#D-Mart Clothes

[womenslive]

Wearing D-Mart Clothes For Diwali / ₹1000 Challenge

[dollsuguru]

gonna try japanese food for the first time this week :3

[dkfile]

gold rush

❛ everybody wants you, everybody wonders what it would be like to love you. ❜ ━gold rush, taylor swift

word count | 19.2k (19,220) genre | fluff, angst, slowburn, exes to lovers, summer au ━ gn!reader

though there is no denying that kim mingyu was once a big part of your life, you believe that the pain he’s left you with is long gone; he is a memory, and that is all he will ever be. but then you get home, and he’s there, and maybe you have to reconsider just how much you’ve moved on.

★ warnings | brief mention of injury/scars/blood, alcohol consumption, suggestive if u squint, seokmin and minghao meddling, i think thats it tell me if i missed anything ★ author’s note | it’s finally here!!! this took me longer than i thought it would, i really thought it’d only be on the shorter side (shorter side in dkfile means >10k words) but. this is literally 19k. i lied to myself i guess. hope u guys enjoy tho !! lmk your thoughts :D

In movies, summer signifies new beginnings. The sun’s radiance is bright enough to blind, the ocean glimmers underneath its attention, the sand is warm to the touch. Ice cream drips down your fingers and makes them uncomfortably sticky against the humid breeze. Some people come home, others leave, but they all have the intent of starting their new chapter right. Summer is about growth. It is about moving on.

It is not supposed to be about Kim Mingyu.

seok ☀️ > can you pls pick up the phone > i’m sorryyyyy that i lied to you ☹️ > forgive me!! 😓💔🙏 > do you need me to grovel? because i will

You scowl.

When you came back from college, welcomed home with open arms by your family and childhood friends, you were reassured that a certain boy — with golden skin, starry eyes, and your crushed heart in the palm of his hand — would not be back in town. Foolishly, you looked past the mischievous quirk of Minghao’s eyebrow, and the sheepish wince painted across Seokmin’s face when you expressed your delight at having them all to yourself.

There would be no ex-boyfriend to thwart your plans, no boy to drown your summer in gasoline and set it aflame.

But then your shopping cart bumps into someone else’s at the store, and when you look up, the bane of your existence is staring at you, open-mouthed and wide-eyed.

You vaguely remember the rather sharp inhale Seokmin took from behind you before you scoffed, incredulous and irritated, and harshly stated that Seokmin could finish grocery shopping by himself. You do not want to associate yourself with the traitor and the liar your so-called best friend has become.

Seokmin claims you’re being rather overdramatic. He swears he didn’t know Mingyu would be home so soon.

(“So soon?” you repeated when you picked up Seokmin’s fifteenth call ten minutes ago. “What does that mean? That you knew he was always going to be coming home?”

“…Listen—”

You hung up).

You find yourself sitting in the skatepark a few blocks from the mart, legs curled up on the bench and your chin resting on your knees. As the sun begins to dip below the horizon, the occupants slowly pack up and leave, until the sounds of wheels against concrete is replaced with the murmur of cicadas and the laughter from the occasional passerby.

The warmth of the wood seeps through your denim shorts, percolating across your body until you are hot underneath your clothes. Despite the heat of the day giving way to the mellow cool of the evening, sweat forms on your upper lip and hairline, an indicator that it’s too hot to sit out here and contemplate every choice you’ve made up until this moment.

Still, you stay; you’re not sure why. You never quite liked it here, had only enjoyed it when you were surrounded by your friends and their saccharine laughter. The scars on your leg are painful reminders of the multiple falls you took when he was teaching you how to skate.

(Sometimes, on bad nights, you still feel the ghost of his fingers on your waist and your wrist, guiding you on his board while children much younger than you zoom by).

You never left this area without a new injury, whether it be a bruise on the shin or a scrape on the knee.

Memories of what once was linger.

You do not remember what you had for breakfast this morning, or what show Seokmin recommended to you a few hours ago, or what car your dad was planning on buying.

But you remember Mingyu. You remember his smile and his sweet cologne and the way his hair fell into his eyes whenever his shoulders shook with laughter. You remember what it feels like to be in his bubble; it feels like you’ve been dumped into molasses — you become aware of your every move, and time begins to move just a little slower, as if you are trying to savour every moment before he disappears.

You feel him before you hear him.

That’s why you’re not surprised when he talks, his voice soft from where he stands behind the bench. You imagine him with his hands tucked into his pockets, staring at the empty ramps (he is not looking at you. You would know if he was looking at you. His gaze would burn more than a thousand wildfires).

“I thought they told you.”

Your voice comes out hoarse. “They told me you weren’t coming home.”

“Oh,” he doesn’t sound surprised, but he stills offers an apology. “I’m sorry.”

“Why? You’re not the one who lied.”

A quiet heartbeat passes. “Right.”

Your fingers drum against your calf. “How did you find me, anyway? Did Seokmin track my location?”

“No,” he murmurs. His voice has been quiet ever since he arrived. “I just… figured you’d be here.”

You swallow a large lump in your throat. “Oh,” you say weakly.

“Yeah,” he responds. There’s a brief moment of contemplation. He knows there’s a line he cannot cross, but he tries anyway. “Do you want a ride home?”

Your response is immediate and firm, and its harshness is enough to break the calm façade he unintentionally built around the both of you. “No. I’ll walk.”

“It’s hot,” he argues.

“I don’t need you, Mingyu,” you bite back. He clamps his mouth shut as unease settles in the pit of your stomach. “I don’t— I’ll be fine.”

He seems to hesitate; you aren’t sure how long he stands behind you, searching for a response.

Then, as if it pains him to say: “Okay.”

“Damn,” Minghao falls into Seokmin’s shoulder as they both laugh at your stumbling, “You suck!”

“Hey,” Mingyu barks, though he looks more like a puppy than the intimidating boy he imagines himself to be, “it’s not like you’re any better!”

You know Mingyu’s only saying this to make you feel better — Minghao is, arguably, the best on wheels out of the four of you — but the sentiment still warms your heart. At your smile, Mingyu’s annoyed mien is replaced with a grin of his own. He reaches over to squeeze your cheek.

“I believe in you,” he declares.

“As much as I appreciate what you’re doing,” you begin, stretching out your arms to balance on the board, “I don’t think I’m ever going to master this.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Mingyu huffs, hands hovering over your sides once the skateboard begins to move, eyes trained on your feet. “By the time we get out of here, you’re gonna give Minghao a run for his money.”

You sigh. Mingyu was always one for wishful thinking.

“You really think I’ll be able to do this by myself in half an hour?”

Mingyu hums hopefully.

The sun has already begun to set, and you had promised your parents you’d be home for dinner. With fall around the corner, the days are slowly becoming shorter, a constant reminder that your last year of school is upon you. Next are college applications, then admissions, and conversations about your future that you aren’t quite ready to have.

But you’ll worry about that when you need to.

Because right now, there is the skate park, the late summer breeze, and Mingyu, who shrieks along with you when you lose balance. His arms grab onto your waist, bringing you back to the ground as the skateboard continues to roll down the concrete. Right now, there is the furrow of his eyebrows, the mixture of disappointment and amusement swirling in his eyes, and his forehead pressed against yours.

“I thought I told you not to zone out,” he says with a slight shake of his head. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

You shrug, pecking his nose before pulling away to chase after the skateboard. “You’re so dramatic. The worst I could’ve gotten was a scraped knee.”

Mingyu scoffs. “So? I don’t want you getting hurt under my watch.”

“You’re my boyfriend, not my babysitter.”

“Well, I might as well be,” he argues. “You’re more accident prone than me.”

Laughing, you jokingly say, “Guess that means you’ve finally met your match, Kim.”

People used to say you and Mingyu were made for each other.

It is something you’ve tried to forget, but the fact follows you around like a shadow. This town, small and aware of the breakup, can’t seem to wrap their heads around the fact that you and Mingyu are no longer extensions of one another.

At some point, you hoped that people would understand your discomfort whenever he’s mentioned, but the fact of the matter is that you and Mingyu had been a package deal from when you were in diapers up until the end of senior year, and when you’re intertwined with someone for that long, it’s just as hard for you as it is for everyone to forget that part of yourself.

When you stop by the pharmacy, you don’t ask about him (you have no reason to), but the pharmacist still informs you that you’ve just missed him; when you see your mother’s colleague, she gushes about how nice it must be to see him after all this time (you do not have the heart to tell her otherwise); when you buy a pack of Sprite bottles for Mrs. Boo’s annual summer barbecue, the clerk asks if you know if he’s going to be in attendance (you say you have not talked to him in three years, and the clerk tilts his head in confusion).

Your patience has been worn thin by the time you arrive at Seokmin’s house.

“Hello, sunshine,” Minghao drawls when his attention settles on you. He watches you scowl before setting your bag on the armchair and taking a seat beside him on the couch. “How was your morning?”

“I’m ditching,” you declare, brushing off his question.

“Ditching what?”

“The barbecue,” you deadpan. “What else?”

“Now, why the hell would you do that?”

“Minghao,” you say blankly, “would it kill you to use your brain for once?”

“Are you calling me stupid?”

Seokmin enters the living room, carrying three cans of iced tea, all of which he places on the coffee table. He throws you and Minghao a look of annoyance. “If you guys are going to argue, please don’t do it under my roof,” he gestures around the room, “it kills the vibes.”

You roll your eyes but mutter an apology under your breath. Beside you, Minghao quips, “Y/N decided ditching the barbecue would be a good idea.”

You’re used to Seokmin’s mannerisms by now, so you don’t even flinch when he waves his arms around in disbelief. “What?” he exclaims, crouching in front of your legs and taking your hands into his. “Why the hell would you do that?”

Minghao hums. “That’s what I said.”

“Put that brain of yours to good use.”

“They said that to me, too.”

Seokmin huffs, knowing better than to let your quips deter him. “Please don’t tell me this is about Mingyu.”

You quirk an eyebrow, to which Seokmin scoffs, letting go of your hands before plopping down in front of you, even though there’s a free spot on the other side of Minghao. They scrutinize you for a moment, Seokmin’s eyes narrowed and lips twisted into a frown while Minghao stares blankly, showing no emotion or an indication of what’s going on inside his head.

It does nothing to make you feel comfortable.

You aren’t a stranger to Minghao and Seokmin’s examinations — they’re experts when it comes to breaking you down with analyzations and calculating eyes. But you haven’t been home in three years, and being on the receiving end of something as intense as this is startling, if not a little troubling.

(Being the only one enduring this, absent of a certain boy, is unsettling as well, though you’d rather die than admit that).

Seokmin nudges your ankle with his knee. “You know you’ll regret not going to this thing,” he says, eyes sparkling with amusement when you bristle. “You haven’t seen the Boo’s in forever, too. They’d be sad if you miss it.”

“Imagine how Seungkwan would feel,” Minghao adds, poking your arm to look at him, and continues to do so when you don’t. “He’d be miserable.”

You pout. “I doubt it.”

“You were in the same badminton club for five years,” Minghao argues softly, “I think he would be.”

Seokmin states, “And you’re not the type of person to let someone down, are you?” He pauses for a moment before adding, “Well, other than me and Minghao, on occasion.”

You cross your arms, leaning further into the couch as you avoid eye contact. You’re adamant on skipping, but Seokmin and Minghao know you better than anyone else, so they know exactly how to word their sentences and fabricate their bribes to get you to agree. They know, as long as you keep this up, the entirety of your summer will be spent in the four walls in your house, the only place in town guaranteed to not have Kim Mingyu.

And it may be pathetic, really, to continue letting him affect you like this.

(But it has always been you and Mingyu, Mingyu and you. He is part of your soul. There is a void in your chest that’s the shape of him. How are you supposed to erase all memory of someone like that?)

A painted fingernail pokes your side, a knee bumps your shin. Your friends look at you, hopeful.

A sigh.

“Okay, fine.”

“Can I ask you something?”

You hum, collapsing on the bench beside Seungkwan, his newly dyed platinum blonde hair appearing orange under the setting sun. Sweat trinkles down his frame but his breathing remains even, showing no sign that he just finished playing a rather intense badminton game a few minutes prior.

“What are you guys doing after you graduate?”

You take a sip from your water bottle in hopes the liquid will make it easier to swallow the lump forming in your throat. You have never minded these types of conversations, though the reminder of the future creates a pit in your stomach that only continues to grow larger with each passing day. And, knowing Seungkwan, you know there is more to his question than college applications and major declarations.

“What do you mean?”

“You, Mingyu, Minghao, and Seokmin,” Seungkwan elaborates. “You’re all going to different colleges, right?”

Pursing your lips, you risk a glance at him, only to find that he’s staring ahead. “Minghao’s going abroad, yeah, and Seokmin’s thinking of staying here,” you explain, voice low. “Mingyu and I are going to be together, though.”

At this, Seungkwan turns to you, eyebrows furrowed. “You two are going to the same university?”

There is something about the way he asks this — unsure, withdrawn, and cautious. You see the flare of uncertainty in his eyes, and it’s enough for your heartrate to quicken.

“Yeah. Why?”

He opens and closes his mouth. There is war in his head. Very rarely do you see Seungkwan at a loss for words. He is usually so quick on his feet, so witty, so talkative, and the silence that falls between you both is painful and nerve-wracking.

Should you be worried?

“Nothing,” he eventually settles for, ignoring the silent question in your eyes. “I was just thinking about how nice that would be.”

You decide to believe him. It is so much easier to be ignorant, you think.

(But it is also much more painful later. You do not allow yourself to dwell).

“Why’d you ask, anyway?”

“I was just talking to Vernon and Chan, and I realized we all want different things,” Seungkwan sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. “We won’t all be together much longer. It feels… weird.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think you guys will be able to stay in touch?”

You shrug hopefully. “I think so,” you say, shifting your gaze to the horizon, “we’ve been friends forever. It’d take a lot to break that up.”

The scent of tangerines and aftershave fill your nose as you’re ambushed by a boy bursting with energy, bouncing on the balls of his feet while he resides in your arms, squeezing you tight as he spews angry statements that all come from a place of love.

Seungkwan is grinning by the time you pull away, grabbing you by your wrist and dragging you further into the backyard to catch up with other people. He doesn’t dare leave your side — he’s convinced you’ll slip away and disappear if he does — and you’re thankful; you don’t have the energy to steamroll through conversations today.

Though it’s humid, the warmth you’re engulfed in is a product of the Boo household. It is homely and welcoming and an embodiment of everything you’ve ever missed about home all in one lot. You should be happy to be here, surrounded by people you haven’t seen in years as a consequence of your avoidance, pulled into an endless pool of memories and nostalgia.

But you cannot shake it, the uneasiness.

You feel it as soon as the gate swings open and he enters, carrying two large Tupperware containers, one filled with brownies and the other with lemon squares. You feel it when he flashes his signature smile, canines as pearly white and blinding as you remember, and it still fills you with a sickening sense of joy.

“I’m gonna go get a brownie,” Seungkwan announces, loud enough to snap you out of it. “Do you want one?”

“No,” you decline, forcing yourself to smile even when you feel a burning sensation at the back of your head. “Thank you, though.”

Seungkwan nods and makes his way to the refreshments table, but not before wagging a finger in warning, “Don’t leave without saying goodbye!”

You frantically search the backyard, looking for any sign of Minghao or Seokmin, or maybe a superhero of some sorts to pull you away so you don’t disintegrate in the presence of Mingyu.

In your periphery, you see him excuse himself from conversations, eyes flickering towards you with a determination you aren’t unfamiliar with. It’s remorseful and desperate, and it reminds you of an instance in the skatepark a few years ago, you in his sweater and drowning in heartbreak and sorrow.

Someone swings their arm over your shoulder.

“Hey,” Minghao murmurs, steering you further into the backyard, away. You can’t help the sigh of relief that escapes you. “You okay?”

“Fine,” you grit your teeth.

“You’re gonna have to talk to him at some point,” he says, dropping his arm once he’s decided you’re far enough. “I feel like it’d do the both of you some good.”

“I have nothing to say to him,” you protest. “And I’m sure he has nothing to say to me.”

“I really don’t think that’s the truth.”

“It is.”

“You were in love with him,” he says. It slips out of his lips so easily, as if he were talking about the weather or the shapes of the clouds. You wish you could mutter an admission like that — accept something like that — the way he had. “And he was in love with you, and it ended badly. That is more than enough of a reason to talk.”

It ended badly. You always associated a statement like that with relationships that ended in screaming matches or slamming doors. Ones where a simple argument escalated into one that finalized a conclusion, ones where there was nothing in the room but anger and exhaustion that overpowered the love.

You’ve never associated it with how your relationship with Mingyu ended. The sun was rising, and birds were chirping, and you were standing in the same spot you asked him out, the same spot he asked you to prom, the same spot he murmured three simple words into your ear before you fell asleep on his shoulder on the park bench.

It didn’t end because of a fight. Sometimes, you wish it had — maybe then you’d feel differently about everything, about him.

It just came to a halt, and he had been the one to step on the brakes.

“Talk to him,” Minghao urges again, sympathetic but firm. “You don’t have to do it now, but just do it before you leave. Don’t you think you deserve some closure?”

You find him talking to some of your classmates from your graduating class. They hang onto every word he says, face alit with curiosity and admiration, because some things never change, and he has been put on a pedestal since birth. In the hallways of the high school, his name is on the trophies, he’s beaming in most of the pages in the yearbook, he is this town’s pride and joy.

But you know him.

You see him smile and you’re not blind to the discomfort and falseness behind it. He doesn’t want to be there, you think, and your thoughts are proven correct when he glances up to look at you, and his mask slips by a fraction. For a moment, you see sincerity, a glimpse of the Mingyu you once knew.

Someone taps him on the shoulder and, as you predicted, he puts the mask back on.

You hate that you still know him like the back of your hand.

He is leaning against your frame, playing with your fingers, when he asks the question.

“How do you do it?” he wonders, looking up briefly to meet your questioning gaze before returning his focus on your hands, tapping them to the beat of an overplayed pop song.

His head has dipped down, allowing you to rest your cheek against it. “Do what?”

“Talk to everyone like that,” he says, using his free hand to gesture towards the backyard filled with the people you’re currently hiding from. The both of you sit on the staircase by the front entrance, away from any prying eyes. “They were hanging onto every word you said. They’re practically in love with you.”

You snicker. “What, don’t tell me you’re jealous?”

Mingyu matches your teasing tone with a playful lilt of his own. “Oh, I am. I’ve got some competition.”

You nudge him with your shoulder. “Don’t be too upset when I pick Mrs. Boo over you.”

He hums. “No promises.”

A blanket of comfortable silence falls over you. He fidgets with your hands, brushing his thumb over your nails, and tracing the lines of your palms with his index finger. You close your eyes, listening to the fading chatter of the town and the faint sizzling of meat on the grill.

“I should be asking you that, y’know,” you eventually mumble. Mingyu’s movements stop. “You’ve got the whole town wrapped around your finger. I’m pretty sure everybody loves you.”

To get you to open your eyes, he pokes your cheek. “The same could be said about you,” he responds. “Besides, people only like the idea of me. What would they say if they found out my room’s never clean and I cycle through the same two pairs of socks year-round?”

You wrinkle your nose. “God, remind me to buy you a pack of socks from the store next time I’m at the mall.”

He laughs, an unpleasant snort involuntarily escaping his nose. “I’m serious. They don’t like me. They like the illusion.”

You finally look at him, meeting his softened gaze and mellow smile. “And that doesn’t bother you?”

“No, not really,” he shrugs, but there is a minuscule halt in his voice that you don’t catch. “The only opinion that matters to me is yours.”

You’re convinced Seokmin and Minghao are saints.

(You would never admit this, though. They would never shut up if you did).

For the entire 40-minute car ride, they manage to keep the calm, filling the silence with anecdotes about people you have only heard about through irregular video calls, and arguments about who should be in control of the music. Eventually, they settle for handing the aux over to Mingyu, who meets your gaze through the rearview mirror before clicking on a familiar playlist and looking out the window.

After the first five songs, your face heats up as you remember bashfully making him a playlist back in high school. You settle into your spot, hoping the battered polyester of Seokmin’s car seats will swallow you whole.

When you agreed to tag along on their trip out of town and into the city, Minghao and Seokmin didn’t bother hiding their surprise, especially since they made it clear Mingyu was going to be in attendance. Seungkwan even offered to let you carpool with him, Vernon, and Chan, but you declined — you might as well suck it up, seeing as you and Mingyu are going to be in the same vicinity for the rest of the summer.

Still, you can’t help but regret your decisions as you squirm in the backseat behind Seokmin, who’s fiddling with the A/C, listening intently to a story Minghao’s telling about some scandal involving two classmates he’s never talked to before. You’re thankful for their nosiness, because it gives you some level of comfort and helps you ignore Mingyu’s fleeting glances from the passenger seat.

“The professor’s a hardass so everyone was convinced they were fucking,” Minghao says, leaning forward in his seat. “Turns out he was just her stepdad, who suffered from a chronic case of favouritism.”

Seokmin snorts. “Out of all the conclusions to jump to, that’s the one they picked?”

Minghao quirks an eyebrow. “You of all people should not be saying that.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

As Seokmin and Minghao begin to bicker for the nth time that evening, your gaze slides from the window to the Snoopy trinket hanging from the rearview mirror to the mirror itself, and you can’t find it in you to be surprised when you see Mingyu already looking at you. An unsaid question dances in his eyes, wary and timid.

Are you sure this is okay?

You gulp, worrying your lips between your teeth before shrugging. Yes, it’s fine.

He raises his eyebrow. This is the first time you’ve acknowledged him tonight.

Really?

You shrug again. Really.

And you leave it at that, turning again to look outside.

Seokmin takes fifteen minutes to find a decent parking spot, so when you finally enter the nightclub, you’re prepared for the scowl on Seungkwan’s face when he spots the four of you. He scolds Seokmin first and receives a flick to his forehead in response, which only angers him more. Before you can meet his wrath, you slip away, moving to enter the booth and letting Mingyu and Minghao get the brunt of Seungkwan’s rage and disappointment.

“Y/N!” Chan exclaims when you settle next to him, wrapping his arms around your torso to give you a brief hug before sliding you his unfinished pint of beer. “I haven’t talked to you in forever!”

When you take a sip of the alcohol, you try your best to hide your grimace when the lukewarm liquid hits your tongue. “I talked to you at the barbecue two days ago.”

“Well, I missed you. Sue me,” he throws his hands up in exasperation. Across from you, Vernon hides his amused smile behind his own pint. “You come home after, what, three years? Forgive me if I’ve become clingy.”

“Didn’t know you missed me so much.”

Vernon’s eyes are dripping with mirth. “He went broke from using all his coins at the fountain in town square,” he says, laughing when Chan shoots him daggers. “He went there whenever he was free and was wishing you’d come back—”

“He’s exaggerating,” Chan huffs. In retaliation to Vernon’s teasing, Chan takes his friend’s pint of beer and chugs it down until there is nothing left. “I only wished whenever Mingyu was home, he was so mopey, he would’ve been happier if you were here.”

You freeze.

“Okay,” Vernon interjects, pushing himself out of his seat to move all the empty glasses away from Chan, as if doing so will help the situation. He throws you an apologetic look, though it lacks his usual sincerity. “That’s enough for tonight.”

Chan whines. “But I wanted to do tequila shots with everyone.”

“Drink this first,” Vernon instructs.

Chan grumbles but accepts the glass of water Vernon gives him.

Before you can say something about Chan’s offhanded comment, the rest of your friends climb into the booth, and Vernon and Chan ease their way into their conversation as soon as everyone’s seated. You lean back, cowering behind Minghao and Chan’s frames as Seungkwan makes a joke you barely catch and Minghao repeats every story he told on the journey here.

You try your best to engage in the conversation, really, but it’s been so long since you’ve been with this group of people. As they discuss events you were never there for, snippets of a summer you weren’t part of, the awkwardness begins to build in your stomach, because it was never supposed to be like this, you were never supposed to feel left out.

If the person you were a few years ago saw you now, you know they’d be a little disappointed. Maybe they’d pity you, too.

The consequences, you suppose, of never coming home.

Sighing, you gesture for Minghao to slip out of the booth so you can get out. You say something about going to the bar to get another drink, and he nods, squeezing your shoulder — his silent way of telling you to stay safe — before letting you go.

You try your best to avoid any stumbling individuals, wrinkling your nose and murmuring apologies that get lost in the noise when you can’t avoid bumping into someone. With a glance over your shoulder, you make sure your friends aren’t paying any attention to you before making your way towards the exit.

It’s a warm evening, but it’s cooler than it is inside, and you relish in the temporary peace before you have to inevitably make your way back. They’ll notice if you’re gone too long, and they’ve always been easy to worry.

“Hey.”

A tall frame enters your periphery, clad in a loose white t-shirt and light-washed jeans, staring ahead at the passing cars. You ignore the way his face falls when you shuffle further to the side, away from him.

Your history aside, Kim Mingyu has always run hot. Before, you wouldn’t mind — before, you would’ve been clinging onto him — but time has passed, and you aren’t the same people you were back in high school.

A part of you misses it. There is something so comfortable about Mingyu that you can only describe in insignificant memories, like when he moves you to the side furthest from the road, or when he wraps his scarf around your neck because the cold is nipping at your nose, or when he buys mini versions of your skincare products to keep in his house for when you’re too tired to drive back home.

It's almost homely. Like a hug, maybe.

(You missed it a lot, at first, his aura. Whenever you needed it most, you’d lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling, and instead of sheep lulling you into slumber, it’s him. Way back when, he’d rub circles into your wrist to help you fall asleep, and you think of it then, because it used to bring you so much comfort).

(In your dreams, you murmur his name — Mingyu, Mingyu, Mingyu — like a prayer, like an incantation).

“I’m sorry.”

You jolt in surprise. Not at his voice, but at the apology. “Why?”

“You’re uncomfortable.”

“I’m not,” you protest with a frown. “I’m just… I couldn’t think of how to contribute to the conversation, that’s all.”

“Oh,” Mingyu says gently. He looks relieved. “So, you’re okay that I’m here?”

“Yeah, I mean, they’re your friends, too.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

A quiet moment passes, and you see the relief begin to crumble.

“Yeah, I don’t mind that you’re here,” you offer. The next sentence slips out before you can stop it, “I’m glad, actually.”

His eyes widen in surprise. “You are?”

You shift uncomfortably on your feet, wincing. “A little. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Before this month, you only saw him through Instagram, glimpses of his life that were curated to make his life seem special and happy and void of any worries. You only heard about him — the real him — when his name accidentally slipped out of your friends’ or your family’s mouths.

You can’t help but think that it wasn’t enough.

“How’s school?” he asks, subtly moving so he’s slightly facing you.

“It’s alright,” you answer. “Stressful, but that’s a given. My roommate got a boyfriend, though. He leaves his shit everywhere and he acts like he lives there.”

A soft chuckle leaves his lips. “Yeah, I know, Minghao told me.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “Oh? Why would he tell you that?”

“I asked,” he shrugs. You finally, really look at him now, and your confusion is evident. He seems unfazed by it, but you can see the crimson slowly climbing up his neck. “I ask about you sometimes.”

“Why?”

You know why, you think. What’s the point in asking when you already know the reason behind his actions and intentions? Your soul is intertwined with his, it has been for a while, but you can’t seem to accept it.

You still hurt.

Minghao’s right. Maybe the closure is needed.

“Because I care about you,” he confesses, trying his best to hide his yearning. “You were my best friend, and I want to know if you’re still doing okay.”

Your fingers shake, so you stuff them into the pockets of your sweater. “And what do they tell you when you ask?”

He hesitates, scanning your face while he plans his best course of action. The wounds haven’t closed, the stitches were poorly sewn, and blood spills out of the cuts he left like the damage he’s done is fresh.

“They tell me that I should ask you myself,” he says, “But sometimes they take pity on me, and they’ll tell me things you’ve told them. Like the roommate situation, or the barista who fucked up your order, or how you scored the highest on an exam— congratulations, by the way.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Thank you,” you reply meekly.

“It’s no problem,” he responds. Contemplation flickers across his face before he adds, rather reluctantly, “I’m proud of you, you know.”

You feel the same way you did when he first confessed, like an immature and blubbering teenager, full of hope and optimism and dreams of what could be.

“Mingyu—”

“I mean it,” he interrupts. “I’ve seen the stuff you’ve posted, and I should’ve congratulated you then, I know that, but—”

You give him a small smile. “Better late than never.”

He flashes you a grin, the same one you’d longed to see, the one you used to humiliate yourself for. You would’ve done anything to see him smile like that — a smile that isn’t put on just for show, but one that’s genuine and blinding. It’s something reserved for certain people, those who have seen through the illusion that was created for him, those who have seen it and still love him for who he is, despite his faults and imperfections.

He nods. “Better late than never.”

Despite your best efforts to squash your delight, your heart escapes your desperate grip, and it soars.

It’s cold.

The ground has frozen over, leaving jagged pieces of ice all over the concrete. The snow, previously a crisp white, has turned brown due to its contact with cars. The wind is cold, persistent, it refuses to let you forget about its existence with each gust.

On the other side of the parking lot, you see your friends whisper amongst themselves before one of them throws his hands up in exasperation and stomps over to his car, a beat-up vehicle with torn polyester seats and discarded bubblegum wrappers on the floor. He’s grumbling something under his breath as he settles into the driver’s seat and leaves without so much as a goodbye.

It’s cold, and something’s wrong.

Your eyes find Mingyu’s and your stomach sinks.

Something’s wrong, but you’re unsure whether you’ll find out what it is tonight.

“Hey,” you say once he’s in earshot. He stiffens at the sound of your voice. “Is Seokmin okay?”

“Yeah,” Mingyu says. “I’ll just apologize tomorrow morning.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing big.” He tightens the scarf around his neck and turns to walk towards his car. You follow, because with Mingyu you always do, and look at him over the roof as he digs in his pockets for his keys.

You clench your jaw, uncomfortable (when was the last time you’ve felt unpleasant around him? Things have started getting weirder since everyone started sending in their college applications). You wonder if you should push for answers, but you stop yourself before you can open your mouth. You’ve never done something like this before — Mingyu has always told you everything; secrets between the two of you are scarce.

He unlocks the doors. “Is it okay if we stop by the convenience store before I bring you home? I gotta buy some ramen for my sister.”

He looks tired. Maybe you can ask him about what happened another day.

“Yeah, sure.”

He nods in thanks and enters before another gust of wind hits — it’s harsher this time, as if it’s sending you a warning.

You really should’ve brought your own scarf.

When your family yells for you to open the door, the last thing you expect to see on the other side of it is Kim Mingyu.

Your ire is gone in a flash.

“Um…”

Mingyu winces. “Hi. Sorry, I— your brother called me, he said it was an emergency, and I was worried, so—”

“Mingyu!” your brother yells excitedly, running out of the kitchen before throwing his arms around Mingyu’s torso. “You’re here! Thank God, Y/N was ruining the cake—”

You scoff loudly. “What the fuck, Daeshim? You’re the one who put in salt instead of sugar—"

“Get in, get in!” Daeshim says cheerily, throwing you a glare. You narrow your eyes in return, ignoring how Mingyu’s hands brush against yours when he makes his way towards the kitchen after toeing off his shoes. Daeshim pokes you. “I’m telling Mom you swore.”

“What are you, five?”

Daeshim sticks his tongue out. “Add some money in the swear jar.”

“I hate you,” you deadpan. Your eyes flicker to the white sneakers neatly placed by the other footwear, worn from years of use. “Why did you ask him to come here?”

Your brother shrugs. “He usually stops by, anyway, to help for Mom’s birthday.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah,” he says sarcastically, gesturing for you to move so he can shut the front door. “Are you sure you guys broke up? Cause when you didn’t come home for the summer, he would still check up on us and stuff, and he’d always ask about you. It was so weird. It felt like I was a child of divorce.”

You smack him on the head. “Can you not say that about my relationship?”

“Well, it’s not a relationship anymore,” he quips.

You tense, crossing your arms so you don’t give Daeshim the delight of seeing your clenched fists. “You know what I meant.”

“If you don’t want to stay, then go. But he’s not going anywhere until Mom’s cake is done.”

“Why not? We were doing just fine without him.”

“Are you serious? You know he’s better at baking than you ever will be.”

“Okay, rude.”

“It’s true—”

“Uh, guys?” Both of your heads snap to wear Mingyu peeks around the corner, his amusement thinly veiled behind his distress. “Your kitchen’s a mess.”

Daeshim grins, pointing his finger at you. “Y/N’s fault!” he exclaims before heading to the kitchen.

You poke your cheek with your tongue in annoyance, watching your sibling nonchalantly disappear from your line of sight before you focus on Mingyu. He’s leaning against the wall now, hands shoved in his sweatpants and his head tilted to the side. He looks at you like he’s studying you, trying to find a sign of any kind that he needs to leave.

He must’ve found nothing because he stays.

You clear your throat, straightening your posture. “It was not my fault.”

His lips quirk up. “Oh, I’m sure.”

He disappears before you can retort.

(He’s always been good at that — leaving before you have a chance to fight).

When you finally join them in the kitchen, there’s a familiar baby pink apron around Mingyu’s neck, already splattered with cake batter as he whisks something in a steel bowl. Daeshim is crouched in front of the fridge, putting containers of leftovers on the floor in search of something. You kick his leg with your foot, throwing him off balance, and you both give each other matching scowls.

“Don’t put the Tupperware on the floor.”

He rolls his eyes but picks them up without argument, placing them on the empty counter by the fridge. You don’t understand why he couldn’t have done that in the first place, but Daeshim is notorious for making terrible decisions.

You don’t miss the way Mingyu’s eyes soften when he sees you. “You’re gonna help?”

“I came with the intention to supervise Daeshim and make sure he doesn’t accidentally set something on fire, but…” you shrug, “I could help, yeah.”

“Perfect,” Mingyu grins. “Can you get the baking pan?”

You do as he asks, handing it over to him over the kitchen island. “You’re gonna put it in the oven already? Daeshim was complaining about the batter so much he almost convinced me there was no saving it.”

Mingyu snorts as he cautiously pours the mixture into the pan. “He was just being overdramatic—”

Daeshim snaps from his spot near the fridge. “Are you guys just gonna talk about me as if I’m not here?”

“—it was only a little runny,” he assures, making sure not a drop of batter ends up on the floor or the countertop. Once he’s done, he brushes his hands on the apron and wipes his forehead with his arm. “Can you put it in the oven? You guys preheated it, right?”

You hum in confirmation, carefully placing the tin in the oven as Mingyu steps over Daeshim to try and get to the sink. You frown at your brother, who’s been scouring for something since you walked in. “What the hell are you even looking for?”

“Strawberry milk.”

“I drank it all.”

Daeshim huffs. “Of course you did.” He stands, slamming the fridge door with a dramatic flick of his wrist before hastily making his way out of the kitchen and towards the exit. “I’m gonna go to the convenience store to get some.”

“Wha— No, you have to help clean—”

“Can’t hear you!”

There’s a few more footsteps and the sound of Daeshim struggling to put his shoes on before the door inevitably slams shut.

You don’t let the shock of your brother’s irritating audacity bother you for too long. The way your fingers swipe through your phone to find his contact is lightning quick, but the first call is sent to voicemail and before you can even try his cell a second time, you find that you’re blocked.

Prick.

Mingyu’s humming catches your attention. You look up from your phone to find him with his back against the sink. “Voicemail?”

“Blocked.”

Mingyu snorts. “Of course.”

You send him an awkward smile before turning away so you don’t have to face him. You and Mingyu haven’t spoken since last week on that trip out of town; after the two of you slipped back inside, no words were exchanged except for an apprehensive goodnight when Seokmin dropped you off at home.

With friends as nosy as your own, privacy is hard to come by, but now, in their absence, there’s nothing more you want than a buffer. The tension’s become more palpable without a third party, and your palms are getting clammy at just the thought of searching for an excuse to kick Mingyu out of the house without hurting his feelings.

(Why do you care? He hurt you first, didn’t he?)

“Hey,” Mingyu calls out tentatively. “Do you want me to help clean up? It’s a mess in here.” When you don’t reply, he adds, “I don’t want you to do this all by yourself.”

You take a look at the kitchen around you and decide that you don’t want him to leave, either.

“Okay.”

Mingyu grins. “Okay.”

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to find a system that’s not messy or chaotic or involves stepping into the other’s path — you and Mingyu have always been like that, like a cohesive unit. The feeling that shoots through your veins at the realization that you still are is nothing short of euphoric.

Before you know it, the kitchen is clean. The surface sparkles as Mingyu swipes a finger at it to see if there’s anything he’s missed, looking up at you with fleeting disappointment.

You think he’s about to announce that it’s time for him to go, but he surprises you when what comes out of his mouth is a question instead.

“Can I ask you something?”

You press yourself against the counter, thankful for the kitchen island acting as a barrier between you both. “Sure.”

“If we…” he pauses. Regret already begins to fester in his skin, pulled down by the weight of his frown and the pinch in his eyebrows. “Uh, never mind.”

Your heart lurches in your ribcage. “Mingyu—”

“It’s fine,” he assures but his smile is tight, and his tone says otherwise, “I should probably head back. I’ll — uh — I’ll see you?”

You gnaw at your bottom lip. “Yeah,” you say, ignoring the way your heart begins to crack as Mingyu unties the apron and slips it over his head. “Yeah, I’ll see you.”

A worrying cloud has attached itself to you, nibbling on every last bit of your sanity like a parasite. Because something is wrong, you’re sure of it, even if everyone around you acts otherwise. Seokmin still laughs and makes bad jokes, Minghao still scolds you for not bundling up more when it’s so cold outside, and Mingyu still attracts attention and reaches for your hand and pokes your cheek whenever you’re not paying enough attention to him.

Everything is normal.

(But…)

“Does this look stupid?” Mingyu asks, staring at the banner he’s hung up.

Minghao grabs a macaroon from the table and rearranges the assortment, so it looks like he never laid a finger on it. “Yes.”

Mingyu huffs before turning to you. “Is it really?”

“It’s a little crooked,” you say, taking your eyes off him for a moment when Minghao presses the macaroon into your palm after making a face to suggest he doesn’t like it.

As Mingyu assesses the best way to fix the Happy Birthday! banner, Minghao starts poking at the pile of presents. You frown, kicking his ankle with your foot in an attempt to get him to stop. He only flicks your shoulder in response.

“Don’t touch those,” you hiss.

“I’m just trying to guess what other people got him,” Minghao retorts.

You deadpan, “You’re sizing up the competition.”

“Yes,” he confirms, “I need to make sure my present is better than all of these.”

“You got him a gift card to Party City. I didn’t even know they had those.”

“He can use it for Halloween!”

“Halloween is nine months away.”

“Oh, whatever,” Minghao grumbles. “Seungkwan will find some sort of use for it. All that matters is that my present isn’t the worst one.” He turns to you, jabbing a finger at your shoulder. “Hey, wait, what did you get him?”

You push his wrist as a scowl takes over your previous amused expression. “What’s it to you?”

“You’re a horrible gift-giver.”

“That’s not true!” you object, immediately turning to walk over to Mingyu, who’s staring at the banner in distress. “Gyu! I need to ask you something—”

“Nuh-uh, you can’t ask him, he’ll agree with you!”

You mockingly pout at Minghao before tugging Mingyu’s sleeve. “Hey, babe, question.”

Mingyu’s more than happy to have his attention on something else, letting his hands that were previously taping up the banner fall onto your shoulders. “What’s up?”

“I’m a good gift-giver, right?”

A moment passes. You scoff. Minghao cackles.

“Listen—”

“What the hell?”

“I love you and everything,” Mingyu begins, “but you really aren’t.”

“I hate you.”

“You don’t,” he says quickly. “You love me. Even though you gave me a terrible birthday present last year.”

“You said you liked that apron!”

Minghao pipes up, “There’s a reason why he leaves it at your house, Y/N.”

You gasp, pointing an accusing finger at your boyfriend’s chest. Before you have a chance to defend your honour, Seokmin comes barrelling into the rented community centre, carrying two boxes of used decorations.

“Hey, guys,” he exhales, out of breath, dropping the large containers on the floor with a relieved huff. “So, the guests are coming in, like, twenty minutes, and Chan’s getting Seungkwan here in forty-five, so that should give us enough time to finish decorating… Mingyu, I thought I told you to deal with the banner?”

“It’s not cooperating with me,” your boyfriend whines.

Seokmin rolls his eyes before stomping over to the wall to fix the banner himself. Mingyu follows, grabbing the tape on his way so he can help. They don’t talk, at least not at a volume that allows you to hear what they’re saying — it’s only heated whispers that are exchanged, and you catch a glimpse of Mingyu’s nervous expression before it disappears completely.

He looks over his shoulder and flashes you a smile and it’s the same one you’ve seen him give everyone else. It’s a mask.

This isn’t something you should be on the receiving end of.

You open your mouth to say something — to say what, exactly, you aren’t sure — but Minghao tugs at your wrists and holds up a packet of balloons.

“We should start doing something before Seokmin gets mad,” he says before dragging you out of Seokmin and Mingyu’s earshot.

It’ll be okay, you think. This will pass over and your friend group will still be as close as you can be once university comes and you and Mingyu pack your bags, leaving this small town behind.

(But your worries refuse to let go; they’ve seeped into your bones, and you think their weight may crush you until you’re broken beyond repair. But ignorance is bliss, isn’t it? That’s what you’ve always said to yourself. And you’ve never needed to worry about something like this, whatever it is, before).

Everything will be fine.

Everything will not be fine, and you aren’t sure why Minghao thought it would be, but he was unbelievably wrong.

A rainy day has caused a picnic in the park to turn into a board game night at Seokmin’s house, and a homicidal game of Monopoly (a skit between Chan and Seokmin had been the last straw before Minghao flipped the board over) quickly transformed into a homicidal game of Twister. Before you is a jungle of limbs, and you’re glad that you were fast enough to volunteer to spin the wheel so you wouldn’t be caught in the inevitable crossfire.

“Left hand, red.”

Chan’s complaints come immediately.

“Chan,” Seungkwan warns, “I will kill you if you try to push me off.”

“I haven’t even moved yet.”

Seungkwan mocks his words with a high-pitched tone that barely resembles Chan’s voice before Minghao scolds them to cut it out and hurry up. Chan scoffs indignantly before moving his hand to a free red circle, struggling to find his balance.

“Are you good?” you ask blankly.

“Fine,” he grits out, “Just go so it gets to my turn faster.”

“Go slower!” Vernon exclaims from beside you, the first to be eliminated with his phone in one hand and a handful of popcorn in the other.

“Fuck you, Vernon!”

You spin the wheel. “Hao, right foot, green.”

Minghao huffs, but his new position, although uncomfortable, has given him the perfect opportunity to sabotage Seokmin. Almost as if they can sense your thoughts, your friends look at each other, one mischievous and the other in warning, before Minghao fakes a move, successfully luring Seokmin into his trap when the latter flinches and flails like a fish out of water before landing on his side.

Seokmin groans, sitting up and rubbing his ribcage as everyone laughs. He looks to you, giving you those puppy-dog eyes that always manage to worm him out of any undesirable situation he’s ever found himself in, but you only shrug helplessly in response. Seokmin sighs, flicking Minghao’s forehead, before making he settles beside you in all his pouty, wronged glory.

“It’s okay,” Vernon says from your other side, phone speaker pressed against his ear as a video of what just occurred plays on the phone. The sound of Seokmin’s yelp of surprise from 30 seconds ago causes your lips to twitch upwards. “You’ll get them next time!”

Seokmin leans into your shoulder. “Y/N! He’s making fun of me!”

You pat him reassuringly. “You’ll survive, don’t worry.”

“Hey!” Seungkwan interrupts. “Spin the wheel! It’s my turn.”

“Okay, okay! Right foot, blue.”

Much to your surprise, the rest of the game goes by smoothly with Seungkwan as the victor. Chan is beside himself, grumbling with his arms crossed as Seungkwan mimics the fall that led to his demise. When Chan opens his mouth to snap back, Minghao reaches over Vernon’s lap for the remote to increase the volume of the TV.

Once their argument has died down, Chan suggests, “Does anyone want to play Cards Against Humanity?”

“Lame, absolutely not,” Seokmin replies instantly. “I’m hungry.”

Seungkwan makes himself comfortable on the armchair. “Pizza should be coming soon. Who ordered it, anyway?” Mingyu raises his hand. “What did you get?”

“One cheese, one pepperoni.”

Chan boos, making a comment about the mediocre order which Mingyu skillfully brushes off, immune to his friends’ instigations after years of receiving them.

Minghao pokes Mingyu with his foot. “Can you check to see what time it’ll get here?”

Mingyu unlocks his phone while Vernon begins complaining about having to register for classes first thing tomorrow morning. His whines are halted, however, when Mingyu sharply inhales a breath and clears his throat sheepishly.

You raise an eyebrow. Everyone in the room knows what that means.

“Oh, what did you do now?”

“Seungkwan! What makes you think I did something wrong?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

Mingyu shakes his head before turning his phone so the screen is facing all of you. The screen says the order’s been good to go for the past five minutes, but— “I accidentally ordered for pick-up, not delivery.”

Chan rolls his eyes. “Then go pick it up.”

“What?”

“Well, it says the order’s ready, right? Go pick it up.”

“But I’m so comfortable here.”

“And we’re hungry.”

“Why does it have to be me?”

“Whose fault is it that the pizza guy isn’t on Seokmin’s doorstep right now?”

Mingyu huffs, clearly having run out of retorts. He’s quick to admit defeat, pushing himself off the couch and adjusting the hoodie that’s ridden up his torso. You watch his every move, ignoring Minghao’s gaze.

Just as he begins searching for his car keys, Minghao pipes up, “You shouldn’t go alone, though.”

Mingyu frowns. “Huh? Why not?”

“Because you’re clumsy and you’ll drop something.”

“Can’t you guys put some faith in me—?”

“Y/N could go with you.”

Mingyu closes his mouth, trapping any more complaints behind his teeth. You stare at Minghao like a deer caught in headlights.

Vernon is the first to protest, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “I don’t—”

“Mingyu’s clumsy and he’ll drop something,” Minghao repeats impatiently. He shares a glance with Seokmin, who seems to understand Minghao’s intentions in milliseconds.

“Yeah, and we can’t let Y/N go by themselves because the last time they drove they ran over my mailbox.”

You squawk in protest. “That was when I was sixteen, I—”

“And I’ve feared you every time you’ve gotten behind a wheel ever since,” Seokmin says. He swiftly dodges Seungkwan’s questioning nudge and Chan’s panic, giving you the biggest smile he can muster before letting his eyes land back on Minghao.

Minghao looks at you, apologetic and stern all at once. “The ride will only be, like, ten minutes. Five minutes there and back,” he shrugs, turning away to face the TV. “You’re both adults, you’ll be fine.”

You think you might strangle them.

“Okay,” Mingyu says from behind you. You look at him, he stares back. “We’ll be okay. Right?”

He’s offering you one last final chance to back out. Your fingers twitch at your side before you gulp, nodding. “Yeah, we’ll be okay.”

You’re shoved out the door before you can even blink, wearing Seokmin’s old Crocs instead of the sneakers you had arrived with (“These are faster to put on, make haste, make haste! Get out of here, I want my pizza!”). You sink further and further into the passenger seat as Mingyu pulls out of the driveway, trying your best to focus on anything besides him.

But it proves to be impossible. The air freshener is the same as it was all those years ago, the same cheap dog bobblehead is on the dashboard, the pack of gum he’s left in the cupholder is the same one he used to buy in bulk at the supermarket. Nothing in here has changed, as if the vehicle is stuck in time, refusing to move forward despite all the years that have passed.

Mingyu must’ve noticed you staring at the gum because he picks it up and hands it to you in silent offering. You shake your head, and he puts it down.

The awkwardness might as well eat you whole.

The radio does nothing to ease the tension when the next song that plays is about heartbreak and being left behind while everyone moves on. Your sanity is hanging on by a thread that might snap if you’re in this car any longer.

In the corner of your eye, Mingyu opens his mouth to speak, but he decides against it when the pizza parlour comes into view. He swiftly parks by the front entrance, and once you get out, you notice that the car is centred perfectly between the lines.

You suppose he’s gotten better at driving over the years. The last time you were here, he’d parked so crookedly your stomach hurt from laughing.

“Hey,” Mingyu says, staring at you quizzically. “Are you good?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, slipping past him when he holds the door open for you. “Thanks.”

He walks up to the counter, saying his order number to the employee and nodding understandingly when she explains that one of the pizzas had been dropped on the floor and they’ve gone to remake the order. He returns to you — beside you, as if it has always been his rightful place — hands tucked into his pockets as he sways on the balls of his feet.

This must be some form of torture, you think. Minghao and Seokmin have done this in retaliation for every bad thing you’ve ever done to them.

(“Seokmin and I love you both,” Minghao confesses over the phone, face blurry due to your unpredictable wi-fi, “You know that, right?”

“I do.”

“And we really think you should talk to each other,” he says, and even though you’re not looking at your phone, you can tell he’s staring at you in that analytical way of his while you try to finish an assignment. “Maybe it’ll do you some good.”

You sigh. “Hao—”

“It’s been three months. Let him explain.”

“I did,” you hiss. “He was the one that left.”

Silence. You rub your temples.

When you finally look at Minghao, he’s remorseful. “Sorry,” he murmurs, flopping onto his bed and letting his camera pan up to the ceiling. You can no longer see his face, but you can hear the despair in his voice. “It’s just hard, being in the middle of this.”

“I’m not asking you to pick sides.”

“I know that,” he argues softly. “I just want everything to go back to normal.”)

You dig your nails into your skin as Mingyu begins humming to a song playing over the speakers. It’s one that they’ve been playing for years, a pop song that will have to be pried out of a radio host’s dead, cold hands.

It’s a song Mingyu despises.

(It’s so catchy, though, he used to tell you, ashamed. You need to save me from it).

When Daeshim had called you at the end of the semester, the first thing out of his lips was a question about your return. You had agreed with reluctance, and he said something about how long it’s been, how time heals all wounds, that nothing should hurt anymore.

But three years cannot erase a lifetime.

You foolishly thought it could. When you arrived, you pretended you didn’t see an old photo of him taped on your closet door. When you first saw him at the supermarket, you ignored the way his hand twitched to reach over to you. When he talked to you outside of that nightclub, you evaded the familiarity of his warmth like it was a virus.

You foolishly thought it was enough. You built a wall of indifference around yourself, but it had begun to chip away just as quickly as you constructed it. It was never foolproof. It was never made of stone, but of cards.

One glance from Mingyu and it all comes tumbling down.

“Minghao told me a few days ago that you wanted to talk,” Mingyu says once the song has ended.

“Yeah.”

“But you don’t want to.”

“Not yet, no.”

“Well,” he says, taking a step towards the counter when the employee calls out his order number, “whenever you’re ready to, I’m here.”

“Something’s wrong.”

He understands what you mean. You’re not referring to the TV that won’t play the movie or the takeout that tastes a little off. You look at him nervously, afraid to break the flimsy spell of calm he’s enchanted on everything he touches.

“Yeah,” he replies, gripping the armrest tightly.

You blink at him, waiting for something he won’t offer. For a moment, he thinks you might push, but you have never been one to do so; you have always believed that doing something like that only throws you down a road of hurt.

So, he shouldn’t be surprised when you eventually nod in defeat.

“Well,” you say with a smile reserved for strangers you can only pretend to care about, “if you need to talk about it, I’m here.”

Four friends occupy a small corner of the skatepark. One of them is on the ramps, appearing in the air to do a trick before disappearing from sight. Another is rolling down the concrete, hands stretched out to maintain balance.

Two sit in the shade, watching.

“Do you think they’ll talk soon?” one of them asks, a taller boy with light brown hair and a beauty mark near the apple of his cheek.

The other, dressed in all black despite the sweltering heat, runs a hand through his mullet. “I don’t know, Seokmin. Probably. Hopefully.”

“Do you think they’re mad at us for forcing them to get the pizza?”

“Yes.”

Seokmin snorts, but his amusement is short-lived. He continues to observe his friends as they stray further and further from each other. He catches the way they glance over their shoulders in concern.

“They’re stupid, aren’t they, Minghao?” he finally says. The boy beside him hums in agreement. “Were they always like this in high school?”

“I don’t think so,” Minghao replies. “If they were, I don’t know how I managed to survive.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“Hypocrite.”

Seokmin sticks his tongue out. Then, quietly, as if the other two friends will hear, he says, “Well, they need to hurry up and talk. I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” he grumbles. “Maybe if I just told Y/N about it sooner, or pushed Mingyu—”

“Probably,” Minghao interrupts before Seokmin can concoct any more what-ifs from his brain. His stomach churns at the numerous possibilities he will never see. “But there’s nothing we can do it about it now.”

“Maybe things would be better if we did things differently.”

“Yeah, but the past is the past. Besides,” he sighs, watching one friend trip on his way towards them and the other struggle to stop themselves on the board, “this isn’t our problem to fix. I don’t think it ever was. We’ll just leave it to them.”

“You really think they’ll work it out?”

“God. I really hope so. It would put all of us out of our misery.”

Spring has long since bled into winter when you find yourself at the skatepark, wearing a sweater that was never yours with your heart dangling from its sleeve. It’s chilly at this hour of the morning when the world is quiet and your denial is prominent, and it gets even colder when your name falls from Mingyu’s lips and his touch is uncharacteristically icy against your skin.

You rip your wrist from his grasp and hurt flashes across his face before he takes a step back.

“I—” he gulps, “you shouldn’t run out like that.”

He purses his lips, and you notice how chapped they’ve gotten over the past few days. Everything about him has roughened up — it goes farther than his dry hands and the unruly state of his hair; he’s grown distant. He looks at you with a mixture of emotions you can’t explain, his words have are clipped, and you aren’t sure how long this behaviour would’ve gone on for if you hadn’t caught him signing up for classes at a university he never told you he was going to attend.

“You lied to me.”

He exhales shakily. “I know. I’m sorry, I—” he rubs a hand over his face because he doesn’t know what to say. Mingyu isn’t like this. People would kill to own even a sliver of his charisma; it’s so easy for him to talk himself out of things, but the words have died in his mouth before they even reached the tip of his tongue.

“You—You should’ve told me,” you stammer. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Mingyu has never felt this moronic before, standing before you and stretching his hand in your direction only to watch how, every time without fail, you take a step back as if any contact from him will result in third-degree burns.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, “But you were already so worried about all of us growing apart after graduation, and I didn’t want to add onto that stress. So I kept putting it off, and I shouldn’t have, I know that, I just—” his face falls, “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

It takes everything in him not to flinch when your anger flares. Your resolve is rotting away to dissolve into the morning air; he thinks, offhandedly, that the molecules of your decaying calm have collided once again and found purchase over his head. A cloud to loom over him, made up of your melancholy and his guilt.

“You didn’t want to hurt me,” you say incredulously, in a tone so hurt that Mingyu’s heart drops. “Well, look where we are now, Mingyu.”

He doesn’t like the position he’s put the both of you in. He doesn’t like how this conversation is tainting every happy memory he ever had at this skatepark. He wonders if he’ll see your hurt expression every time he closes his eyes.

This could’ve been avoided, he’s aware of that. Seokmin made sure to voice his disapproval every time they crossed paths, Minghao’s veil of indifference was slowly crumbling with each passing day, and Seungkwan — who made the mistake of being around when Mingyu let it slip that his post-graduation plans didn’t match yours — grew more nervous than all of them combined.

For as long as he can remember, everyone he knows has never done well with secrets. He’s always been a firm believer that they’re parasitic, the reason behind every downfall he’s ever had the displeasure of witnessing. But that was before he had a secret worth keeping.

(It does not matter if it’s worth it or not. At the end of the day, he was right all along. They are infectious, deadly little things).

Soon after he was born, it was common belief amongst townsfolk that he would change the world. It did not matter how; they would support him regardless. He thinks his entire being may as well have been made from diamonds with how he was created to be the star of something he never asked to be part of.

It’s exhausting.

The university you two had chosen at fifteen-years-old was perfect for you. When you took the virtual tours and exchanged messages with its students, you looked like you had stepped right out of a fairy tale. But it was two hours away from this town, so far yet so close to the very thing that’s been draining him of energy, and he quickly came to realize last summer that your dream school was the last thing he wanted.

But you would’ve followed him anywhere. If it weren’t for his, Minghao, and Seokmin’s insistence, you would’ve chosen to stay at home, because you never liked the idea of leaving everything behind.

That’s where you and he differ.

And he couldn’t take that from you.

Because you and him were always believed to be cut from the same cloth — model students, the perfect fit — but everything he touched tarnished and everything you touched turned to gold dust. He’s hidden behind an illusion all his life, but he knows for a fact that you’re meant to go above and beyond every expectation that’s ever been set for you.

Who is he to get in the way of that?

(He’s sure the only thing that’s setting you back is him. It has always been him. It’s only a matter of time before you realize it, too).

“I love you,” he confesses suddenly, startling you to your core. “And I’m so sorry.”

You look at him warily. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I fucked up,” he says.

“Yeah, you did.”

“But…” he trails off. When your eyes meet, something ignites inside of you.

(You have always known him better than any of them ever could).

“Mingyu—”

“Maybe it’s for the best if we—”

“Mingyu.”

He closes his eyes and hopes it’s enough to push the tears back. “I love you,” he says again, but his lips are quivering, and a sob threatens to escape the confines of his throat. “I love you so much that it physically hurt to do that to you, but it was for the better—”

Disbelief engulfs you in an instant, and you take a spontaneous step towards him in your surprise. “You’re not making a lot of sense right now,” you say, frantic, “I’m still really fucking mad at you, but we can talk this out, because I have no idea what you’re—”

“Just listen to me, Y/N, I don’t think—”

“You listen to me, because—”

“You deserve so much better than this, don’t you know that?” he snaps, shrinking into himself seconds later. His voice shakes with frustration. This hurts him beyond your imagination, but he’d do anything for you, even if it ends with him sporting wounds that will never heal. “And I’m holding you back, and I— I can’t do that to you. Not anymore.”

A sob melts into your words before you can stop it. “So you think the best way to fix that is to move across the country?”

“There were better ways to go about it,” he admits. “Ways that wouldn’t have ended like this, but I stand by what I said, Y/N.”

“Don’t do this, Mingyu. You don’t get to—” you stutter, inhaling hastily to regain your composure before looking him through your teary vision, “—you don’t get to break up with me over something as stupid as this.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he says it like a mantra, like it’s engraved into his brain and there’s no use trying to rid him of it.

“You don’t get to decide that!” you exclaim. “And even if that was true, it doesn’t matter to me. We love each other, Mingyu, isn’t that enough?”

You go to cup his face. This time, it’s he who takes a step back, and his heart screeches in pain at the sight of your crestfallen face.

“Maybe if I—” he runs a hand through his hair and tugs at the strands, forcing himself to continue, “Maybe if I loved you less, I’d let myself be selfish. But that’s not the case. That’s never been the case.”

That day you do not leave the skatepark with a scrape on your knee or a new bruise on your shins. But you don’t leave unscathed, either.

Your heart has been ripped from your chest, and Kim Mingyu carries the remnants of it with him.

Mingyu always liked people-watching.

He’d tell you it was nice to be on the other side of the microscope; to observe, not be observed. On the trips out of town, he’d sit anywhere that was bustling with people and make up stories about anyone who caught his eye: he’s cheating on his wife with his high school sweetheart, or she’s talking to her estranged cousin and she’s threatening to get a restraining order, or that little boy was meant to be a twin but he ate his sibling in the womb.

“That guy’s still in love with his ex-girlfriend even though they broke up a decade ago,” Mingyu says, subtly nodding towards a man supervising his child on the ramps.

The snort that escapes you dents the discomfort hanging in the air. “He reached out to her on Facebook, and it turns out she’s coming to visit.”

“They’re going to meet in the city. He told his wife he has work stuff.”

“His wife’s suspicious. She’s definitely hiring a PI.”

“But the PI sucks, he’s a fake and a scammer. He ends up tailing the wrong guy.”

“And the wife spent good money on him, too.”

“But she doesn’t really care since she paid the investigator using her husband’s money.”

“Good for her! It’s what he deserves for cheating.”

You smile, pressing your legs against your chest as you watch the kid soar through the park on her rollerskates. Her laughter’s loud, and you allow it to ring in your ears to momentarily distract yourself from Mingyu.

It’s overwhelming being here next to him. You’ve been here multiple times since you’ve come home, but the nostalgia and ache of watching him from afar does not compare to what you feel now that he’s by your side, sitting stiff on the park bench with his hands clasped in his lap. The dull throb in your chest becomes more prominent when he glances and catches your eye, hiding his yearning beneath a thin veil of indifference.

You turn away, and that’s enough for him to adorn the last bit of confidence he has. “Why’d you call me here?”

Resting your cheek against your knee, you murmur, “You know why I called you here.”

It does not matter that he’s known you almost as long as you’ve been alive — a room full of newborns would realize that he’s here because you want an explanation.

Closure really would be nice.

“Okay,” he breathes. “Ask me anything.”

When you slipped out of your house this morning, full of anticipation, you thought that it’d be hard for you to find the words. But you’ve stuffed the curiosity down your throat long enough. For years, all you could feel was a weight on your esophagus; the air you’ve been inhaling and expelling is nothing if not tainted with heartbreak, and you crave the feeling of fresh air again — something that’s free from the insecurities and the anguish and everything in between.

“Back then, did you tell Minghao we fought?” you ask. “Because he seems to think that we did. Every time he called me that’s all he would ask. Have you and Mingyu stopped fighting?”

He tilts his head. “Would you not say that was a fight?”

“Well, no,” you reply. “You just ended it, and I was trying to get you not to.”

Mingyu flinches but he’s quick to recover. “Nothing could’ve changed my mind back then.”

“Why?” you demand, unable to hide your despair.

Mingyu finally looks at you without tearing his gaze away. He’s exhausted, and you aren’t sure if it’s because of how early it is or if he’s just as drained from all of this as you are. The limbo between forgiveness and disdain was never made for the weak.

“Listen, I—”

“You told me you didn’t deserve me,” you say, “You don’t get to decide that.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I thought I could’ve been enough for you — I tried to be. But you always had everything planned out and I didn’t, I was living with a façade and you weren’t, and I— I just couldn’t do it anymore.”

Clenching your jaw, you say, “So, you moved.”

“I loved you,” he says quickly before you have the chance to ask him otherwise. “That was never the problem. I was scared. I guess part of me wanted to let go while you still thought I was worth it.”

“Don’t say that, Mingyu.”

“I know, I know,” he replies. “I’m working on the self-worth. It’s hard to come by.”

It hits you then, like you’re standing in the ocean as a large wave of water looms over your figure. You used to watch as everyone fawned over Mingyu as if he was untouchable, a divinity amongst men. You used to watch and lust for the days where you would turn out to be exactly the person he deserved to love.

But while Mingyu ached to be the person everyone made him out to be, you saw past your own desires and those who desired him. Through all that was carefully crafted, you saw him for who he truly was.

And you loved every inch of him. So much so that you’re convinced you’ll never be able to feel this way for anybody else.

“For what it’s worth,” you say, “back then, you were it for me. I would’ve loved you regardless.”

His gaze softens and, for a moment, sitting next to you is the same boy from all those years ago, who accepted your proposal for a date, who asked you to prom, who tattooed eight letters into your skin before slumber took you over.

“If we…” he begins carefully, “If I did things differently, do you think we could’ve made it?”

You shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’d like to think that we would’ve,” you nudge his shoulder in hopes that being playful will lighten the mood. “But none of that matters. We’re here now, and we talked.”

“We talked,” he nods. “We used to be terrible at that.”

“Not the best at communication, sure,” you smile softly. “But at least we fixed it. Better late than never.”

He bites the inside of his cheek to stop his own smile from growing any larger. “Better late than never.”

The sun envelopes you in a warm hug the moment you sit down, a companion in the serene summer’s day. Sand sticks to your skin, adhered to it by the sweat, clinging to you as if you’re its last hope to live.

The tranquility is interrupted by a screech, and you bet with closed eyes that it’s either Mingyu, who left a while back to get some ice cream and probably dropped it, or Chan, who decided to build a sandcastle close to the ocean despite the various protests he received in response.

You crack an eye open just as the water retreats from the shore. Chan stands before his unfinished monstrosity, staring in distress, while Vernon gives him a look as if to say I told you so.

From where he lies beside you, Seokmin announces, “If it makes you feel any better, it was a little ugly.”

“You said five minutes ago that it was good!”

“I was lying to you.”

“Yeah,” Seungkwan agrees, toeing the area where the castle once resided. “The moat was fucked up, too.”

“It was a moat.”

“And yet you fucked it up.”

Chan gives them an unsavoury gesture before instructing both Vernon and Seungkwan to help him make another. Reluctant but compliant, they take the pails you’d bought last minute at the dollar store and settle themselves farther away from the shore.

Seokmin salutes them for good luck before glancing at his phone. “Is Mingyu still at the boardwalk?"

Minghao hums. “Yeah, the line for ice cream’s probably long.”

“Okay, good,” Seokmin says before poking your shoulder aggressively, ignoring your complaints about how easily you bruise. “Gives me time to interrogate you.”

“Interrogate me?” you ask incredulously. “About what?”

He raises his hand, and you prepare yourself for the worst. It’s over for you the moment Seokmin begins listing things off his fingers. “You willingly sat in the backseat with Mingyu on the way here, you willingly talked to him for the entire car ride, and you willingly offered to go with him to get ice cream.”

“Hardly things to interrogate me over.”

“Hardly things to interrogate me over,” he mimics. “Don’t be ridiculous. Are you guys dating again?”

“What?”

“Ah. Have you two eloped?”

Minghao snorts as he opens the cap to his sunscreen. “Don’t be ridiculous. They’re just engaged.”

Seokmin places a hand on his chest. “Oh, thank goodness—”

“Are you guys insane?” you shriek, briefly scanning the beach in hopes nobody heard your friends’ remarks. “We just talked yesterday.”

“Oh,” Minghao muses, throwing the sunscreen over your head for Seokmin to catch. “And that’s it?”

“That’s it,” you confirm. “What else would there be?”

Minghao shrugs as he rubs the cream onto his arms. “Nothing, I guess.”

A noise escapes Seokmin’s throat, something akin to disagreement. You whip your head to face him as he raises his hands up in defence. “What is it?” you ask him.

“I just…” he waves his hand in the air with a small pout on his lips. “I’m confused, I guess. Everything’s resolved now? Just like that? We’re all friends again?”

“I wouldn’t say we’re friends,” you huff. “I don’t know what we are, either. But we have the rest of the summer to figure that out, so why the rush?”

Seokmin leans back on his elbows. “Well, whatever the two of you are, I’m glad you two talked, it was long overdue.”

Minghao nods in agreement.

From a few feet away, Seungkwan’s voice is loud amongst the waves crashing onto shore, the families relaxing under beach umbrellas, and the seagulls soaring through the sky. “Mingyu!” he exclaims in disbelief. “You didn’t drop any!”

You can’t catch a good glimpse of him without craning your neck, but his voice alone is enough to quicken your heartbeat. “Yeah, I know,” you hear him say, “I told you guys I’m not completely hopeless. Seven Drumsticks, all in perfect condition. Vernon, did you want the original flavour?”

It only takes a couple moments before he’s in your line of sight, standing in front of you with the sun’s blinding rays crowning his head like a halo. He grins, letting his sunglasses slip down his nose so you can see his eyes, and hands you a cone.

“Thanks,” you say.

His grin widens, just a little. “Don’t mention it. Hao, which one do you want?”

Once everyone’s finished their ice cream (and after a long debate that occurred due to Chan innocently asking for advice on what to do about his roommates back at his on-campus apartment), Seungkwan manages to find a beach volleyball court that’s unoccupied and persuades everyone to participate.

One set to ten points turns into the best out of three, and when your team begins to buckle under the pressure, Seungkwan suggests something with a sinister grin. “Losing team has to get buried under the sand and stay there for fifteen minutes.”

“Ten,” Seokmin negotiates.

“Twelve.”

“Five.”

Seungkwan squints. “You can’t go lower, that’s not how a negotiation works.”

“One person from the losing team gets buried under the sand for ten minutes and has to pay for dinner,” Chan says.

Seungkwan snaps his fingers before pointing to him. “Deal.”

It all ends, as expected, with Seungkwan’s team victorious. The three boys on the other side of the net exchange high-fives before returning to you and your sullen teammates with cocky grins. Minghao urges all of you to play a game of rock, paper, scissors to decide the true loser of today, and though you feigned indifference when you fumbled the last ball, the mask speedily cracks when the last two people left is you and Mingyu.

(“A duel between lovers,” Chan sighs dramatically. Minghao pinches his side).

Your eyes meet his, and something flickers in his expression. Gone too quick for you to decipher, but something in the back of your mind tells you that you should know exactly what he’s about to do.

Seokmin booms, “Rock, paper, scissors!”

You ball your hand into a fist and Mingyu curls his fingers into his palm except for two.

“Scissors beats rock,” Vernon slaps him on the back sympathetically before pointing at the ground. “Get comfortable, dude.”

With the amount of eagerness your friends exhibit, Mingyu is buried in minutes, stiff under the copious warm dust he’s under. Seokmin, with sand sticking to his hands, ruffles Mingyu’s hair and laughs when the latter crinkles his nose in disgust. Taking his sunglasses from his bag, you place them on the bridge of nose and brush off anything that got on his face.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Don’t mention it,” you echo. “I’m sure you’ll have fun here.”

He kisses his teeth in annoyance. “Oh, I bet. Once I get out of here, I’m gonna have tan lines on my collarbone.”

You smile. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I can stay here with you.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Really?”

“You’re here for ten minutes by yourself and the reason we lost is because of me,” you say, wincing at the memory of Seokmin and Chan shouting for you to retrieve the ball despite it being too far away for you to save. “It’s the least I could do.”

“Maybe,” he murmurs. “Since I let you win rock, paper, scissors.”

You blink at him. “I’m sorry?”

“You always choose rock.”

“What? Then why’d you choose scissors?”

Mingyu attempts to shrug and scowls when he can’t.

You flick his forehead. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“I wanted to.”

“Of course,” you snicker. “And how are you finding it underneath all that sand?”

He doesn’t even bother to pretend to be nonchalant. “Oh, it’s the worst. It’s slightly better with you here, though.”

You turn to look at the sea. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not?” he pouts. “I thought we were going to tell each other stuff from now on. You know, communicate better.”

“Well, still.”

“I’m just saying what I’m thinking!”

“You’re ridiculous.”

He laughs, loud and boisterous and it heals something in your very being. There’s a mirth in his eyes you haven’t seen in a long time, and you yearn to hear it again. Mingyu has always been beautiful, but he’s even more so when he’s happy, a boy so golden he could rival the sun and the stars in its beauty.

And he would win, you think.

(What you don’t know is that Mingyu thinks the same of you. Many things have changed, but one thing that never will is how much you shine. The sky and all its confidants, try as they might, would never rid you of your luster. To him, they’ll never prevail).

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you question.

He smiles. “No reason.”

Considering the fact that you spent a good part of your childhood running around the mall and giving into the urge of buying things you’ll never need, it’s a surprise that you forgot just how busy it gets during the summer.

(“Wow,” Mingyu had said. “You avoid me and this town for three years and suddenly you forget everything about it?”)

(He, along with everyone you’ve grown up with, will never let you live this down).

It’s a miracle the four of you even found somewhere to sit in the food court — a booth, no less. Part of you wonders if Seokmin sweet-talked a family into giving up this table for him, and you feel only a sliver of pity for whoever has to eat in an area that’s affected by the vibrant rays of the sun.

Once Minghao and Seokmin have returned from buying their food, they send you and Mingyu off to get your lunch with the promise that they’ll wait for you both before they start eating. Mingyu walks ahead, careful not to trip over anyone as he observes the signs of each food joint you pass, and glances over his shoulder to make sure you haven’t gotten lost in the crowd amid his indecision.

“What are you getting?” he asks once the two of you can hear each other above the many mallgoers.

“Don’t know. Pad Thai, maybe.”

“Nice. I was thinking getting a burger at Burger King, but…” he gestures towards the long line and winces. “I don’t have the patience for that.”

“So?”

“So, what?”

“What are you going to eat then?”

“Oh,” Mingyu frowns before shrugging nonchalantly. “Pad Thai it is, then. I think that has the shortest line.”

“Really? When we passed by KFC it didn’t look too bad—”

Mingyu turns, pointing to the Thai place across from you. “Pad Thai! Let’s go before the line gets any longer,” he proclaims, wrapping a hand around your elbow and gently tugging you towards the smell of stir-fry.

It’s easy to fall back into rhythm with Mingyu — so much so that it scares you, just a little. While you assumed it wouldn’t have been too weird once the barrier of the old relationship was removed, you hadn’t thought it would’ve been this comfortable. You assumed everything would be stilted for a short period before the puzzle pieces returned to their places, but this was unpredictable. This is familiar (everything with Mingyu always is); more familiar than riding a bike, or the scar on your knee, or your mom’s tendency to hover over you now that you’ve returned.

His skin against yours all while offering to lend you his jacket and pay for your food could be seen as simple acts of friendship — and if it were anybody else, you would agree, but your ties with each other, since the beginning of time, have regularly toed the line of romantic. It is a fact you cannot deny, and trying to do so would be like saying the sky is green or oxygen isn’t a requirement for survival.

The void in your chest used to be in the shape of him — freshly eighteen and brought down by his expectations along with everybody else’s — and you have tried other remedies to heal it: avoidance, sinking into other people’s sheets, tossing every physical memory you have of him in a box that you never ended up donating.

Who knew that the void would be filled by the same boy who caused it? Only this time, he’s standing in front of you, a little taller, sporting a different haircut, and learning how to live on his own terms.

“Fuck,” he says as he digs through his wallet. “I think I don’t have any cash to pay with. Man, I really didn’t want to use my credit card today.”

“It’s fine,” you say. “I’ll pay. You already gave me your jacket even though I said you didn’t have to.”

“You were cold,” he argues. “If you didn’t want me to give it to you, then maybe don’t get cold next time.”

You scoff. “Well, tell whoever’s managing the A/C to turn it down. It’s like stepping into a freezer in here.”

Mingyu mutters — something along the lines of so dramatic — before he shifts the position of his open wallet in his hands and continues digging for bills that aren’t there. What is there, however, is a photo all too familiar.

You place a hand on his wrist to stop him from moving. “Hey, is that a picture of me?”

Mingyu freezes. Then, he pulls away from your grip. “No.”

“Okay. Then who was it?”

You stare at each other for a beat too long, interrupted by someone asking if you can move up the line, and it’s only then that Mingyu turns away, bashful, and murmuring, “Okay, fine. It’s you.”

You try not to let the giddiness get to you. “And why, exactly, do you have a picture of me in there?”

“It’s not just you,” he lies. “Minghao and Seokmin are also in there.”

“No, I don’t think so,” you reply matter-of-factly. “I got a good glimpse, and I think it was just me.”

He tuts. “Believe what you want to believe.”

“I’m choosing to believe the truth.”

He sulks, taking another step towards the register. “You’re finding this too funny for my liking.”

“I’m not! I think it’s cute,” you object. “Why is it in there in the first place?”

“Maybe I just wanted to put it in there, it’s a good photo!”

“Of course.”

“You’re photogenic,” he adds. “Besides, what’s wrong with keeping a photo of my friend in my wallet?”

The question escapes you before you can think twice. “Is that what we are?”

Mingyu quietens, uncertain. Then, after rapidly fighting an internal battle, he says, “Before everything else, you’re my best friend.”

You nod because that’s the case for you, too. “But?”

His digs his teeth into his bottom lip before he opens his mouth, the answer on the tip of his tongue.

“I—”

“Next, please!”

Mingyu flinches, but it only takes a glance at the long line behind him before he’s grabbing his credit card. “C’mon,” he interlocks his pinky with yours. “Order what you want, it’s on me.”

“Mingyu—”

He gives you a smile. “It’s fine,” he assures quietly. “I want to.”

(In his wallet is a candid polaroid — a person on the beach, laughing at a joke made by someone who hasn’t been photographed. The picture has no crinkles, either because it’s deeply cherished or because it’s new — maybe both is the case.

It replaces an older photo, one that’s years old, taken while he was in high school of the same person. Still candid, still radiant, still laughing. He’s treasured it for years, but he decides it’s time to relocate it. Maybe when he gets back to his apartment, he’ll put it on his fridge. It was looking a little empty, anyway).

Mingyu doesn’t particularly like it here. It brings up old feelings he’s working to retire as well as a medley of insecurities and unease.

But he would be lying if he said that the bad was the only thing this town has to offer.

The skatepark brings comfort, a corner of the world where freedom comes from touching the sky in the seconds his board lifts from the ground, a playground of cement and ramps and splintered benches found under trees that have been alive far longer than he has. It comes from his friends’ homes; Seungkwan’s spacious backyard and Seokmin’s living room where drink rings litter the coffee table as a consequence of never using the coasters.

It comes from the people. It comes from his family, who hugs him tight and listens to every concern he has under the sun. It comes from his friends, a group of rambunctious people who he has too many inside jokes with, and who drag him into shenanigans he has no option of backing out of.

It comes from you. Comfort always comes from you.

From where he stands in the corner, he watches you scour the karaoke song book, protesting all of Chan’s suggestions before entering a number onto the TV. Then you squint at the lyrics on the screen before you begin singing.

The others in the living room are in awe, captivated despite your inability to hold a note. Your gleeful smile makes up for what you lack in the singing department, and Mingyu supposes he’s no different than everybody else when you meet his eyes in the crowd and his palms begin to sweat. You hold his gaze for far too long, causing you to lose your spot in the song, and you sheepishly turn away before trying to make up for your mistakes.

He stays until the end, the loudest to clap despite your score being nothing exciting (it’s exciting to him, and that’s all that matters), and raises his hand in greeting with a silent promise to see you later when you’re pulled into a conversation with someone you used to play badminton with.

He ducks into the kitchen before he’s forced to engage in more small talk with another person. His footsteps quicken along with his growing desire to grab another beer, hidden behind the soda cans Seungkwan shoved inside for the party.

(Mingyu doesn’t entirely know what or who this party is for. He only recalls the texts between him and Minghao three days prior:

hao 👨‍🎨 > party at seungkwan’s on saturday

mingyu > not coming

hao 👨‍🎨 > 😐 ok ur loss > y/n is tho

mingyu > … i’ll bring my mom’s brownies).

Mingyu opens the can the moment it’s in his hands, relishing in the temporary sound of fizzing before taking a sip. The only straggler in the kitchen is him; everyone gathered in the living room the moment Seungkwan turned the karaoke machine on. He situates himself so he can see just through the threshold, keeping an eye out for the moment you’re free so he can pull you aside to talk.

About what, he doesn’t know. Winging it has always been his thing.

“Yo, Mingyu,” Seokmin greets as he makes his way to the fridge. “What are you doing in here?”

“Hiding.”

“It’s nice to know some things haven’t changed,” Seokmin quips, digging through the variety of drinks, “you’re still a loser.”

“You love me.”

“Oh, of course, that was never in question. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re a loser.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “I hate you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What are you looking for?”

“Sprite for me, beer for Vernon.” He stands to his full height and cranes his neck to look at Mingyu around the fridge door. “Was that the last of it?”

“I think so, yeah.”

Seokmin doesn’t look that defeated when he grabs two cans of Sprite. “Maybe that’s for the best. He’s drunk enough as it is.” Off Mingyu’s confusion, Seokmin adds, “I know, he never gets wasted, but he’s on the waitlist for a screenwriting class, so he’s upset beyond repair.”

“And he’s always saying everyone else is more dramatic than he is.”

“Right? He’s only second on the waitlist, too.”

Mingyu laughs but his eyes involuntarily flicker back to the door to see if you’re still talking to other people. He frowns when he notices you’ve disappeared from where he spotted you last, and he debates taking out his phone and texting you to ask where you are.

Seokmin kisses his teeth. “Are you sure you want to stay in here by yourself? Y/N probably wants to talk to you.”

“They’re talking to other people. I’m fine waiting it out.”

Seokmin looks like he’s going to oppose Mingyu’s decisions, but he opts for shrugging instead. “Alright, if you say so. Don’t wait too long, though.”

“I won’t,” Mingyu promises. Seokmin begins his trek back to the living room, one soda dangling from each hand, when Mingyu suddenly calls out, “Hey, wait.”

Seokmin falters awkwardly in his step before turning around with furrowed eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“I, uh,” Mingyu rubs his neck, wincing. “I don’t think I ever apologized.”

The confusion on Seokmin’s face is wiped away to be replaced with triumph. He points an accusatory finger at his friend while his voice echoes in the four walls of the Boo kitchen. “I knew it! You did steal my beanie, you liar, the next time I visit you, I’m taking it back, and it better be in good condition! I can’t believe you took it with you across the country, that’s so fucked up—”

“Huh? No, what?” Mingyu says in disbelief. “For the last time, I didn’t steal your beanie—”

“Okay, sure, then who was it, then?”

“I don’t know!”

“Then what are you apologizing for?”

“For not listening to you!” Mingyu exclaims. “Back then, you told me to tell Y/N the truth and I didn’t listen when I should have. If I did, you and Hao wouldn’t have been put in the middle of everything.”

“Oh,” Seokmin makes a face and waves him off. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But—”

“You made a mistake. A stupid one, yeah, and I’m probably never going to let you live it down, but,” he smiles gently, “we’re okay now. Just focus on what you’ll do about… you know.”

“…What?”

“You know,” Seokmin parrots. “Y/N. I mean, you still love them, don’t you?”

Without hesitation, Mingyu responds, “Well, no fucking shit.”

Seokmin makes a noise of satisfaction before turning on his heel. Over his shoulder, he singsongs, “Don’t fuck anything up!”

Mingyu scoffs. “I won’t!”

With each passing minute, the night gets livelier, and Mingyu ends up re-entering the living room and talking to other people despite his internal insistence not to. It keeps him busy, momentarily distracting him from the way his heartrate spikes at the thought of speaking to you tonight.

In the middle of his conversation with a former basketball teammate, a microphone ends up in his hands, and before he can blink, he’s pushed in front of the TV. It takes him a moment too long before he realizes that he’s been forced to sing a duet with you.

(Behind the couch, Minghao snorts at Seokmin’s devilish grin.

“I thought I told you to stay out of it.”

“I am!” Seokmin says, “I’m only giving them a slight push in the right direction!”)

The timer begins counting down.

Five.

“Just so you know,” you begin, “Seungkwan and Chan are going after us. We have to score as high as possible.”

Four.

“I don’t think we can manage that, to be honest.”

Three.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re great at singing, so you can make up for how bad I am.”

Two.

“I don’t—”

One.

“Believe in yourself, Mingyu.”

You bring the microphone up to your lips and begin to sing, and he can only follow your movements.

It takes an unfathomable amount of willpower to stop himself from staring at you for the song’s entirety. He clenches his fist as he recites the lyrics, but when it gets to the bridge and it’s your turn to take the reins, Mingyu lets his guard down, his hand falling limply to his side as you laugh through your part.

He has never been an expert in love — few of the decisions he’s made in the name of it have seldom ended well — and when he was younger, the only thing he ever knew regarding it was you. Before, he thought that wouldn’t have been enough, that in order to be the person you deserved, he had to know more.

However, he’s older now, and things change with time.

You glance at him and the butterfly in his stomach rapidly flaps its wings.

(Other things don’t).

He doesn’t even know the song’s ended until arms wrap around his neck. He stumbles backwards before he forces himself to find his footing so he can properly return your excited hug. Mingyu pays no mind to the score flashing onscreen, nor the claps coming from everyone else; all he can smell is your shampoo, he feels your breath on his skin, and that is much more important than a karaoke score ever will be.

Seungkwan says, “That’s not even a good score.”

You loosen your grip around Mingyu so you can look at Seungkwan, and he immediately yearns for more. “Be quiet, this is the best I’ve gotten all night,” you retort. You turn to face Mingyu again, shaking him by the shoulders. “We did good! I told you to believe in yourself!”

Before he can reply, you’re pulled apart by Chan, who’s itching to take his turn. He rips the mics from his and your hands, and you slip from Mingyu’s fingers once again when Vernon asks you if you can help him look for another can of beer.

He exhales in defeat, accepts Chan shooing him away with grace, and slips outside.

He leans over the porch railing, staring at the watercolour sky, a mixture of pink and orange and yellow.

Mingyu hangs his head, wondering just how many more times you’ll get whisked away before he even has a chance to utter a word. He prefers smaller gatherings, because at least then he’d be able to talk to you with ease.

He’s not quite sure how many more times he’ll be able to stand by and watch you go before he loses his mind.

Behind him, the door slides open, and he assumes it’s Seokmin telling him to get a move on. But the footsteps sound different than his friend’s, and he immediately perks up when a familiar scent reaches his nose.

“Hey.”

Your frame enters his periphery, your university jacket hanging on your shoulders with the sleeves covering your hands.

Mingyu straightens. “Hi.”

You settle beside him, shoulder to shoulder, and Mingyu immediately relaxes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, “what makes you think I’m not?”

“You’ve been hiding from everyone since the night began,” you answer. “You don’t wanna be here, huh?”

“Of course I want to be here.” You raise an eyebrow at his lie. “Okay, fine, I don’t really want to be here.”

“Then why’d you come?”

“…I thought it would’ve been fun.”

“Really?” you snort. “Do you even know what this party is for?”

“Well… no.”

He expects you to roll your eyes, but instead you sigh in relief. “Okay, that makes me feel better, because I don’t either.”

“Well, I only came because Minghao told me you’d be coming,” he confesses.

You tilt your head in confusion. “I only came because Seokmin told me you’d be coming.”

He furrows his eyebrows and spares a glance through the glass doors at his friends. “…Huh.”

You huff, following his gaze. “I swear they always have their nose in our business.”

Mingyu looks back at you. “You have to admit, though, they’re pretty good at luring us into parties we don’t want to attend,” he smirks good-naturedly. “Who knew you still had a soft spot for me?”

Turning away from him, flustered, you grumble, “Shut up, don’t act like you didn’t come here because you wanted to see me.”

“I’m not!” he proclaims. “In fact, I’m pretty sure I make it pretty obvious that I like seeing you.”

“You’re so cheesy.”

“Only for you.”

You lightly punch his arm when the laughs that escape his lips grow louder. “I thought I told you that you can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not?” he hums. “I mean what I say, Y/N.”

“I’m not saying you don’t, it’s just…” you place your arms on the railing, leaning forward to avoid eye contact, “It’s confusing, that’s all.”

Mingyu faces you while you face away, watches how you stare at the setting sun instead of him, and his heart clenches. When you went your separate ways, he craved to be near you again, but even next to him, you still feel so far away.

(In hindsight, maybe he should’ve planned out how to go about this beforehand).

“You used to say stuff like that all the time,” you explain. “You know, before, uh—”

“Yeah,” he murmurs.

A million scenarios flash through his mind; different results depending on what he says next. He’s typically so good at saying the right thing — his words got him out of trouble and charmed his neighbours — but he’s found that his voice fails him whenever he needs it the most. When he tried to muster the courage to tell you about everything, he was never able to, and he gave into the false reassurances his mind offered that all would be alright in the end.

But none of that matters, you had said. We’re here now.

“You know what I never understood?” you ask.

“What?”

“You don’t like it here. Not a lot, anyway,” you start, “so why did you keep coming back?”

“Well, my family’s here, you know. So are our friends,” he gulps. “And I thought you would be, too.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He nudges your elbow. “Can I ask you something?”

You chance a glance at him. “Sure, yeah.”

“What you said the other day,” he murmurs, unblinking, “about how I would’ve been it for you, has that changed?”

“Why are you asking?”

He bites the inside of his cheek as his cheeks begin to redden. “Do you really need me to say it?”

You frown. “Say what—?”

“I love you,” he blurts out. “And I know that might be kind of weird, since a lot’s changed since we last saw each other, but that’s the one thing I haven’t been able to shake. Not that— not that I ever wanted to— I just… I think it’s a part of me. Like I was born with it.”

You look at him, eyes glassy, unable to speak.

“But y’know what’s weirder?” he adds. “I’m pretty sure I’ll never get sick of it.”

It’s his turn to face away, turning towards the sun as you stare at the side of his face. The silence drenches the backyard like sudden, thunderous rainfall. For him, it’s unwelcome, and his eardrums echo with his confession.

He tries his best to hide his lovesickness, but the intensity of his longing prevents him from doing so. For the entire summer — perhaps for years, really — he’s been pushing it all down. He’s tired of it all. Of hiding, of pretending, of brushing off his esurient desire for you.

“It’s not weird,” you say, finally, saving him from his misery.

“Sorry?”

“You said it’s weird that you still love me,” you muse. “But I don’t think it is. It wouldn’t be fair of me to.”

His lips part. “What do you—?”

“Of course you’re it for me, Mingyu,” you tell him frustratedly. “You have been since the beginning of time. I don’t want you to go a day without believing it. I know what it’s like to live with you and to live without you, and I really prefer the first option.”

Mingyu’s pretty sure his brain short-circuits.

With quick movements, he inches closer to you, eyes flickering down to your lips before he asks, “Really?”

“What do you mean, really? Why would I—?”

“Can I kiss you?” he interrupts, slowly moving his hands closer to your face. “Please?”

He’s sure the longing in your eyes is wild enough to rival his.

(What an odd turn of events, is it not? Despite being on opposite sides of the country, you used to believe there weren’t enough miles between you and Mingyu for you to heal properly. But now, with his lips hovering over yours, you’re beginning to think that he is not close enough).

You take his face into your hands, and you kiss him.

Mingyu stumbles, surprised by your fervor, but matches it with ease. His hands move from your face to your waist, pulling you flush against him as he moves to have his back against the railing. Your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck, and he surprises himself with a moan at just how much he’s missed it — your hands pulling at his locks, his lips against yours.

He used to pray for this.

When you pull away to catch your breath, he chases you, too dazed to acknowledge your amused mien. You go to peck his lips to soothe him, but he makes sure to hold you against him, his hunger far from satiated.

He stops himself for a moment, breath hot on your skin. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

You smile against his mouth. “I think that’s the best idea you’ve had all night.”

“I feel like you’ve been faking it.”

“I have not.”

“You definitely have. Skateboarding isn’t that hard.”

Mingyu throws his arm around you in defence. “Hey, give them a break, Minghao.”

“Yeah!” Seokmin pipes up, “Y/N was just terrible at it because they can’t balance at all.”

“You know,” you grunt, crossing your arms, “I thought you guys would be proud of me for finally managing to skate across the park without actually falling.”

“I’m proud of you,” Mingyu says, pecking the side of your head. “And I think that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, I can always count on you having my back,” you say, leaning further into him and pointedly glaring at the other two boys in front of you.

Seokmin waves you off. “Hey, I think this might be the first time ever you didn’t get injured at the skatepark.”

You go to protest before frowning. “…I think you’re right, actually. That’s so weird.”

Minghao snorts. “Maybe we should teach you some tricks then.”

You glance at Mingyu, and he seems to really be considering it. “Oh, absolutely not. Are you trying to kill me?”

“I’ll teach you the easy ones!” Mingyu begins, standing in front of you so he’s all you see. He places his hands on your shoulders and squeezes them in reassurance. “You’re already a pro at just skating around, so this should be a piece of cake!”

“Mingyu,” you whine.

“Please,” he matches your tone. “I like teaching you stuff! It’ll be fun!” he lets go of your shoulders and rolls the board so it’s by your feet and offers you his hand as if you’ll need help getting on. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

Your wariness is squashed the moment he flashes you a soothing smile.

You sigh. “You promise?”

He crosses his heart. “With everything that I have.”

Without a second thought, you place your hand in his.

He squeezes it immediately in a silent vow:

I’ll be here to catch you if you fall.

© dkfile, 2023. do not translate or copy my works.

[randomkittythinggg]

Okie dokie, here are some little head cannons for my OC!! (UPDATED!!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1. Her name is Judith, but goes by Jude. (She secretly goes by judas when she's with friends.)

2. She is around 14 years old, in the 8th grade.

3. She goes to the Columbus middle school, which is close to the Columbus highschool.

4. She stole hair dye and only dyed the ends of her hair since Isaiah immediately caught on and took the dye away from her before she was done. She was pissed off about it but he still looked good.

5. She also steals clothes from the different stores, specifically hot topic. She also wears her dad's old clothes. (They don't really know where their dad is.)

6. Occasionally smokes. She doesn't do it often but she only does it when she's stressed or she's in the mood. (Stolen or taken from her mom)

7. She doesn't really have a gender preference for dating. (She kind of likes girls more than she does boys though.)

8. She likes to collect bones as well as her brother. She collects bones that she finds in the woods or on highways. She even has a human skull. (We don't know where she got it from but it's probably best not to ask.. LMAO-)

9. She's has autism and ADHD.

10. She's extremely clingy to her brother, not leaving his side even to go to school. She usually hangs around the high school and no one really cares where she's going.

11. (Depending on the year when bridge kids took place in) Her favorite bands/creators are: bôa, nirvana, memo boy, Alex g, system of a down, Mitski and the smiths. (She listens to 'the cure' but only listens to one song- and I think you know what t is.)

12: she loves to take showers but she hates taking baths. She's not a huge fan of hot water.

DARK HEADCANONS.

13. She does self harm a little bit. She tends to bite herself, scratching herself, or pulls her hair.

14. She gets sort of violent sometimes, or she has some violent thoughts that she's trying to control.

15. When she meets new friends or when she is around people she likes, she'll get extremely obsessive and clingy to the point where she'll probably lose the friends she already has.

16. She tends to steal from stores often. Stealing clothing that she likes, snacks or cigarettes.

DARK HEADCANONS ARE OVER.

17. She's pretty quiet, only talking when she needs to or she's talking to her brother\mom.

18. She has a collection of stuffed animals from when she was growing up. She has a lot of stuffed cats and stuffed rabbits.

19. Her favorite colors are blue and grey.

20. She's around 5'5.

21. Her favorite food/snack is Takis. She takes them from the mecca mart when she doesn't have any cash.

22. She spends most of her time at her friend's house. She comes back to her house at like 10:00pm, so she's not seen around her house as much.

23. Her favorite movie genre is horror films, specifically old movies from the '60s - early 2000s.

24. Her favorite movies are the Texas chainsaw massacre, House of wax, House of 1000 corpses and child's Play.

25. She likes drawing and collects old notebook / sketchbooks she finds at school.

26. She likes to collect things she finds on the floor at school, like perfume bottles, pencils, jewelry, small toys, water bottles or other small items.

27. She loves Halloween and her favorite season is fall.

28. She hates crowded areas, usually avoiding them at all costs.

29. She saves cash that she finds on the floor. She currently has $296.49. (she's been collecting since she was in the fourth grade.)

THATS ALL :D

[the-bjd-community-confess]

Long post but there’s been a lot of confessions lately about not being able to use Taobao. As a regular Taobao user wanted to give some input as to why people are perceiving the attitude of “you just need to figure it out” from current Taobao users and also why you might not really be missing out on much/trade offs of using it vs dealers.

First off in my experience Taobao really isn’t something you can handhold because there really isn’t a cut and dry solution to everything. If someone did make a very detailed end all be all comprehensive Taobao guide it would likely be research paper size and 95% of it would be troubleshooting as in “Trying b, c or d when a isn’t working”. The kicker is after trying all that it still might not work for you for whatever reason or it may work one time but not every time. It’s why looking at a few Taobao guides online isn’t enough and why a lot of people are still very confused even after giving it a few genuine tries.

Even using proxies like Bhiner isn’t easy as there are many potential issues such as:

-proxies don’t translate pictures and sometimes sellers only put text and buying details on pictures;

-some words don’t translate well or translate from Chinese at all;

-you have to research the correct word or phrase to find what you are looking for in Chinese to search the site as you can’t search in English and searching in or browsing in the proxy gives funky results at times;

-not everything on the site is even available for purchase at the time you might want to buy; sometimes the link won’t work in the proxy and you need to convert it (there are mobile, desktop and international link versions);

- sometimes the proxy changes word selections to tiny ass pictures and you have to put everything in the cart in various combinations (think color, size, version) on the agent site just to see what it is;

Among many other issues that may arise including figuring out is this really a new artist/shop or a new recaster. There is a lot of do-it-yourself legwork that is involved even when you are familiar with to using the site.

So if you are looking for this “ah-ha” moment it’s never really going to come. I’ve been using it for over a year and have made over 50 purchases with agents. You are just over a period of time going to get better at troubleshooting and being scrappy/resourceful enough to find what you need when things aren’t working. Even knowing the name of the clothing or wig maker or having a picture for image searching I STILL often enough have to spend hours searching Twitter, Weibo, etc to find their Taobao due to their store being named something different than the name they go by or Taobao giving me generic reverse image results.

I wouldn’t call anyone stupid or lazy for not being able to figure it. However, before you even think you might be missing out on much there are trade offs/disadvantages to using Taobao and shopping agents over dealers that I’ve noticed.

Unless you like organizing GOs for friends or you make a lot of doll item purchases yourself monthly there’s no real savings/advantage in using Taobao. Nearly everything you could want on there you can get from agents/dealers like New Cl0ver, Alice, Me0w Marts, Spac3BJD, D0llection or Moonlight (Moonlight if you are really desperate). I’d say the only things you are missing out on are custom wig commissions and buying small random items for pennys like doll hairnets, face masks and wig caps.

Plus you still have layaway with dealers vs coming out of pocket $50-250 per outfit with a proxy/agent. Just a note though the Chinese selling process is typically deposit and final payment. Some agents allow you to do deposit only initially but I would not trust them reminding you when to pay (because not all artists send out payment reminders). If you don’t pay on time you lose your money and the item (it’s happened to a friend of mine using spreenow). Dealers like Moonlight and SpaceBJD will send emails when the final payment is due and other dealers like Alice and New Clover allow layaway.

Not to mention some of those dealers have free shipping over a certain amount. With shopping agents you have to buy enough items to make international shipping worth it and within a certain period as they all need to come in around the same time to avoid item storage charges. Overall the dealer markup (with the exception of Moonlight) pretty much evens out the international shipping cost if you were just to get that one item with a proxy/shopping agent.

Most importantly though you have someone who is more inclined to help if there are any quality issues when you buy from dealers. Most shopping agents things come as-is, they take pictures for verification/storage purposes only and no returns. Bhiner took literally a picture of sunglasses with a lens popped out and didn’t flag as an issue (granted it was $2 so I wasn’t about to fight them over it). They’re not as inclined to work through issues since they only get paid on orders made and have ZERO relationship with the artist. Some shopping agents like 42agent actually charge you more if they have to write you a ton of messages about your item or work through issues. Superbuy actually makes you manually type in to confirm “no refunds” before they confirm your order in a lot of cases, if you don’t agree they reject the order.

Finally most shopping agents if they end up refunding you for whatever reason the amount doesn’t go back into your PayPal, it will go into your wallet on their site and you will have to pay a fee to get them to transfer it back to your PayPal account. The expectation is you will buy more with them rather than just getting the refund. Bhiner doesn’t even accept PayPal on items over $350 (if you buy a doll,etc) you have to do a bank transfer to their Chinese bank account. Btw it took me 4 days to figure out back and forth with them as they kept giving me the wrong bank info and thankfully transferwise won’t let you send money unless they can verify the receiving account or I would have been out of $600.

Not saying all this to discourage anyone from learning how to use Taobao. But just to give a reality check on what using it is like in the day to day and it isn’t easy even for the people who do use it regularly. I still use dealers often too when I want layaway or when I’m not buying much at that time.

Overall just saying all this cause it really isn’t Taobao users not wanting to share info and gatekeep. I know of others, including myself, who are more than happy to find a link for you or even share them without being asked. However it would be way too much work for someone to write some comprehensive guide when it might not even work for you and we are over here stumbling around ourselves still. The blind leading the slightly less blind at that point. This is why people who know how to use Taobao are more inclined to help if they know you are able to do some legwork too.

~Anonymous

[alarrytale]

Hello Marte!

Somedays I write you my opinions when there is a discussion about H and how he´s straight passing/appears straight these past months/when he´s off stage because of his plain and repetitive outfits and how that cause queerbaiting accusations. I guess I wrote you (for those who read the discussion on your blog as an example) multiple times how I have a very gay friend who loves very basic, neutral coloured and minimalistic style (=exactly what H is wearing these days/months and it makes him appear straight) and yet he´s still very gay - it´s for those who think H must wear his sparkly, multicoloured fancy clothes 24/7 otherwise he´s not gay.

I currently had a discussion with him because we are making plans for Saturday to do a hangout and we are going to the cinema together and he wrote me "Well I thought I will go to the cinema with some man" (as he´s single) and so I wrote him "Well if you want to meet some man maybe you may go to see Troye Sivan with me" (as Troye will be on EU tour and I am definitely going to see him and I´m trying to make him and our other friend to go with me). And he just wrote me "You know, the thing is I don´t think I will be able to find my type on Troye´s show because I like gays who appear straight." And it just reminded me all those "H is straight passing" discussions here because obviously...there are men who are gays but they are straight passing and those are my friends type (his main crush is J*mie D*rman and keeps thirsting over him in our groupchat while I don´t find him handsome at all lol). It´s just a reminder and confirmation that gays who are straight passing exist and while H may be one of them (plus the extreme gaslighting because he´s closeted), he´s still gay.

No matter what he wears and how much contrast it is to his stage/public events outfits. And he´s exactly that type of a gay my gay friend loves and he looks for his a boyfriend.

Hi, anon!

Yes, there are many straight passing gay men. Many gay men don't fit the stereotype. Some gay men are attracted to straight passing men. Straight passing gay men and gay men attracted to straight passing gay men are still gay.

[bastardblvd]

After a stint at the Flapjack Shack, one weird day of park rangering, and ultimately getting rejected by the Waffle House (apparently they “have standards”???), I have finally found my niche reviewing the local dining establishments, which totally makes sense because I have so much experience putting things in my mouth. My online food blog has literal tens of subscribers, and my audience yearns for my hot takes on week-old sushi from the gas station and stale McDonald’s nuggies.

My free time is taken up hanging out at the comic book shop, where Mondays and Tuesdays are D&D night, and Wednesdays are for a money laundering ring (we don’t talk about what happens there on Thursdays…), spending too much money on Slimebucks cold brew (bitter, just like the employees), and avoiding a few slimeballs to whom I owe money (or ass).

(And oh noooo how’d this money fall out of my wallet and into your hands whaaat 💰)

money? i don't see any money? (walks away whistling with my hands in my mysteriously overfilled pockets)

anyways... it seems like you get off on the wrong foot with gas station employee!hirofumi yoshida when you stop into the grime-mart before your d&d sesh, cosplaying your character. you figured you could get some quick content reviewing the new "mystery flavor" onigiri. yoshida is absolutely fucking shmacked from dealer!recovery girl's new strain, so he nearly pisses himself when a seven foot tall... orc creature? with wings? enters the gas station and it's quite embarrassing because not only did you captured it all on camera, but it's your first video to go viral!

you're happy as a clam, meanwhile yoshida has a sour taste in his mouth (but that might be from the mystery flavor onigiri). maybe he'll be tempted to squash the beef when you show up dressed like your other character, one with less orc-features and... less clothes for that matter, actually.

[stryfeposting]

here's my morning take: frank castle should be into frot but not in a cockrub warrior meat2meat way. he should be into fully clothed rubbing and grinding because a) tactical retreats are easier with his belt still done up, b) he's got some deep lingering catholicism where he can go over the clothes and maybe down the shirt before it starts to enter irredeemable sins of the flesh territory, c) grinding someone's big muscular thigh is only a few inches away from humping that leg like a dog and that's a whole other Zone to be unpacked, and d) as long as he doesn't have anywhere to be immediately afterwards it's kinda hot to bust in his briefs then scramble.

all of this is as applicable to logan grinding out one on his cheeks in an alleyway behind an ezy-mart as it is linus lieberman tenderly hauling frank's thighs over his shoulders and giving it to him on an airbed.

[greaterspawnislands]

🧼💎

🧼 - Which character is most likely to walk around in a wal-mart/gas station decked out in armor/cosplay/hero costume

local urahara kinnie- i mean cosplayer- i mean- phil would. that's just his normal clothes

💎 - What’s a WIP idea you’ve really enjoyed writing?

Oh I have so many ideas always...but right now I'm really loving my hardcore au where phil wakes up in the s4 hardcore world with no memories of him living there :D I like it because I get to write a love letter to hardcore and the deities and deal with fun angst potential like him not remembering kristin and then dealing with ender's intentions... :D

writing ask game wahoo

[youmissedone]

“You don’t have to say that,” murmured K-Mart. Carlos and Claire had taken her into their convoy a while ago, and they’d never made her feel that way, but she still felt infantilized by some of the other members. Carlos’ reputation for being a kind-hearted person wasn’t based on nothing, though, and she was grateful to him for checking in on her. “It’s nice of you to check on me, but you, Claire, and Alice have never made me feel that way.”

K-Mart nervously glanced around the desert they’d set up camp in. While her layered clothing might’ve protected her from the elements, it wouldn’t protect her from any infected. Thankfully, there hadn’t been many recent issues with infection, and the others seemed to be off doing their own thing. K-Mart absentmindedly twirled a strand of her straight blonde hair before turning her focus back to Carlos.

Carlos was the one who had found her in the titular Kmart. She was much younger then - the convoy had been in existence for years - and she barely knew how to hold a gun. She’d convinced herself that she was going to die when Carlos first found her. K-Mart’s little crush on Carlos hadn’t lasted for long, and she eventually came to view him as a father figure, but in any case, her hero worship of him never went away.

“Some of the other members of the convoy have, though. They don’t ever want to listen when I have an idea, or they just lump me in with the little kids,” she admitted with a sigh. “I just want to help out. I don’t feel like I’m carrying my weight as much as I could be. You and Claire do so much, and I’m just… there, ya know?”

K-Mart, ironically, appreciated her new life more than her old one. She’d always been interested in art, and photography and collaging were her specialties. It made her the target of bullying, and she’d never felt she quite fit in with her rich, preppy, feminine classmates. Aside from that, she was bisexual, and fear of being outed kept her from truly connecting with her peers. This apocalypse was a chance to be reborn as K-Mart, and she wasn’t going to pass that up. It made her want to help as much as she could - not only had they saved her life, they’d given her a new one, and they’d helped take care of her after all her loved ones died or abandoned her.

“Anyway, I don’t really want to talk about this anymore. What’s up with you, Claire, and Alice? L.J. said you all are going on a date. I can kinda see it. You gotta tell me everything!”

{don’t worry about matching length - I got inspired, and I have so many headcanons for her, so yeah}

________

{ Don’t worry about it! I’ve never had anyone write a K-mart muse with Carlos before, so this is really cool! =D }

“Well, that’s good, but if you still feel that way, even if we’re not the problem, I’m still willing to listen if you need someone to talk to,” Carlos offered. Unlike some people, his social battery for people downloading their problems onto him never seemed to deplete. It was something he didn’t mind doing, and even liked to do… helping people get things off their chests or giving them a sympathetic ear that would help them to feel heard.

He noticed her looking around and smiled a little. “It’s alright. We’re good. Perimeter’s already up. If anything comes our way, we’ll know about it,” he said, trying to reassure her, though he fully understood K-mart’s paranoia. One really couldn’t survive in this world anymore such as it was without a hefty amount of paranoia.

Carlos listened as she spoke, not looking to interrupt her. If she didn’t feel like she was being listened to, the worst thing he could do was talk over her. When she’d finished, he nodded, taking in all that she’d said. “Well… you don’t have to pull your weight. We don’t ask that of anyone. Some can’t, some don’t want to… everyone does what they can. Those of us who can do more and want to, we do. Most want to help in some way, but those who want to just hang back, that’s fine too. So don’t feel like you have to do over and above what you are now, or that anyone is judging you. We’re all just trying to survive, however that works best for each of us.”

He shifted a little, thinking a bit more. “But if helping out more is something you want, why not discuss it with Claire? Only because she’s kindof the unspoken fearless leader of all of us,” he said, a big grin showing itself for a moment. If you want to do more, we can start training you on different weapons, teach you how to clear locations with us, show you more about the tech we use to monitor everything, get you more involved. Is that what you want?” he asked, trying to gauge whether this was a real desire or just her voicing some guilt she was feeling.

As K-mart changed the subject to Carlos’ dating life, the grin returned and he chuckled. “Eh… L.J. likes to talk,” he said with a dismissive shrug. “We’re in the middle of the desert, where’re we going to go on a date? Our current situation of daily survival doesn’t really lend itself well to romance, anyway. And besides… Alice and I… we ended a long time ago.” There was a little hint of sadness in his tone that he did his best to hide. “She prefers to be alone. I don’t think she’s even going to stay with us for very long. And uh… I’m not sure Claire is very big on sharing…” 

Things had been admittedly weird for him since Alice’s return. The tension was clear, both good and bad, but although he still loved her, she seemed to really be against the idea of reconnecting fully. He had to simply accept that, just as he’d accepted her leaving five years prior without saying goodbye. And Claire… She was someone Carlos could definitely get involved with, but he’d never thought she felt the same. So their dynamic settled on friendship and a great working relationship, until Alice came and Claire seemed to get a bit… jealous? It honestly had surprised him. He’d never seen her get like that before. But the three of them getting together? Nah. In my dreams.

“What about you? Anything new on your romantic radar, as long as we’re prying into each other’s personal business?” Carlos tossed back, but he wasn’t upset at her for it. Playful, maybe, but that was just his usual casual demeanor that he often had. 

[complete-idiot-in-love]

Once Upon a Witchlight: Episode 45 (SPOILERS)

Oh no, a warning for graphic themes? If someone died im crying so hard

KEEP YOUR DAMN CLOTHES ON TORBEK OR I SWEAR TO THE GODS

My S/I would be so happy to finally explore the material plane!!

Father twin giggle sesh :D

Kremy is going crazy again

When Torbek is worried about YOU, then you know you're acting crazy /j

Gideon and his old man glasses omfg, I love that image so much

“Empath” Gricko gives off astrology girl vibes and idk why

I WAS RIGHT, HE DID A GEMINI JOKE OMG

NAT 20 FOR GIDEON LETS GOOOOOOO

My S/I would be having so much trouble in the desert because of them never having experienced a dessert before and the whole satyr fur thing

My bestie, the eldritch abomination of a bugbear <3

Gricko getting the party into trouble against a desert hydra is so him coded, bro would get the group in trouble at a damn Wal-mart

ANOTHER NAT 20 FOR GIDEON, THAT HYDRA IS SO FUCKIN DEAD!!!

OMFG A THIRD NAT 20 FOR GIDEON!!!! THAT HYDRA IS GONNA BE MUSH!!! (Im stimming so hard right now, my hands are flying like crazy fr fr))

Mace has the same amount of object permanence as I do /j

OH FUCK, I HATE BUGS! KILL EM, KILL EM

I LOVE KREMY’S OMINOUS JAZZ AND NEON FORM :D

OOOOO NIKKIE GOT A NAT 20

What is with all these nat 20’s this episode, loaded dice? /j

Of course Gricko would try to befriend the monster

Mikey's dice bag being full of bananyas is so damn funny

ALCHEMIC WHAT? FLEASHLIGHTS??

NOOOOO, TORBEK GOT A NAT 20 TOO BUT NIKKIE DREADED HIM

WHAT? HUNGER OF HADAR??? KREMY IS OP AF

Hootsie is so smart to not deal w that bs fr fr

Kremy accidentally kills his teammates via mind fuckery /j

My S/I would be so confused during the hunger of hadar thing, they'd be screaming shit like: “IS THIS NORMAL IN THE MATERIAL PLANE, AND WHERE IN THE HELLS IS EVERYONE???”

All these dudes are so OP in their own ways but also complete idiots in others, I love them all so much

NOOOOOO GIDEON IS IN QUICKSAND

“That's from Agwe you dumb ugly bastard!” is a great like Gideon, good job

NAT 20 FOR TORBEK FINALLY!!!!! AND HE KILLED IT YEAHHHHHHHHHH

“Longscarfing it” is my new favorite thing

Fighting with an erection mention lmao XD

They're freaking out about Nikkie playing swamp music lmao

NOOOO DON'T AWAKEN GOREBEK

We love the swoose (Swan + Goose)

Also wasn't one of the cookies Bavlorna gave Torbek a swoose, and Nikkie is using the same accent for the swoose as she did Bavlorna

“Recount the tales to me x3, of a troubled past and what set you free” ARE WE GONNA GET SOME BACKSTORY ON THREE OF THE DUDES???? PLEASE LET ONE OF THEM BE TORBEK, BRO IS AN ENIGMA

GIDEON BEING KIDNAPPED AS A CHILD AWAY FROM HIS PAW IS SO SAAAAAAD, WE NEED TO REUNITE PAW COAL AND MY DAD TOGETHER AND HAVE A HAPPY FAMILY AGAIN (T-T)

“We hit rock bottom and picked up shovels” HAHAHA

I wonder what Andy’s theory is, My theory is that Zybilna is the fourth sister or at least connected to them in some way

[plglobal]

FMCG Distributor-Definition, Types, and Opportunities

What is FMCG Distribution?

Fast moving consumer goods, or FMCGs, are goods with lower prices but higher consumption. The best examples are things for the home, clothes, and food. The FMCG products are bought by a customer from a retail establishment. FMCG merchants include Big Bazaar, D-mart, and even neighborhood food stores.

A person who serves as a conduit between the manufacturer and the store is known as an FMCG distributor. However his responsibility is to advertise the goods of the specific FMCG company that selects him for distribution in specified areas. The distributorship chances in FMCG differ depending on the type of retailer you select.

Types of FMCG Distributorships

1. Traditional FMCG Distributorship

One of the most popular distributorship opportunities in FMCG to start with is this one. Your outlets are local grocery stores, convenience stores, and other smaller establishments. According to the need for inventory, the FMCG distributor purchases products directly from the manufacturers and distributes them to these outlets.

Things to keep in mind

When using the conventional distributorship model, you must be very knowledgeable about your local market.

To guarantee that you have consistent orders and take advantage of distributorship chances in FMCG in this industry, it is crucial that you maintain your reputation in the market.

Make sure that your deliveries arrive on schedule, you must also have a strong transportation network.

To store your merchandise in top condition, you also need a godown and the accompanying infrastructure.

2. Wholesale Distributorship

These are wholesalers who deal primarily in perishable products like wheat flour, pulses, rice, etc. Typically, wholesalers sell them to retail stores. Therefore, it is the duty of a wholesale distributor to obtain these goods from the supplier and deliver them to the wholesaler. This sector has needs just like other distributorship opportunities in FMCG.

Things to keep in mind

With this FMCG distributorship opportunity, you won’t be interacting directly with any retail establishment.

Because you will largely be working with perishable goods, your storage and transportation methods must be of the greatest caliber.

To investigate additional distributorship options in FMCG, the wholesalers you distribute to must have a strong network in the marketplace.

Read more: How to Begin a Wholesale Distribution Business

3. Modern Trade Distributorship

The biggest retail stores, known as modern trade outlets, are where FMCG distributorship chances are the most lucrative. D-Mart, Reliance Fresh, and Big Bazaar are the top examples. Due to the established vendors and distributors that big organizations like these have in place, this sector is challenging to enter.

You do have a few possibilities, though, for entering the market. Make contact with current distributors for modern trade. However you can locate fresh distributorship chances in FMCG to sell any special products you can acquire from them. PL Global Impex Pte Ltd. deals with the top FMCG products, you can visit the website and make a purchase relevant to you.

A strong network in the modern trade industry is a better alternative if you want to approach retailers directly.

Things to Keep in Mind

It is exceedingly difficult to maintain inventory with this level of distribution, making this one of the most difficult distributorship opportunities in FMCG.

Your infrastructure for managing the stock and your inventories both cost a lot of money.

For greater distributorship chances in FMCG with modern trade merchants, you need a very sophisticated transportation network.

Food and grain are the finest commodities to invest in because the majority of significant modern trade wholesalers deal with upscale foods, cosmetics, and other goods.

4. Institutional Distributorship

Direct Institutional Distributorship with institutions is an option. This category includes multinational corporations, railroads, and other governmental organizations. When dealing with these organizations, your largest advantage is being able to investigate potential distributorship options in FMCG. Your payment is completed as soon as the merchandise is delivered within the specified time frame.

Any FMCG company that supplies goods to these establishments prefers to work with a distributor over a retailer or a wholesaler.

Things to keep in mind

It’s difficult to manage inventory for these opportunities.

If you have strong connections in governmental organizations, this is your best option.

You will only be required to give a payment-related grace period, which may last up to 90 days, if you work on a contract basis.

5. Super Stockist Distributorship

In the FMCG industry, there are excellent distributorship prospects available both in urban and rural locations. Super stockist distributors are in charge of supplying minor distributors in rural areas with FMCG Company stock. They then ship it to the retail establishments.

With FMCG super stockist distributorship prospects, you become the main source of supplies for these sub-stockists.

Things to keep in mind

In this strategy, you must first choose your area in order to receive more FMCG distributorship chances.

The ideal way to distribute FMCGs to rural areas is to have your godown in the district administrative center.

Read more, click here...

Website: https://plglobal.com/

Email: admin@plglobal.com

[bloggersnation]

How late is the closest grocery store open?

Want something to eat late at night? And have no idea what time the nearest grocery store closes. Then you should read this article.

Do you want to go grocery shopping late at night but don’t know how late the closest store is open? This is something that almost everyone goes through. People don’t always know what stores are open and when they close.

More than half of Indians don’t know How Late is the Closest Grocery Store Open 24 Hours Today in India, says the report. When you’re hungry and there’s no store nearby, it can be hard.

If you live in a small town, it’s likely that the last grocery store will be open until 10 p.m., and most shops will also be open until that time. But if you are in a big city, the Closest Grocery Store is open until 11 p.m.

Allow me to help you. Here are some of the closest grocery stores that you can go to if you get hungry late at night;

Target cities:

Bangalore

Gurgaon

Noida

Mumbai

When does the last grocery store in Bangalore close?

Bangalore’s nightlife is well-known. This makes sure that you will have a lot of options for shopping late at night. Let’s look at some of Bangalore’s most popular grocery stores;

1. Bigmarket

Location: Near Laxshmi Convention Hall, on Sarjapur Main Road in Attibelle, Bengaluru

10 to 10:30 pm, that’s how late the closest grocery store is open.

Timings — 8 am-10 pm

There are 17 stores in the city. The phone number is 08–02664–7790.

The Big Market in Bangalore first opened in 1954. Since then, the business has grown a lot, and in 1994, it moved into the modern supermarket business. The best things about these stores are that they are in high-traffic areas and have a wide range of goods from both domestic and international markets.

2. Big Bazaar Location- Bharat Mall, Bejai, Mangalore — 575004, Opposite Ksrtc Bus Stand, Bengaluru

What time does the closest grocery store close? Between 9:30 and 10:00 pm.

Timings — 10:00 am — 9:30 pm

There are 12 stores in the city. The phone number is 0824–4273181.

In 2001, Kishore Biyani, the founder and CEO of the Future Group, which Big Bazaar is a part of, made Big Bazaar.

The former captain of the Indian cricket team, Mahendra Singh Dhoni, has helped Big Bazaar’s fashion section in the past.

In India, Big Bazaar is a chain of supermarkets, discount department stores, and hypermarkets. Kishore Biyani has taken Big Bazaar to new heights. He does this through his parent company, Future Group, which is well-known in the Indian retail and fashion industries.

3. №36/1, Varthur Main Road, Whitefield, Bangalore, is where D-mart is.

10 p.m. is the latest that the closest grocery store is open.

Timings- 10:00 am — 10:00 pm

There are 22 stores in the city. Call 022 68502300.

The Indian family’s needs were growing, so Mr. Radhakishan Damani and his family started DMart. Since 2002, when it opened its first store in Powai, DMart has become well-known in 294 places all over India.

The company that owns and runs the DMart supermarket chain is Avenue Supermarts Ltd. (ASL). The corporate headquarters of the company are in Mumbai.

DMart is a one-stop supermarket business that wants to offer customers a wide range of essential personal and home goods under one roof. Each DMart has a wide range of low-cost items for the home, such as clothes, cookware, bed and bath linens, food, cosmetics, toiletries, and more.

4. Cash and Carry Metro

Location: ITPL Main Road, near Phoenix Market City, Mahadevapura, Bengaluru

How late does the nearest grocery store stay open? Until 10 p.m.

Timings — 6 am — 10 pm

There are 17 stores in the city.

Phone- 1860–266–2010

How late does the last Gurgaon grocery store stay open?

Gurgaon is a pretty laid-back city with a lot of residential and industrial areas. It also has some of the best grocery stores.

Here are some of the best shopping spots in Gurgaon.

1. Big Bazaar Location- Bharat Mall, Bejai, Mangalore -Sahara Mall, Main Mehrauli Gurgaon Road, Gurgaon Sector 28, Gurgaon

How late is the grocery store near me open? 10:30 pm

Timings — 10:30 am — 10:30 pm

Four stores are in the city. The phone number is 0124 4008888.

Kishore Biyani, who is the CEO of the Future Group, started Big Bazaar in 2001.

Mahendra Singh Dhoni, a former captain of the Indian cricket team, has helped Big Bazaar’s fashion department in the past.

Big Bazaar is a chain of grocery stores, discount department stores, and hypermarkets in India. Kishore Biyani has made Big Bazaar a part of his parent company, Future Group, which is well-known in the Indian retail and fashion industries for its important role.

2. Delhi Road, Gurgaon Sector 14, Gurgaon is where Vishal Mega Mart is.

How late does the nearest grocery store stay open? Until 9 p.m.

Timings — 8:00 am — 9:00 pm

Four stores are in the city. The phone number is 9312004709.

Vishal Mega Mart is one of the best fashion-focused hypermarkets in India. It has more than 400 stores all over the country. Vishal Mega Mart wants all of its customers to be able to buy products, so it has a wide range of the latest styles, everyday items, and groceries.

3. Le Marche is in Dlf City Phase 4, Gurgaon, India, 122002, near Dlf City Club in the Galleria Market.

How late does the nearest grocery store stay open? Until 9 p.m.

Timings — 10:30 am — 9:00 pm

Three stores are in the city. The phone number is 9971799950.

It was first thought of in 2005, and its clients buy products at all price points. But it mostly serves a high-end, specialised gourmet retail industry that caters to urban, well-traveled Indians who like to try new kinds of food from around the world. He understands how things work.

Over the years, the company has become a customer favourite because of its low prices and wide range of goods.

Le Marche is a full-service grocery store with a wide range of products, from everyday necessities like staples and spices to unusual items from all over the world.

It also has a “butchery” with fresh meats and seafood, tasty cold cuts, and items marinated by the chef.

The wide range of gourmet foods from around the world, beverages, ice creams, dairy, specialty oils, confectionery, bakery, home & personal care, and more, as well as the different live sections and hand-crafted recipes chosen by Le Marche’s in-house chefs, go well with the way the store is set up and sold.

4. Easyday club

Dayal Mkt, Shivpuri, Sector 7, Gurugram, Shivpuri, Gurgaon

How late does the nearest grocery store stay open? Until 10 p.m.

Timings — 7:00 am — 10:00 pm

There are 5 shops in the city. The phone number is 9971799950.

Easyday Club is a redesigned grocery and food store for the community. It is supported by the community and gives its members a modern, personalised, and Indian shopping experience. Easyday, Nilgiris, and Heritage can reach customers in every neighbourhood because they have more than 800 grocery stores spread out over 117 cities and towns in the United States.

How late does the grocery store near Noida stay open?

Noida is a place where families tend to live, and it has some of the best schools in the Delhi NCR area. Noida is a planned city in the northern Indian state of Uttar Pradesh, which is home to the famous Oakla bird sanctuary. Here, there are grocery stores that are open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

1. RK Service Station, Indian Oil Petrol Pump Noida is where 24SEVEN is.

How late does the nearest grocery store stay open?

There are 10 stores in the city, and they are open 24 hours a day.

No matter what time of day or night it is, 24Seven has everything a customer could want. On the shelves, customers can find the best international brands of groceries, snacks, a wide range of beverages, and personal care products. The shop also sells ready-made meals that are made in a central kitchen on site.

2. Metro Station Road, Noida Sector 78, Noida, is where Vishal Mega mart is.

How late does the nearest grocery store stay open? Until 9 p.m.

Timings — 10:00 am — 9:00 pm

There are 5 shops in the city. The phone number is 9312004709.

Vishal Mega Mart is one of India’s best hypermarkets for fashion. It has more than 400 locations all over the country. Vishal Mega Mart wants all of its customers to be able to buy products, so it has a wide range of the latest fashions, everyday items, and groceries.

Over the years, the company has become a customer favourite because of its low prices and wide range of goods. Even though the store doesn’t stay open late, it has some of the best products at prices that are hard to beat.

3. Big Bazaar \sLocation- The Grand Venice Mall, Shop No-3, Greater Noida, Noida

How late does the nearest grocery store stay open? Until 10 p.m.

Timings — 10:00 am — 10:00 pm

Number of stores in city — 4 \sPhone — 0120 4755901

Kishore Biyani, who is the CEO of the Future Group, started Big Bazaar in 2001.

Mahendra Singh Dhoni, a former captain of the Indian cricket team, has helped Big Bazaar’s fashion department in the past.

Big Bazaar is a chain of grocery stores, discount department stores, and hypermarkets in India. Kishore Biyani has made Big Bazaar a part of his parent company, Future Group, which is well-known in the Indian retail and fashion industries for its important role.

How late is the closest grocery store open in Mumbai

Mumbai, also known as Bombay, is a populous city on India’s west coast.

With a population of over 2.3 crores (23 million), Mumbai is the hub of the Mumbai Metropolitan Region, the world’s sixth most populated metropolitan area. As a result, Mumbai has one of the greatest collections of food stores.

Here are some of the best grocery stores for you in Mumbai.

1. Reliance Fresh \sLocation -Tower No 6, Reliance Retail, Sion, Mumbai

10 p.m. is the latest that the closest grocery store is open.

Timings -7:00 am — 10:00 pm

Number of stores in city — 42

Phone — 022 24053578

With the debut of its first Reliance Fresh location in 2006, Reliance Retail officially began its adventure. Currently, Reliance Retail runs more than 2,700 grocery stores and sells around 200 metric tonnes of fruits daily and 300 metric tonnes of vegetables.

The store meets all of the needs of its customers and is particularly renowned for its fresh goods like fruits and vegetables. It also carries dairy, cereals, spices, processed foods and beverages, home and personal care products, and other items. These goods are reasonably priced and have made Reliance Fresh one of Mumbai’s most well-known stores.

2. Meelas by Gbappa

Location -Viento 14, Lakeshore Greens, Taloja By-Pass Road, Khoni, Thane, Mumbai

How late is the closest grocery store open — 11 pm

Timings — 7:00 am — 11:00 pm

Number of stores in city — 1 \sPhone — 07947344489

The staff at Gbappa is dedicated to providing customers with high-quality goods that are reasonably priced, hygienically packaged, and delivered to their doorstep.

Due to its reputation among locals, this Thane shop has become one of the most well-known. The shop is open until 11 pm and has an outstanding selection of goods, making it a nice option for late-night appetites.

3. D-mart

Location- Manpada Road, Bhopar, Thane (also all-over Mumbai) (also all-over Mumbai)

10 p.m. is the latest that the closest grocery store is open.

Timings- 8:00 am — 11:00 pm

Number of stores in city- 19 \sPhone- 022 68120900

Mr. Radhakishan Damani and his family established DMart to accommodate the growing needs of Indian families. Since opening its first branch in Powai in 2002, DMart’s reputation has spread to 294 sites across India.

The DMart supermarket chain is owned and run by Avenue Supermarts Ltd. (ASL) (ASL). The company’s corporate headquarters are located in Mumbai.

DMart is a one-stop supermarket that aims to offer customers a wide range of necessary personal and home goods under one roof. Every DMart store has a large assortment of reasonably priced household essentials, including clothes, cookware, bed and bath linens, food, cosmetics, and other items.

Steps to check how late is the closest grocery store open:

Google Maps on your Android or iOS device is the most reliable and efficient method for determining how late is the closest grocery store open.

Log in to Google Maps with your Gmail ID.

Allow Google Maps to pinpoint your exact location.

Type local grocery store or enter in the Search Bar. Enter or click on search to open.

Once you’ve discovered How Late Is The Closest Grocery Store Open, or Nearby Grocery Store, select the closest store.

You will be given the address as well as the option to navigate. Then, follow the arrow to the correct address for the grocery store, where you may purchase or order the items.

Conclusion

I hope the answer to the most frequently asked question — “how late is the closest grocery store open?” — is delivered and that you now have a general understanding of your surroundings.

These grocery stores are essential all the same; for your late-night cravings or emergencies, these are the perfect stores. Most of these stores offer home delivery which should be ideal for any situation that needs you to remain at home.

[alarrytale]

There was a pic a little while ago of Harry in London looking at jewelry and a lot of us guessed what was going to happen, d*uxmoi later posted Hussell engagement rumors. I got excited over pics of him walking a dog because I have one similar but it turned out it was linked to T*ylor. I don't trust anything we get from him now. Even pics we get of him ends up being linked to somewhere he was supposedly seen with her or he's wearing an item of clothing that she's worn. Nothing is organic anymore. I used to think d*uxmoi just made everything up for clicks but I think HSHQ actually works with her and feeds her stuff to post. They probably send anons too. It happens a lot when there is a pic of Harry and d*uxmoi will 'have the information on it'. Sometimes she'll post something first and the pics will come a little later. So HSHQ is definitely in contact with her a lot. That's why she gets away with what she does. They're in on it. Which makes me think that they planted the rumors of Harry hooking up with Florence behind O*ivia's back, and hooking up with Emma on the MP set. They're just gross. At the time I thought it was just her desperate for clicks. I always blamed her and the media, and they are to blame. But HSHQ is in on it just as much. I really don't understand. Why do they do this Marte? Why is nothing organic about him.

Hi, anon!

Why do they do this? I actually have a theory about that. I'll try to explain it as briefly as i can.

So about ten years ago there were about three or four pretty well known gossip sites that posted blind items. The blind items very often proved themselves to be true. We are talking massive secrets here, no details spared. The gossip sites had really good sources in the industry. It was also a place for industry people to break their NDAs, and to anonymously share their metoo stories invoving powerful celebrities. The gossip sites were pr people's worst nightmare. Especially the pr people of celebs guarding secrets. They tried to take down the sites and sue for defamation. But the secret was out. Some pr people even tried planting fake rumours to several people to smoke out the gossip sites sources. Pr people lost control of the celebs narrative and constructed image.

So how do the pr people solve that problem? If you can’t beat them, join them. Here comes deuxmoi. I believe deuxmoi is a joint pr people venture. Pr people for celebs use deuxmoi to control the narrative and keep up their celebs constructed image. The pr people feeds deuxmoi what they want out there. Some of it is true, some of it is half truths and most of it is all lies. It doesn’t matter if it puts the celeb in a bad light if the narrative sounds more believeable to people that way or more exciting. As an example (made up by me) 'i am a bartender and i served harry at a ***** bar in london last night. He didn’t give a tip and wasn't that polite (didn’t say thank you). He was with a woman who he was very friendly with... 👀'.

Deuxmoi also post items from random people. As long as it is in accordance with the narrative the pr people want for that celeb, or just gets their name talked about without harming their image, deuxmoi will gladly post it. It will make it seem like deuxmoi is less trustworthy, but that is not the main goal here. The pr people can always make up for it by giving deuxmoi some small exclusives that turns out to be true. Like 'harry spotted at westfield buying body lotion' and then later we get proof he did.

Trustworthiness, on the other hand, would be important to a real gossip site. For deuxmoi it's mostly about getting narratives out there and creating engagement around the celeb. It all seems organic on paper. But it's not.

Tldr; Because they need to control the narrative and create engagement.

[fuji-tsukishima]

Bold What's true

My first name:

A-F G-K L-P Q-Z I love my name I hate my name My name is hard to pronounce My name is boring I have a nickname My age: I am considered a minor I am over 18 I am under 13 I am between the ages of 13 and 18 I wish I was older I wish I was younger I like my age I know how to drive I drink/smoke and I am underage My appearance: I have brown hair I have blonde hair I have black hair I have red hair I have an unnatural hair color I’ve dyed my hair before I’ve gotten highlights/low lights before I have curly hair I have straight hair I have wavy hair I have frizzy hair I straighten my hair regularly I have brown eyes I have blue eyes I have grey eyes

I have green eyes My eyes change color I use color contacts I have glasses I use regular contacts I got laser eye surgery. I am under 5’4” I am over 5’4” I am under or on 5 foot I am over or on 6 foot I love my height I hate my height I am happy with my size I wish i was skinnier I wish I was a bit larger I am trying to lose weight I have gone on fad diets before I have taken diet pills and laxatives I have fasted before

I have purged before I have/had an eating disorder My shoe size is a 3-5 My shoe size is 6-8 My shoe size is a 9 or above It’s hard for me to find shoes that fit   Style/Makeup: I shop at stores like Abercrombie, Hollister, and American Eagle I shop at Hot Topic I shop at stores like PacSun and Zumiez I shop at stores like Bloomingdales and Saks I shop at stores like Forever 21 and Urban Outfitters I shop at Wal-Mart, Target, and K-Mart I shop at H&M , Zara , C&A , New Yorker and River Island I hate shopping I love shopping I own clothes I bought more than 5 years ago I own a designer purse I love over-sized tote bags I hate skinny jeans I wear high-waisted jeans Mary-Kate Olsen has good style I love buying shoes I own a pair of converse I love Uggs I love flip-flops I get my nails done regularly I wear perfume I hate pedicures I wear fake eyelashes I wear a lot of makeup I wear a small bit of makeup I don’t wear any makeup I wear eyeliner every day I wear lipstick every day I wear lip liner every day I love Burt’s Bees I feel uncomfortable wearing mini skirts I wear a lot of low cut shirts to show cleavage I like high heels I can’t walk in high heels I love wedges I love jeans I wear thongs and g-strings only if im wearing leggings or a dress/skirt I wear granny panties I wear regular underwear I buy all of my bras from Victoria’s Secret I love Victoria’s Secret’s PINK line School: I am in middle school I am in high school I am in college/university I am a high school dropout I am home schooled I go to a private school I go to a Catholic school I have skipped a grade I have been held back a grade I have Honors marks I am in one or more advanced classes I am in regular classes My favorite class is English I love science I hate English I love math I am currently failing one or more classes I have straight A’s I have straight B’s I have C’s or D’s I get a variety of marks depending on my course I love my teachers I hate my teachers I want to graduate now I love high school I am in band or choir I am in one or more school clubs I am in school sports I am on a Varsity or JV team I am in drama club My friends: I have a best friend I have multiple best friends I have many acquaintances My friends are crazy but I love them My friends and I do everything together I have a lot of guy friends I have equal girl and guy friends I have had the same best friend since kindergarten My best friends change like I change my underwear My friends and I get into many fights Significant others: I have a boyfriend/girlfriend I am single I have hooked up with one or more guys I have never been in a real relationship I am straight I am gay I am bisexual I am Pansexual I am Asexual I am Demisexual

I am boy-crazy

I have dated a friend’s ex I have never been kissed I have had an abortion I was pregnant in high school I have/had an STD I am saving myself until marriage I am waiting for the right “guy” to have sex with I lost my virginity when I was 13 or under I love tall guys I would date someone shorter than me I focus on personality I love green eyes I love blue eyes I don’t care about eye color Facial hair is sexy on boys Tattoos and piercings are sexy on girls I love nerds I would date someone in the army Family: I love my parents My parents annoy me My parents are strict My parents don’t care what I do I tell my parents everything I don’t tell my parents much I have 1+ brother(s) I have 1+ sister(s) I am the oldest I am in the middle I am the youngest I am an only child I have a sibling in college/university I babysit my siblings I love my grandparents One or more of my grandparents are alive I have family reunions Other stuff: I am a grammar nazi I love erasers Chocolate is sex I am pro-choice I am pro-life I believe in evolution I believe in creation I am a Democrat I am a Republican I don’t know what I am I love Bush I check the computer daily I use MSN I love Facebook I love MySpace I love Twitter I love Tumblr I love Chinese food