#DIM Danbi

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #37] Faking It

warnings: pleased be seated for THE JANITORS CLOSET hehe, and iconic chapter in the bd universe. seokjin! pregnancy scares! tittie worship, thigh riding, semi-public, a lil self-pleasure, multiple orgasms, kissing <33, cum in panties??, idk, one of my fave bd smut scenes and they don't even shag! there's a lot of plot in there. all the fave characters!! and the biggest villains!!

a/n: i figured out the wrong headers!! this header was actually the og 36 header and the og 37 header is what I used for 36 lol

also also also i knew i said there would be more updates tonight buuuut I finished write #60 today so I'm editing that instead hehe. there's a direct reference to something said in this chapter in #60!

wc: 18k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

In the quiet bustle of Jeongguk's favourite downtown cafe, Yoongi frowns.

"Are you even listening to me, Gguk?"

On the table sits a half-drunk coffee, the bitter taste a little too much for Jeongguk at this time in the morning. Notebooks open, pens scattered on the driftwood table, Jeongguk has spent the morning earnestly scrawling down revisions to his business plan.

The centrepiece of the table - a single white rose in a thin vase has been put on an empty seat. Just would have been in the way.

Also kind of made Jeongguk's blood boil, but he knows he shouldn't be irrationally angry at a fucking flower. A nice one at that. An expensive one.

Just like Seokjin had made sure to remind you on his calling card.

Happy Birthday, Darling. Exquisite roses for an exquisite girl. You can pretend they're from your new guy if you like - I'm sure he agrees you deserve the best that money can buy. All my love x

Stupid prick hadn't signed his name, but he has set a precedent. There's only one person who'd send you white roses. Not just a dozen. Not two dozen. Three fucking dozen. Thirty-six.

36 identical, soulless roses destined to die within a week or so, already embarking on their demise.

Danbi had snorted. "What's that? A rose for each time he cheated?"

You had smiled. Shook your head. "Think four dozen would be needed for that."

Jeongguk had been with you when you'd redistributed the roses to your CU ajumma aunties, and had to deal with their scrutinising eyes. Had smiled, and played nicely, even when they called Seokjin the 'handsome one'. As much as he might hate that tall mother fucker, he's got a pair of eyes. Knows he's a bloody god.

And so Jeongguk had moved the rose on his table out of sight before he even realised that he would need to.

The display of his iPad, which is still covered in your small fingerprints from lazy days wasted in his bedroom, has dimmed. It obscures the last revision of the plan. Hides it away from prying eyes.

A work in progress for years, now, he started planning for the samgyeopsal restaurant during his first semester of university. Had been a hypothetical project that he just hasn't been able to let go of. Like a first love, it kept coming back to the forefront of his mind.

For a little while - he's not sure how long; three, maybe four minutes - Jeongguk has been watching the beads of condensation sweat down the side of his glass. The straw, given to him by a barista with a warm smile and nothing else remotely interesting about her, lays beside the glass, still encased in its plastic wrapper.

He hears your voice and its tone of concern each and every time he raises the now-wet glass to his lips.

Careful, Koo. It'll hurt your teeth.

With every fabricated iteration of your concern, his mile-a-minute heart temporarily eases. For those scarce moments, it doesn't feel as if it'll burst straight out of his chest from the sheer exhausting stress of the unknown; His future. Yours. The one that you may or may not have together.

Funny how you're the main source of his stresses right now, and yet are the only thing able to ease them.

And so the straw remains as it is - still, untouched - just so he can pretend you care.

Dazed and most definitely confused when he looks up, Jeongguk's vacant eyes land on Yoongi. There's a frown on the older mans face, but a softness to his eyes.

"Hm?" Jeongguk hums. "Sorry?"

Sighing, Yoongi reaches for the straw that Jeongguk has so purposefully left discarded. Snaps the thin plastic wrapper apart. Reaches over and pushes the straw through a cluster of stubborn ice that just refuses to melt. Helps his friend in a way that makes total sense, and yet Jeongguk's mind is so jumbled up that it almost feels an attack.

It's him who frowns, now. Dimples form in the creases between his lips and cheeks, a thick line making itself known in the ridge between his eyes. Yoongi pays it no notice. Simply says, "Coffee'll stain your teeth. You'll thank me when you're older."

Perhaps he will. For now, Jeongguk's teeth are still pearly white. He's no need to worry about them.

"What wrong with you, huh?" Yoongi presses. "Spent all of last week badgering me to help you out, and now that I am, you've been a world away all morning. What gives?"

For all of the words that he could use to rabbit on about you for hours upon hours, they all seem to be stuck in his throat, dryly swallowed down like bitter pills sticking against his oesophagus.

To mention you now would be to admit that you occupy all vacancies inside his brain, in each and every waking moment. You're there in the moments he doesn't spend awake, too. A constant. Just as permanent as the glitter that's trapped between the woven threads of his cotton comforter, and as deeply embedded into him as the tattoos on his skin.

Pressing his lips together, piercing flipping in the corner of his mouth like it so often does, Jeongguk shrugs. "Sorry. Think my brain is shutting down."

If Yoongi suspects anything other than this as a viable excuse, he doesn't mention it. Just nods. Accept the white lie, and Jeongguk hopes he knows there's a white flag tied around it, too.

It's not that he wants to lie to Yoongi. He just doesn't want to be honest with himself.

Phone face down on the table, Jeongguk's device holds a whole host of contradictory search terms in his browser history. Questions he could probably ask Yoongi, but won't. Questions he should ask you, but most definitely won't.

Girlfriend - cause he figures it will bring back more results than fwb, or whatever else he could equate you to - missed her period, what should I do? Do girls miss periods often? Missed period, meaning, what? Having a baby with fwb, what now? Abortions? What if an abortion doesn't work? Is adoption good for the baby? How to be a single dad? What if only one person wants to keep it? What the fuck oenejoiegohhfo e.

The final result is still open in his browser. Was about three in the morning. Jeongguk had been sweating beneath his duvet, skin just as clammy as the condensation rings that have soaked into the wooden table from his iced coffee glass.

Nothing is confirmed. No test has been done - and yet he's thinking about where a playmat would fit in the living room, but also knows the name of the clinic downtown that would quickly and effectively prevent that from ever being his reality.

"We've made good progress," Yoongi tells Jeongguk. "Can take a break, if you like? Got a couple weeks till your meeting with the bank. Still got time."

There's no place in Jeongguk's business plan for a baby. He half wonders if maybe he should ask Yoongi where to factor it in. Knows better.

So instead, Jeongguk nods. "Yeah. Think that might be good. Sorry."

Yoongi just dismisses it. Tells Jeongguk it's fine, and really means it. Knows that trying to straighten out the fine details of a hypothetical business is harder than it would first appear. They've been troubleshooting; thinking of problems just for the sake of it. Making sure that Jeongguk's application for a business loan is airtight.

Of all of his friends, Yoongi is the only one who's ever been through anything similar. Is a fountain of knowledge with a wealth of experience that he's lucky enough to have access to.

Jeongguk half-thinks he must be mad for jumping in head first with this restaurant idea of his. Isn't sure he's got what it takes. Just knows he has to at least try, so he can say he can. So that even if he suffers the lows of failure, he will have experienced the highs of hope. Maybe even the uncharted territory of success.

"Could be a good idea to talk some things through with other people," Yoongi offers. "Someone in hospitality. Maybe DB. Get different scenarios neither of us have thought of yet."

Jeongguk doesn't need any more make-believe scenarios where you're involved. Has already thought of far too many all by himself.

But Yoongi doesn't know that, and Jeongguk would like to keep it that way. "Yeah. Maybe you're right."

It's this encouragement from Yoongi that has a text from Jeongguk pinging through to your phone a quarter of an hour later. Phone in your back pocket, you'll check the notification that buzzed quietly in a moment or so.

For now, you're locked in conversation with a woman who is both everything you fear and everything you want to be. Peachy-cheeked, with a crystal white smile and lips that are somehow perpetually glossed, Jina has been talking you through the upcoming event that Taehyung is showcasing for at the Ryu.

"I was really impressed - hold on," she huff a little through the strain of reaching across the desk for her file. You immediately get to your feet to help her out. Her peach cheeks are now pretty pink apples. She exhales a deep-rooted breath and plonks back into her own chair. Laughs at herself, and her inability to do even the simplest of tasks, then rests her hand adoringly over the incredibly large bump that protrudes from her stomach. Is appreciative as she says, "Thank you." Looks down to her bump, and laughs again. "Hurry up, now. Mummy has jobs to do."

The way Jina speaks to the little life that's growing inside of her makes you want to violently vomit. Not for disgust, or anything negative, but for the fact that you're terrified of a similar fate.

Well-put together, still in designer garments, Jina has her life together. Is the Lead Gallery Coordinator at the Ryu. Spent her twenties working her way up, only to land her spot at the top two weeks before she welcomed in her thirties. She's distinguished. Had worked damn hard to stay at the top, even when her assistant is consistently trying to fill the shoes she hasn't even taken off yet.

It's why she's still working, even when her due date is within touching distance. Will be damned if some jumped up twat that studied illustration at the expense of his wealthy parents, and has never actually produced an illustration worthy of any praise, ends up behind her desk. Perhaps she's jaded, and perhaps she's bitter that she never got an easy ride, but she did at least have passion - which is more than can be said for her assistant. The only reason she keeps him on is because his parents are benefactors of the gallery. Can't fire him, even if she wants to.

"Sorry," she smiles back up at you, then hums. Ponders. Pregnancy brain is not being kind to her these days. "Where was I?"

With a kind smile, you happily remind her. "You were saying you were impressed?"

"Ah, yes! I was. I am. With the both of you, actually. Kim Taehyung is producing art that actually entices people, which is a rarity these days. I'm surprised his portfolio wasn't passed onto me sooner."

Although when she considers her assistant, the surprise wanes.

"And you," she continues, then looks down to flick through the proposed show in the file you put together earlier that day. "You say you're just doing this part-time? As a favour?"

Nodding, you explain, "Taehyung's a friend, and this is my area of interest. Should have gone down this route straight after university, but you know what the industry is like."

With a pitiful smile, Jina nods. "No money in it unless you already have money."

It's no secret that the arts are a luxury for those who can afford them - not just the masterpieces themselves, but the time to indulge in them. Apprenticeships and internships pay poorly, so in order to get your foot on the ladder, you have to come from money. Have to be able to rely on parents, or aunts, or uncles to fund your living expenses while you live out your dreams.

Wasn't an option you'd had, so a compromise had been made in the form of the art cafe. It's minimum wage, but you do at least enjoy it and can pay the bills.

At such a point in her career where the money is good enough for her to never worry about finances, Jina's heart bleeds for you. From one creative to another, she wishes there was a way she could help.

"You've got everything I'd look for in an assistant," she tells you, and the compliment just serves to make you feel disappointed. Success has always been a goal of yours, and you regret not working harder towards it. The past year has taught you many things, but mainly it's reinforced the idea that you shouldn't spend time on things or people who don't enrich your heart.

And so you throw caution to the wind; chance a suggestion that you know is beyond your capabilities.

"Well, perhaps I could help out when you're on maternity leave?" You chance. Know that you don't have enough experience nor credentials to take on her role, but fuck it. What's the worst she could do? Say no? "Help keep things running smoothly?"

When Jina smiles, you know that rejection is coming your way - but at least you tried.

"No money in the job," she sighs. "The gallery director hasn't opened up a vacancy. My assistant is stepping up."

Even saying it out loud makes her blood boil - but she knows it's bad for the baby, so tries to cool it.

"I have a sneaky suspicion that they'll open up a vacancy in April. Maybe May. When it does, you'd be top of my list for recommendations," she offers. Knows that things are gonna fall apart without her there. The higher-ups won't realise what a fundamental error of judgement they've made until it's too late. "That if you'd be interested?"

You don't think you've ever been asked such a stupid question.

This is a lie.

You've spent time with the Dionysus boys. Have been asked a million questions than this one.

"Of course!" You enthuse. "I mean, I don't get me wrong, I love my job - but an opportunity like this would be... I don't even know," you laugh, unable to articulate yourself properly, so try simplicity. "Yes. Please. If that happens, please pass along my details."

She nods. Understands your excitement. Was in a very similar position, once upon a time. All it took was someone taking a chance on her. She'd like to do the same for you. Has seen your work ethic for an unpaid favour to a friend. Knows you wouldn't let her down.

"Now," she smiles, moving along the conversation as to not dwell on a situation that might never happen. "We're about a week out from the next show - has Taehyung finished the new piece? Any causes for concern?"

"Yes, and no," you assure her, even if it is a little lie.

Taehyung scrapped his piece last minute and has been in the studio ever since your birthday. Had a new wave of inspiration, apparently. Declared as such about twenty minutes after the knocking from Danbi's bedroom had eventually come to an end, so you dread to think of what this new piece could be like.

Still, you trust his creative process, so know that whatever he produces will be more than enough to satisfy the gallery execs.

The meeting runs smoothly; no hiccups to iron out. The subway ride back to the middle of town has to contemplate what life could be like had you met Taehyung earlier; if you could have a career to be proud of by now.

But there was no Taehyung without Jeongguk, and no Jeongguk without the devastating impact of Seokjin. Funny, how the entire time you were with Seokjin, he'd wished you had a better job. Lamented the minimum wage, and your irregular working hours. Would steer the direction away from what the pays the bills whenever you'd meet one of his friends, and they'd ask, 'what do you do for work?'. He'd never been proud, and so in turn, nor had you.

You wonder if he'd be proud now. It's bittersweet.

And as you arrive at Jeongguk's favourite cafe and spot him immediately - chin in his palm, a soft pout on his lips, papers scattered all over his table - you're the one who feels proud.

Seeing the ones you love chase their dreams is a special sort of pride. One that makes your heart swell. So much potential. So much hope.

Ordering up fresh drinks before you head over, there's a thick tension in the air. Jeongguk doesn't even realise you're here yet. Is too consumed with thoughts of you, like the idiot he is. Thoughts you, and his future, and how he doesn't know how to plan anything when he doesn't know what life will look like a year from now.

He clocks you as you're confirming the order with the barista. A hot flash of panic disrupts his body, but it cools just as quickly. Fucks with his body temperature regulation. Makes him feel all clammy and horrible despite the aircon in the cafe.

There's a smile on your lips, and Jeongguk finds one on his, too. There's a shine to his eyes that only glitters whenever you're nearby, and it's noticeable all the way from across the cafe.

Coffees in hand, clothes remarkably formal for a day off, Jeongguk narrows his eyes as you approach.

"What have you been up to?" he queries instead of greeting you properly, not caring for small-talk. Wants to know the big stuff. His brain has been cruel to him today. Hopes you can help remedy it slightly.

"Gallery," you simply say, taking the seat beside him.

There are four chairs at the table. Yoongi had been sitting opposite Jeongguk. You could have chosen to sit there, too.

He doesn't mention it.

"Everything going alright?" He asks, reaching over for his coffee with a small, appreciative smile. "Thanks."

"All good, I think," you say, sucking a little air between your teeth.

He cocks a brow. "You don't sound convinced."

With a bit of a defeated shrug, you purse your lips together. "I just..."

The way you trail off is all too familiar. Jeongguk's used to it. Has been a while since you struggled to find your words so badly.

"Big girl words," he teases softly, which earns him a small laugh from you.

"Fuck off," you smile, then shake your head to realign your thoughts. "No, I just... Sorry. Did it again. I just don't know how sustainable this all is, yanno?"

Jeongguk doesn't say a word. Knows that you aren't done formulating just yet - and when you sigh, before launching into a little ramble, he's proven right.

"I mean, I'm already a shift down this week to help with prep, and next week I've had to book two days off work. And like, honestly, it's fine," you stress. "I enjoy it so much, but long term? When Tae's shows get bigger and bigger? I just dunno, Gguk. Dunno."

You want it to be long-term. Never knew it was something you wanted until you realised maybe you can't have it. Seem unattainable now in a way that you knew before you started helping Taehyung out. The thing so wonderful about dreams is that you fool yourself into thinking they can come true. You neglect rational thinking.

Confronted with the restraints of the industry, it's hard to ignore. Hard to pretend like you could still have it, if you really want it. Things like that don't happen for people like you.

"Well just wait until I get the restaurant going," he smiles, knowing he doesn't have a solution for you - but that he does have the ability to talk about the future with you in a way that doesn't feel all that terrifying. "When I'm super successful and have queues out the door, I'll hire you. Will pay you above minimum wage and let you work with Tae on the side."

"Oh yeah?" You grin, enthused by the childlike excitement in his sparkly eyes. "Gonna be a big hot shot restaurant owner?"

"I'll have you know, I'll be the CEO," he nods his head smugly.

"Oh, that's sexy," you tell him.

"I know."

You hum a little and then decide that a little flirt is okay. "Would be kinda hot, fucking the boss, wouldn't it?"

He raises a brow. Swipes his tongue along his bottom lip, wetting his lip ring as he toys with it. "Would be a HR nightmare."

"Would give me a reason to call you Sir."

"Don't," he smiles, eyes closing, teeth showing. Sweetness encapsulates him despite the stickiness of the scenario that's playing out inside his head right now. Shakes his head. Slowly opens his eyes to find you again. Laughs. "You're fuckin' trouble, Byeol."

"S'why you like me."

"True," he admits rather shamelessly. Doesn't fancy denying it today. Not to himself. Not to you. Not to the world around him.

The air between you gets thinner. Feels like you can only keep breathing if you keep your eyes on one another. Up, and up you go into the atmosphere. Any higher, and you'll be in the fucking stars.

"I hate to ask..." Jeongguk murmurs and you immediately feel your floating soul crash back down to earth. The stars are off-limits today. Your feet must remain firmly on the ground.

"Then don't," you say sharply, not wanting the conversation to go in the direction you know he's steering it in.

"Byeol," he simply reprimands, knowing that it's a conversation that needs to be had. "You've not given me any updates."

"'Cause there's been nothing to report back," you say, as if it's no big deal; as if you haven't spent every waking moment thinking about it. As if your daydreams aren't getting more and more concerning. "I've skipped a month. That's all. It's not that uncommon."

"Well, according to WebMD, apparently some women get periods even when they are pregnant - like, certified, tested, proven true pregnant," Jeongguk states, his late-night research coming to the forefront of his mind. "That's not supposed to happen. Just like you're not supposed to miss your periods when you're not pregnant-"

"Gguk," you plead. "It's not that linear. All sorts of things affect periods."

"I know," he replies, and bless his heart, he really does think he knows. "Stress, eating habits, exercise, medical issues - I've read, like, 6 articles about PCOS in the last 24 hours. Didn't even know what it was last week."

You're fond as you smile over at him. "Why have you been reading PCOS articles?"

" Because ," he stresses, but gives no immediate follow up. Looks over to you with pleading eyes, like a puppy dog waiting for scraps. "Look B, I don't know what's going on. You won't tell me what's going on. The best I can do is try and understand."

"I've told you, Gguk. It's fine. Please. Just trust me."

It's a naive ask, for him to trust you, when you don't even trust yourself.

"Will you please just take a test?" He asks. "The longer it takes, the less options you'll have. We'll have."

You know he's right. Know that there's a test waiting in your bedroom, and that you've spent hours looking at because you're terrified of a result. A positive result, that is.

You won't admit to the way that the idea of a negative result makes you feel. Not to Jeongguk, nor to yourself. It's not what you want. You know that it wouldn't fit into your life. You know that the idea of being in Jina's position would wreck any goals or plans for your life.

And then you're feeling defensive. Pressured. Overwhelmed.

"Look, I said it's fine," you insist, trying to reassure not only him, but yourself too. "I know my body. It just does this sometimes. If anything, I'm probably less fertile than I should be."

"Yeah, but you don't know that-"

"And you don't know that I'm not."

"B, this affects us both," Jeongguk says, his patience waning, tone firming. He's right.

"I know that!" You snap back, 'cause it feels like he's backing you into a corner. "You think I'm not aware? Gguk, if I am-" you refuse to say the word, then quieten your voice. Look around. Get a little closer. "If I am , then I'm the one who has to deal with it. I'm the one who has to live with it. I'm the one who has to experience it."

"Oh what, so suddenly I play no part in this?" He argues right back, but keeps his voice quiet. Mirrors you. Is right there in the corner with you. If this is a boxing match, then he's not your opponent; he's the coach giving you water in the break and patching you up. There's no need to see him as the enemy. "I'm not just some random fucking guy, B. I'm not about to jump ship."

"Okay, hypothetical," you say, encouraging him to use his imagination a little. Try and see things how you see them. "It's positive. I don't want it, you do. Then what? What do we do?"

He's silent for a moment. Looks a little defeated as he shrugs. Doesn't look at you. "We'd get rid."

And even though it's what you think is the correct answer - putting priority on the carrier of the child - it still makes you a little sad. There are layers to such a decision. It's not straightforward. The complexities are beyond what you're capable of considering. There is no 'correct' answer. There are just choices; the one that you take, and the ones that you don't.

It's a curse how vivid your imagination can be; how you can imagine the rough skin by the tips of his fingers as he'd hold your hand in the waiting room, the look in his eyes as you turn to steal a glance at him before going through a pair of double doors that would ultimately change the outcome of your future, and the sterile scent of a medical facility that you'd really rather never visit.

You can picture his smile; pretty but ever so weak. Gorgeous little lies of 'it's okay' wrapped up with bows that could have maybe one day been tied in a child's hair instead.

Pull yourself together, you scold yourself. You don't even want a kid!

"If I were to get rid of it, while you wanted it... Gguk, you would resent me for what I took from you until the day you died," you say solemnly.

The gravity of it all is setting in. A positive result would ruin your lives regardless of whichever option you choose.

The pair of you have been gambling, and it seems like your luck is out.

"I wouldn't," Jeongguk frowns.

"How do you know?"

"Well how can you be certain that I would?" he counters. Is desperately trying see your point of view, but it's obscured by his own opinion on the matter. "Look, none of this is worth us getting worked up about until we know what the fuck we're dealing with. You might not even be pregnant."

He's right. You know he's right. The word makes your stomach lurch regardless.

So you nod, but plead, "Just give me a little time. Please."

He agrees. Knows that you do at least have a little more time before any certain decisions would need to be made. Walks you home. Tells you to keep him updated.

But then one day turns into two, then three, then four - and before you know it, you're ignoring one another, trying to pretend like all of this isn't happening; as if nothing has changed, and as if you haven't potentially fucked it all up just 'cause you couldn't stop messing about.

It's laughable, really. Your insatiable need to fuck one another has become its own form of birth control. Jeongguk isn't even waking up hard these days. Too stressed. No worry of fucking, now. Dick seems to be broken.

In all reality, he knows that it's nothing to do with his cock. He's not waking up hard, 'cause there's a lack of blood flow. Heart isn't pumping it like it normally does. Goes with the territory of not having you around.

But if he acknowledges that, he acknowledges everything he stands to lose before he's even had a chance to have it. Have you .

It's what he's thinking of now - cock limp, scowl hard - the night before Taehyung's art show. It's been five days. You've not kept him updated. He's not asked for updates.

You've both been pathetic - but he's attributing it to you. Thinks you're deliberately being childish so that he won't think having a kid is a good idea - as if he even wants them right now.

Sitting on the couches of Taehyung's studio space, the usual suspects are up to nothing much. Just having a few drinks the night before the show. It's a bit of ritual - nothing set in stone, just kind of what happens. The easing of Taehyung's nerves means he always wants to indulge.

Stewing in the corner like a little parasite, Jeongguk's face of thunder hasn't eased all evening. He never gives a straight answer when he's asked about these little moods of his, so no one has bothered to press too hard. He is at least in attendance - which is more than can be said for you.

"It really doesn't matter," Taehyung smiles, unphased by Jeongguk, stroking Danbi's back as she scrolls through her phone, looking for outfit inspiration.

"Yeah, no offence Danbi, but everyone's gonna be looking at the art," Jimin mumbles through a mouthful of overpriced breadsticks. "No one is gonna care what you wear."

Rolling her eyes, Danbi doesn't care for his opinion. "So? I want people to look at me, which is why my outfit needs to good."

Still stroking her back, Taehyung is so incredibly fond of her unwavering self-assured place in the world. "People will be looking at you," he supports her. "What's DB wearing?"

Flicking through to your message thread, which had ended earlier that afternoon with a very blatant bullshit excuse for your lack of attendance, Danbi scrolls up to find the picture you'd sent her earlier that day.

"Oh, it's nice," Taehyung downplays it. Knows exactly why Danbi is desperate to find something showstopping. Will never let her be aware of this, though. What he does do, is make sure it reaches the right people. "She shown you, Gguk?"

The grunt that Jeongguk makes is barely audible. If there's one thing he doesn't want to see right now, it's you. Especially you looking all fancy and shit.

He's still annoyed. You haven't spoken to him since your fight other than to send him dumb instagram reels. Rabbits hopping about. Shit like that. He smiles every damn time and it only serves to piss him off even more.

But, like the true nuisance she is, Danbi forwards the picture through to Jeongguk. She hasn't heard directly from you that you're fighting with Jeongguk, but anyone who has spent time with the both of you in the last few days will be able to figure it out.

Jeongguk knows better than to click through on the notification. Knows that if you wanted him to know what you're wearing, you would have shown him.

But he misses you.

Wants to see you, even if he knows it will only serve to annoy him even more.

He's proven right.

Standing in front of your mirror - the one used for your first selfie with the bird necklace on Christmas Eve, and also used for your own sadistic pleasure on that very first evening Jeongguk learned what it felt like to be yours - you're in a black dress.

Satin, he thinks. Something silky. It's short, like your dresses so often are, cutting off midway down your thighs. Fitted. Sweetheart neckline that blooms over the top of your chest, with sleeves that follow this same structured line. Shoulders fully exposed, there is a small tickle of satisfaction when Jeongguk notices your bird sitting prettily in place, right where it should be.

Even if you are annoyed, like he knows you are, you're keeping him close. It's more than can be said for last time. You've no intention of pushing him away or so it would seem. He takes comfort in this, a self-indulgent smile on his lips - until he realises and flattens them once more.

"S'fine," he just says as he locks his phone, as if his heart isn't beating all irregularly. "I'm sure she'll look nice."

Danbi glances over to Taehyung, who just rolls his eyes, and encourages her to show him more of her own options.

Jeongguk pretends to scroll through his phone. Is really just looking at that picture of you again. Hates the way it makes him feel. All fuzzy and out of sync. Perfectly safe and yet terrified all in the same fleeting moment.

Has him thinking about what he should wear, too, even if the other boys are telling Danbi that it really doesn't matter.

You look so well put together, he thinks. So intentionally gorgeous. He would say unintentionally , and knows you'd look just as gorgeous in one of his old shirts, but is well aware that you've put effort in. It should be appreciated.

It's decided - at two-thirty in the morning, all alone by himself, contents of his wardrobe piled onto the floor - that Jeongguk will also be wearing all black.

He will match you. It will be intentional. He will hope you notice.

'Cause even if he is a little pissed off with you, it doesn't matter. Had grown up with parents who'd bicker, but would always say 'there's no one else I'd rather argue with.'

He thinks the same could be said for the pair of you.

If your worst fears are confirmed, and you're forever tied to him, then it's something you'll need to learn to navigate. Neither of you are perfect, but neither of you are pretending to be. You're showing him exactly who you are by showing him nothing at all, right now.

And he adores you all the fucking same.

Jeongguk decides on black slacks, and will pair them with a thick belt. A satin shirt will be tucked in, unbuttoned just enough for a little bit of his chest to show. Nothing too indecent. Just wants to match your neckline.

The jacket he's chosen is red. Hopes it'll dare you to look at him, and prevent you from ever looking away. He's being bold, 'cause he stupidly thinks he needs to be, as if you won't be searching for solace in the form of him all night.

He also thinks he needs to consider the kind of man you want . The kind you need . You seem to go for the prim types. The proper. Well-dressed, well-groomed. He's got the outfit sorted. Knows he's being a little risky with the lack of a top button and tie, but he also knows he looks good - so fuck it.

Which is also what he says to his barber on the morning of the show.

"You've been growing it out for a while," she hums. Only re-permed it a couple of weeks ago. Hadn't been expecting him to come for a walk-in appointment so soon.

He shrugs. "Fuck it. It's just hair. It'll grow back."

She laughs, and tells him that he's right - but double-checks before she goes in with the clippers. He's not had anything so close to the scalp in about a year. Started growing it out around the same time you started showing up to the bar.

He braces himself. Grits his teeth. Don't let fear get the better of you.

"I'm sure."

Time stands still within the walls of the Ryu. Moments of life - fleeting expressions of biased emotions - are preserved for voyeuristic viewing pleasure. You're a guilty participant. Salivate over the mixed media, and equally mixed messages. Have a desire to understand. To decipher. To know.

The walls are dark. Slate grey when the floodlights are on, they look black under the diffused bulbs that focus solely on the works.

'Unplugged: The Lonely Hearts of the Digital Age' reads the exhibition branding on the front of the paper guide in your hand. There's an evocative nature to the pieces; an exploration of intimacy and isolation in the modern landscape of smartphones and high-speed internet.

"Oh, entirely," you smile pleasantly at the gentleman twice your age, who had come to stand beside you while you had been observing some of the work. He's been asking your thoughts, and you've been bullshitting spectacularly. "In a world where we're more connected than ever before, there somehow seems to be this... disconnect . A real lack of interpersonal relationships that stand the test of time."

He nods, half-moon glasses resting across the bridge of his short nose. "Too easy these days. Dating apps, and whatnot."

You cast your eyes down to the fingers he has wrapped around a champagne flute. He's without a ring. You wonder if he's a victim to them, too.

"The grass is greener mentality," you agree. Know all too well what it's like to be on the receiving end of such a dilemma. "Always searching for something... more."

A small chuckle emits from his thin lips as he continues to agree.

One of the serving staff, no older than a high school senior, offers their tray of champagne in your direction, but you decline. It's unusual of you - but it's no secret you've not been feeling exactly 'usual' lately.

From across the room, Jeongguk glances in your direction as you shake your hand and head, a polite smile on your lips as you refuse a drink. Your eyes don't flash to his, but he doesn't need them to.

When your gaze falls back to the artwork in front of you, he can easily see your perplexion.

He also notices how your skin doesn't sparkle like it usually does beneath gallery lights. A tight frown forms on his face to match yours.

The paintings you're looking at aren't Taehyung's. Jeongguk doesn't know the artist. Oil, he assumes from this distance. Hyperrealism. Enlarged. A matching pair with stark differences.

The first, to the left, is dark. Navy blues and deep purples depict the foils of condom wrappers, each with a name and date scrawled into them. They're scattered atop what looks like a legal document.

He can't work out the words from where he is. Doesn't realise they're divorce papers.

None of the wrappers match the name of the document, yet all of the wrappers are dated during the duration of the marriage.

On the right hand side, the other painting is clearly part of the same collection. A packet of oral contraception. 28 days worth. Includes the placebo days. Like the condoms, each empty window of the contraception has a name. Some repeating. Some not. There are no names written during the placebo week.

It begs the question; is the taker of the contraception just using the men when it's convenient for her? Or are they just using her when it's convenient for them, and leaving her in the dust when her body is unavailable?

You're not sure which scenario makes you sadder. Reminds you of this time last year. Reminds you of Seokjin. Reminds you of the people that you used to forget about him on the lonely nights.

If you were to think about your own pills, and the names that would inscribed, you know you'd have packet after packet with only one name. Everyday of the week. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, every night. Over the placebo days, too.

Not because Jeongguk has been fucking you all day every day - although sometimes it does feel like that. No. It's not that all.

Instead, it would be because he gives you the intimacy you need to make those pills worth it. He doesn't have to constantly be in bed with you. Quite often isn't. It's just that you'll keep taking those pills 'cause you always want to be available for him in any capacity you can be. Those pills are his just as much as they are yours.

And you hate it.

Hate that you feel this way. Hate that indulging in such intimacy with the person you hold closest has resulted in such a clusterfuck of emotions. Hate that he isn't beside you right now, deciphering the names and making up ridiculous stories about the fictional people in front of you. Hate that when you glance over to his direction, you find him engaged in conversation with a group of people you consider friends, only to notice that Hayun is there, too.

Your arms fold a little tighter into your chest as your eyes fall back on the painting. You're alone, now, the man who had been chatting with you also now distracted by associates.

"Hey," a soft, feminine voice sounds next to you. Seoyeon. Hair loose, but with pretty little plaits running through it, she's wearing white trousers and a fitted blazer. Looks demure as ever. "You okay?"

A simple question that calls for a simple answer - yet it feels all rather complex.

You nod. Say you are. Return the question. She returns your answer.

"Gosh, that's depressing," she says of the artwork, and it makes you laugh. She's not wrong.

"Makes you feel something, at least," you offer, to which she hums in agreement.

"I suppose - but I was feeling perfectly happy before I saw it," she giggles, nudging your shoulder, seemingly aware of your less-than-stellar mood. "Watcha doing over here all alone?"

It's a great question. Fantastic question. Devastating answer.

Oh, so I've been fucking Jeongguk for months and he's convinced himself that I'm carrying his spawn and now he's mad at me because I haven't done the test to confirm nor deny. Oh why? Why I haven't done it? 'Cause it'll change the trajectory of my whole entire life and I'm fucking terrified. And I skip periods all the time. No biggie.

Now isn't the time for such honesties, though.

"Just wanted to read all the names," you say, nodding towards the art.

"See any you recognise?"

"Well, there is a Jimin on the first Wednesday," you grin.

"Why am I not surprised," Seoyeon laughs. "Our very own Casanova. Oh - speak of the devil!"

"Devil?" Jimin questions as he approaches you both with fresh champagne flutes in either hand. "Me? Please. You both know I'm an angel."

The way you incredulously both raise your eyebrows at him, bemused smirks on your faces, would suggest that no, you don't 'know' he's an angel.

"Oh, piss off," he laughs, standing between you both, offering you the champagne flutes. When you decline, he's curious. "Oh? Dry night?"

Nodding, you decide that you'll give as few answers as possible when it comes to your lack of drinking - not that it matters, given how much you've abused your body with star fuckers in recent weeks. Any damage is already, inevitably done.

"One of us needs to be the sensible one," you joke, and ignore the burning gaze you can feel from across the room.

His stare is sweltering, like early May heat after a freezing spring, regardless of the cool air that's currently circulating around the room.

It's stuffy, the way his eyes follow you. Suffocating.

And yet you love the warmth. Want evidence of him on your skin like the burn of a summer sun.

Turning your head as Seoyeon and Jimin natter, you're surprised to find his shamelessly dark eyes still on you.

Hair pushed back, he's wearing it shorter than usual. It takes you a moment to realise it's been cut. You think a part of you dies from such a devastating loss - but it's revitalised within the same millisecond. It's criminal how handsome he looks. How mature he seems. Jaw tense, bone structure highlighted, he's a vision. Heaven. Ethereal.

Matching your all black attire, there's one keen difference. One that throws you off entirely: his jacket. It's one you've never seen before. Red. A kaleidoscope of different tones. Dappled, they bleed into one another. You can tell it's expensive. Tell it's being worn with a purpose.

It's unusual for him, and yet he holds a beauty that can only be compared to that of Venus herself. The jacket was made for him.

But you don't like the idea that maybe actually it was made for him, by the only seamstress you know. See no other reason for him to own such an item.

Stupidly, it upsets you how good red looks on him. Pisses you off.

Across the circle of people he stands with is the seamstress herself.

Just as you match him with your silky black dress, she matches him with her scarlet nails and deep ruby cocktail number. Gorgeous in the way that her hair effortlessly waves over her shoulders, she pays your judgemental eyes no notice.

They look good together. Like they belong. A good girl. Upper class. Bad boy. Her bit of 'rough'. Jeongguk likes a good Romeo and Juliet type story. You're sure he loves the romanticisation of their coupling.

So caught up in your own head, you almost miss the way Jimin deliberately chooses to include you in on the conversation once more. Just asks your opinion on the piece, then asks if you know the artist. He wants to check that he's not the Jimin scrawled into the pill packet.

"I'll find out," you promise him - but you're certain he's not. Park Jimin isn't exactly the most unique of names, but you don't want to hurt his ego.

"Legend," he grins, before roping Namjoon in for his opinion on whether or not it's his name.

"It's nothing to be proud of," Namjoon assure him. "If it's you, you're being branded as a hit it and quit it kinda guy. You're only on there once. Most of them are on their a few times. You not good enough for round two?"

Scoffing, Jimin looks to you for defence.

You just smile. Make your excuses and leave. Bless him.

As beautiful as the show is, there's a sadness to it. It revives unpleasant memories. Provokes parts of your brain that have been well trained to not make a noise.

Schmoozing with some of the higher ups from Shilla finances, you're going for the hard sell. Telling them all about Taehyung, and how he's hotly tipped to be one of the most successful artists of this generation.

It's all bullshit, of course, but someone has to have that title. Why shouldn't it be him?

"He certainly does have a gift," one of the older men acknowledges. His name evades you now, but you remember him from networking events with Seokjin. Would always treat the serving staff with kindness, which is more than could be said for most of them. It's the only reason you're entertaining the conversation - the other men you recognise from those events have been avoided by you at all costs.

You're about to call Taehyung over, when the looming intrusion of a bowing gentleman makes itself known in your personal space. It's his presence you notice first. Aftershave second. Stoic, burly voice third.

"Director Choi," he interjects from behind you. "It's good to see you here."

Smiling, with just as much kindness as he shows to everyone, Choi nods back. "Kim Seokjin! I didn't realise you'd be here tonight."

"Ah, well," Seokjin smiles. You can hear it in his tone, even if you daren't turn to face him. Your skin suddenly chills as his large hands rest over the tops of your bare shoulders. "Was back in town, and couldn't miss it. You're speaking with the city's best curator."

The way he squeezes your shoulders, skin on skin, makes you want to be sick. It's as if you've had far too much of the champagne you've been turning down all evening - but your stomach is empty. All you'd be able to do is gag.

Yet your body is entirely frozen.

And neither of the men care enough to notice.

"It's quite the collection," Choi nods, but doesn't keep his focus on you. Like the serving staff, he's always polite to you, but will always see you as a second-class citizen. You're not a man. He doesn't respect you. As human? Yes, he does. But as a person? Why would he waste his time if he can't profit off of you? "Tell me Seokjin, how have you been? I hear your department is up by 3.7% this week?"

The conversation around you is stuffy, like that sticky summer heat clinging to your skin once more. It's unpleasant, but inescapable. There's nothing you can do, except let it ruin you.

One breath in; through the nose. One breath out; through the mouth.

Repeat.

One breath in; through the nose. One breath out; through the mouth.

There's a squeeze of Seokjin's hands; a silent instruction to not move your shoulders so much.

Half a breath in. Half a breath out.

You've an inability to focus on anything other than basic survival.

In the times you've seen Seokjin since the breakup, he's always been so good at acting as if it never happened. He touches you just the same. Speaks with just as much fondness that always made you think you actually meant something to him.

For so long, you wished he would be like that with you in public. Would proudly claim you as his own.

But now that he is, all you want is for him to look at you with remorse. Regret.

Sort of like Jeongguk is doing, as he spots you from across the room. Was just doing his quarter-of-an-hourly checks to make sure you're still okay - even if he is annoyed with you. Thinks that anyone who has ever spent even a smidgeon of time with you should know that the look in your eyes is far from okay.

They're downcast. To the floor. Your nostrils flare ever so gently as you inhale. Mouth forms a delicate pout as you exhale. Breathing exercises. He recognises them instantly. They're the same ones Jeongguk does when he's frustrated and trying his damn hardest to not break another display case.

It's been working lately. Not a permanent fix, no, but it's been going okay. Has finally been reading one of Namjoon's self-help books that's been on his bedside table for months. Fills the time that should be spent on you doing that, instead.

But Jeongguk thinks all of his hard work might just go down the fucking drain when he realises what's happening. When he notices exactly who has a possessive grip on you. When, from across the room, he hears Seokjin laughing at some vapid joke that he knows mustn't be even remotely funny.

"Hey, Dan," he calls over to your best friend, breaking her from her conversation with Taehyung. When she looks at Jeongguk, she follows the direction in which he nods.

She gasps. Drops her hold on Taehyung's forearm, and doesn't hesitate to beeline straight for you.

Jeongguk knows it should have been him - but he also knows you're stubborn. Knows you might have chosen to stay put just to spite him. Also knows that stress if bad for the body. Says so in another one of those webMD tabs open on his phone. You're stressed enough as it is. Don't need him causing a scene. Danbi is what you need right now.

Not him.

But he needs air - so heads out towards the stairwell and just keeps on going up. Up and up, until there's nowhere left to go. Closer and closer to the stars. Further and further away from his very own.

Elbows resting on the wall of the rooftop, Jeongguk lets a deep-rooted sigh exhale from his body. Lungs heavy in his chest, he's in need of respite - yet even that seems like an unattainable goal these days.

He wishes to be back in Busan; where the sun shines and so do you.

The darkness of the city envelopes him, now, much like it obscures his heart. Confuses it. Tells him all sorts of lies. She loves you. She loves you not. She loves you. She loves you not. He's not sure what's the truth, anymore.

He's not plucked at daisy petals since he was a kid, but he does occasionally pull glitter from his skin. That's when the rhyme repeats. That's how he knows he only has space in his heart for you.

And so when the bustling sound of the city is interrupted by a voice that isn't yours, he frowns.

"Watcha doing up here, buddy?"

The roll of Jeongguk's eyes is so damn weighted he's surprised it doesn't sound like stones are being turned. Of all the people he wants to be alone with right now, Hayun would be towards the bottom of the list. Likely beaten only by your shitbag of an ex.

"Needed some air," he lies. Doesn't look at her as she takes the space beside him, then shuffles over a little. Doesn't wanna touch her. The intrusion of her perfume is enough to make him feel sick. Has done ever since she approached him in the courtyard of Dionysus.

"Could have gone for a smoke with Tae," she says all rather pleasantly.

Jeongguk is well aware of this. Truth be told, he could do with a cigarette. Could do with many things right now.

Could do with a few shots, or even a high. MDMA, maybe. Something that'll have him thinking death is inevitable before he manages to reach his come up. Could spend the whole night pinging. Wouldn't have to think about you, or your ex, or the fact his heart already feels like it's got a little ecstasy running through it these days.

But you're not drinking, and so Jeongguk isn't smoking. Is finally actually trying to make some good decisions for a change, to atone for all of his questionable ones.

He shakes his head. Bunches his face up ever so slightly. Is dismissive as he simply says, "Didn't fancy it."

Just like he doesn't fancy engaging in this conversation.

She nods, pretending to care. Fabricating a persona that matches how awfully pretty she is. "You don't seem like yourself."

Mentally, Jeongguk sneers. Physically, he remains unchanged. Statuesque.

"You've been saying that ever since you came back," he eventually sighs. Looks over to her. Doesn't mean to be so cold, but frankly no longer has the patience. "You can't fuck people over and expect them to welcome you back with open arms. Doesn't work like that, Yun."

Hayun's laugh is parasitic. Gets under his skin. Crawls about. Makes him feel sick. His body rejects it.

"She's inside your head," is all she says. "Never used to be like this before she came around."

In the far distance, a police siren sounds. It's swallowed up by the fumes of rattling exhaust pipes and the posing arrival of planes from foreign lands. In a city that never rests, Jeongguk thinks it mad that Hayun expected him to remain exactly as he was.

Doesn't even register what she says about you. Pays it no attention.

"I don't wanna keep doing this, Hayun," Jeongguk says quietly.

It's strange, because he knows it's the 'right' thing to do, but it still doesn't feel entirely correct.

Years of knowing her - of loving her - have been reduced to nothing but resentment and wasted time. Everything he experienced with her equates to emptiness. The good - of which there was plenty - and the bad - of which there was marginally more.

"What do you mean?" she asks, as if she doesn't already know.

"I don't wanna pretend like we're still friends," he simply states. "It's doing nobody any favours."

It's something he should have said a long time ago. Something he's known for far longer than he's wanted to admit. Something Jimin has been telling him for years.

"Gguk," she tries, and reaches out for his hand - but Jeongguk tears it away from her.

"No," he reaffirms. Is setting boundaries. Is being as firm with her as he wishes you'd be with Seokjin. He keeps his voice measured. Sensible. Wastes no more energy than is needed. "I'll be perfectly cordial with you, but I'm not gonna act like we're anything more than strangers. Said it yourself, you don't know who I am these days. Please stop trying to find whoever you think I used to be."

"So I guess the marriage pact is vetoed?" She tries to joke. Thinks that making light of the situation will ease things. Make them less awkward.

He doesn't dignify her with a direct response to that. Instead, he stands a little straighter. Taps his ringed fingers against the wall so that a clunky pat sounds against the urethane coating that covers the entire roof area. Turns to face her. Looks down upon her. "I'm asking you nicely, Hayun - but if I have to ask again, I won't be."

There's nothing she can say to reel him back in. Not anymore. Not like she used to. She knows this. Hates this.

But one thing Hayun refuses to ever do is embarrass herself. Not for a man. Especially not for one she didn't even want that badly in the first place.

That's exactly the issue at hand, though. He was always the one chasing her. Always. Must have worn through a hundred pairs of shoes in pursuit of her - but he's stopped running now, and she can't quite wrap her head around it.

"Okay," she simply says. Smiles. It's insincere. Jeongguk doesn't realise this, 'cause it looks like every other fuckin' smile she's ever cast his way. "Look, emotions are high. I won't take this to heart. Whenever you're ready, you know where to find me."

Glancing over to the door, Hayun's ruby-red lips falter. Her smile almost cracks, but she holds herself well.

"Oh, goodie," Hayun hums. "Suppose I should leave you to it."

Jeongguk doesn't follow her gaze. Knows that there's only one person who could evoke such a reaction - and right now, he's annoyed with you, too.

He does, at least, say, "I suppose you should."

It's not until Hayun begins to strut away that Jeongguk turns to the door. Not to watch her walk away, no.

To watch you walk towards him, instead - but you don't.

You stay leant against the door frame. There's a sultry smile on your lips, and he's surprised to see they move a little as Hayun approaches. He can't hear you, but he knows your lips almost better than he knows his own. Can work out exactly what you're saying.

Lipstick's a little smudged.

Jeongguk knows that it absolutely is not - but the way Hayun's hand lifts to her lips suggests that she doesn't know this.

It's evident you're trying to evoke some sort of insecurity in her. Seems to have worked. Also seems to be incredibly mean-spirited - but he's not gonna hold it against you. Knows that it's the least Hayun deserves. It's not like he was exactly kind to Seokjin upon meeting him, either.

The sounds of the city echo out around you as a small breeze carries the scent of the trees that are finally starting to rebloom after a harsh winter. There's hope to be found in the darkness of this night. The promise of rebirth.

Or at least there is, until you begin to make excuses to leave.

"Just came up for some air," you explain, not looking to engage in conversation with him. If anything, you just feel like you're losing your breath.

He nods. Purses his lips. Turns away from you. Hopes you'll come to join him.

There's a you-sized spot right beside him. Hayun had tried forcing her way in, but the fit just wasn't right.

His broad shoulders widen as his elbows rest back upon the wall, body silhouetted in the skyline. Something about him today feels so new. So different. Maybe it's just the hair - but hair holds history. You feel like he's cut you out of his. Is starting afresh, maybe.

Whatever the case, he's clearly not concerned in inviting you into his current narrative. Is quite literally blocking you out.

You had arrived to find him locked in conversation with Hayun. Engaged. He'd watched her walk away, and the moment she was gone, couldn't stand the sight of you, or so it seems.

And so as Jeongguk waits - wishes - for you to walk towards him and slink your arm around his waist, you decide to cut your losses. Hadn't even come up to the roof to see him. Had been hoping to be alone after the whole Seokjin debacle.

It's not like you hadn't known Seokjin would be in attendance tonight.

He had messaged you to confirm the date. You just hadn't expected him to waltz in like a proud partner, parading you around in front of his colleagues.

So yeah, you had been shocked. Had been unable to respond in a way that accurately conveyed how you felt. Had panicked. Had cried in the storage room that Danbi had dragged you into while she gave you a pep talk and wiped away your stray tears, before suggesting you get some air.

You wonder if perhaps she knew Jeongguk would be here. Seems likely, knowing her.

Your lip trembles as you go to speak, unspoken words vibrating between them. There's no sound. Just the city. The cars, and the revellers from a bar a few blocks down. Jazz music echoing up the stairs to the rooftop, too.

And then there's Jeongguk's voice. Quiet. Controlled. Commanding.

"The first bird," he says. Looks down as he does so. Builds his confidence, then turns around to look at you. Is displeased to see your body facing away from him now, about to walk away - as if you hadn't instantly turned your head to look at him. "The first one. We went to the water park. Some guy looked at you in a way you didn't like, and you went straight on over and told him to stop being a perv. Remember?"

Of course you do.

But you say nothing. Do nothing. Just turn your body. Let him know you're listening. He continues.

"You know your limits, B. You know your boundaries."

You nod, now. Still stay silent.

Jeongguk's jaw grates, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. You're avoiding his confrontation, just like you've been avoiding all talks of anything serious since that day at the cafe.

And it's pissing him off.

"So why do you let him overstep them?" Jeongguk continues - and finally, this accusation gets a rise from you.

"I don't let him do anything," you scoff - and then you accuse. "You're the one I've just found hiding up on the rooftop with your ex. What about those boundaries, huh?"

Jeongguk rolls his eyes. Turns away from you. Looks out over the city, and wishes it would swallow him whole. "You've got no fuckin' idea, B. No idea."

"So then tell me!" You say, as if it's as easy as reciting your ABC's. "I'm not a mind reader-"

"And nor am I!" He says sternly, but doesn't raise his voice any higher than yours. "You've spent half the week ignoring me, only for you to barely even look at me now. You're not even wearing any glitter -"

"Why does that even matter?" You interrupt, unsure exactly of what he's trying to say.

Is the lack of glitter intentional? Yes.

Is it for the reasons he assumes? Probably not.

"'Cause we both know he fuckin' hates it," he snaps, decidedly far more pissed off now that he's speaking his thoughts into existence. "We both know you didn't wear it because of him in the past. So for you to show up with no glitter? Let him leech all over you? After he sent you all those fucking roses, and you won't fucking talk to me? Tell me what I'm supposed to think, huh?"

"Why does it even matter to you?" You fight back. It takes two to tango, and he seems to know the steps pretty fucking well. "You've been ignoring me too-"

"It matters to me because you might be fucking pregnant, B!"

Silence shatters around you both. Steals any words that could be said in the wake of such a declaration.

You roll your eyes. Do a fantastic job at pretending as if you don't feel like your world is caving in on itself.

"No, you don't get to treat me like I'm being irrational when you've been drinking cranberry juice all evening," he scathes, the frustrated gestures of his hands letting you know just how upset he is - and rightly so. "You don't get to act like you've not been thinking about it too."

"We don't even know if I'm pregnant-"

"And who's fault is that?!

"Gguk-"

"No, you're being such an asshole about this, B. This doesn't affect just you. This affects me too, okay?

Shaking his head, Jeongguk turns away from you. The way you're behaving is so unlike you, or so he thought. Maybe he didn't know you as well as he thought. Maybe he did get wrapped up in fallacies of you; in the what if.

"I fucking defended you," he says quietly. Isn't even sure if you can hear him. Doesn't care. Shakes his head and lets it dip between his disappointed shoulders. You'd be forgiven for think he was giving his next words careful thought. In all reality, he just starts ranting. "When he was at the tennis club, and was chatting shit, I defended you. Me . And yet you're more concerned with keeping up appearances for him ."

"You did what ?"

Now that he's started, Jeongguk can't stop. Not when he turns around. Not when he looks at you. Not when he starts to walk towards you.

"I insinuated we were together to get him to shut the fuck up," Jeongguk scoffs, thinking about his former self. Is embarrassed, now. Is letting his frustrations show because fuck it . He's hurting . Feels like a deer bleeding out on the side of a road, left to rot by some asshole driver who rammed straight into him at a hundred miles per hour. "So he's out here, showing up to your event, putting moves on you - even though he thinks you're with someone else - and you're fucking giving him the green light. Real fuckin' nice of him. A stand up guy. Respect must be his middle name. You really know how to pick 'em, B."

"Literally, how was I supposed to know any of that?!" You ask, eyes wide, brows furrowed. These new revelations are just as devastating as they are infuriating. All you can do is repeat a previous sentiment. "I'm not a fucking mind reader!"

But Jeongguk's irate now. Comical, almost, in how he downplays his anger.

"Oh, well, forgive me for assuming that you wouldn't bend to your exes every fucking whim!" He exclaims, a sarcastic smile on his face that snaps to a scowl within an instant. "I didn't think it was important because I thought you were beyond that point-"

"You're being cruel," you interrupt him, because he is. He knows how hard you've worked. Has been with you every step of the way - but this is how he views you?

"Me?" He laughs. It's cold.

"Yes," you say. "You."

"Nah." He shakes his head. Casts his eyes to the floor, 'cause looking at you like this only makes him feel even more frustrated with the current state of affairs. "Cruel is what Seokjin's doing right now - but you're giving him a free pass."

"I'm not. I don't want him leeching all over me," you say quietly, ashamed, turning away from him as you walk across the roof. Crouching, you bundle yourself up protectively, as if it'll make a difference. As if you can shield yourself from your friendship with Jeongguk as it comes crashing down on you both.

The only thing that makes any fucking sense to either of you right now is that you'd do it all again.

He'd ruin the friendship a million times over.

Not because he doesn't care, or because he's okay with losing you. Quite the opposite.

He'd ruin the friendship because - fuck it - that isn't what this is. The friendship flew out the window months ago. Maybe he was too late to realise it. Maybe he should have tried to claw it back in - but what use would that have been? It would have been wounded. Scratched to smithereens. Damaged.

Standing up straight, you curse at the sky. Are saddened by how few stars are out. Feels like they're shying away. Maybe they're ashamed, too.

"I have to head back," you say. Are defeated as you turn to face Jeongguk. "Tae's doing his speech, soon."

Jeongguk nods. Looks to the floor. Doesn't want you to go. Knows he hasn't exactly done anything to make it worth staying.

Both struggling with the current state of affairs, there's no one to blame. Joint bad decisions have led you here.

But he wants you close. Wants things to feel normal. Is willing to do anything.

"Look, your ex is down there being a prick," Jeongguk sighs. He waits for a moment. Lets you work out what he's gonna say in your own head. Wants to see your reaction before any of his bias comes into play. "He thinks we're together.... The best way to get him off your back?"

Your lips part ever so slightly. A crease forms between your brows, but your eyes remain kind. "Gguk..."

Shrugging, he plays off the weight of a suggestion he hasn't even vocalised yet. "He thinks we're together. Makes sense for us to act like we are."

For reasons you can't explain, the idea of other people seeing you and Jeongguk act intimately towards one another fills you with fear. It's not like it's an abhorrent thing - but to see the way your friends look at you as you present yourselves as a couple is to see their genuine reaction to it. If they're disgusted, you'll know that you're not suited. If they're elated, it will only play into these weird feelings that you've been having and are so desperately trying to avoid.

Eyes scanning him, you try and work out what he thinks of it all. If he's disgusted, you could probably live with that.

If he's elated?

Makes you feel queasy. Scared.

He holds out his hand. Knocks his head to the side. "C'mon. Face those fears of yours. Hold my hand."

It's bizarre, how Jeongguk has quite literally licked your arse, and yet this feels like the most obscene thing he's ever asked of you.

When you arrive back in the main room, Jeongguk stands behind you, ever so slightly to the side. Loops his arm around your waist. It's unintentional, the way his hand comes to rest over your stomach. Fingers splayed, he pulls your back to his chest, and you pretend like you're able to stand up straight without his support. Pretend as if the world around you isn't caving in on itself.

It wouldn't matter, even if it was. You're safe here. Safe with him.

And yet you insist on pushing him away.

"I wouldn't stand like this with a boyfriend," you say. "Too overbearing."

"Well, I would stand with a girlfriend like this," he assures you. The fingers that aren't firmly keeping your stomach protected come to your chin. Encourage it to the side. Get you looking at him. "I'd stand with her like this," he whispers, glances behind you so briefly that you almost miss it. "And when her ex boyfriend is looking in our direction - of which he is now - I'd kiss her."

"That wouldn't be very professional," you whisper.

"No," he acknowledges. "I don't suppose it would be."

He pulls away.

"I'll let you get on," he says. "The second he even so much as breathes in your direction, you come to me."

"Gguk-"

"You make your excuses and you come to me."

"I can handle it."

"Fine then," he shrugs. Begins to turn away, but makes sure to say, "I'll come to you."

And despite the deep-rooted need for you to prove yourself, there's a stranger sitting next to your determination. She goes by the name of Desire. And all she does is fucking laugh.

As Jeongguk rejoins his usual crowd, he's met with silence.

"Hmm?" He hums, reaching over for the glass Jimin is holding. Doesn't know what he's drinking. Doesn't ask. Downs it. Hands it back. "What are we talking about?"

Mouths a little ajar, neither Taehyung nor Danbi quite know what to make of what's happening, nor the foul mood that so clearly has a grip on their friend.

"Riveting," Jeongguk says sarcastically, when the silence lasts for a little too long. "No, really. Please go on."

But then, right on cue, Seokjin is heading in your direction, and Jeongguk may as well be bleeding through his tear ducts, given how red his sight is.

Bolting for you, Jeongguk almost knocks into one of the waiting staff. Spends a short moment apologising, then makes sure to interact with the people standing behind you. Has never seen them before in his life. Has no idea who they are - yet he greets them like old friends. Wants Seokjin to question his place. Wants him to think that Jeongguk is so much more important than he actually is.

And when he arrives to find Seokjin already speaking with you?

Yeah. Ain't no way he's letting him win.

Jeongguk does not give a fuck. Does not care about the opinions of anyone else. The world around him is burning red, flames that refuse to flicker out - and you crash through them like a beam of white light. A shooting star that offers the promise of something better. Something new.

Imposing in his stance, Jeongguk comes to stand beside you. Offers his hand out to Seokjin.

"Ah! Seojoon," he says, deliberately getting the wrong name, and not caring that maybe it's indicative of the fact your former fling has also been on his mind. Fine! Maybe he's obsessed with the fact other people have more of a claim on your romantic history than he does. Sue him. "We met at the golf course, remember?"

Seokjin doesn't correct Jeongguk on the incorrect name, nor the incorrect location. Knows exactly what he's doing. Shakes his hand.

"Jeongguk, yes. You had to run off pretty quick, no? Didn't get a chance to rally."

Oh, but we did, Jeongguk thinks. Knows it's a good job he didn't stick around. Would have probably thrown a racquet at Seokjin's face. Accidentally.

"Mm," Jeongguk nods. Protectively grips the nape of your neck. "Had plans. Maybe next time."

Seokjin nods. "Maybe."

The tension between the men is getting thicker.

Soon, you won't be able to breathe.

So you smile towards your ex, and say, "Excuse us."

Which only serves to piss Jeongguk off. This is your shot. Your chance to show Seokjin how little you care - and instead, you want to run away. Un-fucking-believable.

Still he smiles at Seokjin, as if he knows something that he doesn't. Wants him questioning this interaction for weeks. Regretting. Lamenting.

"See you around," Jeongguk says pleasantly, as you lead him down the hallway, your pace getting angrier with each step. He rolls his eyes. Knows you're gonna wanna fight, and thinks fuck it. Will just let it happen this time. Can't be fucked with keeping the peace.

The janitor's closet you had visited with Danbi is down this hallway, and it's where you're headed. Want privacy. Need it.

Especially 'cause Jeongguk's spouting off like a facetious twat before you're even inside. "Worst fake girlfriend I've ever had."

"I don't know how I'm supposed to pretend to be your fucking girlfriend!" You hiss quietly once you're inside, as Jeongguk knocks across the latch on the door, as if anyone else would even think to be in a janitor's closet right now.

You only know the door passcode from when you had been setting up, and even that was a lucky guess. Had just tried the code that works for another door in the gallery when Danbi had dragged you here, too.

"Well, it's not that fucking hard!" He hisses back, trying the handle just to make sure it doesn't open.

"Apparently it is!" You reply childishly.

Turning to face you, Jeongguk is obscured by the lack of light coming in through the small window on the back wall. You can barely see one another, 'cause neither of you have flicked the light on - and quite frankly, you don't want to. It's easier to fight when you can't see how delicate he looks, or how handsome his jaw is when it flexes out of frustration.

"Oh fuck off," he laughs, but it isn't humorous. "Even the caricature artist in Busan had to ask if we were a couple. We are perfectly capable of looking like one."

"I'm sure she asks everyone that!"

"Oh, piss off-"

"Fine!" You say defiantly, barging past him. If he wants you to piss off, then you will. He's the one who got you into this mess. Frankly, you don't give a shit at this point - but the door won't budge. Lock won't move. You yank on the door, as if that will help.

For all of Jeongguk's internalised frustration, he smirks, now. Folds his arm. Perches his ass on the counter by the sink.

Trying to prize the latch open, you're stupidly worried about breaking a nail - but you refuse to ask for help. Look to the side for something you can use for leverage. Can only see mops. Half think about throwing one at Jeongguk.

He doesn't interrupt your struggle. Doesn't tell you that there's a second latch towards the top of the door.

"If you don't let me out, then God help me, Jeongguk, I will scream," you threaten. "I will scream so fucking loudly that everyone hears, and then I'll let you explain why you wouldn't let me out."

Jeongguk laughs. "Go on then."

But you don't. You won't. This is somewhere you hope to work, one day. You can't risk embarrassing yourself over something as pathetic as this.

If you do, then it means Seokjin has won.

Jeongguk is many things. He's frustrating, and confusing, and yet simple and straightforward. He's an oxymoron, and on occasion, just a moron. At the crux of his identity though, is a good human. There is one thing he is not, and that is cruel.

So he stands. Sighs. Walks towards you and leans up to the latch you've neglected to touch. Puts a hand on your waist to steady himself, not that he really needs to. Pulls the lock free. Doesn't let go of your waist, but he isn't keeping you trapped. You're free to fly.

And yet you stay put, breath hitched in your throat, time standing still for a moment.

"Go," Jeongguk says quietly, his raspy voice affecting you in ways that it shouldn't be right now.

But to go would be to give him what he wants - and you absolutely do not want to do that.

Most importantly, you don't want to leave. Would gladly fight with him right now, 'cause at least you're actually talking.

"You go," you reply childishly.

"Me?" He laughs. Comes a little closer. Practically whispers in your ear. "B, you're the one who wanted to go. So, go."

"Maybe I've changed my mind."

He scoffs. "Fine."

It's a childish back and forth. One of you needs to grow up, and take control of the situation - and as Jeongguk's hand grips your waist a little tighter and spins you round, it's evident who is taking that role.

There's a dominant assertion to the way he moves you. You've seen this side of him a few times, but it never fails to take your breath away.

Hands pinned above your head all rather suddenly, a single one of his palms can keep both of your wrists suspended. It's always driven you a little wild before - but he's pissing you off. Every little thing he does will annoy you, now. Even the sexy shit.

In fact, especially the sexy shit.

The hand of his that isn't clamped around your wrists comes to the base of your throat, and you can't help but gasp a little in surprise.

His voice is deep and low as he tells you to 'say chess.'

But you shake your head. Won't do a damn thing he tells you. "No."

He grips tighter. "Tell me to stop."

"No."

"Fine then," he husks. Presses his knee between your thighs. Spreads them. Drops the hand from your throat to your hips. Get you positioned just right. Pulls you further up his thigh. Encroaches on your personal space.

"Stop acting like you don't know how to fake things." His voice is dulcet. "Your ex should be pretty used to it."

"Hardly the same thing, is it?" You hiss back, but Jeongguk laughs, and presses a kiss to the side of your ear. Then the lobe. Then beneath your ear. Down your throat. Stops only once he reaches your collarbone. Raises his eyes. Looks directly at you.

"I'm gonna make you cum," he tells you with arrogant certainty. "For real. You're not gonna fake that. Gonna make you cum, and then you're gonna hold my hand in front of your ex-boyfriend and fake that like a good girl."

The energy he's radiating is electric; the right amount of jealousy and desire making you the only thing his brain can focus on for longer than a second at a time.

"Gguk-" you gasp as he pushes your hips down. The leverage is crappy, the angle not quite right, but the intention is there.

Jeongguk glances over his shoulder, to check he wasn't imagining the chair he swore he noticed earlier, and almost thanks the God he doesn't believe in when his eyes land on it.

He turns back to face you. Lets your hands drop from above your head. Cups your jaw. Brushes his lips against yours.

"You're gonna be a good girl for me, aren't you, B?" He says, pressing a delicate kiss to your lips. Doesn't it let it linger. You don't get a chance to kiss him back, for he's moving you both to the chair. He sits, legs parted, and gets you straddled across his thigh. You're right where he wants you. "You're gonna ride my thigh and cum like a good fuckin' girl."

The satin of your panties rubs against his slacks without him even trying.

Hands beneath your dress, he squeezes at the flesh of your ass, spreading you. Pulls you up his thigh. Lets you build a motion. Encourages it.

He doesn't complain when your hands tangle in his hair. It surprises you at first, just how short it is. You've never experienced it like this. It almost distracts you from what's actually happening.

But then one of his hands comes to toy with your chest as you continue to ride his thigh. The neckline makes it so fucking easy for him. He gets you exposed, but doesn't keep it that way for long. Latches onto your nipple as soon as he fucking can. Groans against you, and then the sensation of his vibrating tongue forces the wetness to seep from your cunt.

Your rhythm against his thigh is well-established, now. Both of his hands are free to tug down on the top of your dress.

It's a pretty dress. Gorgeous, in fact, and you look incredible in it - but all he wants to do is take it off. Wants you naked.

For now, he'll settle with your satin-covered cunt rubbing up against him, and your tits nice and exposed for him to toy with. He's using you for his own gratification, and you're doing just the same.

His tongue flicks against your nipples, hands squeezing your tits firmly together. He sucks. Squeezes. Grazes his teeth. Makes you feel so fucking good. Part of you thinks he'll get you cumming just from the contact of his lips with your hardened nipples - but the way his strong thigh is acting as the perfect ridge? Fuck .

"I'm close," you promise as the pleasure trickles through your bloodstream like warm honey. Sweet, and delicate, there's something about orgasms earned by Jeongguk that always makes you feel like you've ascended. Heaven really is a place on earth. Remarkably, it appears to be in a janitor's closet with all of your closest friends just down the hallway.

Jeongguk nods. Slowly pulls away from your nipples, the suction so pleasurable you can't help but whine. "I won't stop you."

He means it. Keeps your nipples wet with his spit, tongue lapping against them, as your hips buck against him. Your whines get a little deeper. Friction stronger. Breaths needier.

And then, as soon as your body begins to shudder that tell-tale way, he lets his tongue loose.

"That's it, beautiful," he husks. Looks at you with stark adorned eyes. "Come on me like the pretty slut you are. What would they think, huh? If everyone here knew what you were doing? Be louder, baby. Let them know. Let them know how much you like to cum for me."

You whimper his name as your grind begins to ease - but Jeongguk doesn't let it. Uses both of his hands. Grabs your ass. Is intentional with the way he bounces his thigh up against you, forcing the sensation to jolt through you once more. Elbows on his shoulders, head buried in the crook of his neck, you're whining as he overstimulates you.

"God, I'll cum again," you tell him, teeth grazing his neck. He kinda likes the pain. Likes that he'll be waking up with a hickie, no doubt.

"Good," he grits. Is rough with your body. Wants that second orgasm, and he wants it now.

"Gguk-" you whimper, but can't manage to say anything more, the wave of pleasure taking over you so much faster. Chest heaving, you're unable to do anything other than languidly grind until your body stops. Hearts beating in sync, Jeongguk is so overwhelmed by how good it is to feel you come undone for him, he almost doesn't notice the way you begin to palm his incredibly hard crotch.

"Shit," he hisses. This was supposed to be about you. He shouldn't be letting you do this - and yet he's reaching for his belt. Is frantic as he unbuckles. Opens up his pants. Takes over from you. Dips his hands into his underwear. Wraps his hand around his hard, leaky cock. Smears the precum from his tip all over his head. Wants it in your mouth - but has other, more pressing ideas. "Can you stand for me, baby?"

Barely. Shaky on your legs, you do your best. Let him guide you - thankfully, to the door. Back pressed against it, Jeongguk gets you to hold the skirt of your dress up. Pushes your panties down, but only just enough to expose a small amount of your cunt. They're still around the top of your thighs, slick with evidence of your orgasm.

Jeongguk lines himself up. Rests the head of his cock against the edge of your underwear. Tells you, "I'm gonna cum in them. Gonna cum in your panties, and then you're gonna wear them all fuckin' evening."

"Please," is all you pathetically whimper.

It doesn't take long for him to get there. He's been worked up all week. He wanks himself off for you. Whines. Whispers shit about how hot you are. How much he likes doing shit like this.

Jeongguk grips onto your arm as his climax hits. Body doubling, he has no choice but to let his forehead rest on your shoulder.

"I'm cumming. Fuck. Fuck," Jeongguk curses. Tilts his head. Presses a wet kiss to the base of your neck as his body jolts and the first rope of cum spurts into your underwear. "Fuck, baby."

"That's it," you encourage, obsessed with the way he's whimpering, body all weak and feeble as it shakes for you.

He groans now. Grips his cock even tighter. Milks himself for all he's worth. Fucking ruins your underwear. Lets the top of his cock rub up against your clit. Massages your slick and his cum together. "Fuck."

When he finally pulls away, he says nothing. Immediately pulls his pants up as if he can't believe what he's just done, then pulls your panties up, too. Hooks the sides over your hips, pulling the mess he's made tightly to your soaked cunt. Cups his hand over your heat. Presses. Rubs. Teases little circles over your clit. Presses down more firmly. Builds speed.

"Gguk," you whine, grabbing onto his shoulders.

"Again, baby," he says softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Cum again for me."

"I can't," you whine, the overstimulation about to kick in - but he dismisses it. Knows that if you wanted him to stop, you'd say 'chess'.

"You can, baby," he promises. Uses the hand that isn't massaging your clit to angle your jaw. Doesn't even think as he steals a pretty little kiss from your lips. Doesn't realise it begins to send you over the edge. "You're gonna cum like you're mine."

And how can you do anything else but succumb to his demands?

Lips on his, brows furrowed together, he swallows all of your pretty little whines, as your body shudders for him. He keeps you steady. Keeps you supported. Keeps his tongue in your mouth, and his hand rubbing your panties. Doesn't ease up until you pull away from his lips.

"Gguk," you pant. "Please."

Nodding, he eases slowly. Doesn't wanna let go too quickly. Keeps kissing you. Won't stop that. Never wants to stop that. Is still annoyed with you, yes, but knows he has a duty of care, now. Also knows he'd never forgive himself if he didn't take every chance he gets to kiss you.

When he finally pulls away, forehead resting against yours, he's spent. You're both panting, both struggling to formulate any words in the wake of such a devastating orgasm.

Brushing a few strands of hair back from your face, Jeongguk closes his eyes. Nudges his nose against yours. Shows a little restraint. Whispers, "You've got a show to return to."

Nodding, you shake a little from his grip. Say nothing as you adjust your dress. Try your best to ignore the thick pool of his cum that's gathered in your panties. The tops of your thighs will end up smeared in the evidence of him, and, quite disgustingly, it only serves to make you even more turned on.

"I'll follow behind you," he promises as he begins to sort himself out, too.

Nodding, you're a little unsure of exactly what to do. You're scared that someone will know. That you'll leak.

"I'm scared," you admit. Explain your worry. He rolls his eyes, but smiles as he does, so.

He tugs on your hands, and props you up against the counter towards the back of the small room. Spreads your legs. Assesses fuckin' nothing, 'cause it's so dark in the room - but knows your pussy almost as well as he knows his own name. Licks to the left of your lips. To the right. Ends in one thick stripe up the centre. Sucks ever so gently once he reaches your clit. Knows that your cunt - your leaky, needy, hole that he loves to stretch out so much - must be going insane from the lack of attention it's getting.

"You'll be okay," he assures you. Stands, and gives your pussy a playful spank. "C'mon. You've got horny old dudes to schmooze."

"Is that gonna get you off?" you tease slightly, your annoyance with him a little subdued.

"Maybe," he shrugs, already knowing it mostly likely will. "You're gonna walk around that gallery covered in my cum, and no one else but us is gonna know it," he smirks, the gravity of what he's just done finally kicking in. Cups your jaw. Presses a kiss to your lips. Husks, "You're gonna go out there and act like you're mine - 'cause right now, you are."

You don't argue against it.

The pair of you meander down the corridor in near silence. His hand is on your back, but your arms are tentatively folded across your chest. Each step is accompanied by your keen ears checking for audible evidence of your sin.

So caught up in your own worries, you don't notice how quiet the gallery itself is. How few people seem to be milling about. How the main lights are on now, and how it only seems to be those wearing 'staff' lanyards within the main space.

Pursing his lips as he realises, Jeongguk tries not to laugh.

"Oh, shit," you whisper, pulling on his wrist so you can check the time on his watch. 10:13. The show was scheduled to finish at 10, but you're sure most people will have filtered out before then. Have no idea what the time was when Jeongguk had dragged you away from the main room.

"S'fine," he mumbles. Grips a little tighter on your waist. Doesn't let you pull away, like he fears you will now that appearances don't need to be kept up.

You don't. Instead, your arms drop from their position over your chest, and reach for his hand, guiding him the direction of the (now unmanned) cloak room.

There's little chatter as you grab your coats - the only ones left there.

"Need to show you something," you mumble, digging into your pockets, and pulling out half a dozen empty tubes.

Jeongguk looks at you with a sense of frayed confusion - but if he were to thread the strings together, he'd see the bigger picture.

Dusted in fine glitter of different colours, the tubes don't seem out of the ordinary for you. Is totally the kind of thing he'd expect to see in your pockets.

Quietly, you grit your teeth together. Suck in a little air. Are embarrassed to admit what you've done.

But the person in front of you is your best friend. Even with judgement will come acceptance. There always is. Honesty is the least you owe him.

"I know I'm not wearing any glitter," you start slowly. Hold the empty tubes up, then toss them into the bin beside the concierge table. Knock your head to the side and encourage him to start walking with you. He does.

He also reaches into his own pocket, and pulls out his car keys. Passes them over to you. "Might be above the limit. Can you drive?"

Glancing over to him, shocked by the request, you double check. "Are you sure?"

He nods. "You can crash at mine. It's fine."

Despite it all, there's still no one else he wants to end the night with. No girl he'd rather take home. Platonic or romantic.

"Sleep, I mean," he adds. "Not physically crash the car. Please don't crash my car."

You just smile. Nod. After the hideousness of the week spent barely talking to him, there's nothing you want more than to just feel like things are still normal.

"So the tubes?" he asks as you reach the car. He lets you unlock it, but adjusts the seat for you before letting you get in. Also puts his jacket down on the cushion, just in case your underwear gives up on protecting your decency.

"Thanks," you say, stroking the side of his waist tenderly as he makes way for you and waits for him to get in before you start the car up. You get onto the main road, and make sure you've got your bearings before finally explaining yourself. "It was plausible deniability. The lack of glitter, I mean. Was deliberate."

"What do you mean?" He asks, reaching for the gearstick. Doesn't care if your hand is on it. Wants to hold it. You ignore his actions. Just let him intertwine his fingers with yours.

"I mean, the less glitter on me, the less credibility Jin would have when it comes to arguing that I'm the person who's emptied half a dozen tubes of glitter into his incredibly expensive formal winter coat."

Jeongguk says nothing for a moment. Plays out the idea of you stealthily depositing millions of glitter specks into a jacket that costs more than his yearly rent. Is slow to ask, "...which pockets?"

And you're slow to reply, "... All the ones I could find. Outside, inside. Secret pocket in the lining."

And then Jeongguk is laughing. Really fucking laughing. Looks over to you, and your bunched up little face, and is overcome a sense of pride he usually only feels for these gallery shows, or when a bird of yours is completed. The kinda pride that is reserved for you, and for your accomplishments.

"Shut up," you giggle now, too. "I know it's childish but-"

"No," he shakes his head. Can't stop smiling. "It's brilliant. Dunno if you've heard, but apparently glitter is a bitch to get out."

"Yeah," you grin. "I've been told that a few times."

And suddenly the events of the evening seem to feel less burdensome. Warmer. More pleasant.

You don't bother with small talk, and nor does he. Are just happy to exist together, and this state of ease lasts right up until you're in his apartment, shoes off, standing a little awkwardly in his living room.

Jimin is out. Everyone is. There are a million messages in your group chat asking where you are. You'll just reply in the morning. Too busy, now.

"I need to shower," you say, a little timid.

Jeongguk nods. "Same."

"Join me?"

To your surprise, he hesitates.

"You're the reason I need one in the first place," you remind him. "Please."

He looks down. Shakes his head. "I don't trust us."

"Nor do I," you tell him. "But this whole thing has been hell on earth, Gguk. I've hated it."

"Me too."

"I don't think..." you sigh. Don't want to share your conclusion, but know you need to. "I don't think careless fucking around is worth it. It's definitely not worth losing you."

"So what are you saying?"

Gesturing towards yourself, you grimace a little. "I'm saying we sort out the current... mess. Get showered. Whatever. Head to the pharmacy in the morning for the emergency pill, just in case - and then a few days from now, I'll take an actual test. Just wanna make sure my system is settled, first. And then, providing it all goes well, we sort ourselves out. Stop fucking around."

Jeongguk says nothing. Just sort of looks at you as if you've just hung up a new star in the sky, or something absurd like that. Nods. "Alright."

You're well aware that you shouldn't look at Jeongguk in the way that you do; that you shouldn't stand in his living room, and let the dress that you've been hoping would keep him focused on you all night drop to the floor.

He's well aware that he shouldn't look at you in the way that he does; like you're some kind of star to wish upon.

And yet you both do. He wishes. You grant his wishes.

There's a mess to clean up in the morning. Jeongguk can't shake the look on the faces of his friends from his mind. Knows that you need to cover your tracks.

But for now, he doesn't care.

Your dress is on the floor, and his heart is yours.

Though he'll always define you as his best friend, he knows that the way he wants you goes beyond the scope of that. Knows that there's no going back.

"Byeol," he whispers.

"Koo," you whisper right back.

He smiles. Shakes his head. "I love it when you call me that."

You nod. smile, too. "I love the way you smile when I call you that."

He's right not to trust the pair of you together. Right to assume that a shower is a bad decision. Right to think that the second he has you naked, he won't care about the consequences.

Quite frankly, he couldn't give a fuck. Skin on skin, he indulges in you. The way you feel, the way you sound. Pretends like it's normal, holding your waist as he peppers kisses up your neck. Tells himself it's not unusual for friends to let their hands roam. It's all about trust. Mutual adoration. Desire. Want. Careful carelessness.

You don't kiss him, at least. Not in the shower.

No, you don't kiss him... until you're in his sheets.

Neither of you got dressed after the shower. Went to bed naked with the promise of sleep - and yet somehow you're straddled across his lap at two in the morning, hips slowly grinding to get the feeling of fullness you love so much from Jeongguk.

"After this-" you husk into his lips, but he breaks your sentence with yet another kiss. You don't mind. "After this, we've gotta start taking shit carefully."

He nods. "Mhmm. Whatever you say."

"Gguk-"

"Byeol, please," he smiles. "I'm literally inside you. Can you at least wait until we're done to give me ultimatums?"

Laughing, you cup his jaw. Kiss him again, just because you want to. Because you can. "Yeah. My bad."

Sitting back up, Jeongguk watches on in a state of adoration as your body moves for him. So often the one to take the lead, he's letting you have control, now. Letting you ride him. Letting himself succumb to everything you are.

"Shit," he whines, back arching, head pressing into his pillows. Fingers gripping your hips, he thrashes his own upwards. Thrusts up into you like a man possessed. Gets your body all weak and feeble from the overwhelming pleasure he's delivering - and when your hand dips to toy with your clit? Oh, it doubles. Trebles.

"You're so fucking hot," he tells you. "Yeah. Play with yourself for me. That's it, baby."

Panting, you tap on his chest with your spare hand. "Hips. Slow."

He does what he's told even if he absolutely doesn't want to. Let you bounce slowly. Reaches up to hold one of your tits as you do so. Wants them in his mouth. Finds himself grinning when he thinks of how much he's changed since you first started fucking around together.

"God, I fuckin' love this," he whines a little mindlessly. Doesn't bother clarifying what 'this' is.

The hand of yours that's wrapped around his wrist begins to tighten. Nails dig in. Tiny pretty whines of satisfaction escape your lips. Eyes close. Speed of the hand rubbing circles on your clit increases. Sitting on his cock, he's keeping you stretched. Full. Lets you do whatever the fuck you like, 'cause he knows you're working your way up. Loves to watch it more than anything. Gets himself off sometimes thinking about it.

Leaning forward a little, you reach for his phone. Slide it open to his camera.

He narrows his eyes. "Whatcha doing there?"

Whiney as you manage to speak, Jeongguk thinks you must be a direct descendant of Aphrodite. "Giving you permission," you hum, passing his phone back to him, already recording.

He looks to the screen, a little red button in the middle and a time running through on the top. Raises his brow. "Sure?"

You're putting on a show for him, yes, but none of it is faked. This is as real as it gets.

"Oh, fuck yeah," he husks as he can feel your walls tighten. "Like that. Like that. Fuck ." Pulses his hips ever so slightly. Sneaks his hand to join yours. Takes over. "Cum all over my cock, baby. Yeah. Yeah, that's it, babe."

"Gguk, I'm so close."

"I know," he coos. "Let yourself. I'm here."

"You're so big," you tell him, just so he has evidence of it. Know it will do his ego wonders. "Makes me feel so good."

"Show me how good it feels. Cum for me. Please. I need this. Need you ."

And when you finally do?

Oh, it's glorious.

"There she is," Jeongguk praises. Doesn't bother to stop recording. Tosses his phone to the side. Pulls you in for a million kisses. "God, you're so pretty when you cum. So fuckin' pretty."

His hips continue to gently rock, his orgasm far less violent than yours. You only really know it's happening cause he grunts. Gets a little breathless. Hugs around your back as his legs begin to shake, and eventually he manages to shakily whisper, "it's yours. All yours."

You just assume he means his cock, or cum, or something vulgar like that - and while it would be correct, it's not what he means. Not at all.

He holds you as you sleep that night. Has no interest in pretending like he wants to be less than what you are right now.

But come the morning, you're cracking jokes together like you've never nearly made declarations you'd never be able to take back. Hang out, as if he wouldn't rather eat you out. Make a to-do list. Laugh, as it's titled 'Fixing the Star-Fuckers Fuck-Up'.

You make a trip out of the list. Go to a pharmacy a few towns over. Grab a drive-thru Maccies breakfast. Get absolutely slated when you order a Shanghai Snack Wrap instead of a classic egg McMuffin.

"Can't believe we're friends," Jeongguk says, disgusted by the fact you're choosing to have something from the all-day menu. "Can't believe we fuck ."

"Fucked," you remind him, and remember that you've a pill you need to take. Pop it out of the foil, and swallow it down with a chug of Jeongguk's drink. "Past tense."

"Yeah, sorry," Jeongguk grins. It's easier to pretend like the idea of not fucking doesn't phase him. "My bad."

His pretty grin swiftly disappears three days later as he paces around your apartment living room, waiting on the result from a little pink stick that's sitting on top of your toilet. You're in the living room, too. Don't wanna check it. Nor does he.

So you play rock paper scissors.

Jeongguk loses.

And as you nervously await your fate, all you hear from your bathroom is a single word.

"Fuck."

[danbisroom]

Ep. 12 - Everywhere All Around The World

Hello my beloved fellow souls,

welcome back to Danbi’s Room, your weekly dose of safe space. Go grab a cup of something warm and get yourself cosy.

I hope you had a nice week and a happy Spring/Autumn Equinox! Those of us who are in the North are finally being kissed by the Sun again, while those of us who are in the South are finally breathing the lovely autumnal crispy air again.

Some time ago I had a blast…I learnt something new in the morning and I found it extremely interesting and peculiar - yet, it didn’t hit me until night how oddly mind-blowing small details that again, we take for granted, can be so full of richness and marvelous complexity.

What does your body do when you move a lock of your hair away from your eyes?

How does your body feel when your fingers move to hold a cup of green tea?

Why do you move exactly those parts of your body picking up a a lily of the valley in a field?

Maybe it might seem almost an oxymoron, but all these new things I’m noticing and finding, they do fill my soul even more - but I definitely don’t feel more frantic than before.

On the contrary, I think I finally found peace.

Clearly, everything’s a cycle and there are always highs and lows, but once you’ve got the hang of it, of peacefully enjoying the storm, seeking darkness and laughter…well then there’s home.

Obviously that doesn’t mean it becomes easy.

It’s still difficult, perhaps even more, because you have to take care of your home’s hearth and bring wood to feed it.

Futile hay won’t do.

Just as obviously there’s a certain degree of satisfaction to it.

You embrace yourself, and when you are the first of your kind, the restraint of expectations falls down in debris.

The debris of all the barriers and boulders we carried on our backs, made of hesitation and loss of passion, apathy.

Death.

Feeling as inconsequential as a speck of dust, between a vast desert and the bluest ocean.

The point is always that in that chasm of darkness, inside, deep within, there’s us.

Ourselves.

Seeds are planted in darkness.

Every moment becomes eternity.

In the eternal circle, the past was, honestly, the best.

But the best is what comes is what comes next.

What’s reflected in your spirit?

I see deep mellow black ponds everyday and it’s always a tender feeling to rest in there.

Some seasons ago, I danced with golden honey eyes, clear like an amber jewel adorning the soft skin of an ancient queen. It’s weird - they’re the deepest yet the stillest, like precious fabric. They reminded me of some eyes I will definitely swim into in the future.

Then I recognized that velvety green I like so much, but it was just for a few minutes.

The colour of Nature is always outstanding. It’s our Home and Mother, after all.

And then…something I had believed to be a foresty emerald dark green - and at night, with dim lights, it is - turned out to be a glorious feast of strong blues jagged by strips of land the colour of autumn leaves covering the mountains.

The Nereids must have painted that, I find no other explanation.

But, with all due respect, I will paint something even grander, as soon as my heart will take me to his ocean, waters of the other side that I’ve never seen before.

Eyes are quite evident no?

Even so, we don’t always actually look at them, despite being one of the most mainstream parts of our body, superficially vaunted or not, eyes still hold some kind of inexplicable charm.

And I’m very sensitive to colours.

Looking at all those hues made me feel like I was in a Wes Anderson movie.

In any case this is not much about eyes, and not even that much about colours.

It’s more about the so-called “ordinary” details, small small things, more fragile and ephemeral than a dandelion petal.

Sure, it’s a delicate topic - it’s easy to fall into a cringey cliché - but at the end of the day is that even a problem?

Sometimes it really is about small and trivial and cliché things.

A quick look, so intimate, with a person you’ve known for ages, a glimpse of silent conversation nobody else notices.

Memories you still have to live.

Seeing each other’s presence listening to our own breath.

An almost imperceptible presence of a hand rested between your shoulder blades.

Sitting elbow to elbow on a light wooden floor.

A house full of joy you run to at 9.20AM.

Finally being able to actually see that the sky is Prussian blue and and neon fuchsia and smiling.

Lately these have been the things I remember, fondly.

Actually I believe them to be extremely powerful.

This is a way of its own to perceive the world.

In fact, my paintings have followed.

Recently they asked me to be small and to open windows and doors to let people look at details, visions, fragments of dreams. And to add matter, so that they can manifest their layers. To expand in space together, move through a body.

Who am I to refuse?

Images talk and demand.

Dimensions wait to receive a body.

I try to do my best to listen.

Listening is crucial.

Listening deeply, carefully, attentively.

Not necessarily with your ears.

But we’ll have the opportunity to delve into this more in the future.

Just remember to listen to yourself, you deserve it.

As unrelated as it might seem (it’s not, it just represents another way of seeing these matters), today I must absoloutely recommend District 9 by Stray Kids. Words of love are never enough, so I will just say happy 6th anniversary!

I hope you enjoyed this episode and that you have a beautiful week ahead of you!

I’ll see you in the next one, big hug!

With love, yours,

Danbi

[rising-angelx]

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ for @soulfm

for angel, nothing was more comforting than movie night. snuggled on the couch, fuzzy blanket and emanating warmth from the fresh bowl of popcorn. romance, drama, comedy, action, but never anything too gory. going without a good movie night while on tour was weighing on her, the escape into the screen and the sweet enjoyment of simple coziness was good for her soul.

while her movie nights were special to her, dahye loved to share them. she had the whole living room set up to be the perfect nest for movie watching. dim fairy lights cascading across the walls the only source of lighting besides the tv, a collection of the fuzziest blankets and comfiest pillows, even danbi's gojo propped up to watch along. snacks scattered the coffee table and her last touch was lighting the cinnamon apple candle in the middle of the table before undertaking her next mission of finding someone to share it all with.

it had been a minute since she had spent time with ren, a friend who she could always count on to enjoy a comfortable quiet with. she padded up to his room, door illuminated by the purple lights from inside and gave a short knock. "oppa, wanna watch a movie with me?" she called from just outside.

[heroyne]

starter call [ closed ] // @luvticon

danbi doesn’t sit. not necessarily. rather, she curls her calves beneath her thighs, then releases her knees to rest in front of her – fluid motions, all done in seconds when her greatest brain cells believe it’s time to switch positions. twelve hours of practice does nothing to quell these compulsions, it’s just what comes natural. “how about we finish this act and get some dinner?” danbi’s exuberance never falters, a shining light in a dim practice room filled with half-finished props and exhausted ensemble – she smiles and it beams, even as she elbows the understudy next to her. what was his name? scout, or something? “what d’ya say?”

[dollplague]

[pendularium]

Catch-22 the 2019 TV show is fine, but it's not Catch-22 the book.

SPOILERS: for Catch-22 (novel and 2019 show) CW: discussions of/mentions of death and war

It was love at first sight.

The first time I read Catch-22, I fell madly in love with it.

As a novel it was strange, confusing and funny in a way that no other books that I had read were. It was entirely unique, and I found its depiction of war, brutal, bloody and insane, to be moving in a way that most war novels just weren't for me.

And did I mention that it's really funny? I have re-read this book at least once a year since I first read it, and I have laughed every time. This book changed me in a way I still can't really verbalise - as with all media we consume, this book is a part of me. A big part. And while I can't relate to the specific anxieties within the book, a fear of death and the feeling of being both sane and insane is one that is deeply familiar to us as people. As is tragedy.

And this book is tragic.

It's sad and funny and hopeful and blindingly brilliant, and deserves far more people ranting about how great it is.

I first heard about what was to be the 2019 adaptation in a taxi on the radio, half asleep and being driven through the British countryside, endless fields of wheat and rapeseed blurring together in the dim twilight. I heard the hosts talk about the show, about how George Clooney was in it, and I remember thinking, I have no idea who that is. Why my lack of knowledge of George Clooney is what I remember best, I truly have no idea, but that's what it was.

I then forgot about the show for several years, until, three days ago, I went on All 4, googled 'good shows to watch on all 4', and Catch-22 came up.

So I watched it.

And I was. Disappointed.

The show isn't bad. I do need to stress that. It's an enjoyable show about a likeable main character, but there is something different about it that makes it not Catch-22. That something sat with me throughout my initial binge, an uncomfortable presence sitting on the sofa next to me, and telling me that something just wasn't quite right.

And I think it all struck me in the final episode, when Yossarian, naked (literally) and alone flies away into a sunset, muttering "release".

The only thing that I could think of was how utterly hopeless the show is. In the book, Yossarian gets out. The book ends on a bizarre, hopeful and funny note:

'So long, Chaplain. Thanks, Danby.' 'How do you feel Yossarian?' 'Fine. No, I'm very frightened.' 'That's good,' said Major Danby. 'It proves you're still alive. It won't be fun.' Yossarian started out. 'Yes it will.' 'I mean it Yossarian, You'll have to keep on your toes every minute if every day. They'll bend heaven and earth to catch you' 'I'll keep on my toes every minute.' 'You'll have to jump.' 'I'll jump.' 'Jump!' Major Danby cried. Yossarian jumped. Nately's whore was hiding just outside the door. The knife came down, missing him by inches. and he took off.

The book ends with Yossarian running away, free at last from the military, from Cathcart's endless raising of the missions and from the deaths of all his friends. Orr is maybe alive, and there is hope, and humour, and the hope has overcome the tragedy lurking beneath the text.

It is, I think, easy to overlook the hope in Catch-22, to simply take it for a funnier and more surreal 'All Quiet on the Western Front'. To take the misery and the death and the absolute trauma of it as all there is, because it is, in a very real way, all consuming. Even the ending, which is defiantly and unapologetically hopeful, has a reference to Nately's death, in that his 'whore' is only trying to kill Yossarian because Nately is dead.

Therein, I feel, lies the main difference between the show and the book. Catch-22 the novel is hopeful, despite the tragedy, and Catch-22 the show is hopeless, because of it.

The way both Catch-22s treat the tragedy of the situations is also different. This is, I feel, most evident in the case of the deaths of Kid Sampson, McWatt, and Nately. Kid Sampson's death in the novel is shocking and memorable, for very different reasons to the show. In the book it is almost bloodless, not unbloody, but the blood is simply not the focus.

Kid Sampson's two pale, skinny legs, still joined by strings somehow at the bloody truncated hips, standing stock-still on the raft for what seemed like a full minute or two before they toppled over backward into the water finally with a faint, echoing splash and turned completely upside down so that only the grotesque toes and plaster-white soles of Kid Sampson's feet remained in view.

This scene is shocking and awful. It's the sort of scene where the reader has to pause and re-read it just to make sure that is what just happened. Kid Sampson's death isn't the first in the book, but it is a very memorable one, in part because it happens on Pianosa, where they are meant to be safe, and in part because of Heller's description. The long run-on sentence and focus on the legs perfectly encapsulates the shock of the situation, and make it a shockingly quiet moment in a loud book (n.b. most of the death scenes are). In contrast, the show's depiction of kid Sampson's death is bloody, gratuitous in it, and is crippled by its lack of breathing room. In the show, we are given a glimpse of Kid Sampson through McWatt's canopy, before the canopy is drenched in blood. The scene is blood soaked, and it is not shocking in that. One of the early scenes in the first episode is of Yossarian, drenched in blood, walking away from the camera. Another is of a fellow bombardier blown from his plane who smacks against Yossarians plane, smearing blood all over the glass. The legs, which are so malevolent and purposeful in what they represent in the book, so blood-free, are relegated to a bloody side role in the show. They are a bloody mass of bone and sinew and flesh present in the far left of the screen as the camera focuses on the shocked face of one of the characters. The watcher barely has moments to process that before Kid Sampson is forgotten and we move on to McWatt, watching him fly into a mountain, and neither death is given room to just be, in all their awful glory. In the book (or at least in my book), it is almost two full pages after kid Sampson's death that McWatt finally crashes his plane. The reader is given time in a way that the watcher isn't, and although both are fast paced, moving swiftly on, there is a greater sense of time in the book, in just the passage I quoted above, than in the entire part of the show dealing with it.

McWatt's death carries it's own set of problems with it, problems shared with Orr and Aarfy, but most notable in McWatt. Heller has a habit of giving characters very specific idiosyncrasies, which both help the reader understand and identify them, but also make every reference to them that is serious absolutely heartbreaking. With McWatt, this is, I feel, most noticeable. Throughout the book, Heller associates a specific phrase with McWatt (if you've read the book you're probably already saying it to yourself) with 'Oh well, what the hell.'

'Oh well,' McWatt would sing, 'what the hell.'

This is repeated throughout the book, and tells us about McWatt as a character, and is used by Heller to teach us to respond to the phrase with an immediate, Pavlovian, thought of him, only to destroy us with:

a great choking moan tore from Yossarian's throat as McWatt turned again, dipped his wings once in a salute, decided oh, well, what the hell, and flew into a mountain.

When I first read this I put the book down. I had to. I liked McWatt. And I really just couldn't process this for several seconds. I sat there, the book on the table, thinking oh. There is a sudden and immediate contrast between the phrase, the phrase that conjures the image of cheerful, fun, sane McWatt, who is a brilliant pilot and gets a buzz out of flying low over the tents and scaring the men, who Yossarian loves as a pilot because he does insane manoeuvres and keeps him alive, and his short, abrupt, clipped end. Heller doesn't linger on McWatt. He kills him in the most brutal and emotional way possible in so few words, and then moves on.

The show does not. The episode ends, not with Cathcart raising the missions as in the book, but with a slow zoom out from Pianosa, the camera viewing the bloody raft where Kid Sampson died, and the burning crash site of McWatt's plane. This lingering, while (finally) giving the scenes the time they needed to be digested, undercuts a different message of the books. Cathcart, and by extension, the military, don't care. They send out impersonal letters, dear Mrs., Mr., Miss, or Mr. and Mrs. (a plot point in the book), and don't care about the lives of the men, and that is why they are part of everyone conspiring against Yossarian.

In the book, the worry is that Yossarian will die, that he will be unable to get out in time, that his superiors are conspiring with the Germans and the Italians and everyone to kill him.

''Who's they?' [Clevinger] wanted to know. 'Who, specifically, do you think is trying to murder you?' 'Every one of them.' Yossarian told him.

Yossarian had proof, because strangers he didn't know shot at him with cannons every time he flew up in the air to drop bombs on them.

That was the secret that Snowden had spilled to him on the mission to Avignon - they were all out to get him; and Snowden had spilled it all over the back of the plane.

This is missing from the show, where everything is all at once bloodier and milder. The incompetencies of the higher-ups in the book, the obsessions with parades and bomb patterns and having more missions than the other divisions, sucking up to Dreedle and Peckham, Peckham and Dreedle competing with each other, and Milo rising above everything - above morals and ideals and mission counts and the law. These are all missing in some regard from the show. Milo's bombing of Pianosa is framed in a much more polite way. It happens and then nobody brings it up again. Nobody dies, or is wounded, Milo evacuates the areas. In the book,

Men bolted from their tents in sheer terror and did not know in which direction to turn. Wounded soon lay screaming everywhere. A cluster of fragmentation bombs exploded in the yard of the officers' club and punched jagged holes in the side of the wooden building and in the bellies and backs of a row of lieutenants and captains standing at the bar. They doubled over in agony and dropped. The rest of the officers fled towards the two exits in panic and jammed up the doorways like a dense, howling dam of human flesh as they shrank from going farther.

In the book, Milo's bombing of Pianosa, and the eventual acceptance of this by America, is framed as part of the uncaring machine. They are all, even Milo, out to get Yossarian, and out to get every one of the soldiers. In the book, this is loud, bloody and chaotic. It isn't personal, as in the show, but in the book, the impersonal nature of it extends to who is killed and injured, and nobody is spared.

When I talked this over with a friend who had also read and enjoyed Catch-22, they said that it seemed like the creators had sanitised the more explicit anti-military and anti-war themes of the novel, painting it not as a struggle of the little guy to stay alive in a world that wants to kill them, but as a story about how a little guy wasn't suited for war. And honestly? I agree. The story glorifies the military by making them not the incompetent fools of the book, but as a scary and somewhat incompetent organisation. And this does glorify them. By making them seem scary, they are made to be powerful and impressive. This is perhaps best seen with Yossarian's attempts to avoid going to Bologna. In the show, they are disciplined, shouted at by Cathcart in a moment of genuine impressiveness and authority by the otherwise cartoonish Colonel who asked why they hadn't bombed the Vatican. They are singled out and humiliated in front of all the men, and the military, with Cathcart standing as its head, is, for an impressive and memorable moment, a force to be reckoned with. The message is clear. Being scared is understandable, but cowardice is not. Taking the military for fools with a broken radio is not.

You may remember that a little while ago I was talking about Kid Sampson's death, and I mentioned the shocked face of a character. I don't know who that character was! I'm guessing Dunbar or Nately, but I really don't know. That was a recurring theme for me in the show. There was so little characterisation, and so little time spent on the characters that they simply were not memorable. In a show where the costuming can't be especially creative - they're all in the same uniform - characterisation and letting the audience get to know the characters is extremely important, otherwise they will just forget them. In the book, the characters are not forgettable. Heller uses the little idiosyncrasies and his descriptions of the various characters to create a large and memorable cast. That was missing in the show. I knew who Kid Sampson was from the book, and I could identify him because of the book, but I swear he had not come up before in any sort of memorable way in the show. McWatt's actions seem strange in the show - in character only in that he has little character. In the book it is well established that he is an amazing pilot, and one who frequently flies low to buzz the men. Him showing off and buzzing Kid Sampson makes sense in the book. None of the characters are well formed except the more cartoonish and 2D ones, Yossarian, and Nurse Duckett, who serves as his love interest in the show.

The show also just isn't that funny. A lot of the jokes in Catch-22 are so good because of how subtle and dark they are, because of how surreal and contextual they are. The entire bit with the tomatoes never fails to at least make me smile, and I did not have that same experience in the show. The best part for me was the scene in one of the early episodes where Cathcart berates the men for failing to blow up a building, before being informed that that is Vatican City, and that it's neutral ground, and he has to do an abrupt about-face and begin congratulating the men for not blowing it up. That is one scene in show. And while there were other parts that made me smile, nothing else was really actually funny.

This isn't everything that can be criticised about the show, and how it fails as an adaptation of Catch-22, but this is most of what I picked up on on my first watch. There is much more I could talk about, and more depth that I could go into on everything, but I simply don't want to. The show isn't bad. It's just not Catch-22.

I don't especially want to spend ages talking about a show that I thought was just fine - who am I - HBomberguy? The reasons that this show invoked such a reaction in me, a person who is normally quite casual about adaptations - if it works, it works - are in many ways deeply personal. An adaptation is not a copy after all, and some things have to be sacrificed when translating a work from book to TV show. Catch-22 is not a book that easily makes a film. It is long and convoluted and, quite honestly, has too many characters and perspectives to be an easy film or show to make, and while it would make an easier show than a film, the 2019 show makes a close adaptation harder for itself by being a mini-series.

This is not to say the book is perfect - no piece of media truly can be, and Catch-22 certainly isn't. But Catch-22 the book is better - or at least different - from it's 2019 adaptation, and I think that needs to be acknowledged more than it is. As I said in the beginning, Catch-22 deserves far more people ranting about how great it is, and this show is not one I would go as far to recommend. I enjoyed it (mostly), but it's a like, rather than a love for me. This show would not make me want to read the book, because the show doesn't stand out, and it definitely doesn't stand out in a way that would coin a phrase and bring it into daily lexicon. I knew what a catch-22 was, and had used it casually in conversation before I ever knew of the book, and this show just wouldn't do the same. Overall, as an original piece of media, the show would be decent - one I'd maybe tell others to watch, but as an adaptation it pales in comparison to the book, and thus simply isn't good enough to get above a 3/5 from me.

[lgcmanager]

SCHEDULE UPDATE

SCHEDULE TYPE: ONE TIME GIG RESTRICTIONS: Only open to LGC GIRLS SUMMER, TYPE ZERO and V&A members

on SEPTEMBER 7, everyone from LGC GIRLS SUMMER, TYPE ZERO, and V&A are called to a meeting with KIM HYUNCHEOL. there is another staff member standing right next to hyuncheol and he lets the woman call out each individual’s name to hand them a packet containing all of the necessary information.

“i know all of you are busy with your own projects so i’ll do my best to make this as quick as possible. first thing is that i request all of you to open the folder and look through the first few pages.” hyuncheol explains while knowing that each group had their own set of schedules.

LGC GIRLS SUMMER

while the company continues to release more content about the show, it is noted that they will have to spend additional time working on their performances since all of them will be performing the following songs during this year’s family concert.

TIKI TAKA - BAEK HANNA, KOIZUMI TSUKI, LEE YEJIN, MIN SOYOUN, MOON SOMIN

BOOGIE UP - AHN JAEHWA, LEE HANBYUL, LEE MINJI, OH EUNHYE, SON NABI

ICY - GONG HYEJOO, HAN ALLIE, KIM MIA, PONGSAK ARINYA, SEO YURA

WE RIDE - GEUM DANBI, KYO MIYEON, SEO YUMI, YAMASHITA ICHIKA, YANG AERI

on SEPTEMBER 25, all of the girls except YUMI will be at the GOCHEOK SKY DOME early in the morning for rehearsals ( individuals who are participating in the special stages will be practicing there the day before as well ). during the concert, whenever the girls are not performing on stage, they will be in one of the backstage rooms watching the performances with the rest of the lgc girls summer.

TYPE ZERO AND V&A

( important note: because type zero and v&a’s missions aren’t due until SEPTEMBER 18, everything mentioned below is mostly to give everyone a sense of the timeline and ic reference. )

type zero will finish their music performances on the week of SEPTEMBER 12-18. during this time, they are required to continue practicing their title track song, “ONE (MONSTER & INFINITY)” along with “RESONANCE”, which they will practice with v&a. both type zero and v&a are also supposed to learn, practice, and record the following song, “GENIUS”, which will be one of their special stages for the LGC FAMILY CONCERT.

as for v&a, because their debut is coming soon, they will continue to practice all of their songs especially “HIGHER” ( VERSUS ), “BLUE HOUR” ( AGITO ), “RESONANCE” ( TYPE ZERO AND V&A ) since those will be the songs that they will perform in the lgc family concert. like type zero, they will be working on “GENIUS” ( SPECIAL STAGE ) as well. after the lgc family concert, v&a will release their songs on SEPTEMBER 27 and start their music promotions. 

( ooc note: since the trimester change won’t be until october, please assume that v&a will be attending music shows for the next couple of days until the upcoming trimester update! )

for the LGC FAMILY CONCERT, the order of the songs will be:

HIGHER - V&A (VERSUS)

BLUE HOUR - V&A (AGITO)

ONE (MONSTER & INFINITY) - TYPE ZERO

RESONANCE - V&A AND TYPE ZERO

GENIUS - V&A AND TYPE ZERO ( SPECIAL STAGE )

during RESONANCE, there will be an introduction before the performance ( for a general idea, please refer to this video from 0:00-2:18 ). each member from type zero and v&a will form a circle and the camera will pan towards one individual at a time, followed by a line that connects the pair together. the sequence will be based on who joined legacy the latest to the earliest. for reference, that order will be: 

HARU & SUBIN

ALEX & DAEYEOL

JIHO & YUSHIN

MINJUN ( NPC ) & YEONWOO

HANEUL & NATHAN

SHINHA & ISA

AKIRA & JAESUN

JAESUN will complete the order and the group will stand still as the instrumental is played. right after that, all of the lights will dim and it’ll transition to resonance playing.

during GENIUS, there will be photos and clips of the type zero and v&a members displayed on the screen for all of the fans to see. it’ll start off with their baby photos and gradually transition to their various appearances ( eg. variety shows, vlive shows, modeling gigs, etc. ) and behind the scenes ( eg. debut preparations ). at some point in the song, there will be a segment when the screen will switch to video messages and letters that were sent by their loved ones as a surprise to them. type zero and v&a members will be encouraged to turn around to look at them while singing the rest of the song.

on SEPTEMBER 25, all of the members will be at the GOCHEOK SKY DOME early in the morning for rehearsals ( individuals who are participating in the special stages will be practicing there the day before as well ). whenever one group/unit isn’t performing, they will be in one of the backstage rooms with the rest of v&a and type zero to watch the performances.

SPECIAL STAGES

before the meeting ends, the staff member calls AHN JAEHWA, AHN JAESUN, GEUM DANBI, GONG HYEJOO, JI HANEUL, KOIZUMI TSUKI, LEE YUSHIN, MIN SOYOUN, OH EUNHYE, OKAMOTO AKIRA, SEO YURA and tells them to stay in the meantime. the rest of them leave the meeting room along with hyuncheol, who has other matters to attend to.

“with the help of the coaches, we’ve selected all of you to be a part of our special stages. in the past, we usually had vocal, dance, and rap stages to showcase our artists and exceptionally talented trainees. this time around, because v&a and type zero will be our final performances, we’ve decided to include some of the lgc girls and trainees to be a part of these collaboration stages. with the way this concert is arranged, we’ve split the three stages based on the three recurring themes — past, present, and future.” the staff member regurgitates the information that was discussed with the other higher ups.

VOCAL STAGE ( AHN JAEHWA, GONG HYEJOO, JI HANEUL ): all of them will be performing “FALL AWAY” along with KANG WOOHEE, KIM HYUNBIN, and LEE SHINHAE. the vocal stage will be the first performance and during the PAST phase.

DANCE STAGE ( KYO MIYEON, MIN SOYOUN, SEO YURA ): all of them will be dancing to “CLOSER” along with KIM JAEHYUK, PARK HAEMI, and SEO HANEUL. the dance stage will be performed during the PRESENT phase.

RAP STAGE ( AHN JAESUN, GEUM DANBI, KOIZUMI TSUKI, LEE YUSHIN, OH EUNHYE, OKAMOTO AKIRA ): all of them will be performing “ALL IN” along with the original artist, YP. the rap stage will be performed during the FUTURE phase.

because the stages are co-ed, all of them will be participating separately in their groups ( so the girls will be practicing together while the type zero and v&a members will be practicing together ). it isn’t until FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 24 and SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 25 when they will be practicing all together ( including the senior artists ).

when the woman is done explaining all of the details to them, she gives them a warning that even though this is one of the few instances when legacy has allowed co-ed performances to happen, everyone is expected to be professional and follow the usual rules.

REQUIREMENTS

unlike our typical events, the requirements for this one will be done differently to give the muns a break from doing event threads. you are not required to make the threads related to the family concert ( preparations, rehearsals, etc. ), but if you choose to do that, please use the hashtag lgc:familycon2k21 for anything related to that topic. there are two ways to fulfill the writing requirements so choose ONE.

2 THREADS with two different partners ( they must be people that you have NOT had a thread with and can be anyone who belongs in LGC GIRLS SUMMER, TYPE ZERO, or V&A ). each thread should have 6 REPLIES ( 3 per mun; minimum 8 lines ) in total.

OR

1 THREAD with one partner ( it can be someone that you HAVE interacted with before, but they must be in LGC GIRLS SUMMER, TYPE ZERO, or V&A and the thread has to be created sometime between today and the deadline ). the thread should have 12 REPLIES ( 6 per mun; minimum 8 lines ) in total.

once you complete the writing requirements, please submit the following form ONCE on the points blog before OCTOBER 9, 2021 11:59 EST. completing the task can reward you anywhere between 5-10 SKILL POINTS IN THE SKILL CHOSEN and +4 NOTORIETY, but the number of points won’t be revealed until after the deadline.

TITLE: MUSE NAME ∙ Q3 THREADS

THREAD: # OF POSTS WRITTEN [ LINK ]  ( link both threads if you did two threads )

SKILL CHOSEN:  ( skill that you want the points to go to. choose only one skill! )

[atinyidea]

[ 1 ] UNDER THE RAIN | FOUR | O. Sehun

chapter summary — There’s nothing like a car drive to spike both your curiosities and your anxieties. Although, there’s nothing like a good laugh at the expense of a moody werewolf and a cute little cat.

word count — 2.2k

tag list — @avmfreak96 and the tags from the first edition, please let me know if you would like me to untag you! @asslikegilinsky, @acevampyre, @high-on-food, @chanyeolol, and @marshmallow-phd ! also let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list!

main masterlist — the lunar myths masterlist

FOUR — Cats Are Just... Better!

Your apartment door was still locked when you got there. That was a good sign, right? Inside, nothing was overturned or out of place, that you remembered anyway. The lights were off apart from the dim lights in the kitchen – you’d always leave them on, so you don’t come home to pitch-black-darkness.

“I’ll go get Euina.”

“Pack a small bag,” Sehun suggested with a small smile. You left him to rest his ankle on one of the bean bags and rushed into your bedroom, stopping to sit on the edge of the mattress next to your sister. You gently placed a hand on Euina’s shoulder and rocked her slight.

“Wake up, little dove.” You whispered, watching as her eyes fluttered open.

“Unnie? What time is it?” She answered, her voice scratchy, and her eyes squinting as you switched on the light.

“It’s almost five in the morning. Something happened, and we have to stay someplace else for a few nights. You can go back to sleep in the car, okay? Can you get a change of clothes ready for me, little dove? We have to be quick.”

She got out of the bed and went to her little chest where she kept her clothes. “What happened? Are you okay?” She asked her attention, shifting to her hands. She had always been good at listening to you when you were serious. And she knew you hated waking her up, so it must have been serious.

“I can explain it better later, okay, when we’re out of here.” You replied, grabbing a handful of black leggings and shoving them into one of your hiking backpacks.

“How long are we leaving for?” you heard Euina ask from behind you. Shrugging, even though she most likely didn’t see you, you opened your underwear draw and shoved a handful of underwear and three different bras into the bag.

“A couple of days, I don’t know.” You replied after a few seconds.

“A few days? Then we need to take Tuttle!”

Your motions froze for a second as you came to remember that you owned a pet. A small cat affectionately named Tuttle as a kitten by your sister. She wanted to call him Turtle but at the young age of three when she was still getting the hang of the pronunciation. Tuttle was almost ten years old, small yet mischievous (she really liked knocking mugs off of tables) and she loved being cuddled. She was a Russian Blue, her fur on the darker side of steel-grey with big, round green eyes that seemed to always be curious. Tuttle was a present for your twelfth birthday. However, you had let Euina name her because you wanted to share her with your baby sister. You always wanted to share things with Euina, especially after your parents had left.

“Well, we’ll just take her with us. Don’t bother with her cage just grab her okay, I’ll get some packets of food in a minute.” You concluded, zipping up your bag. “And before you grab her, get another pair of my trainers please.” You walked from your room to your bathroom, shoving practically all of the contents you own from the shelves into a zip lock bag. You threw it onto your bed next to Euina’s open bag before making your way back into the main room of your apartment. You spotted Sehun straight away, he wasn’t sitting anymore, but you didn’t particularly care at this moment - you didn’t have the time to. You flipped the switch to brighten the lights and grabbed a plastic bag from a metal shelf free-standing next to the fridge.

“We have food.”

You swore your eyes could have rolled into the next dimension. You weren’t an idiot, at least seven people were living under the roof Sehun called home - of course, they had food. You’d be willing to bet that there were even more of them - considering the snippets of conversations you heard about names people you hadn’t met yet.

“Do you have cat food?” you asked, making your voice light and innocent, turning to face him with a small smile, tying the plastic handles in a knot. Sehun’s confused expression dropped at your words before his brow began to furrow. He looked confused. 

Cute. 

The smile on your face grew. Naturally, you didn’t even feel it as you patted his shoulder to move past him. You walked back to your bedroom to help Euina finish up, but you could hear him following.

“Why do you need cat food?” He asked once you were in the room. Apparently, both of you had forgotten that Euina had no idea he was here. She turned to face him before you did, mouth open and eyes narrowed.

“For Tuttle, who are you?” She asked, zipping her back closed with a sharp tug.

“Sehun. Who’s Tuttle?”

“My cat.” You replied, picking her up from where she had padded over to you on your bed. You turned to face him with a small smile but, when you looked up to see the expression, he was pulling, you couldn’t help but let out a loud laugh. He was glaring at Tuttle like she was his worst enemy. He looked like a mix between a toddler who had just had his favourite toy taken away and a man who was extremely close to losing his shit after a long day of listening to his annoying desk partner. You handed Euina Tuttle.

“Let’s go, shall we?” You grabbed both Euina’s and your bags having packed everything into them: you were efficient, they fit. However, before you could sling both of them over your shoulders, Sehun grabbed one of them and slung it over his own – broad– shoulder. You didn’t know which one he had, but you suspected that it didn’t really matter. Euina left before the both of you, Sehun trailing after the thirteen-year-old like a lost puppy, and you switched off the lights before scanning the room in case you left anything. You grabbed a small cat toy from the floor.

“We’re taking my car.” You announced, making your way back into the main room, giving the carrot toy to Euina for Tuttle to play with. “I’m driving.” You cut Sehun off, his mouth opened as if to protest. “Danbi said not to use your ankle.” You reminded him quietly, patting his shoulder. You made the split decision to switch off all the lights (you didn’t know when you’d be coming back, and you were not paying an extra bill for lights on during the day) and grabbed all the keys from the bowl you kept them in. You lived on the third floor of the eight-floor apartment block, you didn’t have to use the elevator – it was quicker to use the stairs anyway – so, you used the stairs. Your car was parked in your usual spot. You didn’t need to use your car very often, only when you were taking Euina back to your aunts or if you wanted to visit one of your favourite food places on the other side of town, but it wasn’t like you couldn’t drive.

Both Sehun and Euina were quiet as the three of you found your car, a black five-door Ford Focus (you didn’t know much else, you don’t particularly care about cars), and piled in. Euina sat in the back with Tuttle, laying down over the seats, seatbelt around her waist. You always had blankets in your car, in case she wanted to sleep or if she got cold, so she simply grabbed one to pull over herself. Tuttle scooted under one of Euina’s arms, paws next to her face. You knew Euina had questions, you could tell by the tone of her voice when she said she’d try and sleep more, but you were grateful she kept them to herself for the time being.

You honestly had no idea what you would tell her.

Once out on the road, you turned to Sehun, having come to a conclusion. “Where do you live?” You asked lowly. You switched on the radio (The CD player – you were never one for listening to adverts) and turned the volume down to almost a mumble, so the car wasn’t silent. You knew Euina couldn’t sleep in silence.

“Turn left, I’ll direct you,” Sehun answered. You turned left.

After what felt like an hour (fifteen minutes) of nothing but the music too low for you to focus on and Sehun’s occasional chiming’s of where to go you had to break the non-silent-silence. “What am I going to tell her? She’s not stupid. And she knows when I lie.” You asked. You weren’t sure why you added the last part, you hardly knew Sehun – he didn’t need to know you couldn’t lie to your baby sister to save your life. “Am I even allowed to tell her about you guys? Was I even allowed to know? What–”

Sehun cut you off, placing a large hand on your knee. You wanted to look down at it, but you kept your eyes on the road. It was beginning to get lighter as the early morning broke its way through the horizon, but it was still quite dark, and you had no idea where you were going. “You would’ve known eventually.” He said quietly, after a few seconds.

“I would’ve?” Your voice was just as quiet. Your shoulders relaxed, not that you had stiffened when his hand came into contact with your knee, not seeing the need to be ‘at odds’ with him. Not right now, anyway.

He nodded, a movement you caught from the corner of your eye. “I would’ve told you eventually.” He paused. “In fact, I think I may have blurted it out on our date if you had gotten the chance to accept. Turn right.”

A smile crept on your face as you slowed to turn. You had been driving for almost half an hour by now. It was a strange feeling, the emotions you felt in your tummy. Your eyebrows creased in confusion. “Why me?” You asked, voice a dash above a whisper.

He heard it nonetheless.

“It’s a wolf thing.” Was his reply. Was it just you or were things getting a little awkward? God, you hated awkward. His words sparked a feeling of dejavu in your head. Now, you had read the Twilight Saga: sparkly vampires and raging werewolves. You had a thing for werewolves, ironic to know now, but Euina had taken a liking to the series in both book and film form.

“Did you just quote Twilight?” You almost laughed. He did laugh. You joined in not long after, sparing a glance at his profile. He really was quite pretty.

“Not quite.” He looked back at you. You looked back at the road. “Next left.”

You left your question alone for a few minutes, biting down on your lip in a weak attempt to keep it from slipping. ‘What’s a wolf thing?’ Before you could actually ask, you took the turn and not even a minute later the outline of a house could be seen. As you drove closer, the house grew bigger (perspective, a funny thing) and more significant. The house, if you could call it a house, was huge. It seemed to have at least three floors, with seven windows lining the front of the building. The walls were white, the bottom floors walls had been replaced with ceiling-high windows – a warm light coming from what you assumed was a living room. The driveway was long, and the land that surrounded the house seemed to conceal it. It was beautiful. You looked back to him with an astonished look. “You live in a mansion?”

Sehun broke into a laugh again, “I do.” He nodded with a grin forming on his lips. “With my eleven brothers and three of their mates.” He pointed across the car, and you followed, stopping next to another vehicle. This spot would have to do. The word mate had caught your ears, ringing around them as if the word was the most important word for you right now. You shook your head a little and took the keys out of the ignition.

“I knew there’d be more of you.” You mumbled, hands falling into your lap, one brushing his on the fall. Neither of you went to move. You finally looked down at his hand on your leg, a small wave of butterflies flying through you as you finally recognised the gesture. They were gone after a moment. When you looked up, Sehun was already looking at you. His eyes shone green once again. You knew you had to ask your question. Or maybe you’d do something you’d regret with your sister in the back of the car.

You knew you were attracted to the man next to you. You knew that there was a connection between the two of you. You also knew that he was a werewolf. A werewolf, like the ones from your favourite myth. It had been a while since you had re-read it, but you knew the just of mates. Although, you had never quite understood the term. Before you chickened out (you were no chicken), you moved a hand over his and asked your question. “What’s a wolf thing?”

He took a few seconds to, well, move. His eyes zeroed in on where your hand had held his, which held your knee. Then his eyes met your own and, he opened his mouth to answer. A small meow filled the silence before he could. Your eyes closed, a smile forming as you tried to keep your laughter from escaping.

Great timing Tuttle.

How was that? Did you like it? Tell me what you think! :)

[lgcdanbi]

the shell seekers

                                all of it was good, in every                                 sense of the word. and in this world, nothing good is truly                                 lost.                                                                                                                 r. pilcher

she could always count on legacy to surprise her.

and you’d think, with three years of being in this company under her belt, she’d discover that the production department be a little predictable—but not here, not in legacy (but truly, who’s to believe her: she’d thought by now she’d have debuted already, not starring in the third instance of a project that’s set her up to lose time and time again).

a musical and a webtoon, surely, is one of the more unexpected things the company’s come up with, though. project origin: the beginnings. she sighs; why can’t she shake this feeling that it’s more like the end instead?

a month, give or take, to devise a perfected persona, one to both depict herself on screen and on stage (and in front of a panel of the agency’s top producers)—her ideal representation, and she’s stumped, like she naturally has been for nearly half a decade. no matter the fact that she’s terribly under-read (fantasy’s never been her genre of choice, unfortunately), but the whole plot just doesn’t resonate with her as it does with the others.

ironic, isn’t it? an idol portrayed as a knight—in shining armor and glistening sunlight when, well, danbi’s always considered herself a damsel in distress—or, rather, a background villager who’s introduced as easily as is forgotten.

so she waits her turn, anxiously so, and her dim expression pales in comparison to the excited ones of her colleagues. a deep sigh when her name’s finally called, and she has to dig nails into the whites of her palms to calm her racing heart.

(at the end of the day, it’s just an idea, after all. no harm, no foul, right?)

“hello, my name is geum danbi, a fourth-year trainee and one of the legacy girls,” she firstly greets, hoping her low bow will resolve the fluttering nerves in the pit of her stomach. a clearing of her throat as she straightens out her posture, eyes shaking in unease before she starts.

(maybe she’ll regret this afterward, or maybe she won’t. nonetheless, it’s not about who she is—but instead, who she wants to be.)

“the character i’ve thought of is someone who is.. brave.” a soft smile; oh, how she wishes. “she is as courageous as she is inspiring: the first one on the battlefield, but also the last one off it. she thinks with her head, yes, but not nearly as much with her heart—a champion of justice, it’s never a fight with others, but rather for them with her.”

a gentle sigh as she settles into her anxious skin. “but she is still human, after all, and painfully so. no one’s ever that strong, and even for her, she’s still afraid. more than she likes to admit.” she sheepishly grins, eyes outlining each grain of wood with every word spoken. “she’s different, not like other knights, i suppose. she’s never been a fan of the sword, no, not when magic’s always been her best friend—especially since it’s gentler, kinder.

“some call her a witch, and some days, she’ll agree with them. but most days, she doesn’t, for she knows they’re scared, just as much as she is—of the unknown, the uncertain.” her fingers play with the hem of her shirt, twirling the ends of fabric along the lines of her skin. “but maybe it’s envy, for her world of magic should be one of in their dreams, and she knows they’re jealous: for she’s the only one who can make hers a reality.”

a hidden declaration, more to herself than to anyone else, and when she finally raises her head, there’s something different—the air around her, the glint in her eyes.

she is brave.

[moretinyideas]

Under The Rain [4] | Oh Sehun

Lunar Myths Saga Story One

genre: wolf!sehun x human!female reader (oc - min yuna)

chapter summary: There’s nothing like a car drive to spike both your curiosities and your anxieties. Although, there’s nothing like a good laugh at the expensive of a moody werewolf and a cute little cat.

words: 2286

a little shorter than I was planning but like listen - I rewrote this six times bc I'm a piece of shit, but I like this one. However! I’m sorry if it sucks. ALSO next update is the second story of season one :) Guess Who! songs that got me through the chapter include Friends by Raye, Strangers by Sigrid and Uncover by SHINee :) Enjoy.

tags; @marshmallow-phd @bri-ne @high-on-food @asslikegilinsky @chanyeolol uhh sorry :)

[ml] [one] [two] [three] [four]

More Of A Cat Person

Your apartment door was still locked when you got there. That was a good sign, right? Inside, nothing was over turned or in a place you don’t remember being there. The lights were off apart from the dim lights in the kitchen – you always leave them on, so you don’t come home to pitch-black-darkness.

“I’ll go get Euina.”

“Pack a small bag.” Sehun suggested with a small smile. You left him to rest his ankle on one of the bean bags and rushed into your bedroom, stopping to sit on the edge of the mattress next to her. You gently placed a hand on Euina’s shoulder and rocked her slight.

“Wake up little dove.” You whispered, watching as her eyes fluttered open.

“Unnie? What time is it?” She answered, her voice scratchy and her eyes squinting as you switched on the light.

“It’s almost five in the morning. Something happened, and we have to stay someplace else for a few nights. You can go back to sleep in the car, okay? Can you get a change of clothes ready for me, little dove? We have to be quick.”

She got out of the bed and went to her little chest where she kept her clothes. “What happened? Are you okay?” She asked, her attention on her hands. She had always been good at listening to you when you were serious. And she knew you hated waking her up, so it must have been serious.

“I can explain it better later, okay, when we’re out of here.” You replied, grabbing a handful of black leggings and shoving them into one of your hiking backpacks.

“How long are we leaving for?” you heard Euina ask from behind you. Shrugging, even though she most likely didn’t see you, you opened your underwear draw and shoved a handful of underwear and three different bras into the bag.

“A couple of days, i don’t know.” You replied after a few seconds.

“A few days? Then we need to take Tuttle!”

Your motions froze for a second as you came to remember that you owned a pet. A small cat, affectionately names Tuttle as a kitten by your sister. She wanted to call him Turtle but at the young age of three when she was still getting the hang of pronunciation. Tuttle was almost ten years old, small yet mischievous (she really liked knocking mugs off of tables) and she loved being cuddled. She was a Russian Blue, her fur on the darker side of steel-grey with big, round green eyes that seemed to always be curious. Tuttle was a present for your twelfth birthday however, you had let Euina name her because you wanted to share her with your baby sister. You always wanted to share things with Euina, especially after your parents had left.

“Well, we’ll just take her with us. Don’t bother with her cage just grab her okay, I’ll get some packets of food in a minute.” You concluded, zipping up your bag. “And before you get her, grab another pair of my trainers please.” You walked from your room to your bathroom, shoving practically all of the contents you own from the shelves into a zip lock bag. You threw it onto your bed next to Euina’s open bag before making your way back into the main room of your apartment. You spotted Sehun straight away, he wasn’t sitting anymore but you didn’t particularly care at this moment - you didn’t have the tome to. You flipped the switch to brighten the lights and grabbed a plastic bag from a metal shelf free-standing next to the fridge.

“We have food.”

You swore your eyes could have rolled into the next dimension. You weren’t an idiot, there were at least seven people living under the roof Sehun called home - of course they had food. You’d be willing to bet that there were even more of them - considering the snippets of conversations you heard about names people you hadn’t met yet.

“Do you have cat food?” you asked, making your voice light and innocent, turning to face him with a small smile, tying the plastic handles in a knot. Sehun’s confused expression dropped at your words, before his brow began to furrow. He looked confused. /Cute/. The smile on your face grew naturally, you didn’t even feel it as you patted his shoulder to move past him. You walked back to your bedroom to help Euina finish up but you could hear him following.

“Why do you need cat food?” He asked once you were in the room. Apparently, both of you had forgotten that Euina had no idea he was here. She turned to face him before you did, mouth open and eyes narrowed.

“For Tuttle, who areyou?” She asked, zipping her back closed with a sharp tug.

“Sehun. Who’s Tuttle?”

“My cat.” You replied, picking her up from where she had padded over to you on your bed. You turned to face him with a small smile but, when you looked up to see the expression he was pulling you couldn’t help but let out a loud laugh. He was glaring, at Tuttle, like she was his worst enemy. He looked like a mix between a toddler who had just had his favourite toy taken away and a man who was extremely close to losing his shit after a long day of listening to his annoying desk partner. You handed Euina Tuttle.

“Let’s go, shall we?” You grabbed both Euina’s and your bags having packed everything into them ��� you were efficient, they fit. However, before you could sling both of them over your shoulders, Sehun grabbed one of them and slung it over his own – broad– shoulder. You didn’t know which one he had but you suspected that it didn’t really matter. Euina left before the both of you, Sehun trailing after the thirteen-year-old like a lost puppy, and you switched off the lights before scanning the room in case you left anything. You grabbed a small cat toy from the floor.

“We’re taking my car.” You announced, making your way back into the main room, giving the carrot toy to Euina for Tuttle to play with. “I’m driving.” You cut Sehun off, his mouth opened as if to protest. “Danbi said not to use your ankle.” You reminded him quietly, patting his shoulder. You made the split decision to switch off all the lights (you didn’t know when you’d be coming back, and you were not paying an extra bill for lights on during the day) and grabbed all the keys from the bowl you kept them in. You lived on the third floor of the eight-floor apartment block, you didn’t have to use the elevator – it was quicker to use the stairs anyway – so, you used the stairs. Your car was parked in your usual spot. You didn’t need to use your car very often, only when you were taking Euina back to your aunts or if you wanted to visit one of your favourite food places on the other side of town, but it wasn’t like you couldn’t drive.

Both Sehun and Euina were quiet as the three of you found your car, a black five-door Ford Focus (you didn’t know much else, you don’t particularly care about cars), and piled in. Euina sat in the back with Tuttle, laying down over the seats, seatbelt around her waist. You always had blankets in your car, in case she wanted to sleep or if she got cold, so she simply grabbed one to pull over herself. Tuttle scooted under one of Euina’s arms, paws next to her face. You knew Euina had questions, you could tell by the tone of her voice when she said she’d try and sleep more, but you were grateful she kept them to herself for the time being.

You honestly had no idea what you would tell her.

Once out on the roads you turned to Sehun, having come to a conclusion. “Where do you live?” You asked lowly. You switched on the radio (The CD player – you were never one for listening to adverts) and turned the volume down to almost a mumble, so the car wasn’t silent. You knew Euina couldn’t sleep in silence.

“Turn left, I’ll direct you.” Sehun answered. You turned left.

After what felt like an hour (fifteen minutes) of nothing but the music too low for you to focus on and Sehun’s occasional chiming’s of where to go you had to break the non-silent-silence. “What am I going to tell her? She’s not stupid. And she knows when I lie.” You asked. You weren’t sure why you added the last part, you hardly knew Sehun – he didn’t need to know you couldn’t lie to your baby sister to save your life. “Am I even allowed to tell her about you guys? Was I even allowed to know? What–”

Sehun cut you off, placing a large hand on your knee. You wanted to look down at it, but you kept your eyes on the road. It was beginning to get lighter as the early morning broke its way through the horizon, but it was still quite dark, and you had no idea where you were going. “You would’ve known eventually.” He said quietly, after a few seconds.

“I would’ve?” Your voice was just as quiet. Your shoulders relaxed, not that you had stiffened when his hand came into contact with your knee, not seeing the need to be ‘at odds’ with him. Not right now anyway.

He nodded, a movement you caught from the corner of your eye. “I would’ve told you eventually.” He paused. “In fact, I think I may have blurted it out on our date, if you had gotten the chance to accept. Turn right.”

A smile crept on your face as you slowed to turn. You had been driving for almost half an hour by now. It was a strange feeling, the emotions you felt in your tummy. Your eyebrows creased in confusion. “Why me?” You asked, voice a dash above a whisper.

He heard it nonetheless.

“It’s a wolf thing.” Was his reply. Was it just you or were things getting a little awkward. God, you hated awkward. His words sparked a feeling of de-ja-vu in your head. Now, you had read the Twilight Saga: sparkly vampires and raging werewolves. You had a thing for werewolf, ironic to know now, but Euina had taken a liking to the series in both book and film form.

“Did you just quote Twilight?” You almost laughed. He did laugh. You joined in not long after, sparing a glance at his profile. He really was quite pretty.

“Not quite.” He looked back at you. You looked back at the road. “Next left.”

You left your question alone for a few minutes, biting down on your lip in a poor attempt to keep it from slipping. ‘What’s a wolf thing?’ Before you could actually ask, you took the turn and not even a minute later the outline of a house could be seen. As you drove closer, the house grew bigger (perspective, a funny thing) and bigger. The house, if you could call it a house, was huge. It seemed to have at least three floors, with seven windows lining the front of the building. The walls were white, the bottom floors walls had been replaced with ceiling high windows – a warm light coming from what you assumed was a living room. The drive way was long and the land that surrounded the house seemed to conceal it. It was beautiful. You looked back to him with an astonished look. “You live in a mansion?”

Sehun broke into a laugh again, “I do.” He nodded with a grin forming on his lips. “With my eleven brothers and three of their mates.” He pointed across the car and you followed, stopping next to another car. This spot would have to do. The word mate had caught your ears, ringing around them as if the word was the most important word for you right now. You shook your head a little and took the keys out of ignition.

“I knew there’d be more of you.” You mumbled, hands falling into your lap, one brushing his on the fall. Neither of you went to move. You finally looked down at his hand on your leg, a small wave of butterflies flying through you as you finally recognised the gesture. They were gone after a moment. When you looked up, Sehun was already looking at you. His eyes shone green once again. You knew you had to ask your question. Or maybe you’d do something you’d regret with your sister in the back of the car.

You knew you were attracted to the man next to you. You knew that there was a connection between the two of you. You also knew that he was a werewolf. A werewolf like the ones from your favourite myth. It had been a while since you had re-read it, but you knew the just of mates. Although, you had never quite understood the term. Before you chickened out (you were no chicken) you moved a hand over his and asked your question. “What’s a wolf thing?”

He took a few seconds to, well, move. His eyes zeroed in in where your hand held his, which held your knee. Then his eyes met your own and he opened his mouth to answer. A small meow filled the silence before he could. Your eyes closed, a smiled forming as you tried to keep your laughter from escaping.

Great timing Tuttle.

how was that? did you like it? tell me what you think! :)

[sgnyooa]

drink me

drink me: i will write a drabble about my character taking shots with yours 

 — [ ♡ ] she’s sulking– and she knows her sulking is ruining the mood, but she can’t help it that she’s not enjoying herself. there is far to many bodies in the venue yooa notes, her lips curved down into a frown as another person bumps into her. club insomnia is not her usual scene– but then again, most clubs aren’t. there had been one point in her life when she did indulge in the nightlife scene but the truth is she no longer has the energy to drink herself into oblivion like her younger self could.  

yah! unnie, brighten up would you? she can barely hear these words over the loud music, despite the fact this comment was practically yelled at her. yooa wrinkles her nose and turns to face the figure that is now lecturing her about how she needs to enjoy their night out. jo danbi is bright as ever, even in the dim club with fluorescent lights– but she’s a menace. she’s a tispy menace who is trying to shove this shot of vodka down yooa’s throat to loosen her up.  ❝ danbi, danbi! ❞ she shouts, trying to steady the younger(who had climbed onto the same chair yooa was sitting on to try to get her to drink)  

 ❝ i’ll take the damn shot. just get off me, would you? ❞ yooa grumbles as she helps the younger get back onto her feet and grabs the small glasses from danbi’s hand. she places one glass down onto their table and quickly downs the liquid in the other glass, wincing as the younger, and all their acquaintances erupt into cheers. once the cheering dies down, yooa shifts her body towards the younger and nods her head towards the remaining shot glass.❝ alright, i took a shot, so it’s your turn. ❞ she’ll probably regret saying that when she has to haul danbi’s drunken body home, but really, that’s a probably for future yooa to deal with. 

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #21] Doing The 'Right' Thing

warnings: christmas is upon us! secret santa, yay!! jiyeong, booo! no major warnings! the arrival of b's bird hehe. some of my fave jimin parts are in this lol (he's one of my faves)

soundtrack: touch - keshi

wc: 10.1k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

An emptiness echoes down your apartment corridor, dim lights flickering above you, as you make your way home after practically running away from Jeongguk's bed.

A new bulb has been needed for a couple of weeks now, but your landlord doesn't care enough to change it. As long as the electricity runs and the water flows through taps, he thinks all is fair. Sure, you could change it - but Danbi gives you a firm 'why on earth would you do that?' every single time you suggest it.

It's for this reason - the shrouded darkness and the bleary hungover eyes - that you almost think you're seeing things as you notice an object by your apartment door.

A bouquet. White roses. An easy dozen, of which you'll undoubtedly count as soon as you're close enough. The stems are emerald green, fresh and perfectly picked to construct the most beautiful arrangement you think you've ever seen.

Poised and pristine, they look out of place in your apartment block - but you know they'll look right at home on your kitchen counter in the vase Danbi stole from her family home a couple of holiday seasons ago (you'd just been using a pint glass beforehand (again, stolen by Danbi's nimble fingers, just from your local pub instead of her mother's kitchen cupboard)).

You tell yourself it's strange. Let your head whisper little lies as white as the rose petals, telling you that you can't imagine who'd be sending either of you flowers. Perhaps Tae for Danbi? A secret admirer?

But you know. You know who picked them out, who sent them directly to your door. You know who always chose the black and white design of the minimalist greeting card wedged in between the flowers.

You know, because you got these flowers a week after your first date with him . Got them after the fifth date, just because. You got them on your birthday. Valentines. First anniversary.

You got them, again, after that one argument when you'd sworn down he tasted like latex, which was strange, because protection had been off the cards for months by that point. You trusted him.

The last time you got them was a week after the breakup. Again, just because. Just so you knew he was thinking of you. Asshole .

And so you don't check the card. Just pick up the pot they're prettily displayed in, and type your door code in with a sigh. You lean your shoulder against the heavy steel to open it up, a little exhausted by the events of the night and the emotional labour you know looking at those flowers will have on you.

They're too pretty to throw away, mind you - and when you look at Danbi's mother's vase, you're sad to see the flowers given to you by Jeongguk in the sanctuary of his favourite cafe are now withered and pathetic. The water has all but evaporated away, and rogue leaves lay by the base of their glass holder. Shame.

What once were the most fantastic wild blooms are now skeletons of their former selves.

S'what you get for tearing the stems from their life source. How can you ever expect them to thrive in hostile conditions?

And so Jins's roses will take pride of place in your home, and you'll pretend not to care.

They'll replace what was left to wither by Jeongguk, and you'll ignore the fact it was you who should have tried harder to keep them alive.

Congratulations on the art show. Proud to see your progression. Sorry I couldn't be there. J x reads his calling card - and as much as you know you should really tear it up and feed it to the recycling bin, you can't bring yourself to. It's stuck on the fridge beneath a 'Welcome to Vietnam' magnet purchased in the airport during a layover, not because you've ever actually visited the country.

It'll stay there for months. Danbi won't think to discard it, and you'll forget that you ever put it there.

In fact, you don't notice it again until a few weeks later as you're rushing around, running late for dinner, grabbing a bottle of fizz from the fridge.

The flowers have all dried up now, tossed in the trash, and the vase is empty. They lasted not even a week before they began to wilt. Typical of Seokjin, you had supposed at the time. Permanence isn't his thing.

Slamming the fridge door shut, you don't have a chance to even consider getting rid of the note - but you do think that you should, and that's something at least. It's not like you've heard from him since that night.

Hell, you've barely heard from Jeongguk.

Little messages here and there have been exchanged, but nothing substantial. Nothing that addresses the night you spent in his bed. In fact, you're pretty sure he's been spending his nights in someone else's bed recently.

It's not an unfathomable thought to have. It's been about a month since you set up his blind date, and Jiyeong is apparently doing the hardest soft launch known to man. It's not even subtle at this point. Her Instagram stories - of which constantly seem to be updating - are littered with the essence of Jeongguk.

Mugs from the ceramic painting place were the first clue. A selfie of her in his jacket, the second. The third was a blurry club photo of a hand you wished you didn't recognise so well loosely holding onto hers in the midst of a crowd. You wonder if it was taken on the night of the art show, or if they've been clubbing together since that night, just the two of them.

You forget the fourth, and the fifth, and the sixth, and now there's been so many damn stories you've lost count. Just know that the most recent one was a mirror selfie from the gym, carefully cropped so that the guy who had been spotting her was out of frame - but his tattooed arm? Yeah . She'd left that in.

You wonder whose company he prefers in the gym, and know that it's hers. At least that way he can actually properly work out. You're aware he'll get glares of jealousy from the gym bros who have a thing for Jiyeong, unlike the confused stares of the same gym bros who had wondered why the fuck a muscle rat like Jeongguk was wasting time on cardio with a girl who preferred sitting on a stationary treadmill rather than running on it.

Danbi had laughed at your scowl when you stumbled across the story a few days ago. Told you to be careful. "If the wind changes, your face will get stuck like that."

Good , you thought. Maybe it should. Then Jeongguk would permanently be reminded of how insufferable you find this whole situation.

You couldn't care less about the fact he's dating. Couldn't care less for the fact he's dating her - hell, you'd been the one to set it up! What is bothering you is how quiet he's been. It feels like you've barely spoken to him all month - but rational thinking seems to go out of the window when it comes to him.

See, the thing, Jeongguk's silence? His avoidance of you?

It doesn't exist.

In your head, maybe, but not in reality. You're orchestrating some great loss for no good reason.

There's been no real change to how he communicates with you. He still messages you just as much. He'd sent you a tinyURL link just the day before just to disguise what he was really sending you - the breadfish website. It was like being rickrolled in the big year of 2022. Made you smile like a fucking idiot behind the desk of the art cafe. Hobi had looked at you like you had three heads when the song echoed into the room.

But you simply added a laugh reaction emoji to Jeongguk's message and locked your phone as if it hadn't made your day.

You're the one avoiding him .

And - fucking hell - you'd only seen him four days ago! Had gone for a post-gym coffee walk. Had spoken about everything - the science of pollination, your favourite supermarkets (Homeplus reigned supreme), the best song of 2009 (which had ended in the promise of a noraebang battle, because you couldn't decide between fireflies (even though Jeongguk couldn't remember owlcity's name) or good girls go bad (which also resulted in you explaining Gossip Girl lore he never asked for)) - and anything... everything and anything... apart from Jiyeong. You didn't mention her. Nor did he.

It's not like you've mentioned sharing a bed with him that one night either, so avoiding uncomfortable topics isn't entirely unheard of.

Thing is, you've both been pretending like things are absolutely normal. Still grab coffee together, still send each other dumb raccoon memes, still look for each other on Friday nights in the dark shadows of Dionysus.

The way you see it, if you don't make a big deal of things, they don't have to be a big deal. You've downplayed it all. Pretended like there hasn't been a weight on your chest since you left his apartment that morning.

That's one difference, you guess. You've not returned to his since.

That's what you're really missing; the sanctuary nurtured with Jeongguk in the confines of his room. Home away from home. 'The kids'.

But your head's all frazzled, and you've been trying not to focus on it too much. Just continue lying to yourself, as if an Oscar is dependent on your performance. You've gotten so good at acting as if you're happy with the current set up, you're managing to fool everyone - including yourself.

Hurrying down the stairs of your apartment, you know that your acting skills have to be on top form tonight. Can't be letting the pesky mask slip. Have worn extra glitter to keep it in place.

Jimin waits by the end of your road, engine running, eyes shamelessly on you as you head up the street towards him.

It's late December, and the shop windows are full of well-wishes for the upcoming festivities and special offers for last-minute gifts.

In your bag, you're carrying a bottle of whisky for Yoongi and a luxury bath bomb set for Seoyeon. You've no idea if the whisky is any good, but it was on the top shelf, so you're hoping it's alright. As for the bath bombs, they're your favourite (and will leave Seoyeon with a sheen of your signature glitter all over her skin afterwards), so you're not so worried about them.

The presents are more to say 'thank you' for hosting the Christmas Eve dinner, and less so intended to be actual gifts. As a rule, to make life a little easier for everyone, Secret Santa had been organised a few weeks prior. No other gifts allowed - but not taking something for the hosts felt wrong.

Seoyeon had sorted everything out for Secret Santa, so it really had been stress-free.

Yours (intended for Jimin) has been wrapped for the best part of a week and is ready to go. It sits snug in your bag, between Yoongi's whisky and your own bottle of vodka - it is Christmas, after all. The bottle of fizz you're holding by the neck? A little extra bit of festive liquid luck.

"Alright?" Jimin greets you with a smile as you pop open the passenger door and slip in beside him. Your bag is popped in the footwell, but you hold onto the prosecco.

"Happy Christmas," you smile - then glance up to check he hasn't put mistletoe above the handbrake. It's all clear. Surprisingly .

"What?" He asks, noticing the way your eyes dart around, but you dismiss his question.

"Just raring to go," you lie - and Jimin can see right through it. Doesn't care too much to ask any further.

He merges into oncoming traffic with ease. He's a smooth driver. Not as fast as Jeongguk, but just as competent. You know you shouldn't compare - but how can you not?

It was supposed to be Jeongguk giving you a lift to The Mins.

Was supposed to be him playing cheesy Christmas tunes and demanding you duet with him for the entire journey.

Was supposed to be him who stopped at a Mcdonald's drive-thru, 'cause he's addicted to the limited edition festive sauce that comes with the cheese bites.

Was supposed to be him who stopped in a side lane just down the road from Yoongi's place, so he could air his car out and make sure you both didn't smell like Maccies, knowing full well The Mins would be cooking up a storm.

Was supposed to be him .

And yet you're having to rely on Jimin - who you haven't seen since you last left his bedroom - to ferry you to Christmas Eve dinner.

It's not that you aren't grateful. Danbi is visiting family, and Hoseok always hangs out with his old school friends on Christmas eve, so you've been looking forward to this for weeks. It's always nice to be surrounded by people you care about, especially at this time of year. Far better than being alone.

"Spoken to Gguk today?" Jimin asks before he even bothers with other formalities. Knows that things have been a little... difficult, lately. Has noticed how antsy Jeongguk has been around the apartment. Short tempered. Impatient. Isn't sure if it's you or Jiyeong making him like this. Maybe both.

You're quiet for a moment as you wait for your phone to connect to his car speaker system. Are both amused and slightly disgusted by the name choice for his car - Park & Ride. A true lothario.

"Nope."

And then you realise that such a definitive answer makes way for a million questions, so you overcompensate.

"No need," you continue with a shrug. "He let me know that he couldn't do today, hence me asking if you could give me a ride - thanks, by the way - but other than that? I think we've both just been busy."

"Yeah," Jimin nods, then thinks, busy ignoring each other . "He actually asked me to give you a ride before you even called, so it's all good. No skin off my back.

"Thank you," you say regardless. "I really appreciate it."

"No bother," he shakes his head. "It's always good to have company - plus Yoongi lives so fucking far out of the city. I get bored alone."

"Well, consider me your very own entertainment system," you grin, as your phone finally connects to his radio system. His car is a lot different to Jeongguk's. No better, no worse. Just not the same.

Jimin doesn't force you to talk about Jeongguk like you half think he will. In fact, it's you who is the first one to mention him again.

"Bringing Jiyeong, isn't he?" You ask, trying to sound nonchalant.

He nods. "Mhmm. She wanted to spend Christmas with him, but he thinks it's too soon. This was his compromise, I guess."

You're silent for a moment, contemplating just what the fuck you've done to everyone's lives by setting him up with Jiyeong. Sure, it's not really a negative change, but it's a change nonetheless. Everyone's lives are affected by this. There'll be an extra seat at the table. Another present for Secret Santa.

Part of you doesn't understand why you're being so dramatic about it all. In the grand scheme of everything, Jiyeong changes nothing. Makes no difference if she's in attendance. The only thing it really changes is how Jeongguk will interact with you.

"That's nice," you say. You really want to mean it.

"Is it?" Jimin asks, his tone just as sincere as yours is trying to be.

"Mhmm," you nod. "It's good he's found someone."

Again, Jimin just asks, "is it?"

"Well, yeah?" You laugh softly. "I know he was hung up on Hayun for a while, so it's good that he's moving on."

Eyes on the road, Jimin smirks and gently shakes his head. "Think we've got different ideas of what 'hooked' means. Dumbass hasn't been hooked on her for months. Quite positively unhooked, if you ask me."

"Oh," you murmur. "Well, either way. It's nice having someone around this time of year."

"Is that what you're after?" He teases, knowing that you'd have had no problem trying to find that for yourself if you really wanted it.

"Couldn't think of anything worse," you grin - and you really do mean it. You've grown selfish in your singledom. Having to factor in someone else's feelings, their needs, their schedule, to your plans would just annoy you, you think.

You neglect to acknowledge how those things come without a second thought when you actually care about someone. It's not a chore, or an obligation. When you're into someone, you factor them in because life is better with them around. You'd rather disrupt your selfish ways to make room for them in your schedule.

"Me either, DB," Jimin agrees. "You're full of shit, though."

"Sorry?" You turn to face him, but his eyes are on the road, a smug smirk on his face.

"You're forgiven."

"No," you laugh. "Sorry as in 'what the fuck?' "

"That's far less polite," Jimin smiles, still, deliberately winding you up.

"So is telling someone they're full of shit!"

"Well, you are!" He laughs, looking up to the rear view mirror before he merges lane. "We both know if Gguk turned around and insisted on doing something that would disrupt your plans-"

"I'd tell him to wait his turn."

Jimin laughs again. "You're a liar."

"And you're a shit-stirrer."

He tilts his head a little, sticking his bottom lip out, as if he's considering your words - before conceding with a nod. "Yeah, you're not wrong. I just don't get the pair of you. Act like you're just friends, set each other up on blind dates, but shag ea-"

"Sorry?" You almost choke the second ' shag ' leaves his mouth.

"Forgiven," he smirks. "Again."

"Not what I meant," you protest. "Again."

"So what?" Jimin teases. "You're gonna pretend like you haven't?"

"We don't shag!" You almost shriek. It's not a lie. At least not anymore. "He's got a- well, I'm not really sure what they are, but it doesn't matter. He's seeing someone."

"So?"

"Oh my god," you say with even more horror than before. "Not everyone sluts themselves out for a quick thrill Jimin."

"True. But I do, and I know you do, too."

"You know no such thing."

"I've fucked you twice."

"Shut up."

"Is this what you're like with him, too?" He teases. It's all in good humour, but Jimin is trying to get under your skin.

Jeongguk wouldn't crack. Had said you'd rested some of your things on his chair when you came to say bye in the morning. Reckons you'd left it by accident.

Jimin's bed had been cold on the side that wasn't his and void of any perfume when he'd woken up. Knows you didn't sleep in his bed - but Jeongguk refused to admit anything, and so Jimin is seeing if you're easier to crack. Doesn't want the truth for truth's sake, but just because he loves being right.

"His skin ain't as thick as mine, poor baby needs a softer approach," Jimin adds. "Hope you're nice to him in bed."

"I've never been in his bed," you roll your eyes. "And poor baby ain't gentle in the slighte-"

"HA! So you are fucking him!"

"No!"

"Been trying to get the truth out of him for weeks," Jimin tells you.

"What truth?" You feign innocence once more.

" What truth? " He mimics, voice high in pitch and whiney - far whinier than you think yours actually is. "You're both as bad as one another. Why was your bra in his room after you fucked me?"

You're silent.

"It's a very simple question," he assures you.

You want to unbuckle your seatbelt, open the car door and roll onto the road. Don't care about the oncoming traffic. Would be far less painful than this conversation.

"The answer is simple, too," you say, deciding that deflection is the best way to go. "You're just not gonna believe anything I say unless it ends in an admission of us fucking."

"True," he concedes. "Look, I don't give a shit if you are. Accidentally gave him crabs once-"

"Sorry?"

"Forgiven," Jimin smirks, before deciding to just carry on with his declaration. "Was years ago, now. It's why he doesn't share towels. Anyways, what I'm saying is that we've shared weirder things."

"I'm not an object," you scoff a little, skipping the song that's softly humming from the speakers to something a little more lively. You're currently listening to some indie artist that Jeongguk had on once while he'd been studying during a hangout, and you don't like the constant reminders of him. The conversation is bad enough as it is.

"Nor were the crabs?"

Jimin, you decide, is one of the most complex people you've ever met. An interior designer with the simplest bedroom known to man; a charming lothario who is just as revolting as he is seductive. You're not really sure how he does it, but he does make you laugh at least. Mainly from confusion, but a laugh is a laugh. It's still enjoyable. He's nice to be around.

You're incompatible, to say the least, but he's fun, which is probably why you didn't mind going for round two - the more you get to know him though, the more you solidify the fact that round three is off the cards.

The rest of the drive goes without another mention of Jeongguk, and whether or not he's seen just as much of you as Jimin has. The man in the driver's seat is intuitive, though, and just knows . Doesn't need you to confirm it. Doesn't need Jeongguk to, either. Is content in his assumptions.

You're pleased to arrive before Jeongguk.

Seoyeon greets you with a hug as warm as a Daegu summer, and Yoongi's smile is just as toasty. Despite the freeze of winter months, the Min's cultivate a warmth that makes even the ondol seem redundant.

Yoongi studies the whisky with an impressed pout and a nod, reading over the label. "Good choice. Want some?"

Shaking your head, you pull out the vodka instead.

"Keep that away from Seoyeon," he jokes, which causes her to zoom back over to the pair of you with an enthusiastic smile.

"Keep what awa- oooh! Vodka," she grins. "Care to share?"

And so Yoongi's warning is redundant, because yes , you really would like to share. It's not that Yoongi doesn't want her drinking, it's just that he knows her like the back of his hand. Vodka always gets her a little too tipsy, and they've still got a meal to serve up - but if he has to take the lead, he'll take it, just so she can let her hair down a little. It's Christmas, after all. A time for celebrating.

Yet when Jeongguk arrives, Jiyeong in toe, you find yourself downing the dregs of your first drink just to wash down your apprehension. Don't feel like celebrating. Feel like commiserating. You've not been around Jeongguk while he's been with Jiyeong since Tae's art show.

Makes you think of the bar. Makes you think of your hand on his thighs in the dark shadows, and the heaviness of his presence behind you in the bathroom, wide eyes on his in the reflection of an aged mirror. Makes you feel guilty .

It's not like anything happened - but you condemn yourself because you know it wasn't right, even if it wasn't exactly wrong.

"Sorry we're late," he says, and it's bizarre how his voice alone settles the ache in your chest. "Traffic was a bitch."

He reaches behind himself for her hand, to guide Jiyeong further into the room. The way she holds it, and how her other hand wraps around his wrist makes you think now would be a great time for another drink. You chalk it up to your disdain for PDA - as if you hadn't watched on with a smile as Yoongi had pressed a tiny kiss against Seoyeon's head while she'd been pouring herself a drink.

PDA doesn't bother you at all. In fact, you'd once argued with Seokjin about the fact he never held your hand in public. Said he didn't like getting clammy palms.

Maybe that's it. Maybe you're jealous of the intimacy.

Jeongguk's made leaps and bounds since the first bird fell - but Jeongguk never had an issue with intimacy. That one was all on you. Trained by Seokjin, you've a lot to unlearn, even now. You weren't done with the birds. Nowhere near close.

Jeongguk's fear of rejection is still just as potent as your intimacy issues, he just masks it well. Lets Jiyeong take the lead. He doesn't reject her, but he doesn't open himself up for rejection either.

He glances over to you and nods, a small smile on his lips. Head to toe in black, he's dressed up a little bit. Is in slacks and a button-up, a leather belt around his waist. Still got his converse on, though. His dainty silver lip ring flips ever so gently, and it's like you've been drinking prosecco this entire time, a little fizz bubbling in your stomach - so you pour yourself a glass of it to disguise the feeling. Hold it up and nod, as if to say some silent cheers or celebration.

Jiyeong catches his gaze. Whispers something in his ear. Diverts his attention - and so you divert your eyes. Engage in conversation with Nabi and Tae - a stupid debate about the best pepero flavour. Tae swears down by the original, but Nabi is an almond girlie. You offend them both when you say you like the 'nude' flavour - where the chocolate is on the inside, the biscuit acting as an outer layer.

"Of all the things I've ever learnt about you, this is by far the worst," Tae tells you with such certainty that you can't help but laugh. Nabi defends you. Tells Tae at least your choice isn't 'boring' like his.

Eventually, as you settle around the dinner table, everyone gets involved, and Jeongguk is the worst offender. Says the cheddar cheese flavour is underrated. Even Jiyeong refuses to defend him, there.

"Right," Tae says in disgust. "Little Miss Nude and Mr Cheddar fucking Cheese, you can both get out. I'm not celebrating Christmas with either of you."

"What?"

"Oh, c'mon!"

You both protest, but Tae refuses to have any of it. It's all in good humour - everyone is laughing, and tipsy grins are on the faces of the people you adore the most. Even Jiyeong seems to be enjoying herself - but she'll only look at Jeongguk. Not you. The joke is only funny because he's involved. If it were just you, she'd probably not find much humour in it.

Nabi is quick to refill both of your drinks throughout the evening.

"Christmas is reserved for being drunk, and drunk only," she tells you with absolute certainty as you dillydally in the kitchen while the rest of your friends continue their conversation around the dinner table. Seeing her out of her shell is nice, so you don't mind her insistence. "It's the true Scots way."

You learn more about her family - Scottish on her dad's side. She'd usually be there for Christmas, but having spent the summer there, she'd opted for Christmas back in Korea, and regrets it. Loves her family dearly, and misses their tradition of getting absolutely blitzed every December. It's not necessarily the 'true Scots way' as she says, but it's her way - getting you guys buzzed is her way of feeling like she's 'home'. It's lovely to be included, you decide.

Her hair is up with a tartan ribbon - Black Watch, she tells you the pattern is. Deep green and dark blue, it couldn't be further from her family's rich red-based tartan - but it didn't match her outfit as well, and she's not too precious about it.

She babbles about her family, and asks about yours. Is just as interested in you as you are in her. There's a warmth to Nabi once she opens up. Despite how cold she'd been the first time you'd met her, it seems as if this is the real Nabi. The standoffish approach is unintentional, and she realises it does her no favours - but makes the friendships formed much more genuine.

Dinner is eaten. Compliments are given to the chefs. Seoyeon and Yoongi battle for the head chef title, but it's redundant because everyone's a little too tipsy for their own good. All you'll remember in the morning is that it was fucking delicious. Might even rival your mother's cooking.

Jeongguk sits on the opposite side of the dinner table, a few seats down from yours. Jiyeong is next to him, closer to you, almost like she wants a barrier.

Or maybe she's just a girl sitting next to the guy she's dating at dinner.

You blame the bitter thoughts on the vodka-induced haze. It's unlike you - but Christmas was always going to be difficult for you. It's the one time of year Seokjin would really pull through. All of your fondest memories with him stem from this season.

You'd grown a little dependent on Jeongguk to alleviate the strain caused by the ghost of Christmas past, but he can't do that now. It's okay, that he can't. He shouldn't. Not if he wants things with Jiyeong to work out - of which he does.

Part of him knows, though, that an argument is brewing. It's in the way Jiyeong stiffens every time you become a focal point of the conversation. How her eyes follow you as you re-enter the room with Nabi, your friendship something she can't understand because she's still on cold-terms with Nabi. Doesn't realise yet it's just how Nabi works - and while you'd been tolerant of it, Jiyeong takes offence.

Her discomfort also shows in her grip on Jeongguk's thigh and how it becomes a little tighter when he laughs at jokes you make. A reminder, he thinks. You're here with me. Pay attention to me.

He can't blame her. They've been dating for a month. This is their first major holiday. Of course she'd want things to go well. To feel special.

Gym sessions have doubled as dates, which has increased the time spent together, but he's also made an effort outside of their common space. They've been for dinner, been to the city's main amusement park. Done 'datey' things, because that's the 'done' thing. He holds her hand when they're together, and kisses her goodbye.

He's still yet to invite her back to his. Not for a fear of rejection, but because he still hasn't taken those damn birds down.

Sometimes she likes to argue with him for the sake of making him squirm. If a text comes through from you, he knows a row is due - but has learned that sometimes she orchestrates them just to get him in her bed. Manipulates him a little bit. Whines. Says she doesn't even think he likes her that much - so he tries to prove that he does.

Thinks that maybe sex could be the answer - and given how sweet and sincere she always is in the aftermath, and how she always says sorry for being mean when he's in her sheets, it seems like it does work.

For a while, at least.

And so that's how his weeks go. Jiyeong is fine until she's not, and then Jeongguk will fix things by fucking her - because how could you possibly be an issue when she's the one he's fucking? It's her name on his tongue, her tongue in his mouth, and vice versa.

But he's found he's adopted your behaviours. He never stays over. He'll spend the evening at hers. Let her do things you won't. Kisses her when he fucks her, because it's what feels right - but doesn't stay the night because it feels wrong . It is intimate. He's not sure he wants to take things that far, yet. Isn't sure he likes the lingering resentment that's building; how it feels like he's being conditioned to associate sex with the unpleasantness of an argument.

He tries not to think of Hayun, but he remembers how he'd fuck her, just hoping - praying - she'd realise his feelings for her. Doesn't like that he's fucking Jiyeong as a way to prove himself. It feels too familiar.

They're not official. Exclusive, yes, but not official. It's still in its trial period, which is further than he ever got with Hayun, though.

Jeongguk knows, deep down, that he's too much of a hopeless romantic to ever need a 'trial period'. Knows that if this was the right thing for him, he'd already be thinking about sharing a home and naming children. Just how he's wired.

But he's jumped in too quickly before, and it's never ended well. He's taking things slow, because he wants it to be different. Knows that love is a choice, so he's actively choosing her.

Isn't in love yet. Not even close. But he wants to be.

And so he ignores the fact he doesn't think he can peacefully coexist with you without Jieyong getting irritated because he thinks if he keeps choosing her, she'll understand. He thinks if he proves himself, his dedication, that she'll accept it.

He's trying .

Even as an outsider, you recognise this. Can see that sometimes he goes to do things - to speak, to joke - and then catches himself. Speaks to her instead. Includes her in conversations that she'd otherwise remain mute in.

He's trying , which is more than Seokjin ever did for you. Makes you appreciate Jeongguk's careful nature even more. You think that Jiyeong would be mad to give him up, and it appears that he's not intending on giving her up, so all that's left to do is accept that this is your reality now.

The birds were fun while they lasted, but you'd rather have Jeongguk around, than not at all. It's a small compromise - and maybe you're a few drinks too deep, but by the time Secret Santa exchange comes around, you find yourself smiling at how animated he becomes. His round eyes glow with excitement, enthused by the fun of it all. A big kid at heart, Jeongguk is the purest soul you've ever known.

He's the one who passes out the gifts, like a kid on Christmas morning organising the presents beneath the tree. He wants to touch them all, feel their weight, see if they make a noise. Also wants to unwrap them all, but knows he can't, so excitedly hurries them along.

You can tell almost immediately who he wrapped a gift for - his smile becomes nervous, nibbling down on his bottom lip as he tentatively observes Tae unwrap an immaculately wrapped parcel. You should have guessed, really, knowing how good Jeongguk is with folding paper, that it would be from him.

Inside is a painting by numbers book for beginners - "Oh fuck off," Tae laughs - and a pair of earrings that have tiny, fully-functional, watercolour painting sets dangling from them.

Tae is obsessed . Takes his small hoops out, and puts the earrings in immediately. They're ridiculous and everyone is aware of it, but the way Tae dips the tiny brush into his wine and uses it to wet some of the paint is amusing to everyone. He gets straight to work painting in the first page - which is quite literally a square with just a single number inside it.

The way Jeongguk beams as Tae gets to grips with it is so endearing that you find yourself just as enthused as he is.

He's laughing, all childlike and full of life, and you decide that not having him in your life would be a crying shame. You're grateful for many things, but moments like these? They're the cherry on top of a good life.

You're a little more nervous as Jimin begins to unwrap his present.

It's from you, not that anyone is aware - hell, you're not even sure Jimin will realise the joke you're making as he neatly removes the ribbons you've wrapped around his gift. Everyone watches on with great curiosity as he begins to decipher what on earth he's received.

It's a two-part gift. The first thing? A desk sign.

Don't touch my pens , it reads - until he slides a small tab across, which changes it to say 'Do touch my pen.'

He smirks. Thinks he knows where this is going. Thinks he knows who gave it to him - and he unwraps the second part of your gift, he laughs in a way you don't think you've ever heard before.

"Oh, you little fucker," he grins at you, holding close three brand new pens, that match the one he'd claimed to be his favourite on the first night you had met. It's all a bit tongue-in-cheek, and you know it could probably prompt a few questions. You're not too sure what everyone knows of yours and Jimin's shared history, but you decide you don't really care.

"It's an in-joke," Jimin tells everyone, not wanting to air your dirty laundry. He sets his desk sign in front of him, and changes it back to ' Don't touch my pens ,' then neatly lines his new ones into a row, a pleased smile on his angelic face. Looks up at you. Grins. "Good memory."

You just shrug, pleased that he finds humour in them. The smile on your face is warm.

The smile on Jeongguk's face? Gone.

It returns when Jiyeong goes to open her present. Whoever had her name made a conscious effort to make her feel included despite not knowing her all too well. They also probably asked Jeongguk for some pointers, but that doesn't matter.

"Oh, these are ideal," she grins at a set of workout dice. There are six, each covered in different workouts and stretches. A final one indicates how many reps should be done. "I'm so bored of my current routine. These are literally perfect."

There's a lot to be said for how someone receives a gift, and Jiyeong seems genuinely appreciative. Alongside the dice is a custom water bottle with her name on it, and a cheat-day chocolate bar, both of which are just as well received.

From across the table, you sit with a soft smile on your lips. Perhaps this new normal could be nice.

Jeongguk feels your gaze. Glances towards you. Is pleased by the look on your face. Smiles, too.

You're the last to receive your present. It's wrapped a little haphazardly, and truth be told, you've no idea who it could be from. So far, no one has admitted to anything.

Occasionally, you just know - like Jeongguk's gift for Tae.

You've no idea who gifted Jeongguk quite possibly the largest shirt you've ever seen in your life.

It's a T-shirt, but the sleeves end by his wrists, and the hem of the shirt is below his knees. A joke at the expense of his love for baggy clothes, he's wearing it with pride and a silly little grin on his face. It's impractical and ridiculous, but it sums him up perfectly. Maybe it's the sheer amount of vodka you've consumed, but you can't seem to stop laughing every time you look at him.

Jiyeong doesn't really find it that funny, but she laughs too because she doesn't like the way Jeongguk looks at you when you laugh.

Yoongi's had nearly half a bottle of whisky because every time he notices the tension, he downs his drink. Can't be dealing with it. Doesn't understand how no one else is privy to it.

When you've finally discarded the wrapping paper, you find yourself laughing. Of course you are - the gift is perfect .

You open the box up, and then everyone joins in with your laughter as you pull out a bloody disco ball.

"Incredible," you beam, letting it spin in front of you, soft giggles escaping your lips. The light reflects as you twirl it around, dappling everyone in the most gorgeous speckles. Ethereal and whimsical, it's perhaps the best secret santa gift you've ever received.

Jiyeong doesn't smile. Just looks at Jeongguk as he looks at you, and wonders why he's incapable of ever looking at you without that stupid fucking smile on his face. It irritates her.

You don't look at Jeongguk. Just at the disco ball. You fear he's got stars in his eyes - and when your body betrays your mind, and eventually does glance towards him, you're proven right.

Of course he does though. He's looking at his star girl, and would have galaxies in his eyes regardless. Always has done. Regretfully, always will.

See, the stars are just reflections of your glitter. They won't burn out. Will never disintegrate. Very bad for the environment.

Forever is a long time, but he thinks it's the only accurate timeframe he can give to the splendour of your sparkle.

As your eyes linger for just a moment too long, there's an acute awareness between you both that things were better before.

He misses stargazing.

You miss the way he watches you.

Jeongguk doesn't know what to make of it. Things should be better now. Things should feel right - but he's holding back the full smile he wants to give you. Feels like he can't enthuse with you. Knows it will lead to an argument, and he's been trying to avoid those. Knows that Jiyeong is at her worst when she's had a few drinks, and knows it won't take much for her to blow up at him.

The worst part? He knows when they stopped for gas on their way there, he'd returned to the car with snacks (of which she'd naturally been happy about) but also an air freshener in the shape of a tiny fucking disco ball. He'd found it hilarious. She'd thought it was cute, but didn't understand why he liked it so much. She liked how much he liked it though, so had hung it up for him while he was driving.

Jeongguk knows she isn't stupid. Knows dots are being joined in her head. Knows that when he saw that air freshener, he thought of you. Knows that he loved it because of you. Part of him didn't even realise himself at the time, but now that he comes to think of it, it's obvious.

Jiyeong's internalised rage could shatter the disco ball you're holding into a thousand pieces - and Jeongguk knows you'd still find beauty in it.

You're a hopeless romanticist, just like he's a hopeless romantic. Both find love in things you shouldn't; you in ideas, him in people.

So he just nods. Lets someone else make jokes about your disco ball eyes, and how it's like looking at a sculpture of you. Laughs as you fake offence for being likened to a ball-shaped object - but stiffens his back when he realises Jiyeongs strengthening grip on his thigh.

You pretend you don't wish Jeongguk would make a stupid remark about how he was the one who invented that nickname, and how he deserves the credit.

He just turns to Jiyeong and whispers something in her ear. You've no idea what he says, but she smiles. Better than the death glare you'd been getting previously, so you ignore it.

That new normal you had decided was okay? Yeah. You hate it.

That Oscar-worthy performance you've been putting on prevails, though. As the night dwindles on, you holding the disco ball close, fractured light painting your throat in different hues, you couldn't look happier.

Natural divisions form - Jeongguk ends up in the kitchen with Tae, Jimin and Jiyeong, while Yoongi stays with the girlies. Namjoon is off visiting family, so he doesn't have his usual right-hand man - but he has his wife-to-be and a little plait in his hair, so he doesn't mind all too much.

"It's upstairs," Yoongi says to you quietly a little while later. "Spare room."

You nod, knowing what he means straight off the bat. Glancing through the doorway to where Jeongguk has his arm looped around Jiyeong's shoulders, a pretty smile on her face, you frown.

"Go up," Yoongi just says. "I'll sort it. First room on the left. Door's open."

You do as you're told - only realising quite how drunk you are when you stand. Walking straight is never your strong point after a few drinks, but you've been sitting for so long that you didn't realise quite how bad it was.

The room Yoongi directed you to is quaint - a small bed, not quite a double, is snug against the window. All of the furniture is carved from the same wood, and you know instantly that Yoongi must have made every single piece of it. It's impressive. Commendable. You understand why Seoyeon is so smitten. There's something to be said for a man who has mastered his craft. Maybe that's why you like seeing Jeongguk behind the bar so much.

A thin box lays on top of the white quilt, denting it from the weight. You check it over. Open it up. Pout. It's perfect .

Crafted by Yoongi, a dark walnut cutting board engraved with Jeongguk's name sits perfectly in the box, a thin layer of tissue paper beneath it. One edge has the natural shape of the wood running up it, while the rest have been sanded to a gorgeous curve. In the bottom corner, Yoongi's logo - his own name - is branded into the wood. It's gorgeous. One of a kind.

After visiting Yoongi's studio together, and seeing Jeongguk delicately run his fingers along similar ones, an idea had brewed in your head. Thought it was apt, knowing he wants his own samgyeopsal place.

You've barely managed to close it again when you hear a small knock on the open door.

Turning, you're greeted by your favourite person, and you can't even hide your smile. He can't hide his, either. His oversized shirt is tied around his neck by the sleeves, as if he's wearing a cape. You think he's ridiculous and it makes you giggle.

"What?" he beams - 'cause he can't suppress his smiles, either. Has been holding them in all evening, but now it's just the pair of you, he can finally indulge.

Yoongi had pulled him to the side. Told Jiyeong he needed to borrow him quickly. Followed Jeongguk upstairs, but went to the bathroom instead. Told Jeongguk to go to the spare room.

Maybe the deceit isn't ideal, but it's for a good cause, Yoongi thinks. Would do it again, no questions asked. Thinks that this is worthy of breaking Seoyeon's 'no gifts other than secret santa' rule.

"Have I been lured here under false pretences?" He speaks quietly, moving a little closer, tapping against the door to push it nearly shut. It's ajar, but only just.

"Maybe," you whisper back. Take a step closer. He holds his hands out, palms up, for you to gently slap yours against his. The contact is innocent. He just misses being tactile with you.

"Maybe?" He raises his brows, tilting his head slightly. His eyes narrow, smile persisting, a small laugh stuttering between his lips as his nose begins to scrunch. He's as drunk as he is handsome.

"Maybe," you nod, before looking over to the box on the bed. "Santa's been."

Jeongguk still his hands. Holds yours a little. Pretends he isn't.

"For me?"

"Mhmm," you nod, pulling your palms from his grasp, reaching over for it. "Here."

He takes it slowly. Is apprehensive. It makes you laugh. Says nothing as he eases the lid off the box - then stops moving entirely as he realises exactly what it is.

"For the restaurant," you say softly, a nervous smile on your lips. Eyes wide, you can't fully work out what he's thinking. "When you finally open it. I know wooden chopping boards aren't, like, health and safety approved, but I wasn't really thinking about that when I decided to get you one, so I'll buy a new set when the time comes-"

"No," Jeongguk shakes his head. Finally looks up at you. Looks like he might cry. "No, this is perfect. Perfect . B, what the fuck?"

And then he laughs. Chokes a little, because he really is trying to hold back the fact he feels like he'll cry. Holds the board in one hand, and uses the other to pull you in for a hug so warm that it feels like you're being engulfed by a thousand flames.

You've always believed in his dreams with reckless abandon. Have never doubted him. Know that one day you'll be drinking purple starfuckers after hours at the bar of his very own samgyeopsal place. You will . You're sure of it.

And while Jeongguk's always quietly hoped that he'd be able to achieve his dreams, he's never had someone enthuse about it in the way that you do. Never had someone absolutely certain that his dreams would play an active role in their own reality.

But you do.

So he sets the cutting board gently down on the bed and fully wraps his arms around you. Hugs you because he doesn't know how else to convey the way it makes him feel. Appreciative? Maybe. But it's more than that. More than delight, contentedness, gratefulness. He's experiencing all of those things, but they're too simple for such a complex feeling.

"Perfect," he whispers against the side of your head. "So fucking perfect."

He doesn't clarify that he's talking about the cutting board. Doesn't think he needs to. Also knows he not talking about the board at all, but knows better than to admit that.

"I'm glad you like it," you smile against his chest, then pull away from the hug. "Just thought maybe you should start gathering your resources, yanno?"

It's a lie. You just wanted to get him a gift.

He picks it up again and traces the grooves, fingers tenderly drawing over the wood grain. Studies it, because he knows if he looks at you again, he won't be able to make sensible choices.

"I love it."

"Pretty, isn't it?" You grin, watching his hands delicately feel their way around the board.

He looks up at you briefly. His eyes linger, then fall back to his hands.

"Yeah," he smiles. "Very pretty."

You let him study it for a little longer, before encouraging him downstairs. You tell him everyone will be wondering where he is. You think they really will. Think he's the life and the soul. Fail to realise just because he's the person you're always focused on, doesn't mean that everyone else is.

"Wait," he says as you reach the top of the stairs, the board tucked beneath his arm.

"Mhmm?"

"Thank you."

"It's fine," you smile - but Jeongguk looks serious all of a sudden.

"I mean it, Byeol. You don't... This is..." he struggles to find the words, so just laughs. "I'm so glad to know you."

You can't help the smile that breaks on your face, like a shooting star in the darkest of nights. Your glitter reflects the warm light pooling from up the stairs, and Jeongguk realises he's missed you far too much.

"Knowing you is okay," you tease, before ushering him downstairs. "C'mon. Seoyeon was talking about playing a game just before we headed up. Don't wanna miss the fun."

You're also aware you've been away for a little too long. Know that Jiyeong will probably start getting antsy. You know in her position, you probably would feel the exact same, and you don't want to make life difficult for anyone.

"You go first," you encourage. "I'll follow in a moment."

He does as he's told, while you head to the bathroom and freshen yourself off. Wipe the glitter that trails down your cheek when you fail to compose yourself and find a tear falling. There's no reason to cry. Everything went well - but maybe that's reason enough. Maybe you were reminded of how good things were before you fucked them all up, by insisting on Jeongguk following through with that damn bird.

When you finally return, everyone is in good spirits. The night continues as such. Jeongguk and Jiyeong leave first, with Jimin joining their taxi because it just makes sense. Part of you revels in satisfaction when you hear Jeongguk state there'll two drops to the ride: Jiyeong's place, then back to his place for him and Jimin.

You catch a cab with Tae and Nabi a little while later, though you're sure in the morning you'll forget all about it. Will forget most of the evening, most probably. You're fucked. Nabi's mission? Accomplished - but she's just as bad as you are. Throws up in her bag in the back of the Taxi.

As you eventually meander up the corridor to your apartment, a small sense of dread swells in the pit of your stomach.

Much like the evening of Taehyung's art show, there are flowers by your door.

They're different, this time. Out of season, you think. Oranges and purples you'd expect to see in the warmth of early summer, not in the barren cold of winter - but they're familiar. A small bunch. Expensive because of the time of year, but minimal compared to the obnoxious roses you'd been greeted with before.

You're getting pretty good at mental gymnastics. Tell yourself maybe Seokjin fancied doing something a little different this time. There's no calling card, from what you can see - just a small box wrapped in brown paper and sealed shut with washi tape.

For some reason, you find yourself cursing when you notice the small detail, because you know exactly where you recognise it from. Your heart grows heavy, lips pressing together to suppress a pout.

See, Jeongguk had been lying about the traffic.

He was late because he had to drop by yours before heading up to Yoongi's place. Didn't want Jiyeong to ask questions, so went to yours before he got her, but also wanted to make sure you'd left your place first. Has Jimin on his friend finder app, so stalked him like a little creep to make sure nothing would overlap.

He's not too sure why.

When you pick the flowers up, you find yourself cradling them, almost. Far more care is taken than there was with the roses. These are more precious, you think - and yet you set them down on the counter first, and don't bother to sort the vase out.

Instead, you slide your thumb under a loose section of paper, gently prizing away the washi tape from the brown paper.

The box itself is no bigger than your palm. White once you remove the earthy-toned packaging, it's embossed with a small silver stamp of a company you've never heard of.

Nervousness finds its home in your diaphragm for no good reason. Delicately opening the box, you're greeted first by a small card. It's handwritten, unlike the ones that so often come with flowers from Seokjin.

But of course it is. Everything about Jeongguk is far more intimate. It's innate. Just who he is as a person. S'why he was so good with those pesky fears of yours.

When you finally start to read the note, you realise your vision is a little blurred from tiny tears making their presence known. You're not crying. Not really. Just a little emotional. You blame it on the vodka.

for the wind beneath my wings, and the washi tape that holds my fears safe.

what would i do without you?

keep on shining, disco ball x

Beneath the note sits a dainty silver chain. Resting prettily on the cushioned padding of the box is a small charm: an ornate silver origami bird.

You're not sure why, but you really do start crying, now. The tears fall silently, and speckle the countertop with tiny splashes, but you don't care to wipe them away.

In your back pocket, your phone vibrates. A picture sent from Jeongguk waits in your message feed.

Across town, he stands in his dimly lit kitchen, a glass of red in his hand as he leans back against the kitchen island. The chopping board is hung next to the stovetop, where a pot usually lives, but Jeongguk has hidden it away in the cupboard. Thinks Yoongi's handiwork deserves to be displayed - and he's right. The dark walnut wood looks gorgeous against the backsplash of his kitchen.

The picture sent to you is of his view, and he's pleased to feel his phone vibrate in his own back pocket just a few minutes later.

You reply with a picture, too.

It's of his gift card, with a hastily scribbled reply over the top of the photograph. You often annotate the pictures you send him, and it always makes him smile - but this time, he really does laugh.

Next to his question - what would i do without you? - your hot pink digital handwriting replies: idk - die, probably.

And then a second message pings through - a selfie, taken in the mirror.

Your hair is down, slightly kinked in places from your up-do, but ever so elegant as it drapes over your shoulder. Your roots are well and truly growing through now, and it makes Jeongguk smile. So much progress has been made. It's nice to see a physical representation of that.

Your eyes are a little bleary, but it could just be the alcohol, he thinks. Chooses to ignore the fact your nose is slightly blushed, too.

Tiny speckles of glitter catch the light all over your skin - your eyes, your cheeks, your throat, the top of your chest. Again, he ignores the fact you're without the clothes you had been wearing. There are still straps over your shoulders, but he knows you well. Knows you're in your underwear. Recognises the bra. Has taken it off you before.

Nothing is on show, but nothing needs to be. He's visualising it regardless. Hates himself for it, but can't seem to stop.

In fact, the only thing that does avert his attention is the silver pendant around your neck. It sits prettily a few inches above your cleavage, perfectly adorning you like fine jewellery should.

It's not like it was unreasonably expensive - just sterling silver - but something about it feels priceless. To him. To you. To the friendship you've cultivated and the lives you both lead; forever changed by a couple of purple starfuckers and a few bad decisions.

Something tells me this one won't fall, your caption reads.

Jeongguk purses his lips together. Looks at the chopping board. Shakes his head. Doesn't know how to reply.

So instead, he tries honesty.

You look beautiful.

The message sits in his side of the chat, unsent. He knows the compliment is too heavy. Doesn't matter if it's true or not. So he rephrases, and presses send on something else.

Jeongguk: suits you, b

Of course it does. Was chosen for you by someone who knows you better than you know yourself.

You: best friend in the whole entire world x

You: what would I do without you?

Jeongguk smirks to himself. Doesn't even think as he types.

Jeongguk: die, probably

Your reply makes his smile grow even wider.

You: till death do us part ;)

He knows he shouldn't find such comfort in the joke you've just sent, he can't help it.

Jeongguk knows you'll be away visiting family over the next few days, just like he is. Knows that he won't hear from you much. Understands why. Doesn't mean he enjoys the prospect of it.

He considers inviting you around, now.

But it's Christmas morning, albeit very early and he knows the implications of such a thing. He wouldn't mean anything by it, he's just missed you. Missed hanging out with you.

But he invested himself in someone else because of the investment he made in you, and the birds. He has expectations to live up to. Doesn't wanna let you down.

Neither of you sleep as well as you should. Life was easier as a kid, the excitement of Father Christmas visiting enough to wipe you out entirely. Even the alcohol isn't enough to lull you into a peaceful equilibrium.

Instead, Jeongguk stares at the birds on his ceiling. You twiddle with the bird around your neck.

It's apparent that neither of you will be waking up to the gifts you really want beneath your trees - and you've only got yourselves to blame.

Merry fuckin' Christmas.

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

[doiloveanimation-blog]

Research and Development 1

Updated Story and Style Frames

 Camera is focused on carps swimming underwater. Slowly, it zooms out and shows the overall environment which is an oriental, tiled roof house with a big garden. 

Danbi, her father and her fiancé are sitting on the balcony. Her fiancé brought wedding rings and put them on the table. Her father seems very happy whereas Danbi looks like she is about to cry. 

  Their laughter becomes louder and Danbi feels dizzy and anxious. Suddenly, she sees a butterfly and gazes at it for a while.

   Danbi is in her room looking outside the window. She sees fish, insects and flowers. Compared to them, Danbi is trapped inside the house. She sits down and continues to embroider a fish with needle and thread. Suddenly, the fish starts to wriggle on the embroidery frame. Danbi’s eyes become wide and big. More fish pops up from the frame and start to swim around her. Before she knows, the room is filled up with full of fish. She is mesmerized with the view and follows the fish.

  Fish lead her to a road. When she steps forward, flowers start to bloom on the road and her surrounding becomes very vivid and vibrant. Danbi starts to laugh as she runs with fish and butterflies. Then she faces an enormous gate and stops. She is afraid to pass through the door but when she sees a dim light through the door, she holds the door knob and steps in.

In the next scene, a small butterfly sits on a book in Danbi’s room and flies away through the open window. The camera zooms into the view outside the window. On the pond, Danbi’s shoe is floating. The camera angle slightly moves to the side and shows the dead body of Danbi underwater.

Inspired painting of the character’s death scene: Ophelia by John Everett Millais

[homepictures]

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[andrewysanders]

Don’t Cats Deserve Quality Architecture?

Every year in the office we pick a few local charitable events and get involved. This will be the 3rd year in a row that we have been involved with the SPCA’s Bark + Build and we are all fighting over this year’s entry … the Ar-CAT-tects.

…. so clever.

This was the first year that cat towers were included in the event, which meant that there were three very interested people in our office … at least two of them are definitely cat ladies. This is essentially the creative fruit from Audrey Maxwell, Danielle Anderson, and Elizabeth Harris.

The cat model is Kylo – a cat that Audrey rescued and convinced Landon Williams in the office to adopt.

Finally, a cat tree that is almost as fabulous as your Instagram-able feline #catsofinstagram. Say goodbye to your abominable, beige monstrosities, this is a cat tower that you will want to display. The marble base creates a low center of gravity to stabilize the tree and a natural background to document your cats. The wood slats and floor plates have overlapping openings that will keep you and your cat entertained for hours.

This is exactly what you want in a cat tower, or at least it is if it wants to actually exist in my house. Clean, well-proportioned, and not covered in $1.19/sf carpet. The palette on this beauty is far more restrained, consisting of Danby marble, clear maple, fine Corinthian leather rope, and heavy gray felt.

We bought the cat-nip so I’m not sure that counts towards our materials list but I’m sure your cat will love it anyways.

It took a small but talented group of craftsmen to execute our vision, and we worked with some of the best in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area. Ryan Thompson, Katina Hawkesworth, and Stephen Leask at James R. Thompson, Inc. worked tirelessly to help bring this super-luxe cat-tower to life. If you have a cat(s) I know you want this. If you don’t have a cat, don’t feel bad for thinking that you need to go rescue one just to justify putting this tower in your home. I totally get it.

Of course, our cat-model Kylo was only too happy to hang out while we took photos (provided by Martin Graham Meyers Photography, LLC). This was the cat that Audrey rescued and has since taken up permanent residence with Landon … and I think both Landon and Kylo are the better for it.

Of course, it wouldn’t be a playhouse, dog house, or cat tower coming out of my office if we didn’t provide the construction drawings that were used to create the Ar-CAT-tects. Our philosophy is that architects have a very specific set of skills that lend themselves perfectly for charitable causes and since we frequently champion these sorts of causes, we consider these projects to be a benefit to society and therefore available to the public.

I am very proud of this project and how clean it has turned out – simple is frequently confused for easy and belies the sort of rigor that is spent resolving the design so that this level of clarity is evident.

If you live anywhere close to Dallas and think you would like to have this very specific cat tower for yourself, you can go online to the silent auction and bid for it by going here with all proceeds benefitting the SPCA of Texas. If you are local, you can head on over to NorthPark Center from November 16th through December 23rd, 2018 and look at over 20 different dog houses and kitty-condos.

If you end up winning, please let me know so we can tell Kylo where to come visit.

Cheers,

from Home https://www.lifeofanarchitect.com/dont-cats-deserve-quality-architecture/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

[dollplague]

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