#Dentist in Silver Spring

[ksdentalus]

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[slashingdisneypasta]

Dorothy Must Die (Danielle Paige):

A p p e a r e n c e s.

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Tin Woodman:

He looked more like a machine that had been cobbled together out of spare parts, a hodgepodge of scrap metal and springs and machinery pieces all held together by screws and bolts. His long, spindly legs were a complex construction of rods and springs and joints, and bent backward at the ankles like a horses legs; his face was pinched and mean, with beady, flashing metal eyes and a thin, cylindrical nose that jutted out several inches from his face and ended in a nasty little point. His oversized jaw jutted out from the rest of his face in a nasty underbite, revealing a mess of little blades where his teeth should have been.

I half remembered the Tin Woodman's story. He had been a flesh-and-blood man until a witch had enchanted his ax to make him chop off pieces of his body one by one, and one by one he had replaced them with metal parts until that was all that was left of him. From what it looked like, he had been making improvements ever since. The only thing that was really familiar about him was the funnel-shaped hat he wore. I guess some things never change.

//

He had fingers like knives and needles, each one of them twisted into a slightly different shape. Like dentist tools.

Dorothy Gale:

This was not the same girl I'd read about. She was wearing the dress, but it wasn't the dress exactly- it was as if someone had cut her familiar blue-checked jumper into a million little pieces and then put it back together again, only better. Better and, okay, a little bit more revealing. Actually, more than a little bit. Not that I was judging.

Instead of farm-girl cotton it was silk and chiffon. The cut was somewhere between heaute couture and French hooker. The bodice nipped, tucked, and lifted. There was cleavage.

Lots of cleavage.

Dorothy's boobs were put to here, her legs up to there. Her face was smooth and unblemished and perfect: her mouth shellacked in a plasticky crimson, her eyes impeccably lined in silver and gold. Her eyelashes were so long and full that they probably created a breeze when she blinked. It was hard to tell how old she was. She looked like she could have been my age or years older. She looked immortal.

She had her hair pulled into two deep chestnut waves that cascaded down her shoulders, each tied with red ribbon. Her piercing blue eyes were trained right on me. I knew I was supposed to look down, like the Tin Woodman had instructed. Instead, I found myself falling into her gaze. I couldn't help it.

The Scarecrow:

At Ozma's side stood a tall thin man dressed in a baby-blue, one-size-too-small suit. Beneath a small hat, bits of straw and yarn stuck out in every direction. His face was a skein of tightly pulled burlap with two unnervingly lifelike buttons sewn on in place of eyes. His lips were thin lines of embroidery stitched in pinkish-brown yarn underneath a painted on red triangle for a nose. His buttons were fixed on me.

A chill shot through my body. It was the Scarecrow. Like the Tin Woodman, he had been twisted and warped into something I hardly recognised.

//

His head lolled over to his shoulder and a little felt tongue I didn't even know he had dangled limply from his mouth.

The Lion:

Or maybe like something was waiting them: at the front of the line, I saw the Lion himself for the first time in the flesh. He had been a vague, hazy shadow in Glamora's scrying pool, but now, in person, I realised exactly how terrifying he really was.

Really, he was barely recognisable as a lion at all. He looked like a monster, like some warped nightmare version of the king of the jungle. He was huge and golden, with bulging, grotesque muscles and a filthy, snarled mane. His lips were curled back, baring a mouth crowded with sharp, long, crooked fangs.

[whereianonymouslypostfics]

Silver Springs Headcanons

Dentist 😬

Alone time

Insecurities

Little Nat gets hurt by the pets :( 

Little Nat gets sick 

Arguments

Woods of Terror

[prozac-shaped-urn]

Rules: list your top 5 albums from 5 different artists on a poll so your followers can vote which album they think captures your vibe best.

I was tagged by my friend @droughtofapathy who wisely suggested this trend because it is, in fact, very much up my alley.

Alright SO! Here's the breakdown and I'll give like the ~vibes~ of these too, for those of you who have no idea who these artists are (meaning you DOA).

Rumours is very much spiteful witch classic rock goddess vibes thanks to the multiple breakups and affairs going on with that group in 1976. I don't think anything else can compare to it, to be honest. Every single song is still played on the radio to this day, and 8 of the 10 tracks are singles. It was pretty fucking traumatic for them to make but the music has held up nicely. Christine and Stevie writing songs about their ex-partners while also having affairs with band members and sound crew was........... something. Check out You Make Loving Fun and Dreams for more evidence. (This is kinda cheating but there's another song called Silver Springs that Stevie wrote about Lindsey which was a B-side to his spiteful anthem You Can Go Your Own Way which was written about her. Anyway, Silver Springs really gives him the finger. "I'll follow you down 'till the sound of my voice will haunt you/You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loved you" is a curse if I have ever heard one. Like FUCK Stevie....... jesus christ woman)

River of Dreams is classic rock, heavy on the piano and bass. Billy's chops are on full display and his writing is clean and clear. It has some underrated bangers like Two Thousand Years and Famous Last Words. The album is overall more symbolic than most of his work. Think literal dreamscape (which is then-wife Christie Brinkley designed the cover art in reference to).

WHEN WE ALL FALL ASLEEP, WHERE DO WE GO? is indie pop at its finest. Billie and her brother/producer Finneas created something utterly fucking whack and unmistakably brilliant, and it's one of my favorites because Billie's main design when crafting music is using a minor key and 4/4 time, which is like my go-to when finding new music. I love her other works too, but ilomilo sits inside my psyche so well that I forget where I am and let it guide me into a writing flow. I also love bury a friend mainly because the high-pitched whizzing sound bite is a literal dentist drill. Finneas recorded a literal dentist drill to create that sound.

Let's Talk About Love is your typical contemporary love song album with lots of slow and steady major key songs, but Treat Her Like a Lady is my favorite track on the whole thing. I love its reggae rhythm and upbeat anthem sound. A close second is the much slower and moodier Where Is The Love. Also, Celine doesn't write her own music, whereas everyone else on this list does. But I love her sound and her technique is a masterclass.

Dreamboat Annie oh my god... Dreamboat Fucking Annie. What a hell of an album. You've got Magic Man which is a funky, swamp witch type of song, and then you have the frenzied Crazy On You with its wide swinging tomtom hits and strong bass line, and then the sisters on Sing Child is like the female version of The Guess Who's No Time with the beautiful harmonies and HOLY *SHIT* Nancy Wilson can play a guitar. Like oh my GOD can she play a guitar.

I'll tag @jennamacaroni @thestarlightforge @die-schwanenkoenigin and @tinathedragon if y'all haven't done this yet

[starlingsrps]

juliana “julie” van acker/code name jeanne, thirty, forger

julie was still an infant and unaware of anything when the great war started. her father was killed in the sacking of the city, trying to defend the bookshop he owned and she’s never asked her mother about what happened to her during the sacking and occupation. her aunts always just said that mathilde has been delicate ever since and julie doesn’t need to know more details than that. they survived the war on the kindness of friends and family, barely limping to armistice like the rest of belgium. even as a small child, julie’s moods were in tune with her mother’s - up when mathilde was up, curled under her chin when she was down. they were all the other had for a long time and though julie was able to untangle her moods from mathilde's over time, there's nothing she wouldn't do for her mother.

things improved, slowly but surely. mathilde married again when julie was seven, to a polite dentist named joseph who treated them both kindly. julie learned that her mother could laugh and it didn’t take long before she was calling joseph her father. through this marriage, julie has a younger sister, anneliese (12-18). the van ackers (julie took joseph’s last name when he married her mother) lived comfortably and quietly in the leuven suburbs. they had a series of cats and a garden and julie was top of her class. when she showed a talent for painting and drawing, she had lessons as long as she kept up with school. she was no great artist but was decent enough to study art at university in brussels.

after graduation, julie moved to lyon to work at the museum of fine arts as an assistant curator. it wasn’t glamorous by any means and most of her first year was spent getting the curator she was assigned to coffee, learning that right now meant ten minutes ago, and that if she ever wanted credit for anything, she was going to need to speak up. she was desperately homesick for the first year and once a week phone calls weren't enough. frankly, she was considering moving back home when she met ari.

she remembers it all perfectly - that it was an exhibition of eighteenth century portraits where she had done a majority of the curating while her boss took the credit, that they left early to talk, and she was home so late that her cat, miette, chewed her out like a furious parent. he’s been the love of her life ever since. over time, they moved into a house together and miette adjusted. he wrote while she continued to work at the musem, finally moving to a department where she finally started getting some credit for her work. it felt as easy and natural as breathing to be with him and to be building a life and future together.

then of course, because there’s no such thing as good timing: the war.

joseph died of a fast moving stomach cancer in january of 1940. julie’s plan was to go home for two weeks for the funeral and to get her family organized to come back to lyon. the worst seemed inevitable but if she could get them to lyon, they could at least get through the inevitable together. mathilde, never sturdy, had a difficult time processing the death of her husband and the stress of the war. julie’s two weeks away became two months and then it was suddenly spring and too late to leave. leuven fell in may, the van ackers hunkered down in the cellar until the shelling ended. without being asked and without questioning it, julie took over the managing of the family. she got the ration cards and enlisted anneliese in burying the good silver and her engagement ring in the cellar floor. she made the friends she had to to make sure her mother had the medicine she needed for her nerves and then for the cough she couldn’t seem to shake.

with these new friends, julie turned her skill at restoration and minute detail into assisting with forging prescriptions for the black market. it got them what they needed and that was reason enough. the irony of her chastising anneliese to keep quiet and not draw attention while she worked on her forgeries late at night didn’t escape her.

it was almost enough to keep her mind off of ari but also absolutely wasn’t. there had to be a way to get back to lyon. there had to be a pass or identification she was missing but the simple truth was that as long as her mother was sick and she had anneliese to worry about, she wasn’t going anywhere. it took months for the mail to resume, through an enterprising neighbor named mrs. clewes who is almost certainly in the resistance but will never tell, and as soon as ari’s letters started coming again, she was thrown a lifeline.

shortly before christmas in 1940, mathilde’s cough turned into pneumonia and she slipped away on new year’s day. julie was angry afterwards in a way that she didn’t usually allow herself to be. there was no way to not feel like she had lost everything that she loved or that had made her happy. she kicked the garbage can about it a few times, buried her mother the best as she could, and dragged herself onward.

with anneliese to support, julie let her contacts on the underground market know that she was open to take on more forgeries. one thing led to another and she was soon making identification for downed airmen being escorted to spain and any other little thing the cell may need. having friends in wartime is foolish but camille, her contact in the escape line, is the closest thing she’s had to one in years and they don’t even know each other’s real names. for the resistance, she’s jeanne and if she stops for one second to think about the kind of danger she’s put herself and anneliese in, she’ll fall apart so she simply doesn’t.

julie has always been an optimistic, sunny side of life person but even she admits that she’s starting to run on fumes. she worries all the time - about keeping anneliese safe, about ari between letters, if she's doing the right thing. she misses her life and she’s tired, pure and simple. if she could curl up and wait for it to be over, she would.

however, she’s incapable of quitting on anything. julie is a kind, caring soul but she is stubborn. she doesn’t wait to be asked to offer assistance, she just does. in addition to anneliese and those she works with in the resistance, julie also has a mental list of neighbors she checks in on regularly. she’s a big believer in doing all the good she’s capable of doing for as long as she can so she just will.

[clearbrightcosmeticdentistry]

Good oral hygiene is essential for children to maintain healthy teeth and gums, and it starts with regular visits to a trusted cosmetics dentist in Silver Spring, Maryland. Parents should begin dental care early to help children avoid cavities and other dental issues later in life. The foundation for a bright, healthy smile is teaching kids the importance of brushing, flossing, and maintaining a healthy diet.

[meditating-dog-lover]

Getting vibrant in life (mostly style related)

I want to wear more vibrant colors as part of my wardrobe. I already got some pretty colorful nail polish which suits my seasonal color analysis typing (bright spring).

I'll eventually look for clothes later this month after my doctor and dentist appointments.

I also colored my hair and stopped cutting it short and straightening it. It's long, thick, wavy, and a nice gold color too. People used to make fun of me for my hair and general style. I'm not going to change my appearance to make them happy, I'll enhance my appearance to make ME happy.

I just want to have less limits and restrictions on what I can wear because I've been holding off on a lot of nice pretty colorful stuff. I want to have a cheery and happy and bright style.

I want to have a cheery, happy, and bright personality. I'll write about that later. I also want to compile a list of colors of what I assume falls under the bright spring season and would suit me. They are generally warm shades of red, pink, orange, yellow, blue, green, and purple with orange/yellow/gold undertones as opposed to silver/blue/white. It would be a fun experiment.

[ksdentalus]

Understanding the Process of Dental Bonding in Silver Spring MD with KSDental

Dental bonding in Silver Spring, MD, is a versatile cosmetic dentistry procedure that can enhance the appearance of your smile. This non-invasive treatment involves the application of a tooth-colored resin material to repair chipped, stained, or misaligned teeth. Dental bonding is a quick and cost-effective solution to achieve a more attractive smile. Our experienced dental professionals in Silver Spring, MD, use this technique to improve the aesthetics and functionality of your teeth, helping you regain confidence in your smile. Go to our website for additional information.

[silver-spring-md-life]

Silver Spring, MD, location

Silver Spring has a prime location that is situated right on top of the D.C. diamond, extending up North. This location provides easy access to D.C. for those who are in Downtown Silver Spring. Multiple transportation options, such as the train, metro, bike, or car, are available. Additionally, major highways such as 495, 95, 295, 270, and 200 are easily accessible from Silver Spring, making commuting to any destination convenient. Compared to neighboring cities like Bethesda and Chevy Chase, Silver Spring is more affordable and closer to D.C. In summary, the location of Silver Spring offers many benefits for its residents.

Dementia care Silver Spring

At Clifton Woods Memory Care, they believe in providing quality care that is tailored to the individual needs of each resident. They understand that Alzheimer's disease and related dementia conditions affect people differently, and they take the time to understand each resident's unique experience. The team is trained to assist with daily living activities, personal care, incontinence care, medication management, and nutrition monitoring. They are equipped to serve all stages of memory care and can adapt to the changing needs of dementia patients. In addition to their on-site staff, they offer access to external providers, including physicians, dentists, therapists, and podiatrists. Their ultimate goal is to ensure every resident is happy and healthy in their home. For inquiries, contact (301) 384-4017.

Maryland Youth Ballet

For almost 50 years, the Maryland Youth Ballet (MYB) has been dedicated to offering exceptional training and performance opportunities for aspiring young dancers. MYB's children's program strongly emphasizes pre-professional development, with each level of instruction designed to provide comprehensive training and coaching. MYB's adult program, which spans from beginner to advanced levels, offers the same high-quality instruction from top-notch teachers in ballet, stretching, and classical core conditioning as the children's program. MYB also provides the community with access to professional-quality ballet performances, introducing the art form to audiences in the area. Additionally, MYB's outreach program offers underserved and disadvantaged children the chance to experience the joy of dance. Since its founding in 1971, the mission of MYB has been to enrich and educate the community through quality dance instruction and performances, successfully preparing young dancers for careers in the performing arts while offering classes to dancers of all ages and levels.

Burglar was caught on camera.

A burglar was caught on camera breaking into a home in Silver Spring during daylight hours on May 11. Montgomery County police released the video in hopes of identifying the suspect. The burglar kicked in the front door, put on a mask and sunglasses, and proceeded to steal items from each room before leaving. The surveillance footage captured the burglar staring directly into the camera. Although security cameras are becoming more common, criminal justice expert Kalfani Ture believes they are ineffective in deterring motivated offenders. Instead, Ture suggests that proximity to the police or loud alarms may be more helpful. Montgomery County police are offering a reward of up to $10,000 for information leading to the burglar's arrest. Read more. 

Link to Map

Driving Direction

Maryland Youth Ballet

926 Ellsworth Dr, Silver Spring, MD 20910, United States

Head northeast on Wayne Ave toward Fenton St

0.5 mi

Turn left onto Dale Dr

0.5 mi

Turn right onto US-29 N/Colesville Rd

 Continue to follow US-29 N

3.3 mi

Take the MD-650 N/New Hampshire Avenue exit toward Ashton

0.2 mi

Merge onto MD-650 N/New Hampshire Ave

2.5 mi

Turn right onto Midland Rd

463 ft

Turn right onto Clifton Rd

 Destination will be on the right

367 ft

Clifton Woods Memory Care Home

13408 Clifton Rd, 

Silver Spring, MD 20904, United States

[whereianonymouslypostfics]

Would you write headcanons for the silver springs au? One I really want is something silly and domestic that doesn't need to a full drabble ...like going to the dentist or how Boone deals with his parents having 'alone time'. Thanks in advance! ❤️ I love all of your work and look forward to reading more of the new au!

HELLO! These are great, I am going to start these rn❤️

[contentone3]

Top Dentist in Silver Spring-Best Dental Clinic in Silver Spring

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[clearbrightcosmeticdentistry]

A beautiful smile can boost your confidence and leave a lasting impression. Cosmetic dentistry offers a variety of treatments designed to enhance the appearance of your teeth and give you the smile you’ve always dreamed of. Whether you’re dealing with discolored, chipped, or misaligned teeth, a cosmetics dentist in Silver Spring, Maryland has a solution tailored to your needs.

[ksdentalus]

Choosing the Right Dentist for Dental Crowns in Silver Spring MD | KSDental

Dental crowns in Silver Spring, MD, are a restorative dental solution designed to repair damaged or weakened teeth. Our experienced dental professionals use state-of-the-art techniques and materials to craft custom crowns that blend seamlessly with your natural teeth. These crowns not only restore your tooth's strength and functionality but also enhance its appearance. Whether you have a cracked, decayed, or discolored tooth, our Silver Spring, MD dental practice can provide you with high-quality dental crowns to restore your smile's health and beauty.

[kpopfanfictrash]

For Me, It’s You

Member: Jimin (BTS)

Prompt: Song!drabble, inspired by For Me, It’s You by Lo Moon

Rating: R

Genre: childhood friends to lovers!AU (THANK YOU @underthejoon​ for this amazing header, ur the best)

Warnings: angst, estranged parents, references to former underage drinking

WC: 4,015

↳ part of my 30K milestone drabble game

You should not have come home this weekend.

Honestly, you knew better but allowed yourself to be swayed by the guilt of your siblings. There were the ones who insisted your parents wanted you here, who said things would not be the same without you and you fell for their lies – hook, line and sinker. Never mind that, when you texted your plane flight to your mom, it took her nearly a day to respond.

In complete denial, you chalked this up to timing. It was not. As soon as you arrived from the airport, you sensed the chill in the air. Your little brother – Dean’s list, summa cum laude, McKinsey consultant, Henry – was welcomed in with warm hugs and cookies. You barely received a terse smile and ‘welcome home.’

Even so, you deluded yourself into thinking things would be fine. You would lie low, make it through the weekend and return to the city unscathed. So long as you did not bring up your job, or the argument, everything would be okay. Sadly, you underestimated how disappointed your parents were. It took only two glasses of wine at Thanksgiving dinner for your mother to let you know exactly how she felt.

“When do you have to be back at work, Henry?” she asked, accepting the vat of potatoes.

“Monday,” Henry said, setting down his glass. “Working on a big client of ours right now – unfortunately, can’t take much time off.”

“Oh, that’s alright.” Your mother beamed as she replaced the spoon in the bowl. “It’s nice to see you hard at work. Unlike some people your age.”

Everyone around the table stiffened. It was not necessary for your mother to say your name in order to make her feelings known. The point was clear in the way she set the bowl down, looked your way and waited a beat.

Refusing to take the bait, you looked down. You had not been hungry before but, upon hearing her comment, lost all appetite entirely.

“Let’s not talk about that right now,” said Jia, your sister. Hastily, she shot a pleading glance at your dad. “It’s the holidays.”

“That doesn’t diminish the reality of the situation,” your father said sternly. Turning your way, his brow furrowed. “So, Y/N. Have you found yourself yet?”

Cheeks slowly heating, you pushed your plate back from the table. “I’m working on my drawings, yeah. If that’s what you’re asking.”

He made a dismissive noise in his throat. “All that money towards college – wasted.”

“Dad,” Jia said. “It wasn’t wasted.” She scowled, looking between your parents.

Jia chose to become a dentist; a perfectly respectable career path in their opinion. Still, she had always been protective over you and Henry. When you were younger, your parents often worked in the evenings, and it often fell upon your older sister to help.

“Let’s just eat, okay?” Henry glanced around the table. “It’s Thanksgiving. Let’s be glad we’re all here.”

The table was quiet for a few minutes, everyone digging into their respective plates. Then, your mom sighed and said, “I suppose I’m thankful two of my children followed our example to form steady careers. At least I can sleep knowing I won’t be in the poor house when I’m old.”

“Mom!” Jia blurted out, looking appalled.

Henry jumped to your defense, too. “That’s not fair, mom –”

“I’ll tell you what’s fair,” interrupted your father. His voice somehow drowned out the rest. “Wasting all your hard-earned money on a fancy college degree, only to throw it away. Living disrespectfully, coming back to our house and having the nerve to –”

“I bought my own plane ticket, dad,” you interjected. “My website is doing really well, and I’m working on illustrations for this book, and I –”

“Don’t interrupt!” he exclaimed. “This is exactly the lack of respect your mother and I are talking about.”

With a loud screech, you pushed your chair away to stand up. “I’m done eating,” you announced. Stiffly, you looked at your mom.  “Doesn’t sound like anything’s changed since the last time we spoke. Thank you for cooking. I’ll clean up after myself.”

With that, you turned around and strode into the kitchen. The arguing continued after you left, with Jia jumping in to combat your parents. Even Henry was angry, protesting he and Jia wanted you there, but you were no longer listening. It did not matter much, either way. You should have known better than to think today would go well.

The last time you spoke to your parents was in the spring, the day you told them you were quitting your job to pursue illustration full-time. They were not happy, simply put and after the initial, blow-out fight, you did not speak at all. Obviously, they still had a lot to say.

Retreating up the stairs to your childhood bedroom, you slammed shut the door and collapsed on your bed. Being in this room made you feel like a child and in many ways, you still were. It did not matter that you had been able to drink for four years and vote for seven. In many ways, you were only just beginning to progress on your own.

Downstairs, you still heard the debate raging on. It was always like this, when you were little. Even when you were not the one arguing, there was another fight to be had. You could not blame your parents for that, not really. It was the only way they understood discipline – loud voices and the overbearing idea of respect.

Eventually, things would calm down. You knew they would. Eventually, Jia would help your mom clean up and Henry would play piano in the next room. For a few hours, maybe, they would be like a family – except you would not be there.

Not this time.

Unable to replay the events any longer, you roll out of bed and unlatch your window. Prying it open, the cold air hits your face. Shivering, you stare into the night and reach out for your sweater. Your childhood home was built with a small, wrap-around porch over the front.

When you were a child, you often climbed out here to escape. When you were in your teens, you came out here to drink, or smoke, or journal about how your parents were ruining your life. It has been a long time since you remembered that part of yourself.

Glancing away, you see lights on in the Park house. They must be finishing Thanksgiving dinner as well, hopefully not in as dramatic fashion as yours. You cannot imagine it is, since the Parks adore their two sons – Jimin and Jiwoo. Besides, both of their children adopted traditionally successful career paths. Jiwoo is in medical school and Jimin recently passed the bar.

Exhaling, you glance again at the rooftop. The fighting can still be heard downstairs and so, pulling on your sweater, you climb out on the porch. Quickly shutting the window, you find yourself ensconced in blessed silence. No disappointed parents berating you. No siblings rising to your defense. Only silence, the wind and far-off sound of cars on the highway.

Settling onto the roof, you lean against the side of the house. The sky overhead is clear, a silver crescent of moon hanging above your head. As you breathe in and out, your breath frosts in mid-air. It is chilly enough you are glad for your sweater and still, your hands stiffen with cold. Pulling your sleeves down, you relish in the silence.

“Y/N?”

Head jerking sideways, your heart nearly stops when you see a face looking back. At the edge of the overhang, clinging onto the roof is a familiar – well, now unfamiliar – person.

Jimin.

“Is that seat taken?” he breathes, face red with the exertion of climbing. “Because it’s been a while since I’ve done this, and god knows how much your parents take care of this trellis.”

“Shit,” you blurt, realizing his predicament and scrambling onto your knees. Grabbing Jimin’s hands, you haul him onto the roof.

Jimin tumbles beside you, dusting dirt from his pea coat. You wince at the gesture, since the fabric looks expensive – probably is, given his new job. Collapsing against the siding, Jimin adjusts his grey beanie and looks sideways at you.

“Hey,” he greets, as though he climbs up on neighbors’ porches all the time.

Trying not to laugh, you smile back. “Hey.”

When you say nothing more, Jimin arches a brow. “Surprised to see me?”

“You could say that,” you say, glancing down at the cul-de-sac. From up here, the world seems more manageable. It always did. “It’s been a while since you came by.”

“Could say the same.”

Glancing at him, you see a small smile on his face. Jimin is quiet for a moment, staring out at the world and you cannot help but layer this Jimin with ones past. When you were younger, this was your place – he and you. Whenever your parents were too much, or you were mad at the world, you would climb out here to escape.

Jimin would see this and know it was his signal to come over.

It has been a long time since then, though. The wood of the house is cold on your back.

“So, why are you out here?” He asks this calmly, as though this were another Tuesday.

You shrug. “The usual.”

It has been seven years, give or take, since you two last talked. Really talked, that is – in the way that friends do. All throughout middle school and high school, Jimin was your best friend. Even Jia was wary of you. She did not understand the way you acted, the way you purposefully pushed your parents’ boundaries to understand all their lines.

Jimin was not like that. Jimin did not break rules, but Jimin understood. He saw you out here, night after night and grew curious. Eventually, he climbed up to meet you and what happened next cannot be explained. You became the unlikeliest of friends.

Subtly, you glance sideways.

Glasses are perched on the end of his nose. Jimin used to need glasses in high school but insisted upon contacts because of his dancing. When he quit dance for college, you heard a lot of things changed, but you never imagined his glasses to be one of them. The frames suit his face. You have always thought that.

Of course, you cannot say for certain this change took place during college. That was when you began drifting apart – it was not either of your fault, really. You two tried to keep in touch, you really did. There were phone calls, e-mails, but there was always something else demanding more urgent attention. Eventually, phone calls became texts, which turned into long bouts of silence where you forgot one another.

Maybe the silence was a bit purposeful on your part. Maybe you were running from feelings you deemed ultimately, fruitless.

“You haven’t been home for the holidays in a few years,” Jimin comments, still casual. His foot is stretched out before him, clothed in an Italian loafer which must be worth twenty of your commissions.

“Not really, no,” you say, surprised he noticed.

“Why not?”

“Ha.” Leaning your head to the house, you close your eyes. “I don’t know. It felt like a lie every time, you know? Coming home and seeing them. Pretending to be happy. It was easier just… not to come.”

Jimin is quiet for a moment. “You weren’t happy?”

“Wrong job.” You open one eye. “Wrong life, really. But it was one they approved of.”

“And now?”

Suddenly, you look at him. Jimin stares back, gaze soft in moonlight. It makes your heart skip a beat, a phenomenon you thought died a long time ago. It is maddening, how quickly he does this to you.

When you were in high school, Jimin was the golden boy. The dancer, the honors student, the friendly type who knew everyone – even the weird, quiet girl who drew fantasy landscapes in the margins of her notebooks. Once upon a time, you were in love with him.

You even dreamed of him loving you back, but those dreams never became reality. Jimin loved you, of course, but only as a friend. He had a strange sense of protection for the girl on the roof. You realized this not in one moment, but in a thousand little ones all strung together.

You realized it when watching him with his first girlfriend – a bubbly, cheerleader type much like himself. The stake was hammered in further with his second girlfriend, whom he left the first one for. It was obvious when he took you to parties, leaving you talking to his friends in the corners. Obvious when his group booked a limo for prom and you were not invited.

These moments crushed your hope for anything more. And yet, here you are, back on the roof and wishing something more existed.

“Now, I’m happy with my career.” Not looking at him, you exhale. “They hate it, though. They think I threw everything they gave me away.”

Jimin snorts. “Bullshit.”

“Yeah?” You smile before you can help it. Jimin was always protective when it came to your drawing. “I don’t know it is. I had a good job, a stable job. The type of job they wanted so badly to have but couldn’t. I get why they’re mad.”

“You weren’t happy, though,” Jimin points out, rearranging himself on the roof. Somehow, his hand falls closer to yours. “And your drawings are amazing. I’ve seen your website.”

“Oh.” You pause, uncertain how to respond. Strange butterflies take flight in your stomach and you wonder what else he has seen. “Yeah, well. I don’t think they really care about that. Not like your parents do, anyways.”

Jimin’s smile turns bitter. “I guess.”

Now, it is your turn to look at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

Shaking his head, Jimin ducks his chin against his chest. The pea coat bunches around his shoulders, making him look more like old Jimin – your Jimin. The high schooler who feared his future, who did not want to quit dance but did, because he had to.

“I mean,” he tries again, frowning. “My parents are proud of me on paper. The love listing my accomplishments to their friends, but when it comes to me…”

He trails off, leaving you to draw your own implication.

“Oh.” Your words soften, glancing away. “I get that. I think that’s how Henry feels sometimes. He likes his job, he really does – but with my parents, it’s not about that. It makes the success feel kind of… hollow, somehow. You know?”

“I do.”

Looking at him, you hesitate. “Jimin… why’d you come up here?”

Jimin is quiet for a moment, rolling the corner of his pea coat with his fingers. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you say, some of your usual sarcasm seeping through. “Maybe because we haven’t spoken in like, five years.”

Jimin’s lips quirk. The gesture disappears almost immediately, replaced with something which could almost be called sadness.

“I heard you moved into the city,” he says quietly.

Your stomach plummets. “Jimin, I…”

“Yeah?”

“I – I didn’t know you knew,” you say, finishing lamely.

“Really?” His laugh is hollow. “Even if we didn’t follow each other on social media, you really thought my mom wouldn’t tell me?”

Shifting uncomfortably, you fail to meet his gaze. “Well. I moved to the city last fall.”

“I know. Why didn’t you look me up?”

“I don’t know,” you say honestly. Avoiding eye contact, you pick at your sweater. “It’s been a long time, I guess.”

“Too long.”

“Well, why didn’t you reach out?” you demand, looking up. To your surprise, you find Jimin has moved closer.

He stares at you determinedly. “What happened to us, Y/N?”

“What happens to most high school friends?” you stammer, still trying to be casual. “We moved, drifted apart, lost touch…”

“No.” Reaching out, Jimin takes your hand in his. He feels much warmer than you do. “I – oh. You’re cold.”

“N-no shit,” you say, teeth chattering. “I just grabbed this sweater.”

Jimin shifts closer, his right thigh pressing against yours. “Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

He stares at you for a moment, warmth finally tangible. After so many years without him, the smell of his cologne is almost too much to bear. No longer does he drown in it. You remember the year his mom gave him that for Christmas. The first few weeks of January Jimin fairly bathed in it, until his mom pulled him aside and told him she would throw it away – no matter the cost.

Remembering this makes you smile.

Jimin’s expression remains serious. “Why’d you leave… that night?”

There it is. There is the memory between you which you have been pointedly trying to ignore. The night Jimin kissed you and you ran away. It happened here, on this very rooftop. The night before you left for college, Jimin stole wine coolers from his mom and asked you to celebrate.

He was an absolute lightweight.

Jimin did not drink in high school, unlike you and so, after one wine cooler, he was already giggly. Laying back on the roof, you traced the stars with your fingertips and somehow rolled into his side. His arm slid around your waist, stable and warm.

Softly, he looked down – and kissed you.

It lasted only a moment. A brief miracle before you forced yourself away, leaping up on the roof and flinging open your window. You hurried in, shutting the blinds and ignoring his pleas. Jimin stood there for nearly twenty minutes before you heard him leave. He knew what your parents were like – knew what would happen if they heard him and caught you.

“I don’t know,” you say quietly, still looking at him.

“Bullshit.” Jimin says this in the same tone he used to describe your parents.

Stiffening, you sit up. He still holds your hand in his. Despite the sternness of his tone, Jimin continues to trace your fingers through the sweater. He stares, biting down on his lip and you know he does this when he is nervous.

It is surprising how easily you remember. Surprising how easy it is to slip into who you used to be, the dreams you used to want. Perhaps they never really left at all.

“I was scared,” you finally say, barely audible.

“Of me?”

“No,” you say, before you can help it. “Never of you. Of what… I might do to you.”

Jimin’s brow furrows. “You do to me? I don’t understand. How could anything you do be bad?”

The aching sweetness of this reminds you why you loved him. Or, why you love him. It is all so confusing with him here in the moonlight, with you here beside him, remembering ghosts of the past. Turning to face him, your knees graze each other like children.

“I didn’t make sense with you,” you explain. “Everyone knew it in high school, even if they wouldn’t say it out loud. You were always the bright one, the brilliant one – and then there was me.”

“Yeah. And then there was you.” Jimin speaks fiercely. “Grounded, real. Always telling me what you thought, not letting other people get to me for too long. You were the only person who really believed in me. No caveats, just belief.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is,” he insists. “God, Y/N. How could you think you were bad for me?” Reaching out, he tenderly tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Pulling away, his fingertips graze your jaw. “For me, it’s you. It’s always been you.”

“Don’t say ridiculous things,” you say on reflex.

Jimin’s brow furrows. “Did you honestly not realize? The entire time we were friends – you didn’t know I was in love with you?”

Your breath catches at how easily he says this. “But…” Mind spinning, you sift through the memories. “You dated other girls. Took someone else to prom. You didn’t say anything until you kissed me!”

“I know.” Jimin’s expression is tortured. “I only dated those girls though, because you said I should! Don’t you remember? I’d describe my ideal girl to you – describe you – and you’d point someone else out. When I took you to parties, you’d talk to my guy friends. And you accepted someone else’s prom invite before I could ask!”

“What!” You blink, since this is news to you. “What are you talking about?”

“We had a pact.” Despite himself, Jimin nearly smiles. “Remember? We were ten, watching Footloose in my basement and you pinky promised to be my prom date.”

“We were ten,” you say, although you also find yourself smiling. “You didn’t really think –”

“I was planning to ask you the next day,” he interrupts.

Words die on your lips and you can only stare for a moment. “What?”

“Peter Graff asked you on a Friday.” Scooting closer, Jimin takes your other hand in his. “I remember. I remember stopping by your locker and hearing you talk about prom dresses, limo colors, what boutonniere you should buy. I… I had been planning to ask the next day.”

“Jimin, I…”

“I was planning to stand in your yard with a boom box,” he admits, lips curving into a smile. Dark hair falls into his gaze. “You know, like in Say Anything. Except not creepy. And on very low volume, so I didn’t wake your parents.”

“Good call.”

“I thought so.”

It is strange to hear your friendship described in this manner. Because you remember those moments, but through a very different lens. You remember the day Jimin described his ideal girl. You remember crying that night, feeling you fit none of the description. He is right – you were the one who pointed out his first girlfriend, telling him he should really ask her out. It seemed more logical than any other version of the truth.

“When you kissed me…” Swallowing, you force yourself to continue. “It was perfect.”

“Yeah?” Jimin bites his lip.  “Then, why’d you leave?”

“You’d been drinking. I was leaving the next day. I thought maybe… you’d done it out of pity,” you whisper, finally voicing your fears from the night. “I thought you knew how badly I wanted you and it was just your way of saying goodbye. I… I wanted to keep that night the way it was. Perfect.”

“It wasn’t pity.” Jimin catches his breath. “Never.”

“Jimin…”

Lifting his hands to your face, he gently strokes your jaw. “I missed my shot that night,” he determines. “I’ve been a coward lots of ways, my whole life. I didn’t go after you like I should’ve. I haven’t stood up to my parents a million times. But I’ll be damned if I fuck this up again.”

Before you can respond, he kisses you.

His lips are soft, warm despite the bitterness of the night. He tastes like vanilla Chapstick and wine and you only hesitate a moment before kissing him back. The kiss is nothing like your first. That was a moment between teenagers, too scared to ask for what you both wanted. Now, you know what you want.

Greedily, your lips part as your hands wrap around his. At the first brush of your tongue, Jimin releases a groan. You kiss like this for a while, gently exploring the new boundaries between you. Whatever once was is shattered but something new exists in its place.

Finally, you drag yourself away and open your eyes. “Is this why you came here tonight?” you whisper, the world somehow seeming brighter. “To kiss me again?”

“Amongst other things.” His lips quirk when he laughs, shaking his head. “No. I came out because I saw you on the roof.”

He does not need to explain what it means. You only come out on the roof when you are upset. Unthinkingly, your heart starts to swell.

“You still remembered?” you ask, thumb brushing his neck.

“I meant what I said. For me, it’s you.”

  © kpopfanfictrash, 2019. Do not copy or repost without permission.

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