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clouditae · 4 years

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First Love | 06

Word: 1.9k

You first saw him in the multi-purpose room. Later learn his name, and on your third year, as he becomes your neighbor, you discover his lifestyle. Knowing your crush on him was nothing but that, you wanted to find the courage to look for love. Asking your friend for help, you’re pointed in the direction of the expert. Your neighbor, Min Yoongi

Chapter Index

You stand up from your seat, packing your notebooks and textbooks into your backpack. You decided to study outside on campus, wanting to feel the slight cool breeze. Zipping your backpack close, a cup of iced coffee is placed at your table. You look up at the person who placed the coffee on the table and you realize it’s Ari.

You sigh, “I thought I said you don’t have to get me anything.”

She gives you a small frown. “I know,” she begins, picking the cup up again and holding it out towards you, “but I feel bad that I let this happen to you. You’re my best friend, Y/N, and I’m so mad that he came to our dorm.”

“Nothing happened,” you tell her, grabbing the iced coffee from her.

“You have a bruise,” she counters.

“I just bruise easily,” you mumble, taking a sip of coffee. You have no idea what it is, but Ari always knows how to pick the types of foods and drinks that fit your taste buds.

“Still, he caused that bruise and it’s my fault,” she argues, following you as you make your way towards the escalator that leads down to the second bus stop heading towards your dorm.

You ride down the escalator, Ari behind you, shaking your head. “Well thank you. I need something to wake me up.”

“Where are you headed?” Ari asks you as the two of you get off and walk past the outdoor seating area where a few students sit at the tables eating their lunch.

“I’m going to the shelter. I have to start my project so I can still be on track with my schedule,” you answer, walking up to the huge bus stop where a bus just took off. Thankfully it isn’t your bus.

"Do you need a ride?"

"It's a twenty minute walk. I'll be fine."

"It's already late in the day. By the time you get out, the sun will be gone and you'll be walking back at night and that's dangerous," Ari comments, following you as the bus pulls forward and opens the doors. The two of you enter the bus, pressing your passes against the scanner before taking a seat closer to the middle of the bus. “At least let me pick you up from the shelter so you don’t have to walk. We can grab dinner and see a movie,” she bribes, clutching your arm as if you’re her boyfriend.

“Fine,” you groan as the doors close and the bus takes its leave from the stop. And so for the rest of the ride to your dorms, you listen to Ari talk about her three day vacation with Hoseok. She’ll explain specific parts in more detail when the two of you are alone, and you’re not looking forward to it.

After reaching your dorm and replacing your backpack with a bag holding a camera, pens and notebook, you grab your keys and earphones before heading out. “Call me when you’re ready!” Ari calls before the door closes behind you.

Putting your earphones in, you walk past a group of friends as they walk up the stairs, forming a line so you can walk down. You can hear their laughs even over your music. Out the front doors, past the large group of people leaving the shuttle, you reach the sidewalk and make you way up towards the shelter.

Five minutes into your walk, a figure appears next to you, walking beside you. You jump, one hand clutching your bag and the other over your chest. Yoongi doesn’t glance at you as he keeps up with your pace.

“What are you doing here?” you ask him, rubbing your chest as if it will calm your racing heart.

“Where are you going?” he counters, ignoring you completely.

“I’m going to the animal shelter. Are you heading in this direction too?” you question, removing your earphones and placing them in your pocket.

“Did you forget?” He shoves his hands in his pockets, glancing at you briefly.

“Forget what?” You think back to all your previous conversations, but nothing comes to mind that would relate to today.

He sighs, “In order for me to help you find someone, I need to know what you’re like. Which means I have to actually see what you’re like. Which means you’re supposed to tell me when you’re going to do something.”

You’re taken aback. “It’s just for a project,” you mumble.

“A project shows how dedicated you are to school.”

You look away, voice barely a whisper. “That’s a dumb reason.”

“What’d you say?” Yoongi questions.

“I-I said we’re here,” you stutter, pointing ahead to the shelter that is coming into view. You glance at Yoongi to see if he believes you, but with such a straight face, you can’t tell whether he believes you or not, or what he’s even thinking.

The two of you walk up to the doors of the shelter, pictures of cats and dogs plastered on the windows as you get closer. When you enter the building, you’re met with the sounds of barking as someone enters the back room where all the dogs would be. The lobby is rather small, chairs to the right along the window, and tables full of blankets, pet toys and food to the left. Ahead of you is a long desk where three women sit; one on the phone, and two talking to one another.

One of the women talking turns to look at you, a smile on her face as she asks, “Can I help you?”

You walk up to the desk. “I called about a week ago. I’m doing a project on sheltered animals.”

Her eyes light up in realization. “Oh, you must be Y/N.” You nod in relief, glad that they remembered your call. “You came just in time. Rory just finished his shift, so he’ll be able to tell you about some of the animals.”

“Perfect. Thank you,” you say, watching her as she picks up the phone to most likely call this Rory person. You take a seat at one of the chairs, forgetting Yoongi came with you until he takes a seat next to you. You try your best not to jump in surprise. So, as the two of you wait, you open your bag and do a double check to make sure you have everything you need. As you pull out your recorder, you hand it to Yoongi. He takes it in confusion. “Since you’re here, you can record the conversation while I take pictures.”

“Y/N?” a voice calls out. You look towards the desk where a man stands. He’s an older gentleman, brown hair slowly turning gray, a blue shirt with the shelter's name on it, and black jeans. He smiles at you as you get to your feet. “Welcome. I’m Rory. We spoke on the phone last week?”

You shake his hand. “Yeah. Nice to meet you.” You gesture to Yoongi when Rory looks to him. “This is my partner. He’ll be recording the conversation if that’s all right.”

“Of course!” Rory chuckles, shaking Yoongi’s hand as well. “So I have a few pets all ready for us. If you’ll just follow me.” You follow Rory as the three of you walk back outside and around the building. “We will first go to the play area for the dogs and after that, we head towards the cats,” he informs as he opens the gate to an open area.

You place your bag down and grab your camera, making sure everything is perfect just as a door opens and a puppy comes running out. You can’t help but gasp at the small golden colored pup. You’re so lost in how cute the puppy is, you forget the whole point in coming. It isn’t until you feel Yoongi nudge you, that you set your mind back to the main task. “Can you begin recording please?”

You take all sorts of pictures. Pictures of Charlie jumping, running around, licking Rory’s hand. You want to get every picture possible, and this continues with Rosie, the adult dog that comes next. She’s a happy dog—probably happy to see people and to socialize, but a very happy dog nonetheless. She follows commands and loves to play fetch. Then comes Jasper, the elder dog. He’s calm and not as energetic. Your heart sinks at the fact that he is still here.

“Jasper was given to us when his owners moved countries. They couldn’t bring him with them. He’s trained and deaf, so using sign language is how you get him to sit and lay down,” Rory informs as Jasper walks over to Yoongi, who was sitting on the floor with the rest of you. You watch as Jasper lays down, resting his head on Yoongi’s lap. You pretend not to notice as you listen to Rory explain Jaspers situation.

Eventually, you can’t help but turn your camera towards Yoongi. His attention is focused on Jasper fast asleep. He’s petting Jasper’s head, every now and then rubbing his ear. You take one picture and Yoongi’s attention is now on you. “I’ll crop you out,” you quickly explain, taking more pictures.

You’ve never seen Yoongi act so… soft around anyone before. The way he looks at Jasper makes your heart race. He doesn’t have this straight face he always carries. He looks at Jasper like he loves him as his own pet.

As the interview continues on, you move inside to where the cats are. You take many pictures of the cats walking around, playing with toys and sleeping. You can’t help but compare cats to Yoongi. They do what they want, and don't care what you say about it. You almost giggle at the thought of Yoongi being a cat asking for attention.

By the time you’re done with the interviews, it’s already past seven. You pack up your stuff, thank Rory and everyone else, and head outside. The cool breeze hits you lightly as you step out with Yoongi. It seems it got colder since the last time you were outside.

“Thank you,” you begin, adjusting the strap to your bag, “for recording the conversation, and even asking more questions.” You feel embarrassed when you blank out on what questions to ask during the interview. Turns out you forgot your list of questions you had prepared for the interview.

“Well what a coincidence,” a familiar voice booms. Turning your head, you see Hoseok and Ari standing by Hoseok’s car. “What are you two doing here?” he asks, clearly knowing what you’re doing here. Ari’s giving you a mischievous look. You look away, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

“Work,” Yoongi replies bluntly.

“Well since we’re all here, I’m getting hungry. How about we go out and eat? The four best friends,” Hoseok beams, getting straight to the point.

“I’m good,” Yoongi says, but Hoseok doesn’t seem to hear him as he grabs Yoongi by the arm and practically drags him towards his car all while Yoongi lets out quiet complaints.

“Y/N, front and center!” Ari commands, causing you to jump and quickly walk up to her. She points to the back seat. “In.”

You get in without uttering a complaint or questioning her. Yoongi is pushed into the seat next to you, not even complaining anymore.

What just happened?

#bangtanarmynet #thebtswritersclub #btsgoldnet #hyunglinenetwork #bts #bts x reader #bts x you #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts au #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #yoongi au

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kjack89 · 3 years

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Determination of Death (pt. 1/2)

Extremely self-indulgent, and the kind of angst I haven’t written in a long while. Because I was having a bad week and figured, hey, why not make it worse :)

I split it in two because it was getting long; second part should be posted sometime later this week.

Former E/R, modern AU. CW: car accident, major injuries, discussion of end of life care, referenced major character death. Y’know. The good stuff.

Joly sighed, staring longingly up at the clock in the emergency room as if he could somehow force it to jump ahead four hours to the end of his shift. Not that he would ever voice the thought out loud, since doing so was the surest way to jinx it, but it had been a quiet night, and this was his last scheduled overnight shift in the E/R for at least a few weeks.

He tapped his pen against the counter, idly wondering if he could maybe sneak out a few minutes early and surprise Bossuet with breakfast in bed. Suddenly, another doctor ran past, donning a trauma gown, and Joly immediately straightened. “What do we got?” he asked urgently.

“MVC,” the other doctor called over her shoulder, using the acronym to indicate a car crash. “Multiple victims incoming.”

So much for a quiet night.

Joly grabbed a trauma gown and followed her out into the ambulance bay to meet the ambulance that screeched to a halt, its lights blaring. “Unrestrained driver,” one of the paramedics reported. “Lost control of the vehicle and crashed head first into oncoming traffic. Nonresponsive at the scene, and we’re gonna need a tox screen – we think she might have been drinking.”

“I got this one,” his colleague told him. “Go deal with the second ambulance.”

Joly nodded and jogged over to the second ambulance. “What do we—” he started as the paramedic shoved a clipboard at him, but his question died in his throat as he saw who was strapped down on the gurney.

It was Enjolras.

The paramedic was telling him something but it was as if Joly had gone temporarily deaf as he stared down at Enjolras, barely recognizable from the injuries he had sustained. Joly catalogued all the injuries he could see with a sort of vague detachment as if he was seeing them on someone other than one of his closest friends, the man he had vowed to walk through fire for.

Penetrating head trauma. Multiple facial lacerations. Chest and pelvis crush injuries. Open tibia fracture. Almost guaranteed massive internal injuries.

It was a miracle Enjolras was still alive, and Joly’s hands started shaking so badly that he dropped the clipboard the paramedic had handed him. “Dr. Joly?” someone was asking, and Joly just shook his head violently and turned away to empty his stomach on the pavement of the ambulance bay.

Christ, he hadn’t puked at the hospital since he was an intern.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his still-shaking hand and straightened to find his colleague gripping his arm and staring at him with clear concern in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” Joly whispered. “I just...he’s a friend.”

Understanding crossed her expression, and she nodded. “Ok,” she told him, her voice calm, soothing. It was the voice they used for hysterical family members, and Joly hated her a little bit for using it on him. “Get in touch with his emergency contact, get them to the hospital. You can brief them when they get here, ok?”

“I want to help—” Joly started, but she shook her head before he could even finish his sentence.

“You’re not a doctor right now. You’re a loved one.” She hesitated for just a moment before adding, with genuine sympathy, “I’m so sorry.”

He hated her even more for that.

Then she was gone, she and the paramedics whisking Enjolras inside to do what they could – if there was even anything that they would be able to do.

And Joly had nothing left to do but to call Combeferre and tell him the worst news he had ever had to deliver.

----------

It was now four hours past when Joly had been supposed to get off of work, and there was no indication that he would get to go home anytime soon. All of Les Amis had trickled in during the night and were now all camped out in the waiting room, eager for whatever news Joly could tell them.

But unfortunately, he had nothing that he could tell.

He pulled his scrub cap off as he slowly made his way over to where they were all waiting, trying to school his expression to something less grim, but judging by the way Courfeyrac’s smile slid off his face as soon as he saw him, he hadn’t succeeded. “How is he?” Combeferre asked, scrambling to his feet.

Joly swallowed. “He’s alive,” he said shortly. “That’s all that I can tell you right now.”

Combeferre and Courfeyrac exchanged glances. “What the hell are you talking about?” Courfeyrac asked, uncharacteristically blunt. “What do you mean, that’s all you can tell us?”

“I mean that I am required to tell Enjolras’s family first before I can share any details.”

Combeferre’s expression was ashen but Courfeyrac’s eyes flashed. “We are his family,” he started hotly, but Combeferre shook his head and squeezed Courfeyrac’s arm.

“Pontmercy,” he said, a little hoarsely. “We need to call Marius. He’s everyone’s power of attorney, remember? He can authorize them to share medical details with us.”

Courfeyrac quickly dug his cellphone out his jeans pocket, dialing Marius’s number from memory. “Come on, come on,” he muttered urgently as he waited for Marius to pick up. “Come on, damnit.”

A pile of coats that had been tossed onto a chair suddenly seemed to stand up of its own accord, and Marius emerged from under them, blinking owlishly as he clearly had just woken up. “Sorry, m’here,” he said between a yawn, and Courfeyrac looked like he was torn between wanting to hug him or throttle him.

Combeferre didn’t let him do either. “You’re Enjolras’s power of attorney, right?” he said in clipped tones.

Marius ran a hand over his face and blinked once more before nodding. “Yes,” he said.

“Then tell Joly that he can share medical details about Enjolras with all of us.”

Marius winced. “Ah,” he said. “Um, there’s a bit of a problem with that. I’m Enjolras’s power of attorney for certain things, mainly related to his estate and his trust fund, but I’m not designated as Enjolras’s medical proxy.”

Courfeyrac looked between Marius and Combeferre, his eyes wide. “What does mean?” he asked, a little faintly. “Who would make the decisions if Enjolras didn’t designate a medical proxy?”

“Well, generally speaking, the closest blood relative would—”

“His parents?” Courfeyrac interrupted, horrified. “He hates his parents!”

Marius shook his head. “No, I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “The problem isn’t that Enjolras didn’t designate a medical proxy, so we don’t have to worry about that.” He winced again. “The, uh, the problem is that he did. And the designation is still legally binding.”

“Who?” Combeferre asked, his brow furrowed.

Marius just gave him a look. “You know who.”

Realization crossed Combeferre’s face, followed by something like rage. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

----------

Grantaire had been, up until that moment at least, thoroughly enjoying his evening. He had been hit on not once but twice at the bar, and had decided to take the second one, a thin, blond man (because Grantaire had always had a type, damn it), home for the night. They were right in the middle of making out like teenages on Grantaire’s couch when his phone rang.

Grantaire groaned and pulled away to reach for his cell, but the blond – Shane? Brendan? something? – pushed him back against the couch. “Ignore it,” he whispered before sucking on Grantaire’s earlobe.

He was only too happy to comply, but unfortunately, his phone had other ideas, ringing repeatedly until the best makeout session in the world wouldn’t have been able to hold his attention. “Let me just get rid of whomever this is,” he said, holding the man on his lap in place with one arm while reaching for his phone with the other. “Someone better be dying,” he said in lieu of a greeting, followed by a very confused, “Pontmercy?”

His brow furrowed as he listened to Marius, and he abruptly pushed the man off his lap, standing up and looking wildly around his apartment. “Yeah, ok,” he said. “Yeah, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He hung up and threw his phone down on his couch. “You need to go,” he told the guy he’d brought him, unusually brusque. “I have to get to the hospital.”

“Oh no, is everyone alright?” the guy asked, reaching out for him, but Grantaire brushed him aside, grabbing his shirt from where he had tossed it earlier.

“No,” he said shortly. “It’s my husband. He was in a car accident.”

“You’re married?” the guy asked, sounding almost offended by the thought.

Grantaire closed his eyes for a brief moment, wondering how he had got himself in the position of needing to explain this to a one-night stand. “No, I mean my ex-husband,” he said with a sigh.

“You’re divorced?” the guy asked, sounding even more disgusted by that.

“You know what, I don’t really have time to debate this with you, so while I’m sure you would have been a great lay—” Sudden pounding on Grantaire’s door cut him off and he groaned. “Great,” he sighed, hurrying over to open his door.

He was only a little surprised to see Combeferre standing there. “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t answering Marius’s phonecall,” Combeferre said shortly.

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, I did, and I’m getting ready to go to the hospital, so you can just—”

Before he could finish telling Combeferre exactly where he could go, the guy he’d brought home snuck past him, pausing to kiss his cheek and tell him breathlessly, “Call me when you’re back from dealing with your ex.”

Combeferre watched him leave, his expression stony. “Nice,” he told Grantaire, who rolled his eyes again.

“You have no right to judge me,” he snapped. “Enjolras and I have been divorced for longer than we were married, so I’m allowed to do whatever and whomever the fuck I want.”

“Yeah, well, about that,” Combeferre started, and Grantaire frowned.

“What?”

----------

“What?” Grantaire said, his voice cracking. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Marius quailed slightly under his glare. “Well, see, the thing about it is—”

“Enjolras and I got divorced!” Grantaire interrupted loudly. “I signed the damned paper!”

“You did,” Marius told him. “But Enjolras didn’t.” Grantaire’s mouth opened but no sound came out, and Marius continued, “He didn’t sign them, and he didn’t file them, so legally, you two are still married. And legally, you’re still his next of kin.”

Grantaire shook his head, but he still couldn’t seem to manage any words, and Marius reached out to grasp his shoulder. “We can talk through this more later but for now, Joly needs to talk to you.”

Without waiting for Grantaire to reply, Marius spun him around to face Joly, who looked exhausted. “C’mon,” Joly muttered, glancing at all their friends, who were staring expectantly at them. “Let’s talk over here.”

He jerked his head towards a meeting room off of the waiting room, and Grantaire numbly followed. Joly pulled the door open and stepped back to let Grantaire walk in first before following him in, closing the door after them. “So,” Joly started, but Grantaire shook his head.

“No, before you start, I just want to say…” He trailed off, then took a deep breath. “Despite the circumstances, it is really good to see you. I know Enjolras got you and Bossuet in the divorce, but—”

Joly let out what might have been a wordless sob, surging forward to wrap Grantaire in a fierce hug. Grantaire froze before slowly patting Joly on the back. Then, abruptly, his hand froze. “Wait,” he said, his chest tight. “This isn’t a good hug, is it.”

He didn’t say it like a question but Joly still shook his head as he pulled back, his eyes wet and red. “No,” he said hoarsely. “No, it’s not a good thing. It’s—” He broke off and shook his head, his tone turning professional. “It’s not good, R. Enjolras suffered severe internal injuries, but those—”

Again he broke off, but this time, he didn’t seem able to start again. Grantaire swallowed and nudged him gently. “But those?” he prompted softly.

Joly shook his head once as if to clear it. “The internal injuries were severe but probably not fatal,” he said tonelessly. “But he suffered massive head trauma. Part of his skull was broken in the crash and his brain swelled drastically, and likely irrevocably.”

Grantaire reached out wordlessly to grasp the back of a chair, his entire body shaking uncontrollably. “Oh,” he managed finally as he stared unseeingly at the wall in front of him.

Joly quickly wiped a tear off his cheek and cleared his throat. “I know that this isn’t what you expected to be dealing with, but as Enjolras’s next of kin, you have some decisions to make.”

“He’s an organ donor,” Grantaire said hollowly. “I don’t– I don’t know if, in his condition, any of his organs are—” His voice cracked. “—are viable, but if any of them are, he would want to donate that.”

“His heart, his lungs, maybe a kidney and part of his liver,” Joly said, giving Grantaire a watery smile. “He could probably donate those.”

Grantaire jerked a nod. “So then do it,” he said, more harshly than he intended.

Joly’s smile disappeared. “Unfortunately, it’s not that simple,” he said. “It’s...I mean, it’s complicated.”

Grantaire couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up from his chest. “No shit, Sherlock.”

“No, I don’t just mean because of you and him,” Joly said impatiently. “I mean, it’s complicated medically.”

Grantaire blinked. “How so?”

Joly wet his lips. “In order to donate organs, a patient must meet one of two conditions. The easiest one is brain death. But unfortunately, we don’t know if Enjolras is brain dead yet.”

“How do you not know that?” Grantaire demanded. “Aren’t there tests?”

“Yes, and we’ve run all of them, but the tests revealed limited functioning. It could just have been an artifact of previous brain activity, so we’ll run the test again in a few hours.” Joly took a deep breath. “But if the repeat tests should even just the slightest amount of functioning, we legally can’t declare him brain dead.”

Grantaire shook his head slowly. “Ok, so what does that mean?”

“It means that him signing up to be an organ donor won’t be enough.” Joly met his eyes. “It means we would need your consent to withdraw life-sustaining measures and allow cardiac death if you wanted to donate his organs.”

Grantaire’s eyelids fluttered closed, and a muscle worked in his jaw for a long moment before he finally managed, his voice sharp, “Fine, whatever, I consent.” He opened his eyes to stare fiercely at Joly as if daring him to say anything. “Do you need me to sign something, or—?”

Joly just shook his head. “Again, it’s unfortunately not that simple.”

“Why not?” Grantaire asked tiredly, feeling older than he ever had before.

“Because no matter how small a chance it is, if he isn’t brain dead, then there is still a chance—”

“That he could wake up,” Grantaire finished with sudden realization, and he hated himself for the way his heart leapt in his chest, hated that after all this time, the only person in the damn world who could still make him feel something like hope was Enjolras.

Joly nodded. “Yes,” he said. “He could live in a comatose state for...well, technically indefinitely. And there have been cases where someone has woken up after a month, or six months, or a year, or—”

“But what are the chances of that actually happening here?” Grantaire asked, harsher than he intended, trying desperately to quash the hope he could still feel rising in his chest, that there might still be time left with Enjolras, time to at least say goodbye and tell him he was sorry, time to tell him he still – that he never stopped—

“In my medical opinion…” Joly hesitated. “Not high. The trauma that his brain has suffered...and even if he woke up, I don’t think he would be Enjolras anymore.”

Joly’s words hit Grantaire like a punch to the gut, and he sagged, still gripping the chair with all his strength to keep himself upright. “So then that’s that,” he said, his voice trembling, just slightly.

Joly just nodded once. “Like I said,” he said quietly, “you have a choice to make. Not even just in regards to donating his organs, but in regards to if you think he would want to live like this.”

A laugh burst unbidden in Grantaire’s throat, an almost hysterical sound, because that had been one of the last things Enjolras had said to him before telling him he wanted a divorce – “I just can’t live like this anymore,” Enjolras had said, sounding tired, and sad, and more defeated than Grantaire could possibly bear. “And I don’t think you can either. Or maybe you can, but that doesn’t mean we should.”

So Grantaire had signed the papers to dissolve his marriage to the only man he had ever loved and moved out, leaving Enjolras, and Les Amis, and his entire life behind. He had thought that chapter was over, but now—

He realized a moment too late that Joly had asked him something and was waiting for his answer, and shook his head once to clear it. “Sorry, what?” he asked.

“Do you want to see him?” Joly repeated.

Again, the words were like a dagger in him. “Until about three hours ago, my answer to that question would have unequivocally been yes,” Grantaire said, his voice low. “But now, like this…” He shook his head again. “But I have to, though, don’t I?”

He meant it more rhetorically than anything, but Joly shook his head, sympathy clear in his expression. “You don’t have to,” he told Grantaire. “Not if you don’t want to.”

“I should though,” Grantaire said with a sigh, scrubbing a hand across his face. “I can’t make this decision without seeing him – without it being real.”

He couldn’t, because no matter how things ended between them, he would never be able to picture Enjolras as anything other than alive, and perfect, and the thought of making a decision about ending his life when that was how he envisioned Enjolras still was frankly laughable. Absurd. Like the world’s sickest joke.

So he needed to see him. No matter how much it would break what was left of him in the process.

“Ok,” Joly said softly. “Then I’ll take you back to him.”

#enjolras x grantaire #exr #enjoltaire #grantaire #enjolras #joly #combeferre #courfeyrac #marius pontmercy #fanfiction #part 1 of 2 #les miserables #former relationship #car accident cw #major injury cw #end of life care cw #major character death cw #angst #all the angst

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supercasey · 4 years

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Dumb thoughts on the Child Avatars AU

I dunno, just some dumb ideas I’ve had since I started talking about the AU online/brainstorming about it. (Putting it under a readmore for everyone’s sake)

The “Daisy kidnaps Jon” situation in this AU is Daisy riding her bike to Simon Fairchild’s mansion, holding a water-gun up to both Mike and Jon’s heads, and ordering them to ride with her to the grocery store to buy soda and hang out at a nearby playground for the day. Cue Elias flipping tf out when Jon isn’t at Simon’s place when he goes to pick him up later, Simon being half asleep because he was napping while the kids hung out, and Mike getting soaked by Daisy before he agrees to go with her, and since this happens in, like, late fall or early winter, he gets pneumonia afterwards and can’t hang out for awhile, leading to the kids jokingly saying he’s dead. Btw the only reason the trio was found is because Basira was invited after they made it to the park, and she convinced Daisy to let the boys go home. Daisy literally only kidnapped them because she wanted to play with someone.

Also the Buried!Daisy arc is Daisy getting eaten by a Buried controlled sandbox and Jon jumping in after her. The rest of the kids, who thankfully witnessed this, spent the next three hours digging for them, with Breekon & Hope eventually joining in to help since they were in the area. Daisy and Jon form a trauma bond afterwards and are now best friends.

Jon keeps getting marked by shit and it’s stressing Elias out because hE’S NOT READY FOR THE WATCHER’S CROWN YET!!! He needs more time to prepare, but his son is literally getting marked faster than fucking Sonic.

Speaking of Sonic, seeing as the “Console Wars” (Sega vs Nintendo) are happening during this time period, the kids take the rivalry Very Seriously. The biggest arguments are had between Sasha, Daisy, Julia, and Mike, who are all on Team Sega, and Jon, Martin, Tim, and Danny, who are all on Team Nintendo.

Sasha, close to tears she’s so angry: “Sega DO what NintenDON’T, Tim!!!”

When Martin was born, he only had one thick clump of curly hair that was white, but as he’s grown older and entered the Lonely multiple times, more of his hair has begun to turn white. As of the time of the AU “starting” (so when he’s 8 years old), he looks like he has white highlights in his hair.

Trevor isn’t a fully-fledged Hunt avatar yet, but the girls more or less are, so if you’ve ever watched Wolf Children, that’s pretty much the situation Trevor is currently trapped in. His daughters keeping changing into wolf pups and running wild as he frantically tries to hide their powers from anyone who isn’t Gerry.

(All of the kids secretly know already, even Basira.)

Basira is pretty much the only “normal” kid of the avatar children, save MAYBE for Tim, but he’s been deeply marked by the circus and has a few tiny powers (think S3 Jon as he was figuring out some of his powers, but wasn’t a full-on Archivist just yet).

The season 1 gang (including Danny) are the closest group of friends in the AU, save for Daisy and Basira’s friendship, and they hang out a lot at each other’s homes on the weekends.

Adelard usually brings Jane with him for his “trips” away from the institute, so it’s not unusual for her to be gone for long periods of time. But she always sends postcards and gifts to the institute for everyone!

Helen is three years old, so theoretically she should be able to talk, but she rarely does so, preferring to communicate via giggles and laughter. Only Jon, the Stoker brothers, and Michael can understand her, and they take turns translating for everyone else.

Whenever she’s brought to the institute, Helen takes to toddling around after Jon and Martin, giggling up a storm the whole time. Jon finds it a bit annoying while Martin is endlessly amused by her antics.

A list of the guardian’s/adult’s ages before I fucking forget (as of when the AU “starts” in 1994): Gertrude Robinson - 62, Elias Bouchard “Jonah Magnus” - 51 (200+), Peter Lukas - 55, Simon Fairchild - 83 (300+), Gerard “Gerry” Keay - 30, Michael Shelley - 32, Alfred Grifter - Unknown, Adelard Dekker - 48, Nikola Orsinov - 30ish (100+), Annabelle Cane - 34 (Unknown), Trevor Herbert - 47, Agnes Montague - 25ish (60+), Jude Perry - 35, Jared Hopworth - 29, The Admiral - 10.

The “good” parents all keep trying to set up some kind of PTA meeting so they can actually talk about how to raise these supernatural kids properly, but it keeps going horribly wrong; last time they tried, Alfred Grifter and his band showed up and nearly made Simon go deaf, so no one wants to initiate the next attempt at a meeting.

Tbh, at this point the Fear rituals are more successful than Elias’s shitty attempts at forming a PTA.

At some point in the AU Gerry, Michael, and Trevor all pitch in to buy a decently big house together, which leads to some serious Shenanigans now that Melanie is around Michael and Trevor’s kids/wards... let’s just say there’s gonna be a lot of knife related accidents.

Gerry taught Melanie how to fight when he took her in and it is the single worst decision he’s ever made in his short, goth life, even if he’ll never admit it. Melanie can now beat the shit out of everyone but Julia and Daisy, and it’s pure chaos every time. Tim puts up a decent fight, but he’s been spoiled on easy wins over his brother all his life. Jon tries and fails to so much as push her. Martin runs away crying before Melanie even throws the first punch. Needless to say, the other kids are very cautious about playing with Melanie now.

None of the kids have an education of any kind except for Mike. I’m serious; the only kid who’s decently educated is being raised by Foxy Grandpa Off His Shits McGee! Julia and Daisy have had some public education but not much, Elias refuses to do anything but home-school Jon yet he sucks shit at math, Tim and Danny don’t even know what a school fucking looks like, Melanie and Jane were too young to go to school when they became avatars, Martin has only recently been allowed near other kids so fuck public school (Peter can do math but Nothing Else), Annabelle fucking forgot to give Sasha any kind of an education outside of Web stuff, and Helen is still a very small child. None of these kids have gone to school for more than a few years at most and dear g-d is that gonna suck for them later down the line.

As a result of this, Basira has taught the other kids a few things when she’s come over and insisted on playing “school” with everyone, but she’s still just a kid and can’t always get them to pay attention during her lessons.

Because of this Rosie, Gerry, Michael, and Gertrude have all started making an effort to more or less home-school all of the kids, which has gone... well enough, I suppose. However, things have recently taken a weird turn since Jon keeps giving everyone the answers to assignments/tests via telepathy.

Jon: Whoa, you can make tea all by yourself, Martin!? Martin: Yeah, I’ve been doing it by myself since I was a toddler. I can also do laundry, mop floors, vacuum, and cook a few things, too! Tim: Wow, that’s really cool, Martin! I wish I could do stuff like that. Gertrude, off to the side: *Gives Peter a horrified look* I’m sorry, but did Martin just say he’s been making tea on his own since he was a toddler? Peter: ╮(╯ _╰ )╭ Unfortunately, I’m severely depressed.

Yeeeeeeeah, Martin’s in a similar childhood situation to his canon one, but at least there are people actually willing to help him out of it in this universe. Also, Peter will clean himself up at some point here, he’s just still dealing with more or less disowning himself from his family and learning hoe to not be so lonely.

Speaking Of Which, the Lukas family are pretty big antagonists in this AU, primarily through Peter’s mother (I’ll come up with a name for her later if I can’t find it on the wiki), who is trying to kidnap Martin and more or less feed him to the Lonely so Peter will get over his “childish feelings” and return to being her favorite child.

And yes, she DOES accidentally kidnap Jon instead at some point... this kid can literally not avoid getting kidnapped.

I like to think Mike and Julia are really good friends in this AU, being the closest in age and all. They hang out a lot since their dads are both so chill and won’t get upset about it, the two of them mostly just playing video games, watching movies, and biking around their respective neighborhoods together.

(Also they may or may not be responsible for a statement that involves a woman seeing a “flying wolf” passing over London... they’ve yet to confess to it, but Elias is dead certain they’re behind the incident.)

The worms incident is 100% Jane’s secret worm collection getting fucking loose... she was keeping them in the walls “for safe keeping” and No One Fucking Knew, not even Elias, until Jon saw a spider, punched the wall, and Revealed them.

Jon and Tim got their scars because Jane lost control of the worms and they burrowed into the kids. Cue a very panicked 999 call from someone in the institute and Child Services almost getting involved, but Elias managed to cover it up.

Afterwards, Jon is incredibly self-conscious about his worm scars, but Martin tells him “now we both have freckles!” and it honestly makes him feel a little better about the whole thing.

Also Adelard makes an effort to track down a child psychologist/counselor with institute ties so he can get Jane some therapy/help controlling her powers. He loves her to the moon and back, and he’s terrified of her getting traumatized by what she accidentally did.

During the incident, a Notthem gets loose from Artifact Storage and attacks Sasha, but seeing as Sasha is of the Web and the Notthem is connected to a Web artifact, it only manages to really hurt her, but thankfully not kill her. She ends up hospitalized for a few weeks, but comes out fine later on. The table mysteriously disappears afterwards, and no one knows if it was Gertrude or Annabelle’s doing, but either way, the kids never have to deal with a Notthem again.

At some point I wanna get into Jon’s paranoia in season 2 for this AU, but I’m considering changing it from being because of the Jane Prentiss issue to be because of Mr. Spider almost killing him. I dunno how exactly it’ll play out, but I think it has a lot of potential!

Okay, before I end this post full of weird rambling ideas for the AU, I wanna make a list of the powers that the kids have at the time of the story “starting”/the ones they develop down the line because Jonny Sims himself said that all avatars have different powers, and I really wanna infodump on my thoughts for the kids!

Current powers of Jonathan Sims-Bouchard: Can simply know things whenever he wants to (so long as the Eye lets him, but the Eye sometimes keeps him from knowing anything he isn’t mature enough to handle), can compel people to tell him things (the other kids are better at resisting it, and so are other people touched by the Eye), can survive on very little food if he’s fed mostly statements/other people’s trauma, can non-consensually feel the pain and emotions of the people around him, has some weak telepathy powers, and he can subconsciously summon tape recorders.

Future powers of Jonathan Sims-Bouchard: Increased healing abilities, can know most anything if he tries, ability to resist other Eye avatars’ compulsions, can survive purely off of statements/other people’s trauma, can choose whether or not to feel the pain and emotions of the people around him, has much stronger telepathy powers than before, can force himself into people’s minds and read their thoughts, and he can summon tape recorders at will (though some still show up without his knowledge sometimes).

Current powers of Martin Blackwood-Lukas: Can disappear into the Fog for several hours at a time (he cannot be seen by anyone but other Lonely avatars while in the fog), can summon clouds of fog that he can momentarily hide things in (including people), can “banish” most anyone into the fog, and has “Sea Captain Eyes” (he knows where the Tundra is at all times, and can lead someone to it without a map or compass).

Future powers of Martin Blackwood-Lukas: Can change his hair color at will (only to red, white, and a mix of the two colors), can see much better in the Fog and can find anyone he’s pushed into it, can more or less teleport using the Fog, and he has what’s more or less a pocket dimension of fog for storage/hiding his friends from danger (think the inside of Gems in Steven Universe).

Current powers of Tim Stoker-Orsinov: Can make small bipedal toys “come to life” for a few minutes at a time (they can’t talk or communicate; only move around and perform small tasks/dances), can tell when a Notthem is masquerading as someone else, is supernaturally talented at gymnastics, and can dance alongside the creatures of the Stranger without being fully corrupted by them.

Future powers of Tim Stoker-Orsinov: Better control over the powers he already has as well as a high tolerance for the Spiral.

Current powers of Danny Stoker-Orsinov: Can order around creatures of the Stranger against their will, can tell when a Notthem is masquerading as someone else, can dance alongside the creatures of the Stranger without being fully corrupted by them, is supernaturally talented at gymnastics, and can change his voice to anything he likes (not always intentionally, though).

Future powers of Danny Stoker-Orsinov: Can more or less “teleport” to other circus locations by walking into theaters, can now change his voice to whatever he likes with his knowledge and consent, can take over as the Stranger’s ringmaster if necessary, can trigger a mesmerizing dance whenever he’d like, and has a high tolerance for the Spiral.

Current powers of Sasha James-Cane: Can communicate with spiders and have them send messages to other Web avatars, can read minds if she tries really hard, can “trap“ other entities in large webs that she can summon (takes a lot of energy), and she has Spider-Man-like abilities (can walk on walls and ceilings, can carry much more than her weight should allow, etc).

Future powers of Sasha James-Cane: Can now read minds without too much effort, can navigate almost any area that’s being controlled/influenced by the Web, can create webs without nearly as much effort as before, can transform her body to have more arms, legs, and eyes, and she now has venomous fangs (which can thankfully be controlled and/or hidden).

Current powers of Alice “Daisy” Tonner: Can turn into a wolf at will/when she’s especially emotional, can smell blood from several miles away, and has supernatural senses/physical abilities.

Future powers of Alice “Daisy” Tonner: Can now track most any monster she’s hunting once she gets at least one good look at them, can communicate with other Hunters via howling, and can navigate the Buried if needed (though this is very triggering for her and will cause her to pass out afterwards).

Current powers of Julia Montauk: Can turn into a wolf at will/when she’s especially emotional, can smell blood from several miles away, has supernatural senses/physical abilities, can track most any monster if she knows their name, can communicate with other Hunters via howling, and she can shift into a bipedal werewolf when she feels like she’s in danger.

Future powers of Julia Montauk: All of her previous powers have drastically improved, plus she has better control of them now.

Current powers of Basira Hussain: She has common fucking sense, something almost none of the other children have.

Future powers of Basira Hussain: She common sense AND she has a werewolf GF now. :) ((No dating for the babies, not until they’re at least teenagers))

Current powers of Melanie King-Grifter: Can listen to Grifter’s Bone without being damaged in any way, the music of Grifter’s Bone makes her powers exemplified for a period of time after she listens to it, the smell of blood triggers her to become violent, she can summon sharp weapons (knives, swords, etc) from thin air, and she can see a red aura around other people who have been marked by the Slaughter.

Future powers of Melanie King-Grifter: She has much better control of her abilities now, she can perform Grifter’s Bone songs for people and keep them from dying/going feral, and she can now also summon other weapons from thin air (guns, baseball bats, etc).

Current powers of Oliver Banks: Can see people’s deaths a week in advance via his dreams, he sees dark tentacles around people who are going to die soon, can see but not talk to ghosts, and he can smell death on anyone who’s undead/controlling other people’s bodies.

Future powers of Oliver Banks: Can raise the dead and control them to do his bidding (takes a lot of energy), can speak cat (not End related; Admiral related), and he can cause people to die within the week if he touches them in his dreams.

Current powers of Georgie Barker: Can see a “death countdown” over people who are going to die within the next thirty days, doesn’t feel any fear whatsoever, can see but not talk to ghosts, and she sees a dark sludge staining the clothes of people who have been marked by the End.

Future powers of Georgie Barker: Can bring people back to life for a minute or so by touching them (think Pushing Daisies type powers), can speak cat (not End related; Admiral is best cat dad), and she can communicate with ghosts much better now.

Current powers of Jane Prentiss-Dekker: Can summon bugs of most kinds from her mouth and under her fingernails, can communicate with bugs, and can fight off most diseases without any trouble.

Future powers of Jane Prentiss-Dekker: Can now completely control bugs via a hive mind effect, can summon bugs from anywhere on her body, has much stronger healing abilities than Jon, and she can see invisible bugs crawling on the skin of those who the Corruption wants her to get rid of (it’s hard for her not to give in to it’s desires).

Current powers of Mike Crew-Fairchild: Can levitate/fly at will, can summon clouds of any kind (rain, thunder, snow, etc) in any conditions, has much higher resistance to the weather/temperature, and he can “banish” people into the Vast at will.

Future powers of Mike Crew-Fairchild: Same as before, but with slightly better control than he had as a teenager.

Current powers for Helen Richardson-Shelley: Can change the world around her to be more like the Spiral (adding more doors, changing the colors of things, causing hallucinations, etc), can change any door into a doorway into the Spiral, and she can amplify her voice (very hard to control as a baby).

Future powers for Helen Richardson-Shelley: Can now summon doors that lead to the Spiral from thin air, has much better control over her powers and abilities than before, can morph her body to be longer and sharper at will, and she can “banish” people into the endless hallways of the Spiral.

((Holy shit, that took awhile))

Anyways, here’s a playlist I made for the AU, feel free to scream at me for my very weird taste in music: Pinky Swear That You Won’t Go Changing

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simplybbh-blog · 6 years

Text

◈ Peaches ┆ Baekhyun

✦ Genre: Soulmate!au, Fluff

✦ Summary: You rebel against the idea of having a soulmate. But when he comes into your life what are you gonna do?

✦ Word Count : 1,833 ✦ A/N : Honestly idk if i’ll make a part two and also this is like my ‘’try’’ at writing so don’t judge me too badly

�� Masterlist

I packed up my stuff because I was getting ready to move out and go to college tomorrow. It’s really a big step if you think about it. The college I was going to was very far away from home that meaning I wouldn’t see my family which was new to me and I swear I almost broke down thinking about that. But it was for the best.

When thinking about it on why I didn’t chose a college closer to me there’s actually two reasons. First being that I really wanted a better education and that the college’s near me couldn’t provide that. The second is well, I didn’t want to meet my soulmate.

Some may ask ‘’Why?’’ but I never give an answer back to that question I’m afraid someone might call my reasoning childish.

But I do have a reason behind my thinking. Ever since I was little I enjoyed writing something on my arm knowing that another person might see it. My quote-on-quote soulmate never replied to me though yeah, I was a little heartbroken but I got over it in a few hours.

A new chapter in my life − I started going to high school. It was strange at first. But it was also one of the time periods in my life when my soulmate started to write on his arm.

I probably know what you’re thinking already ‘’Oh it was something cute!!’’ no, he literally wrote every time he changed his girlfriends and that made me assume he’s some kind of play boy and to be honest he probably was judging by the fact he kept dating someone new every week.

I stopped believing in soulmates after that. Genuinely I never wanted to meet him either and if he tried to get in my life i’ll make sure to push him out of it.

The day has come when I moved to a whole different city and don’t know anyone around here. Since I have a roommate I really hoped that me and the person would get along.

Once i got there I started unpacking my roommate was nowhere to be seen though. ‘’Strange’’ I thought to myself but hey maybe they actually have a social life.

So I just came up with an idea that I should finally go outside and explore the area which is not really smart cause I could get lost or something but do I care? Most definitely not.

I saw a cafe down the street so I went there because I wanted coffee very badly. When I got there I saw that they were looking for a part time worker. So after thinking about my depressing life I just went along with it because hey I can actually make extra money and since life isn’t sunshine and rainbows I desperately needed that money.

Completely forgetting to order coffee because I’m smart I asked ‘’Hello, are you still searching for part time workers?’’

‘’You’re in’‘ without even interviewing me the owner says.

If only getting a job was this easy. Though later he told me the work schedule and I’ll probably get no sleep and drop out of college later in my life.

‘‘Also, call me Minseok’‘ he blurted out.

‘‘Okay Minseok, I hope we get along well’‘ you smiled at him.

With that you went back home.

‘‘Hello?’‘ came a voice behind you.

If I said I didn’t get scared I’d be lying. But you managed to not look that intimidated by their presence.

‘‘Hello, I think you’re my roommate?’‘ I said.

God you were still so scared what if you and your roommate wouldn’t get along you were really that kind of person to get very critical about your personality. That’s probably why at school you only had one friend.

‘‘Oh yeah, I forgot that I was expecting someone here’‘ she scratches her neck.

‘‘I hope we can get along.. oh wait what’s your name?’‘ I stare at her.

‘‘My name is Emilia what about you?’’ she smiles at me.

I cleared my throat ‘‘I’m Y/N’‘.

‘‘Have you met anyone around here yet?’‘ she questions.

‘‘Not yet actually i’m kind of looking forward to though’‘

Okay if that’s not the biggest lie I told right now I’m only looking forward to sleep in my bed right now and cover myself with a ton of blankets because it’s so cold.

‘‘You should actually come with me to a party!!’‘ she says.

Oh no, if one thing you know is that you’ve never been invited to a party or even been to one. Second thing you know is that parties don’t end well.

‘‘Haha, sure I can come’‘ I said trying to smile.

‘‘You can come along with me but make sure to dress up nicely’‘ she smiles.

All I know is that this is most likely not gonna end up well.

Well I was right once me and Emilia actually got to the party the music was blasting loudly that I think I was gonna go deaf. My roommate saw someone in the crowd and said ‘’oh my god i’m so sorry I need to go say hi to them’’.

I was left alone in the crowd of people dancing and drinking. To be honest all I could think about is my home.

But I saw something that would lighten up my mood at least a little bit. I just went near the food and started eating.

I felt someone glancing at me and I started to feel like they’re judging me which they probably most likely were because I was at a party and I should be like dancing and getting drunk and here I was literally eating I’d judge myself too if I was another person.

Emilia came over with a guy they were up in each other’s faces which I found gross but they can do whatever they want.

As she keeps smiling she says ‘’Y/N this is Baekhyun’’

Politely you shake hands with him and he says ‘’Hello’’

‘‘Hello’‘ you mumble.

To be honest something didn’t feel right shaking hands with it but you just brushed it off because the sooner you get out of here the better.

Emilia was like.. really drunk and you were panicking since you’re roommates you’ll have to take care of her.

‘‘I’ll go to the bathroom’‘ she said, anyone could tell she was intoxicated.

You felt awkward because she left you with a person you don’t even know and didn’t want to start a small talk with.

‘‘So..’‘ he says.

‘‘Is Emilia your soulmate?’‘ you said since you were very curious.

‘‘No, I haven’t met my soulmate yet’‘ he sighed.

I decided to ask him one more question related to soulmates. ‘’Do you believe in soulmates?’’

‘‘I mean yeah I probably do have a soulmate out there’‘ he said.

‘‘Oh I just found it strange that you’re with someone else’‘ I blurted out.

‘‘Well, since I didn’t find my soulmate yet I just want to fill in the void you know?’‘ he said and you noticed that sudden sadness in his voice. ‘‘But what about you, do you believe in soulmates?’‘ curiously he gazes in your direction.

‘‘Honestly I don’t and I don’t think i’ll ever be able to actually believe in soulmates’‘ you sigh ‘’It’s because in a way my soulmate broke my heart before-’‘ Emilia comes back cutting you off of finishing your sentence.

‘‘Are you okay Emilia?’‘ you said.

‘‘Y/N could we go back to our dorm.. I feel very nauseous’‘ with that you thought that god finally gave you an excuse to actually go back home.

‘‘Okay let’s go then don’t vomit on me on the way back to our dorm though’‘ you jokingly say. ‘’Also Baekhyun bye, let’s meet again’’ you smile and wave to him.

He waves back at you and you let Emilia cling onto you on the way back to the dorm.

To be honest once you think about it you did feel some kind of attraction to Baekhyun well yeah, he was handsome but you weren’t the type of person to feel attracted to someone just because they looked ‘’good’’ in your head you wondered ‘’What if he was my soulmate?’’

But you scrapped that thought out of your head because if he was you weren’t gonna fall for him and you hoped you wouldn’t contradict your own words.

Next day, Emilia had a hangover so she didn’t even bother to go to classes meanwhile I was probably the earliest one there. Yeah i’m not well off so i’m trying to get at least something from college.

What you noticed was that you share a lot of classes with Baekhyun. He also tried to sit with you in most of those classes and when girls glanced at you with jealousy when you were sitting with the one and only Baekhyun. Yeah they treated him like some sort of royalty because of his looks.

Which I found childish but I didn’t care for the most part because i’m here to study.

Our professor gave us a project with a surprise we’re doing it with a partner. Well I got paired up with Baekhyun it felt okay since I actually knew him and talked to him yesterday.

He coughs ‘’You can come to my house after school so we can do the project together’’ which I replied to with a simple ‘’Okay’’.

Classes ended and you walked with Baekhyun to his house. Yeah he didn’t live in a dorm and to be honest his house was quite big.

You wanted to get finished with the project as soon as possible. Once you entered his room it strangely smelled like peaches.

‘‘Should we start?’‘ you asked.

To which he replied ‘’Sure’’

You finished the project fairly quickly but he didn’t let you go home yet since he begged you to watch a movie with him.

Basically you’re gonna use this as a chance to ask him even more questions because you had a strong belief that he was in fact your soulmate.

‘’Can I ask you something?’‘ you look at him and say. He replies with ‘‘Go ahead’‘

‘‘Do you want to find your soulmate?’‘ with curiosity in your voice you ask him.

‘‘To be honest, yeah who wouldn’t you can spend all the time with them knowing you’ll love them with your whole heart once you see them’‘ he says.

‘‘I don’t know if i’ll change my mind if I find my soulmate though I’d find it difficult after I got heart broken’‘ you mumble the last part ‘‘I mean, I think I did act like a child but it’s because I believed that he’d at least write to me, or when he did he could’ve done that normally’‘

You felt Baekhyun’s gaze on you ‘’How did he write to you?’’ he asks.

‘‘Well once a week, he got a new girlfriend and he’d write all about them which made me sad most of the days so I don’t know how i’d feel about him if I ever did meet him’‘ you say. ‘‘But I can’t deny that since he would be my soulmate i’d definitely feel some kind of attraction’‘

He didn’t reply.

Strange.

Baekhyun muttered ‘’I think i’m your soulmate’’

...

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goldenscript · 7 years

Text

the consequential discovery | one

pairing: park jimin | reader genre: friends with benefits + college au / fluff word count: 8,510 description: Your mother always warned you about the boys that were after one thing, yet she never warned you about the boys like Park Jimin. Unlike any of his predecessors, he’s taught you that your core isn’t the only thing that can burn — your heart can too.

THE START

You feel free for the first time at a party.

For once, this party doesn’t follow the norms of a college house party but rather takes advantage of the beach located a good half-hour away where seawater and the burn of the sun await already half-dead college students relishing in their last few weeks of summer vacation. Students find themselves basking in warmth and the thick air that only this time of the year can offer. It warms them, inviting them to dig their heels into the sand and enjoy the heavily-incorporated bass music as it ascends into a higher plane, just to prepare the listeners for a proper drop, along the waves with the few people that know how to surf, to taste the deep bitterness of the keg and other assorted alcoholic beverages all crowded around the picnic tables, and to free themselves from any other thoughts that are school-related in some way, shape, or form because the moment mid-August hits their freedom is stripped away.

Each of them have been stripped of worry lines or frowns, all things you expect from college students. Those closest to the shore are playing on the dry parts of land, tossing around a football in the sand and alongside them are a few boys playing soccer; within moments, they are hollering in elation as successful passes and goals are made all-around. These jovial sounds meld with the sounds emitting from the ones in the water, its seafarers running to and fro like the ebbing waves. It’s all set to the invigorating, lyrical sounds from the music booth adorned with a small crowd of bodies dancing together in a lopsided circle. Everyone is in their own little zone enjoying themselves, even the ones just lazing around with drinks in hand.

Among the plenty that are already relishing in their pre-game concoctions, you have a red Solo cup in hand while your best friend, Jisoo goes off to find some more for the two of you. It’s an experience you both decide to try together, so you beam at her when she approaches you with two more cups with different-colored liquids all sloshing around inside.

Once you managed to down the first cup of the keg beer, washing it down with a quarter of the half-empty Sprite bottle as a chaser. When your friend offers you a multi-colored mixture reeking with the sharp scent of tequila and some other unidentifiable drinks, your visage scrunches the moment you take a sip.

“What did you do it?”

Jisoo’s nose scrunches as she laughs sheepishly, “Sorry. I saw a bunch of stuff at the table, so I just mixed whatever.”

“Couldn’t you have watched somebody before you did that?” you guffaw, switching the cup for the bottle of Sprite. The carbonation thankfully fizzing away the godawful mango margarita aftertaste. She makes only a slight face and claims that you should’ve gone if her bartending skills were going to be an issue. “I mean I’m not judging… okay, I am, but Jisoo, try that and tell me if you actually like it.”

The red-haired girl shrugs, reaching for your rejected cup and doing as you suggested. Her expression is the same as yours, and you take this opportunity to laugh at her.

“See!” You grab a safe-looking cup from her other hand, feeling grateful when she chokes out that it’s Blue Moon brew. “Thank god—”

In the distance, you swear you heard someone yell something but it all falls on deaf hears and melts into the discordant sounds around you two. Somewhere in the mix, the part where you might’ve zoned the fuck out with batting an eyelash, you find yourself unscathed one moment and suddenly a projectile target the next.

“Well, oh shit—!” Jisoo looks at your top with a half-open mouth before she shoves the cups onto a nearby bench. “Lemme go find something to clean that up.”

You don’t even know how it happened exactly nor do you really register that Jisoo has scurried away, but the beer in hand winds up all over your cropped T-shirt and the pungent scent is your reality check. The already thin material clings to your skin, making you wish that you had packed extra clothes like you intended when you found out you were coming to the beach.

To your right lies a black soccer ball adorned with red lines for accents, and you immediately regret standing so close to the play area.

Should’ve seen that one coming. You look down at your poor T-shirt. Just great.

You look up and around in hopes of finding the perpetrators—scurrying away or not—or Jisoo, and to your surprise, you’re met with an attractive boy with a head of sable locks brushed toward the back of his head. He couldn’t have been much older than yourself, but getting a good look at him had you stop mid-thought as it registered in your brain just how handsome he is. With olive skin and dark-brown eyes the same shade of coffee, you especially note how plump his lips are as he speaks to you: “Fuck, I am so sorry! My friends and I weren’t paying attention to how close we were getting to the crowd until—well—that,” he gestures to you, “happened.”

You blink, shaking your head as you look at him and back to your shirt, and it suddenly becomes clear on what he was referring to. You immediately cross your arms over your chest, feeling your cheeks burn even hotter than before you stepped out of the dance floor with Jisoo for those cursed drinks as you reply, “I-it’s fine. Accidents happen. U-um—”

“—Shit, I’m still sorry. Did you bring any extra clothes?” he asks, scratching the back of his head. He takes a step back and reaches over to grab the ball from your right, giving you a small peek of his lean arms.

“I actually didn’t.” You huff under your breath, “unfortunately.”

“—lemme guess… sorry?” you say this in hopes of turning the bitter moment into something a little more lighthearted. Although you could’ve been raging at how incompetent him and his friends were, you can’t help but feel a little lax about the situation. At the very least, he came over to apologize, and not many guys or even people alone would do that, so you’re kind of grateful to find out he’s not an asshole. Well, sort of. That depended entirely on how this guy would going to react to your minor quip.

He feigns surprise (though his eyes briefly showed it for real), even clutching his chest as he replies, “How’d you know?” He leans closer, and you swear your heart skipped a beat. “Are you a psychic?”

“Mind reader, actually,” you correct him, cupping your ear after an idea passes your mind. “Oh, I’m getting something from you though.”

“Oh really?” He raises his eyebrows at you, a grin curving on his lips when you nod. “What is it?”

You feign a small gasp, “You brought extra clothes and you want to lend me a T-shirt?”

It takes him a moment to process what you’ve just said (something a part of you only mildly feared that he would brush you off considering most people who pause like that do not appreciate your humor), but to your surprise, when your words do reach him, he throws his head back and lets out a full-bellowing laugh.

“Was that a yes or no?” you ask after the sound dwindles down, unsure of whether that constitutes as a good response or a bad one.

“Right,” he says with a nod, much calmer than a moment ago. “You’re in luck! I do.”

You let out a breath of relief and mutter, “Oh thank fuck. You’re a lifesaver—oh, what’s your name?”

“Jimin.”

“Well, thank you, Jimin.” you say with a smile. “Seriously, you’re a lifesaver.”

He waves you off, “It was my fault anyway. Me and my friends weren’t being careful.” It takes him a moment of standing there until he takes the opportunity to ask, “What’s your name? Unless you prefer going by Mind Reader.”

You laugh and shake your head, “No, you can call me Y/N. Calling me Mind Reader would be way too obvious. Someone might report me to the CIA or somethin’.”

The grin on Jimin’s features grows wider, a gesture that has you feeling obligated to return even if it is starting to hurt your face muscles. You can’t help but note that he has quite a nice, rather contagious smile. Before he can say a word, someone yells his name and soon a taller brunet donning a white T-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts appears.

“Hey, everything okay over here?” he asks, looking between you and Jimin.

There’s a breeze that has you crossing your arms tighter over your chest, though you still give a nod as Jimin replies, “yeah, I’ll be back. I’m gonna lend her a shirt, so you guys continue the game.”

The mystery boy nods, looking at you and then Jimin once again. His doe-like eyes reminding you of a child’s as interest piques in the dark hues. He smiles at you and you return the gesture, watching as he leaves with the ball to a boy with chestnut brown locks and one with fiery red hair. The other two boys in question look over in your direction with the corners of their lips turned upwards though you make no comment of it as you turn to look at Jimin, who seems to be fishing in his pockets for his car keys.

Once he manages to locate them and you nod, you two begin to walk toward his parking spot. You decide to send Jisoo a text message that you’ll be back in ten minutes (of course citing that you found a spare T-shirt but leaving out the beer spiller in question) just so the poor girl won’t lose her head when you aren’t where you’re supposed to be.

“I’m surprised you’re not fuming that some idiotic guy spilled beer on you.” he says as you both make your way away from the rest of the party.

When you accidentally bump him while shrugging, you take immediately take note of how warm he is and continue on to responding, “It was an accident, so why am I going to get mad?”

“You’re surprisingly lax too,” he says, looking over at you with the corners of his lips still upturned. “Blunt, too.”

He’s awfully observant, isn’t he?

“Is that a bad thing?” You even throw in, “This is how I usually am, by the way. I’m not drunk…” Taking a moment to pause, you admit, “Okay, I’m like almost tipsy but still a-okay!”

You two have made it onto the wooden steps, where he has you step first. He follows close behind and muses, “It’s not bad. Just different.”

Truthfully, there’s just something calming about being at the beach, so as much as you probably would’ve freaked out at him had this been at any regular house party (because let’s be real, who in their right mind would play soccer indoors in a crowded frat house anyway?), you realize you didn’t feel the need to with him as you both approach ‘96 muted gold Volkswagen Hatchback. That one specifically catches your eyes as it stands as probably one of the oldest cars in the lot. Plus, it makes you smile, because it reminds you of your mother’s Nissan Altima from the same year, and much to almost everyone else’s amazement, that thing’s still kicking (even now in your possession).

He lets out a sigh, warning you, “Don’t rag on Ash, alright? He’s an oldie but runs well enough.”

You look at him incredulously and relinquish a small laugh. “You’re one of those guys?”

“What?” he says, walking backwards past two other cars. “There’s nothing wrong with naming your car. I bet you named yours.”

You roll your eyes and give a small shrug. “Okay, yeah I did. But Ash? Didja get that from Hatch?”

His mouth drops open ever-so-slightly, he stops right in front of the trunk so you do the same.

You blink, “What?”

“How’d you know? Most people think it’s ‘cuz of the color.”

“Well, when you say Hatch the ‘-atch’ part is almost like Ash,” you explain, seeing some strange relief flood his eyes. “When I was a kid, I used to say ‘hash.’”

“Funny, me too!” Patting the trunk, he adds with a breathy laugh, “This used to be my Dad’s so I just kept up the name I guess.”

From the looks of the scratches and the chipping paint, the car is pretty well-worn for wear but you understand from your mom that old cars like those could still run good as new. Probably even better if taken care of properly. It’s literally a hunk of metal, and in any given situation involving a car crash with a newer model, the oldies are the ones that would come out relatively unscathed. Your mom drilled that into your head and even did the same as Jimin’s dad with your current car, gifting it to you as a parting college gift so you know the desire to name your car comes from sentimental value.

“Cute, you can definitely tell he’s seen a thing or two. Is it a he?”

He rolls his eyes this time, “duh!”

You laugh, “Well, he reminds me of Jiji.” When Jimin looks over at you with his brows drawn upward in curiosity, you reply, “My mom’s old car. I loved Kiki’s Delivery Service and the car’s this interesting shade of black that can come off as this glossy, deep forest green in the sun, so I just thought the name fit.”

He can’t contain his smile, “Cute, I bet he’s seen a few things as well then.”

Your mouth falls open slightly, not missing the pronoun that falls off that stupidly plump lips, “You’ve seen it?”

“I liked it a lot, actually. Among many other Ghibli films...” he admits. “Plus, who would I be if I hadn’t seen those movies? All of them are classics.”

“True, I’d have to disown you as my lifesaver for that.” He snorts in response, only fumbling with his car keys once.

You don’t say another word after that, deciding to let him continue his task so a silence ensues as he pops open the trunk to rummage through the assortment of bags, a few empty chip bags and cups (an exception to his silence as he cursed his friends), and even a few cups of Gatorade before he settles on a faded red duffle bag. Inside he has a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and a hoodie, with a few other things though you pretend not to notice the Trojan wrapper as he hands you the plain black T-shirt.

“Thanks.” The scent of whatever cologne he used already wafting the open sea air and mixing with the sea breeze. To say the least, it wasn’t a surprise that it smelled so nice or that it was fresh and warm, like him.

“No problem!” He says with the trash in his hands, “Can you get the trunk for me?”

“Yeah, sure,” you say, shutting it as he walks toward the trash can by the stairs, and mumbles a few more curses at his friends. “I’m gonna change real quick!”

He replies with an affirmation and remains where he is as soon as his keys land safely in your hands. His gaze seems to be locked on the descending sky.

Rather than escaping to the bathroom near the edge of the party with a line far too long for your liking, you wedge yourself his car and some grey Lexus, opening the back door and making sure the tree in front of you can cover you once you’ve crouched down and strip off your damp shirt. The back of your shirt is used as a makeshift rag to get off the residual moisture on your abdomen and part of your bra, although it’s nothing like rinsing off in an actual shower, you’re feeling exponentially better as the soft, dry cotton his shirt kisses your now semi-dry skin. Some of his cologne even doing some work to staunch the alcohol fumes.

Once you come back up, you see him by the stairs and make your way over. He lets you go first, gesturing to the steps with an extended arm parallel to the rusted metal railing.

There’s a spring in your step despite the reminder of what could’ve been a ruined evening still cradled in your arms. But then immediately after thinking of your ruined shirt, you can’t help but think of Jimin and how helpful and fun it’s been just getting to know him in such a short amount of time. It makes you happy, half-tipsy or not.

“So, favorite Ghibli movie?” you ask, looking at him over your shoulder. He looks like he’s debating something from the way his bottom lip is caught between his teeth, but as soon as he finds your gaze trained on him, he simply runs a hand through his hair and smiles at you.

“How much are you gonna judge me if I say Spirited Away?”

You scoff, a smile curving on your lips, “I would not, that’s a classic! Who am I to judge?”

“Good, ‘cuz yeah. That one.” He says this right as you ask, “So, why that one?”

You two laugh, unconsciously slowing down as you reach about halfway down the stairs.

There’s a point where it levels out, a particular drop that is about a step and a half farther than you remember. The sudden loss of footing that you must’ve miscalculated happens far too quickly, and your heart is practically thundering in your chest like after you’ve abruptly woken up from one of those dreams where you’re falling. But it’s in that moment where your brain is even more aware than usual, its hyperactivity sensitive to the feeling of his chest pressed against your back. His arm latched around your shoulders like an awkward back hug, but you don’t really notice it so much because 1) he’s so goddamn warm and 2) he’s still holding onto you even after you’ve gotten your balance back.

“Careful there,” he laughs, his grip on you firm and slightly calloused but still gentle. He leans close to your ear with a lighthearted titter. “Maybe you aren’t just tipsy after all.”

You retort, trying to hide the fact that you nearly toppled over, because you’ll be damned to acknowledge that part of the reason might’ve been due to him and his close proximity. “Maybe the beer fumes are messing with my motor functions, thanks to someone.”

He points out, “Well, you have a clean shirt on so what’s your excuse now?”

“Secondhand beer fumes from my skin, duh.” You look over at him when his arm slips away from your shoulders (despite your hand acting on its own accord to brush against his right hand), watching as his eyes form adorable half moons. The hickory hues aren’t focused on some ridiculous scene at the party in amusement either; in fact, they’re trained on you. “What?”

“You’re really cu—”

“—Jimin!” Before you can hear his answer, there’s a loud shrill of discombobulated sounds at the edge of the partying group. There are four boys beckoning your new friend over, goofy grins plastered all over their visages even in the incandescent street lamps lighting the general vicinity. The red-haired one is whispering something to the chestnut brunet and another brunet different from the one earlier appears to be laughing about something while the dark brunet with the doe eyes looks on expectantly.

Jimin catches your attention by speaking: “Sorry.” He scratches the back of his head, breaking your eye lock to see his friends still waving at the bottom. “I better get going before they get annoying.”

“Wait, what were you gonna say?” you ask, raising a brow at him. You feel inclined to ask, though you would’ve been fine to let him go anyway. You just can’t help but want to keep him there just a little longer. You notice that when he glances over at the quad of boys, he actually appears more embarrassed than hesitant.

“Right, I’m sure they can spare this a second… I think?” he lets out a small huff, part of it exhaling as a laugh, a rather nervous one at that. His cheeks dust with a prevalent shade of rouge, his plush, pink lips parted to repeat his previous words: “I was saying you’re really—”

Until the sound of your name halts him, breaking your attention from him to your own red-haired friend waving at you with a free hand. She says something but you can hardly hear her as you feel guilt creep up on you for the sudden interruption and it only deepens as both of your friends continue to wait there with expectant expressions (and that’s enough for you feel unnerved because you assured Jisoo you wouldn’t be meeting anyone at the party either).

“Jimin, hurry up!”

His hand grazes yours as you both walk onto the sand toward your respective friends, both parties seemingly watching the exchange with a glint in their eyes that neither of you could necessarily decipher from the dim lighting and from the sheer uncertainty. Of course, you’re absolutely certain that Jisoo’s going to inquire further about him, her eyes are wider than ever because the shirt on your form is not the slick T-shirt from earlier but rather a bigger and baggier one that’s fitted for a guy. And you can already hear murmurs from the boys awaiting Jimin, something about Yoongi and Joon, so you assume they’re going to meet up with their other friends.

You barely look at him as you both arrive to your friends, though you catch sight of the shy smile on his lips at the jeering of the four other guys. Many of which have gotten a better look at you underneath the light before turning their attention back on the dark-haired man and slapping him on the back as they lead him back to the beach for an excursion of games, perhaps even some actual partying now that the rest of the goers have lit the bonfire.

He tips his head back toward you one last time, a small smile in your direction until the taller brunet leans over to whisper something. Of what, you have no clue so you just watch for a split second before your gaze flickers back to your red-haired friend. You sneak a look but you don’t see him because the small group has already managed to disappear into the sea of people.

You begin walking once Jisoo latches an arm around you, smiling mischievously. “New shirt? And a boy?” she comments before taking a sip of her cup. “Please tell me you’re gonna share the details.”

With a laugh, slipping your arm out of her grasp to sling it around her shoulders. “Honestly? His name’s Jimin and he was the beer-spiller.”

Jisoo looks at you, slack-jawed. She guffaws, “You’re kidding! You didn’t kill him either. Wow, you must be getting softer considering he didn’t come back crying.”

Even just the mention of that incident has you huffing, “Shut up. That was one time!”

“Anyway, he’s hot, Y/N. Kudos for scoring his number,” she says, bumping your hip. You let her move you, but she wraps an arm around your waist to keep you beside her.

It dawns on you that the one thing you did not do was one of the most simplest, especially considering you’d have to return his shirt sometime. Literally all you had to do was ask, yet it managed to go over your head. “Well…”

She tilts her head at you and asks, “You didn’t get his number?”

Fuck, now how am I going to return this to him?

From the silence she receives, your best friend has her answer but that doesn’t deter her from straightening her head and grinning at you even wider than earlier.

With furrowed brows and a semi-scowl on your lips, because what did she know that you didn’t? You inquire, “What?”

“I mean Jennie tells me that just means he intends to see you again. Preferably before the night ends.”

“That’s ridi—”

“—Is it though?” She even arches her brow at you. “You do have his shirt. Even better if it’s his favorite one. And from the looks of it, you two seemed to be getting along quite well.”

Still, you shrug, trying not to read too much into the whole fiasco. No matter how attractive Jimin is, you have a way of rationalizing your way out of those sorts of speculations.

Perhaps he just forgot.

“I’m not too worried about it. Whatever happens will happen.”

She rolls her eyes at you, pinching your side and ignoring the yelp you give. She again ignores you and the pointed glare you send her way, “At the very least just know that his friends are pretty certain he digs you.”

“You heard them?” She nods, chugging down the rest of the cup’s contents. You harden your features just to see the pout on her face, simply responding, “That doesn’t change anything.”

Because it doesn’t.

“Brat,” she say, tapping your head with the empty cup. “Let’s just go drink and dance. Maybe we’ll see your boy toy along the way!”

Before you can protest her comment, she slips out of your grasp and wiggles her hips to the beat of the electronic bass. She beckons you forth with her index fingers, leading the two of you past the heart of the circle and toward the beverages. She grabs another two keg beer cups—obviously (read: thankfully) learning from her initial mistake—and slips one toward you.

She holds her cup out toward you and says, “Cheers!”

You roll your eyes at her, feeling a swelling in your heart as you tap the edge of her cup and utter a fuck it.

“Cheers!”

You slip away for a moment. One fucking moment. And you return to your group’s meeting spot after braving a half-hour long line to use the restroom and wiping away the sweat that accumulated at the corners of your forehead with the back of your hand, powering through the burn in your thighs from an hour-and-a-half long dance session with the girls—and that in itself has become nothing more than a blur of swaying, bass, and heat emitting from your friends’ bodies—and the minor headache throbbing in the back of your head. All for the crowd (that has already gotten significantly smaller than earlier) without Chungha, Lisa, or Jennie in sight.

Jisoo’s there, perched on a log in all her red-haired glory by her lonesome, somehow swaying to the beat of the song. The previous DJ must’ve left because the music is different from earlier, much more akin to songs blasting radio music from a portable speaker than the songs playing earlier on an actual speaker system. But all you can think is where the fuck did our friends go? Because you’d be damned not to spot Lisa’s orange hair anywhere, but for reasons beyond you, she isn’t there.

“Where’s everybody?” When you take a seat beside her, she cranes her head toward you with a smile curled on the corner of her lips but still no answer. “Ji—”

She lays her head on your shoulder. “They left!”

You blink, trying to meet her eyes in some way but they’ve shut already. “What do you mean they left? They’re our rides.”

“I told them about Jimin.”

You groan, fearing that the answer you have in your head is the one she’s about to tell you. “Why would you do that? What did you even say?”

“That he’s your cute boy. ‘nd you didn’t get his number yet,” she answers, trying to bury her head further into your body.

“So that made them leave?” You know damn well that Chungha wouldn’t have done that unless someone told her they’d manage a ride otherwise.

“I said that we’d manage.” she pouts at your visible frown. “I’m helping you!”

You groan loudly, shaking her off to kneel in front of her. Her whines are pointedly ignored as the log becomes her pillow. “You dummy! Why would you give up our ride like that?”

“He’ll give us a ride,” she says, opening one of her eyes. “I know what’m doin’.”

You glare at her, raising a brow. “And how do you know that?”

“B’cuz his friends said they’d carpool with other people so he’d have room for you.”

You blink, tilting your head at her as both eyes shut once again. You continue to look at her anyway. You’re unsure of how to feel exactly with this news considering the reality that you two are half an hour away from campus without a ride. Of course, you could always call Chungha back but that was your last resort with the chance that security wouldn’t allow her to leave without signing out. And the hard truth is a part of you kind of liked the news Jisoo just supplied you with; you hadn’t even said a word about Jimin supplying his friends with rides, making her story check out to some degree. But the glaring extent was the fact that her own credibility was compromised by the simple fact that she was very much drunk so whether it was true (you hoped) or not was entirely a crapshoot.

That alone has your legs ready to give out from underneath you at the sheer exhaustion of the situation. Even if she was correct about Jimin (you highly doubted it) that still meant trying to find him and coaxing a ride out of him. It might’ve been possible if he hadn’t left already and he was just that nice of a person but there was still no saying who had left and stayed from the looks of the party. Plus, you hadn’t seen him once since you two parted ways (and you know damn well you looked as best as you could in your position).

“For all we know, he could’ve left already,” you sigh, looking over at Jisoo as her features contorted now that the alcoholic influences were catching up to her. You would’ve laughed had you not felt so stressed. You stand up to ease your stomach and look around for any familiar faces—Jimin or not—for the sole reason in asking any other friend of yours for a ride back to the school.

“Maybe someone we know is still around.” you say, turning on your heel to go back into the crowd. You crane your head back over to Jisoo, only slightly scowling (not that she could see it) to say, “Stay put, I’m gonna go find us a ride.”

“Bu—”

“—No but’s. Just stay,” you huff, already walking into the even sparser circle. You don’t spot anyone you know, feeling a knot of anxiety formulate in the pit of your stomach.

Goddammit Jisoo.

“Fu—” you stop yourself, stay calm.

You’d like to think you’re a relatively calm person anyway, especially as you’re walking past unfamiliar people who are doing a mix of actual dancing and half-assed swaying. Even with no one somewhat familiar in sight, whether it’s a floormate or someone from the same dorm building, you try to keep your cool as you weave between bodies, feeling the heat of the fire as you stop at the outskirts of the group circle to catch your breath.

Damm—

“—Y/N?” You blink at the sudden feeling a hand on your shoulder. Out of a reflex, you reach over and almost smack the perpetrator’s chest with an open palm when it registers that the voice belongs to the very devil himself—Jimin.

“Jimin?” you ask, looking over at him and dropping your hand. “You’re still here?”

He laughs, looking the same as ever—still breathtakingly handsome—as he says, “Yeah. I was just helping my DJ friend pack up and load his stuff.”

You muse, “No wonder the music started sucking just a few moments ago.”

He smile broadly, “I’ll be sure to tell him that everything he played was a hit.” He tilts his head over at you, “you’re still here. Did you lose your friend?”

You shake your head, feeling a little embarrassed to admit the true circumstances of your predicament but he continues to look at you patiently. “The rest of my friends left, so I’m looking for a ride for me and my best friend actually.”

He just laughs and says, “How about I give you two a ride then?”

Dammit, Jisoo.

You’re scratching the back of your head, feeling your own cheeks give away your emotions. At least until his words register and then you say, “What about your friends? I thought you’re in charge of carpool?”

“My friends ditched me for another driver.” he fake sniffs, straightening his head. “So, what do you say?”

“You’re sober right?”

He nods, holding up his hand. “As sober as can be. Scout’s Honor.” He sniffs indignantly, “I was the DD earlier after all.”

It’s nothing to really ponder that intensively, his offer is simply out of convenience after all, so you make the executive decision of nodding. “Sure,” you smile as he does. “First the shirt, now a ride home. You’re seriously a lifesaver.”

He winks, extending his arm outward to say, “I have to make up for being a beer spiller somehow. Lead the way.”

As you begin toward Jisoo, you can’t help but look over at Jimin and say, “Y’know your friends planned on ditching you right? Jisoo overheard them.”

He exhales sharply, nodding. “I suspected that when Yoongi—that DJ friend of mine—sent me back onto the beach to double check if he left anything. And believe me, if you knew him then you’d know how anal he is about leaving anything out. Especially his equipment.”

“This wasn’t some plot of yours to get me by my lonesome was it?” you ask, raising a brow at him. You make sure not to sound too serious, because you would actually be flattered that he would (solely based on the assumption and hope that he wasn’t a psychopath, of course). “You’re not going to kill me on the side of the road or somethin’?”

His brows have since arched upwards at the beginning of these inquiries; however, it isn’t long until he’s giggling as they register. “Don’t worry. As much as I was hoping to see you again, this wasn’t intentional on my end.” By now the two of you are a good meter away from Jisoo. “And, for the record, I am not going to murder you on the side of the road. Or murder you, period. Mind reading powers or not, I’d prefer you live long enough to save the world.”

“And how do you know I intend to use these powers for good?” you quip, earning a laugh from him. You turn your attention on Jisoo when you’re a good foot from the log she’s still perched on. “Chu, you good?”

The aforementioned raises her head, one eye peeking open as she gives a small shake of her head.

“My tummy hurts. T’won’t stop going ‘grrr!’” she whines, turning onto her back. Luckily, she has a large green flannel to keep her warm from the oceanside air beginning to roll in now that midnight was bleeding into 1AM. It’s almost hard to believe that time has flown by this much, but even just trying to recollect everything is hazy on your brain at the moment.

You’re about to say something but your best friend beckons you forth (which you unwittingly acquiesce and kneel in front of her) and cups her hand around her mouth to loudly whisper, “Can we get something to eat?”

“I dunno if Jimin—”

“Sure, we can.” He smiles at you when you crane your head up at him. “How does 7-Eleven ramen sound?”

To which, Jisoo lets out a cry of happiness.

The car glides across the roadway, while a soft ocean breeze passing between the cracked windows. There’s music playing softly, though you don’t know the song that well, you can’t help but smile as you hear Jimin hum along. He looks like he’s in his element even in that briefest instance, completely sober without another thought or worry in the world as he turns into the semi-familiar parking lot, with the bright lights of the 7-Eleven peeking into the car. Their windows are adorned with falling posters of Big Gulps and coffee, but those do nothing to make your mouth water compared to the small cups of ramen adorning the shelves.

Looking down at Jisoo, her head still nestled atop your thighs and eyes still shut tightly, you actually feel a little bad for disturbing her from the much needed rest she’s going to need after tonight’s adventure. But the idea of her stomach hurting after ingesting all that alcohol makes you lean forward and poke her cheek, though that does nothing to stir her. As you whisper her name, allowing the tips of your hair to graze her face, you see her nose scrunch.

She doesn’t say anything above a whisper, “I want chicken ramen.”

She raises her head only to give you enough room to scoot out but she curls back into a ball and lays her head down onto the seat. “J’st go! ‘M tired.”

“Alright, one chicken ramen coming right up,” you sigh, giving her shoulder a pat before shutting the door. You’re immediately met by the cold and Jimin, the latter shoots your friend a sympathetic look before he turns to you.

His brows are drawn upward as he asks, “she okay?”

While he makes sure the doors are locked, you respond, “Just sleepy. She requests chicken ramen.”

“Beef’s where it’s at,” he laughs, beginning to walk alongside you toward the well-lit building and the solace of warmth. You can practically feel the heater as you’re underneath the proximity of the store’s brick-red canopy.

“Right?” You pass him by as he opens the door for you, letting the door flutter shut behind and banishing the cool air.

Inside is as comforting as the sight outside with a long green table by the hot water kettle toward the right upon entering to the cozily placed shelves that made the vicinity feel a lot smaller than you would think. Albeit it’s brighter than your eyes have adjusted to, you do so gradually and feel the blasting heat smoothing your gooseflesh away. It’s pretty much a utopia of brightly packaged snacks and other roadside foods, with the scent of coffee beans wafting the air alongside the distinct pinch of sugar that has your stomach rumbling even more than before. Your cheeks are still cool to the touch, but you know that it’d burn on any other given chance.

“Hungry?” Jimin quips though he receives no response, just a small, playful eye roll. Nudging your shoulder, he begins to lead you toward the goods by hand. His palms are still remarkably warm, and still notably soft as he sifts through the shelves for the desired packages. Soon enough, he comes back with two beef-flavored and a chicken-flavored Maruchan soups.

The cashier accepts Jimin’s money before you can fish out your wallet, pointing the two of you to the hot water stations. The latter doesn’t look back at you, only accepting the narrowed look you shoot his way until after he receives the receipt. Of course, you wouldn’t have minded paying for yours and Jisoo’s but you still admit your gratitude to him since he did pay (and did so much more) after all.

When he comes to the table bearing the gift of the glorious noodles, you move Jisoo’s still packaged soup to the side so your food is front of you. With a pair of chopsticks bestowed to you, you smile at him and get ready to say yet another admission of gratitude.

“Seriously, thank you,” you say, allowing him to fill the cups by holding the chopsticks. “You’ve done more than enough for me tonight.”

He meets your eyes, looking at you with a soft smile. He replies, “It’s no problem. You haven’t been a burden or anything.”

“Are you just saying that?” you ask, raising a brow. “Because I’ll try to repay you somehow.”

“You don’t have to—”

You laugh, trying to look even more stern though probably failing, “Oh yes I do! I work at the campus coffee shop by the Quad, so please come by okay? I can bestow you with the best gift all college students would kill for.”

His eyes light up. “Free textbooks?”

You laugh again, giving his arm a light smack. “Me and you both wish I could do that.”

“Well, I’ll remember your offer the next time I need a caffeine fix then.”

“Promise?” You don’t mean to be so childish but of course you can’t help but stick your pinky finger out just to see what he’ll do. It’s a little thrilling to see just how he’ll respond to your antics, not that many people can truly say they agree with them, but seeing him as he laughs and goes along with it makes you very happy.

Hell, he even presses his thumb to yours and says with feigned solemnity, “I promise.”

A comfortable silence falls over you two, giving you an opportunity to dig into the cup of noodles. You relish in the taste, allowing the warmth to soothe your muting stomach and feeling a lot more sober. It’s nice just to sit there beside Jimin, knowing that Jisoo’s comfortably in the backseat of his car where she couldn’t be causing any more trouble or running all over the place had she taken something with a little more strength. You know she won’t mind you eating now, with her resting for tomorrow, she’s sure to unleash a ball of gloating your way because she was right about what she told you on the beach. Still, you hope she forgets so you don’t have to hear about it.

As you glance over at Jimin yet again, the reminder of what you were supposed to ask him strikes you. He’s just eating like yourself and looking just as peaceful. He seems to feel your stare, turning to meet your gaze.

“Yeah?” he says after finishing his bite of food.

You do the same, muttering an apology before you say, “I have two questions for you.”

“S’fine, shoot.”

As you’re placing your chopsticks atop of the cup, you ask, “What were you going to tell me at the party? Y’know before we were so rudely interrupted by your friends and mine?”

He laughs at your exaggeration but it sounds off by a few octaves, causing you to narrow your eyes ever-so-slightly. He scratches the back of his head, this time a breathy chuckle chases after his sharp exhale. “You still remember that?”

You laugh, noting the way his cheeks turned an even rosier shade of red. “I might’ve been sort of tipsy but I’m certainly not an amnesiac.”

“Well…”

“What?” You tilt your head to the side, a smirk teasing at the corners of your lips, “shy all of a sudden?”

“Kind of? Like I said before, you’re so open and upfront it seems so random to tell you.” He admits sheepishly, “Plus, I have a very strong feeling that this is gonna come off as either very fuckboy or very cheesy to you.”

When he rolls his eyes and cheeks still reddening, you amend the situation just a bit, obviously still very much curious. “C’mon you can tell me. It wouldn’t be as random as saying you like the swedish meatballs from IKEA or something.“

He bursts into laughter, eliciting a smile of your own, again. Your brain is very loud and clear in voicing just how nice that smile of his is, and you’re not even going to attempt to deny that much. Instead you focus on his lips as he says, “True, well,” he pauses, glancing at the table. “I was gonna say you looked really cute earlier.”

“How so?” You add as you see his mouth open, “That’s not my second question, by the way. Consider it a follow-up and totally unrelated.”

He nods, still smiling, “Just when you were teasing me it struck me even more than when I first approached you.”

This time you nod, happy to see his eyes so you can say, “Well, thank you.”

”You’re welcome.”

After a moment, the two of you actually taking that break to get another bite of the noodles, he says, “So, question two?”

“Oh right!” you say, still holding onto your chopsticks. “How am I supposed to get this shirt back to you?”

He doesn’t say anything immediately afterwards. Like at all. He just pauses, eyes darting to the solace of the soup. The rouge on his cheeks are creeping upward like vines, decorating his skin with flowers blooming on a spring day, and it actually makes you curious as to what he’s thinking. From what you’ve accessed about him, he’s a bit of a flirt with loads of bashfulness peeking between the cracks. Definitely the type to know what he wants, but not the kind to know how to voice it too seriously. Just the fact that he’s struggling to articulate himself makes him even more adorable especially when that conflicted expression of his melts into something akin to confidence.

“I was thinking we could actually exchange numbers….” he answers, slowly meeting your eyes.

“Who knew you were one for being forward?” you say, leaning closer to his pink-cheeked visage. “Sure.”

He can’t help but remain trained where he is, probably registering the fact that you are indeed this close without a bat of your eyelashes. Of course, your brain is screaming at you for being this close in his proximity, but another part of you doesn’t seem to care. In fact, if you lacked any more self-control than you already did, you might’ve actually leaned in to kiss him.

He suddenly blurts out, “Y-you look good in my shirt.”

His fingertips graze the hem gingerly before he looks back up at you raising a brow at him. The deathly serious look on your face only lasting long enough for you to ask, “Is that your way of saying that I can keep it then...?”

And right then, he does that thing where he throws his head back and laughs again, “No! I actually really like this shirt, okay?”

You hold your hands up in surrender, replying as soon as it seems like he has nothing more to say, “Thank you.”

When you look down at your styrofoam cup, you find it a devoid of noodles and much soup. Much like Jimin, the two of you are quite dismayed at the lack thereof, because it means you have to part ways. You know you have to go, but it feels like you’re only just beginning to get to know him. And still, there’s feels like there’s more to do even if what you have visualized in the back of your mind is merely an impulse touch of your lips and caress of fingertips. You’re feeling brave too. Maybe it’s the booze or maybe it’s your own brain telling you not to miss out on this moment, because carpe diem right? (Or carpe noctem to be more specific?) You’re young and isn’t this the type of shit you’re supposed to do on nights like this anyway?

Before you can say a word, he slides his phone open and pulls up the dialer. “Number?”

You recite the digits for him. He does the same for you, even posing for a contact photo just for you. He’s simply smiling but the way his eyes form half moons, and his lips stretch across his face, revealing his dimples makes you feel smile as well.

“You want your picture taken too?” You laugh, smiling anyway. He snaps it quickly, looking satisfied. But he can’t seem to take his eyes off you as he sets his phone down.

“What?” you tilt your head at him.

“You look really cute.”

“You told me that already,” you giggle, leaning on your elbow and unconsciously moving closer to him.

“You tell me something then,” he suggests, following in your example.

“I’d let you kiss me right now.”

He lets out a small laugh directed to himself as he mutters, “Jesus, you’re really the forward one here.”

Curiosity washes over your eyes as you ask, “But would you let me?”

He pretends to think for a moment, glancing at you with feigned exaggeration and a smile. “Yeah, I truthfully would.”

You decide it can’t hurt. You’re young and maybe this is dumb, but you certainly can’t say that this is something you’ll regret. Perhaps after you return the shirt, you’ll never see him again. His numbers nothing more than a forgotten contact like the ones you accumulate within a quarter until they become useless in the next one. It’s a pessimistic way to see new people, but you know that’s just the reality of college.

Before you can lean in, he looks at you earnestly and asks, “You won’t regret this, right?”

You shake your head, leaning in closer, “and you won’t either, right?”

This time he doesn’t answer, you assume for fear that he might not actually be able to respond with a stutter or even a show of hesitance, but determination washes over his features in the most minute way you almost miss it. And the thudding of your heart ricocheting all around your chest is the only thing you can hear besides the thrum of the slurpee machine besides you.

You can feel Jimin’s hand finds its way onto the far side of your face, comfortably placed at the juncture between your start of your jawline and your hairline. He leans in first and kisses you.

And, of course, you kiss him right back.

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