside the window with his bag slung over his shoulder. Who knew such strong emotion could be felt… seen, without ever laying eyes on the person emitting those feelings.

“Lock your window back.” He nodded toward you and promptly climbed out just as you heard the front door opening, he was gone before you even had a chance to get a second look as he ran off.

You did as he asked and locked the window before checking your appearance in the mirror, a mess was reflected back at you. You looked as if you’d been lost at sea. Tangled hair and ashen skin covered in streaked makeup. The churning in your stomach only rocked the proverbial boat more.

After a deep breath you brushed your hair and pulled the makeup wipes from your bag to clean up with.

“Hey!” You heard a sharp knock on the bedroom door and answered it while still wiping away at your face.

“What’s up?” You asked your sister as she pushed past you.

“Just checking on you before I went to bed, Lukey and I were out there for longer than we meant to be.” She shrugged on her way to jump on the bed, “Ow! Fuck.” She winced and picked up her bare foot, rubbing the sole with her thumb as she picked up the offending item.

“Who’s ring?” She asked, holding it up for you to see.

“Oh it’s just Anakin’s!” You lied, laughing anxiously and plucked it from her fingers, encasing it in your own hand. “Probably just fell out of my bag.”

“He has such a weird taste in jewelry. What even is that?” She pointed to your closed fist, and watched as you peeled back your fingers and exposed your palm.

It wasn’t a lie, it was Anakin’s.

“A centipede.” You swallowed, staring at the hunk of metal. “It- he always wears this one. I don’t… I’m not sure how it ended up in my bag.”

Your throat felt dry, your palms started to sweat. You felt like you might be sick. Why did he have Anakin’s ring? He hardly ever takes it off.

Diary Entry: September 3rd

I should have never taken those fucking rings off. I had to lie to you. It’s stupid I know but lying about something little like that is almost worse than the big secret you know? Cause I don’t want you to think I’m untrustworthy, I am. I’m very trustworthy.

You just let me shoot what you thought was a loaded gun in your mouth. I’d say that means you trust me quite a bit. Ghost, not me I mean. You trust Ghost with your life, but you can’t trust Anakin enough to tell him you love him?

Date

September 3rd (1:45 am)

Anakin jogged to the end of the driveway and hopped into the front seat of his car, taking off his mask and gloves. With the steering wheel in both hands he leaned forward to rest his forehead on the back of his hands. Keeping his grip at the top of the wheel with one hand he leaned back again, looking up at the roof of his car, his other hand going to pinch the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut tightly.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when his phone started ringing, he quieted himself and quickly strategized a set of half truths and full lies that he might need to use before answering the phone.

“Hey princess.” He sounded cheery as he picked up the phone, “lucky you, I was just going out to smoke.”

“Oh?” You asked, feeling relieved to hear that he sounded fine. Maybe ghost didn’t chop off his finger after all. “Sorry, I- I have a weird question.”

“I love weird questions.” He snorted, you could hear him flip open his zippo lighter and snap it shut after a long inhale.

“Are you missing any rings?” You asked, hoping he said no and that this was just a very odd coincidence.

You heard rustling on the other end of the line while Anakin frantically searched his pockets, coming up one ring short.

“Yeah I am actually, why?” He answered clearing his throat nervously.

“Which one?”

“My many legged lad.” He answered, instinctively flicking his cigarette ash with anxiety, the miniature embers floating down to his jeans. He quickly swiped them away and tried to remain focused. “I took it off to shower at your place last night.”

“I figured the cat knocked it off the sink or something.” He shrugged to himself, hoping it was enough of a lie to convince you that maybe Ghost snatched it off the sink.

“S-somehow it ended up in um, my bag I guess.” You said, turning the jewelry over in your palm, placing it on the nightstand beside the bed.

“Huh, well that’s fucking weird.” He chuckled, “I don’t know, babe. Just keep it safe for me til you get back I guess sweetheart.”

“I will, I’ve got it on the nightstand right now.” You answered, licking your bottom lip.

“Thanks babydoll, listen, I gotta go back inside.” He grumbled, sucking air through his teeth the way he always did on his last drag of his cigarette. “I love you doll. Sleep good.”

“Night Ani, text me when you’re home.”

“You got it baby." Anakin answered, his voice low and smooth.

A perfectly normal conversation. A perfectly normal explanation on his part. A completely plausible assumption that Ghost simply took it from Anakin. Though you’d never known him to be brazen enough to come around with Anakin there and awake.

A perfectly dreadful whisper floated in one ear and out the other.

—————-

Date

September 3rd (2:27 am)

Anakin walked circles around his car, desperate to find an escape, an excuse, an explanation. Something, anything to help him backtrack. He couldn’t go back to your cabin tonight. He’d made you lock the windows and he knew Luke would quadruple check that the front door was locked. He didn’t know your sister or Luke’s sleep habits so he didn’t feel comfortable picking the lock.

He would have to tough it out until tomorrow night.

You were very much in the same boat as him. Waiting anxiously to see if he would come back, to see what would happen.

You wanted to call Anakin again, just to hear his voice, to listen to the calming comfort of it. To affirm that all was well, he was safe and fine. That was the only reason. You just wanted to make sure he was safe. Anakin was perfectly capable of handling himself, but to your knowledge he didn’t own any weapons that he could defend himself with. As far as you knew, Anakin Skywalker was sweet and kind and soft. He was loving and gentle. He was the perfect man, the most wonderful thing to walk into your life.

Anakin loves you and you love him. You love him so much, so much that it hurts. You love him so much that you’ve refused to say it. To protect him, to protect yourself, to protect Ghost from the hurt of it.

That’s just it though, there is Ghost. He’s there at every corner, he’s the creak in the floor boards at night, he’s the figure you see in the corner of your eye, he’s the creepy feeling of being watched, the voice you swear you hear saying your name.

He cares for you, and he cares deeply. You know without having to hear it from him that he believes you’ve hung the sun and the moon, he knows all the stars in the galaxy twinkle just for you and he believes you should be treated as such.

For all his wrong doings he’s done something right, not the helpful little things nor the occasional softness he’s begun to show.

No it’s something else.

It’s a feeling so oddly tangible that you can feel it in your throat each time you swallow. There isn’t a name for it, no term that you’ve ever heard could properly define it. You know that much to be true.

It’s a pull, a strong and undeniable tether. Like a child and their security blanket. Visible or not, where there is one there is always the other.

You’d miss him if he were gone, much like you’d miss the comfort of a fresh from the dryer blanket. The fuzzy warmth that wraps you up so tightly, the feeling of being tucked away from the world in safety.

That heat fades quickly, just like he does. He’s present one moment and the next he’s left you alone and you have to start the cycle all over again. You stare at your reflection and watch the world tumble around you and he watches you from behind the glass until he’s ready to come out again.

You want to fold him up and lay him across the end of your bed. Within reach at all times, you don’t want the dryer door between you anymore. You don’t want the few moments of heat from the fabric.

You want consistency.

Anakin can give you consistency in a way that no one else ever has. You never have to worry about him leaving or being disloyal, you never have to voice your feelings or opinions if you don’t want to because he just knows. You never have to worry about anything. Except for Ghost.

With Ghost you know that you are without a doubt the safest person alive. You don’t have to think, you can just be and know he is there to do anything and everything for you. You never have to worry about anything. Except for Anakin.

————-

Date

September 3rd

Hiking had never been your favorite summertime activity, but you’d come to realize it wasn’t because of all the walking or the bugs, it wasn’t even because of the horrid, atrocious memory of the time you’d walked through poison ivy.

You didn’t like it because it gave you too much time to think. That was exactly the opposite of what you needed right now. Right now you needed nothing, you needed the cold emptiness that comes along with burying yourself in something that took up all your brain power until there was none left to dwell on your troubles.

By the time you’d reached your destination you were drenched with sweat in the most uncomfortable way imaginable. Your shirt stuck to you, the cups of your bra were damp and itchy, your shorts had ridden up and you weren’t entirely sure that you were wearing shoes instead of walking barefoot in a bog.

“Luke.” You grumbled, taking a long drink from your water bottle. “How long have we been out here?”

“About two hours.” He replied casually, not nearly as winded as you and your sister. “Let’s eat and we’ll head back.”

“Are we lucky enough to be on one of those trails that the start is long but the loop around is short?” Your sister asked, wiping her forehead with the inside of the collar of her shirt.

“You’re both wimps,” he scoffed and rolled his eyes, passing out sandwiches and chips. “No, the way back is the way we came.”

“You’re joking.” You complained with a scrunched up expression.

“No ma’am.” Luke responded and thumbed over his shoulder at the overlook you’d made the journey to see. Yes it was beautiful, but worth the blister forming on the back of your ankle? Definitely not.

“Unless you’d like to take a dip off the cliff edge.” He snickered, knowing damn well that you’d rather gnaw off your fingers than jump from this height. “It’d be a couple minutes swim to shore and you’d be at the cabin.”

“No way really?” You said, standing up and biting into your sandwich as you walked cautiously closer to the edge. Gazing down you saw the dock, your eyes traveling up the tiny- hardly visible- dirt path until you reached the cabin.

He was right, you tracked your hiking trail up the curve of the incline you’d suffered through, it was a massive arc. Leaving you staring at the comfort of the cabin, so close but impossibly far away. You looked for a moment more, the lake sparkling like glitter in the bright sunshine. A few boats disrupting the water as they sped past, far off the shore.

You snapped a few pictures and scrolled through them, nearly choking on your food as you spotted something you’d missed with your naked eye. Only seeing it now that you were scrutinizing the photos quality to decide which one you’d keep.

“Jesus, you alright?” Lauren asked, watching you thump the side of your fist against your chest. Breathing heavily through your nose while chewing the food to swallow it and chase it down with a gulp of water.

“M’fine.” You coughed, looking back down at your phone and then to the landscape below to see if he was still there.

You should’ve expected to find him, expected the way he made himself at home on the porch, rocking in a rocking chair. The scene was still jarring, even more so when you realized he wasn’t wearing his hoodie.

His bare arms on display, his chest and abdomen covering by a loose black tank top. You frantically tried to zoom in with your camera. But of course all you could see was a fuzzy blur of inked skin.

What luck.

He was there, in broad daylight without a staple piece of his ensemble, one he didn’t remove in front of you. Now you understood why he told you he’d be recognizable if you were to see his skin. He was covered in tattoos.

And it’s your unfortunate luck that despite being so close to him, it’d take an hour to get there. Your great luck that he’d left himself vulnerable to your gaze at a distance that would prove impossible to decipher his identity. He was doing this purposely, there was no doubt about it. Why else would he do something so risky?

Ghost was baiting you.

Like the stupid little fish you were, you nibbled on the hook until he was able to reel you in.

‘I see you’ You texted him,

‘Creep.’ He texted back, standing up from his rocking chair and walking to the front porch steps. He waved dramatically, the sun shining down on him and catching on the white plastic of his mask, making him plainly visible. You watched through the zoomed in and grainy image of your phone as he moved, hoping maybe it would clear up and you could see something identifying.

Suddenly you were reminded of something you’d learned in school, a book you’d read… maybe Nancy Drew? Signaling using a mirror or something reflective to catch a person’s attention, sometimes used as a means of communication in Morse code. Though this wasn’t nearly as sophisticated.

He had pulled out both his knives and flipped them, the sunlight refracting off the shiny silver blades erratically until it became one concentrated beam as he crossed the sharp edges over each other. Forming an X to direct to light straight at your face, promptly blinding you.

“Fuck.” You winced, stumbling backwards and causing your sister to gasp.

“Christ, what the hell are you doing?” She asked worriedly, standing up and walking toward you but not daring to move as close to the cliffs edge as you were.

“A- a bug or something.” You lied, rubbing your eyes to clear up the imprinted flash of light you saw each time you let your eyelids fall shut.

*ping*

‘See me now?’

‘Asshole.’ You mumbled under breath, looking back over the cliffs edge to see that he’d managed to get out of sight in the time it took for you to recover.

“Alright, let’s go back. I’m hot and sweaty.” Luke said, standing up and stretching. He packed away our trash and then shoved Lauren forward when she complained.

“I’ll push you off the edge if you don’t shut up and leave me be.” He snorted, dodging her water bottle that she swung by the handle at him.

“C’mon let’s go before you kill each other.” You said with a laugh, feeling better now that Ghost was -probably- gone for now.

After another hour of hiking back down the steep incline you’d just traveled up, you were grateful to collapse on the cold wood floor of the living room and bask in the cool air supplied by the window unit nearby.

——————————————————————————

Diary Entry: September 3rd

I’m so jittery waiting around for you guys to get the hell out of that stupid cabin. I have shit to do and you’re gumming up the works. I need to get your bathing suits, I scouted out around the lake last night when I couldn’t sleep. Not in my Ghost mask, I used a bandana. I think it’d be real unfortunate to get the cops called because Ghostface is roaming the pine woods.

Anyway, your bathing suits. I’m taking the ones I disapprove of. Did you know there’s a cabin full of jockey college boys right across the lake from you? You better not have planned that. They have a perfect view of the dock you’ll be swimming off of. Which means they were probably watching you last night when you were having your drinks.

I’m the only one who can watch you like that. Especially when you’re gonna be prancing around with that fucking ass of yours on display. ‘Ani, I’m just gonna wear it to tan in!’ Yeah alright. That’s the only reason doll? That’s the reason you brought a thong bikini to the lake? With a cabin full of testosterone waiting to catch a whiff of you from across the way?

I can’t believe you’re so stupid sometimes. I love you but damn do you have no self awareness? I’d let you wear it when I’m around. But I’m not. Not the way I want to be at least. I want to be there fucking you with my eyes and smacking your cute ass every chance I get. If I’m not standing there watching over you then those idiots might get the idea you’re wearing that shit for them and not me.

They don’t know you’re tanning, making that bangin’ fucking body sun kissed for my viewing pleasure when you return. They just see ass and tits and drool. I might drool yeah… but it’s only for you. I love you. I have eyes only for you and I always will.

Those dick-wads don’t know you or care about you. They lust over every bitch they see. You don’t want to make it easier for them do you? No? That’s what I thought. I know you didn’t do it purposely little doe. You can’t help it. You’re used to me being by your side and keeping you safe, used to wearing whatever you want when I’m around because you know I’ll fuck shit up if someone looks at you wrong. You’ve gotten used to it and didn’t use your little girl brain to make adjustments for the fact that Anakin wouldn’t be there for you.

Just another reason you should’ve brought me along.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Oh my fucking god it’s so fucking hot outside. What the hell is wrong with Luke? Making you walk up that MOUNTAIN. I totally would’ve followed but I’m actually busy trying not to fucking drown in my own sweat. There’s a bunch of reasons Ghost is mostly nocturnal. This is one of them.

I was being baked alive.

Anywho, I showered and now I smell like you, so I’m gonna wander about, have a wee little snack. By the way, I’m really sad you forgot the mustard.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Baby, don’t be mad I didn’t mean to almost make you trip. I just thought it would be a little funny. I was right. But I’m still kind of sorry.

I wish I could’ve seen your face.

‘Oh my god! His shoulders are out!’ Scandalous.

Risky? Yes. Worth it. Yes, can’t wait to hear you whine about it when I fuck you again.

——————-

Date

September 3rd

“Okay, let’s get ready for the lake.” Luke stood up and clapped his hands together once, a loud *pop* resounding through the living room.

“Already on it.” You huffed, throwing yourself forward into a sitting position and hopping to your feet.

You entered your room and noticed two things immediately: 1) the ring is gone 2) your red one piece swimsuit is on the bed. Upon further investigation you discovered a note laying on top of it.

Written in quick scratch was a short note from Ghost.

‘Doe,

I’ve taken the liberty of making adjustments to your wardrobe.‘

‘Adjustments?’ You thought, grabbing your bag and dumping it out on the bed.

The only things missing were your other bathing suits and your shower stuff, quickly grabbing the red suit you rushed to the bathroom and locked yourself in to change. Pushing back the shower curtain you saw your body wash and shampoo, the walls still wet from his shower. You couldn’t help but let out an annoyed huff.

Your phone vibrated on the side of the small bathroom sink, sliding across the porcelain and falling into the sink basin. You quickly fixed the straps of your bathing suit and retrieved your phone before the leaky tap could wet the screen.

A video message awaited you from ghost, the image from the thumbnail made you laugh in a choked kind of surprise. He was outside giving you a leather thumbs up, your hot pink string bikini on overtop of his black hoodie. As you pressed play the video was mostly silent other than the nature noises of the background until he flipped the camera around and zoomed in.

A low modified whistle left his lips as his camera focused on the bathroom window, your bare back in the frame for a moment before he shifted the camera slightly to get the mirror in front of you, showcasing your breasts as you changed into your swimsuit.

You swiftly spun around going to the window to scan the area, he couldn’t have possibly gotten too far away. Throwing open the window you stuck your head out and looked to the left and then to the right where Ghost had suddenly appeared, inches from your face.

“Ow! Fuck, agh-“ You yelped, whacking your head on the window pane while he laughed at your expense.

“Hey! You okay?” Luke banged yelled from the other side of the bathroom door.

“Y-yeah!” You shouted back, turning to look inside the bathroom again before turning back around to see Ghost had crouched down, out of view if you were to open the bathroom door.

“What are you doing? You’re takin’ ages.”

“Uh- sorry. Wardrobe difficulties.” You squeaked out, glancing back at ghost who was still wearing your hot bikini bikini top, sans bottoms… which was honestly a bit disappointing. You heard Luke walk off, yelling to your sister that you were probably ‘on the throne’.

“Who is he? The Queen?” Ghost’s mechanical voice came from beneath the mask.

“Close enough.” You shrugged your shoulders and watched as he stood up to his full height, his knees cracking upon the ascent.

“Why did you take my shit Ghost? I wanted to wear that!” Whisper shouting at him while you hung the upper half of your body out the window.

“That’s why I took it.” He said plainly. “I don’t want you looking like a fucking slut out there without me around to keep other eyes off you.”

“Who the hell is gonna see me out here!? You shouldn’t have even seen me out here!” You pointed angrily.

“Shut up, I know you’re happy I’m here.” He snarled, getting right in your face, reaching up to grab your chin. “I heard you last night.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You scoffed as if you hadn’t done exactly what he was insinuating.

“I don’t want the girl who moans for me to be ogled at by some fucking frat guys.” He barked, shaking your chin and digging in his leather fingers.

You turned bright pink. You couldn’t argue with his statement. You did moan for him. Under him, over him, even without him.

“What frat guys?” You stuttered, avoiding acknowledgement to the first half of his sentence.

“Across the lake.” He pointed, flicking out his knife to gesture in their direction. “Big group of ‘em. Paid them a visit last night just to check things out, you know I worry about you.” He said in a quieter tone, bringing the blade of his knife to your bottom lip and tapping it with the flat side.

“I would’ve never known they were there if you hadn’t told me.” You narrowed your eyes, speaking carefully as the knife rested against your lip.

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Or maybe not.”

“What’s that supposed- shit, why?” You flinched and brought your hand to your mouth touching the nick he’d left when he quickly jerked the knife away.

“So you’ll think of me when you’re yapping to some no-count bitch boy from across the way.” He snapped back. His leathered thumb came up to spread the blood across your bottom lip and past it onto your tongue.

“It’s just a bonus that you bleed so fucking pretty.” He pushed your tongue down with his thumb, rubbing the crimson liquid into the squishy muscle, then curling the same thumb behind your bottom row of teeth and shifting his cock in his jeans with his free hand.

“Clean it for me baby?” His modified voice lower than usual.

“No, use your mouth doe.” He chuckled when you reached out to grab the knife from him to rinse in the sink.

“What?” You furrowed your eyebrows but opened your mouth anyway. He placed the blade on your tongue and nodded at you.

“Now suck it.” He grumbled, affectionately patting your cheek twice before using two fingers to push up your chin and close your mouth around the cool steel.

————————————————————————

“What happened?” You sister asked, touching the scabbed line that traveled up your ass cheek and disappeared beneath your swimsuit.

“Well, I just fell.” You muttered, pulling the hem line to cover more of it. “Don’t really know what cut me but it happened a little bit ago.”

“You need to be more careful.” She shook her head, finishing up her job of rubbing in your sun tan lotion. “I swear you’re worse than my toddler.”

“Oh shut up, I am not.” You scoffed, “there’s a difference between something you don’t have any control over and choosing to shove a pebble up your nose.”

“I- that was only one time! When will you let that go?” She asked grumpily. “What am I supposed to do, carry around a fucking periscope so I can see behind me?”

“I’m not- I was kidding.” You sighed, shoving her out in front of you, making her stumble.

You clicked the lotion shut and shook it up, slamming it down on the heel of your hand before putting a generous amount in your palm. You slapped it onto her back and rubbed it in, ignoring the hissing sound she made when the wet glob of sunscreen in your palm smacked her flesh and splattered messily across her skin.

“Caleb is just… an explorer.” Lauren said, trying to make it sound better than it was.

“I never shoved anything up my nose.” Luke chimed in from behind his sunglasses, sitting up against one of the dock posts. “Lauren, you know I was an ‘explorer’.”

“No. You were a bug boy.” You snorted, looking over at him with a little smirk.

“So what? I liked… like bugs. They’re cool okay?” He grumbled waving them off.

“Remember when you had Ants on a Log with actual ants?” You giggled, Lauren crouching down as she let out a guffaw.

“I was seven!” He said defensively, crossing his arms.

“Caleb is two. He can shove a pebble up his nose and it can be excused.” Lauren snorted, catching her breath. “You were seven, you knew better. You have no room to talk.”

“Okay mom,” Luke huffed, you knew without a doubt that he was rolling his eyes behind those glasses. “At least I don’t still pick my nose.”

“Hey! Sometimes you just gotta get up in there.” Lauren pointed at him, a scowl on her face. “Don’t lie, you pick your nose. Everybody does!”

“Uh… I mean I technically pick my nose. Just with a tissue.” You said, supporting your sister in your useless argument.

“So you’re both gross then.” Luke gagged and grabbed his stomach dramatically.

“If I’m gross, so are you.” You said, getting settled on your towel. “Lauren’s right. Everyone picks their nose.”

“You’re both horrible.” He grumbled, shaking his head before standing up and lowering himself into an inner-tube so that he could float on the water.

You all had a peaceful first half of your day, it was refreshing after the hike to relax in the sunshine, letting the heat lull you into a state of calm and the opportunity to think of nothing save for the concentration of singling out different nature noises just because you could. Cicadas, the occasional grunt of a bullfrog, Whippoorwills calling out to each other in the trees, the gentling lapping of the lake against the dock.

None of the city sounds that clouded your head and made it feel cluttered.

It was cleansing, a nice reset for your mental state. Exactly what you needed, exactly what you were so happy to be here for. Now if only you could get some clarity on the difficulty you’d return to after your weekend of being at ease.

Even in peace times nothing is perfect.

The gentleness of the world you’d drifted into was being infiltrated. The distant sounds of a boat zipping through the water at much higher speed that it should’ve, especially with the water skier attached to the towline. What could make it worse? Two jet skis flanked the boat at a good distance away, though it was clear they were all in one group. Shouting and laughing like drunken fools, which you were sure they were considering the way they were behaving.

You licked your bottom lip, reminded of the small nick Ghost had left you with. These must be the ‘no-count bitch boys’ he was referring to earlier. You had to admit, he was definitely right about that. Wrong about your willingness to speak with them though.

You huffed and stood up, deciding now would be a good time to take a refreshing break in the water. The liquid enveloped your skin, the heat of the sun having beat down on you had your flesh soaking up the warmth so much that the water felt cold. In involuntary shiver tickled your spine as you swam over to Luke where he’d floated a way from the dock.

Slowly but surely the boat along with its entourage weaved its way across the water to your side of the lake, you pushed Luke’s inner-tube back toward the dock to give -them- yourself some space.

“Thanks babe.” Luke said, dipping his hand into the water and flicking it at your face.

“Hey! I was trying to be nice!” You scowled, reflexively sliding your hands beneath the tube to dump Luke out of it.

“I could’ve drowned!” He gasped as he resurfaced, taking off his sunglasses so he could wipe the water from his face and shake out his hair.

“Oh whatever, don’t be whiny.” You grinned.

“Me? You’re telling me not to whine?” Luke tossed his glasses up onto the dock and made his way toward you quickly. “All I did was flick you with water and you tried to drown me!”

“I did not!” Squealing as he lifted you up and tossed you farther into the water. How such a scrawny little guy could do such a thing was beyond you, but you had no time to contemplate.

You only had time for revenge. Squinting beneath the murky waters you made your way to Luke, hearing him call out your name in garbled syllables.

Ever since you’d known Luke, he’s had an irrational fear of the tiny possibility that there may be an alligator in any body of water. Didn’t matter how far from the wetlands of the states you were. There was always a slim chance, to him at least.

Holiday Inn pool? ‘But it’s outside, it could’ve crawled in! Will you just check it?’

Tiny dollar-store-bought blow up pool in your backyard? ‘But the creek! The creek’s back there… I’m not going in till you do.’

It got to the point that it was so severe his dad had to come up with a ‘gator gauge’ which was really just a hand-held tennis ball launcher he’d spray painted green and put a ‘gator free’ sticker on the back of so he could prove it was safe. Top-notch, high security, military grade ‘gator gauge’ that doubled as the lazy way to play fetch with their dog.

It was mean. Maybe a bit cruel… but he deserved it. So you swam behind him and put the heels of your palms together, spreading your fingers and creating jaws. You’d disappear from sight for long enough that a hypothetical alligator could’ve dragged you off and you heard Luke call out for you again.

Your lungs started to burn and you knew it was time to enact your plan. Luke stood on his tiptoes in the water, the perfect opportunity to press your fingers and nails into the muscle of his flexed calf. He screamed and thrashed about, you let him go and backed up so you could resurface. You popped up and sucked in a deep breath that turned into a choked laughing fit.

“You little bitch!” He yelled, splashing as he swam at you, pushing you under the water by your shoulders. He quickly pulled you back up and shoved your shoulder. A pink tint to his cheeks from embarrassment, he huffed and splashed a wave of water at you.

“I could’ve drowned!” You mocked him, pretending to cough.

In your short time of distraction the boat and its occupants had cut the engine and let the momentum carry them closer. The jet skis now tethered to the back, the ladder down in the water. Despite the safer option a group of five guys jumped over the side and made themselves at home in your space.

“Hey! How are you ladies?” One of them asked, completely ignoring that Luke was right there with you.

“No soliciting, thanks.” Your sister popped her head up and shook her left hand to show off her wedding ring.

“Whoa, didn’t mean anything like that!” He laughed and his friends agreed. “Just wanted to say hello, see if you guys were up for a drink.”

“I think we’re just fine.” Luke spoke up from behind you.

“I wasn’t asking you.”

“Alright, let’s go.” Sighing you turned around and swam until you were able to touch the lake bottom, walking the rest of the way to the shore.

“Hope you’re going to get some mixers.” A different guy shouted.

“Going to get a restraining order if you don’t leave.” You shot back over your shoulder, earning a round of laughs from them, the opposite of what you’d hoped for.

“C’mon. Don’t be like that! Just give us a chance. We’re good people.”

“Good at ruining my day.” Luke mumbled, following behind me and scooping up his stuff and getting ready to leave.

“You’re going? Serious?” One of them laughed.

“You came over here uninvited, you’re not entitled to our company.” You said, turning around and walking toward the house.

“That may be true but you’ve certainly made up for it by jiggling that ass.” His friends snickered and one smacked his arm.

You reminded yourself that you were here to have fun. Not to argue with a man who has half the brain capacity of a drunk squirrel.

Deciding you couldn’t let them win, you figured you’d beat them in your own way. You continued on without another word, pretending you hadn’t heard them, instead pulling out your phone and sending a simple text message.

‘You were right.’

The answer was an immediate: ‘I know.’

Diary entry: September 3rd

I hate to say I told you so. But I will.

I. Told. You. So.

I was having a great time watching you, it was reminiscent of how I used to watch you have dinner and I’d eat with you. You’re so cute and playful… I love you so much. I know that Luke is super gay, that’s not why I’m jealous. I’m not worried about that. I’m not stupid and I’m not paranoid, I know better. I’m jealous because it should’ve been me that you were playing around with.

I’m jealous cause you didn’t invite me. I’m jealous that you got to swim and I’m sitting in a tree, soaking my shirt with sweat. I’m jealous that Luke had a beer. I’m jealous that your sister took a nap. I’m jealous that those shit-for-brains tried to talk to you. (I love your sisters fucking comeback though.)

I’m jealous that they got a better look at your sweet little ass than I did too.

I’m pleased that you were so off-put by their behavior that you texted me little doe. What a very good girl you can be, but, oh so good at being bad too. You’re just like me. Maybe I’m making it worse, maybe better. I don’t know, I don’t really care either.

I’m just excited.

My little doe is feeding that flame of deviancy hanging out deep within your stomach. I knew you had it in there somewhere, gods you’re just so fucking perfect. I’ve never felt more lucky. ‘Ghost, I’ve got one more day here. What if they come back?’

What if indeed.

Men can be unpredictable. A woman is safer in a pit of snakes that being alone with a man she doesn’t know. Which is why I try so desperately to protect you especially in situations like this. That delivery guy? He seemed harmless. But I dug a bit deeper and well, he wasn’t so harmless after all.

Now, these boys might be disgusting pigs who prefer to wallow in the squalor and bask in the glory of their custom made beer can wall. They don’t deserve anything too harsh. Also; Wow. It’s amazing how they’ve managed to drink that much and none of them have been hospitalized for alcohol poisoning. But back to business, I personally don’t feel like killing anyone. I know for a fact you don’t. I also know that even if I did feel like it, I couldn’t because you’d definitely know it was me. Then what the hell would I do?

You had no good ideas. Which is not your fault, you just can’t think about these things on your own. You need guidance and that’s what I’m here for. So, I settled on something you’ve never done, I haven’t done in a long time, and it’s not technically illegal here… just heavily frowned upon. I hate their shit attitudes, they’re gross and they’ve disrespected you and that’s unacceptable. So a nice little bit of property ‘destruction’ is in order. Middle school memories, how sweet.

TP the cabin? Absolutely. Destroy their beer can wall? Definitely. Silly string their vehicles? Duh.

Fuck you before and after? Yes. Always.

Part Fifteen

Tag-List:

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Thanks to @rottencandyblood and all their love❤️

THE TAGS LIST IS FULL! But if you want to be tagged I will comment ur username for you. Love you all so many.

[anim-ttrpgs]

Is it possible to use Eureka in a more traditional fantasy setting, more sword and sorcery? What about a fantastical medieval city from the time period of the rise of universities in Europe?

Very much appreciate all the posts. It's made me think more carefully about table top gaming than I had before.

Well, maybe, but I wouldn’t recommend it.

There’s quite a lot in Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy that sets it very firmly in the tech level and societal structure of the past 200 years. It is designed to be flexible, but I don’t know that it’s flexible enough to handle that without a lot of things starting to break.

A lot of the Skills and Traits would be less applicable to medieval life and culture and so more than just the Driving Skill would need to be swapped out.

Eureka’s combat rules, which are pretty intricate, are focused primarily on firearms that use modern cartridges rather than ramrod muzzle-loading type firearms when it comes to ranged fighting, and on much smaller melee weapons and unarmed fighting when it comes to close range fighting.

We don’t even have bow&arrow rules.

Many of the intricate firearm combat rules would not be applicable to black powder weapons, and if I were to do a version of Eureka set in a medieval setting, I would want to flesh out the melee combat a whole lot more, both because it would be used more often, and because the current melee combat rules are designed specifically to emulate how people fight today.

The average person today, even if they know how to fight, only knows any advanced techniques when it comes to unarmed fighting, and then maybe a few of the basics of using weapons. Back when swords and daggers and stuff were much more commonly used weapons, much more advanced techniques were known by people who fought with them, and I would want to reflect that in the rules.

Plus, there’s the matter of culture. Eureka is an extremely modern game, exploring very modern themes and having rules that guide the characters into acting like real modern people. Any version of Eureka which takes place in a society in or based on the more distant past would have to reflect that in the rules, and, well, that would be a whole lot of research.

If you were to just try to graft some of Eureka’s mystery-solving mechanics onto an existing sword&sorcery TTRPG, that might work better, but you’d still run into problems. The Investigation Point mechanic works the way it does because all the Skills for investigating are on a Eureka PC’s character sheet. These Skills are not part of most sword&sorcery RPGs, so you’d have to homebrew those in too, or the means of getting Investigation Points would be very limited and not flow correctly.

Also, you’re welcome! That’s one of our ultimate goals here, to get people to think of game design as being real enough to actually affect gameplay experience, and a real skill that can be developed and applied with intent.