#Fun fact: it takes approximately 30 minutes just to get him to wear a shirt and and bathe

[queenie-the-court-jester]

okayyyyy, just noticed that its sunday snd i have school tmrrw omfg UGHHHHHH anyway, this will be a wip for now

WHOLESOME TIME WITH COTTON⁉️

i like how you draw cotton like a Twink meanwhile he has a 9 inch boner in the boxers you had to wrestle him in

[sweetredbeans]

A Sinlings Story

This is a birthday present for one of the best people I know.

Happy Birthday @bubblemagician!!!! I hope you have a fantastic day!

Addy's eyes blinked open, his turquoise gaze bleary and unfocused, to see a bright yellow glow. It took him a hazy minute to register that he wasn't in his normal bed—it wasn't the sun glowing through his eastern-facing window—it was Roy's golden hair and luminous smile, and he was in the grandiose room they were sharing at the Sin's mansion.

“Wake up Addy! Wake up!” Roy chirped.

Addy made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a groan. He wasn't a morning person at the best of times, and last night they'd all stayed up super late playing hide-and-seek in the dark. Which, admittedly, had been awesome, and so much fun, but he now very much did not want to have to get up at ridiculously-early o'clock...whatever that was. He half rolled over to peer at the clock, which said something approximating 7 am, and he made another muffled grumpy noise and pulled the pillow back over his head.

Roy would not be deterred though, leaning on Addy's bed and bouncing, “Come on Addy! It's EASTER you gotta get up, you gotta get up, there's Easter Eggs to find!”

That was probably the only way to actually get Addy up—promise the hope of chocolatey food. He slowly pulled the pillow off his face, peering up at Roy's glowing visage, “Fiiiiine.”

“Yaaaay!” Roy shoved off the bed again, nearly making Addy tip over as he tried to sit up and do something about the fluffy black and pink hair that seemed to have a mind of its own this morning, “You know there's going to be a competition, to see who can get the most eggs!” He clenched his fists and looked determined, “I bet it's gonna be me; I have a plan all set out!”

“Mrph,” was all Addy commented as he slowly dragged himself out of bed and oozed over to the attached bathroom.

Roy kept on chatting as Addy brushed his teeth, splashed some water on his face, and ran a comb through his hair, which Addy tuned out with practiced ease. When he finally emerged, feeling a little more alive, Roy was perfectly dressed in a pressed, blue-collared shirt, looking every inch the young gentlemen on a mission.

“You look fancy for going out and running around the gardens,” Addy commented, pulling on his own, red shirt. It was decorated with little sparkly Easter eggs embroidered down the front.

“It's Easter! I want to dress up.”

“I wonder what Marie will be wearing? Something fancy I'm sure.”

Roy, who knew, of course, nodded, “You'll see! She spent a long time going through the stores to find the perfect ensemble,” he added a fancy French flair to the last word. Now that Addy was dressed, Roy grabbed his hand and dragged him out of their room.

Once they were in the halls, Addy was even more revitalized by the distinct smell of pancakes and syrup, and now he was trotting along with Roy instead of being pulled.

They emerged into the kitchen, where Britton and Red were well on their way to making a pretty ginormous breakfast for all the associated cousins and families who were spending Easter weekend here. Marie was already seated there, fork and knife clutched in her hands, with her eyes laser-focused on the plate that Britton was carrying over, stacked high with chocolate chip and blueberry and strawberry-topped pancakes. Addy's youngest brothers, Paris and Troy, were both there too; the 7 year olds had been staying with Red and Britton, since they had a tendency to find whatever trouble existed anywhere and manage to immerse themselves in it. Plus...they couldn't be left alone. They were already surreptitiously poking each other at the table, and that was them trying to behave.

Roy had been right—Marie was dressed to the nines. Her pink shirt was decorated with bunnies and eggs in sparkling sequins. Her earrings were glittery Easter eggs, and the headband in her pink hair displayed two fluffy white bunny ears.

“Good morning, princess!” Roy called.

Marie smiled at him, but her attention was quickly reclaimed by the plate set in front of her. In about 10 seconds, she had three pancakes on her plate, had drenched them in real maple syrup, and was proceeding to devour them.

Addy thought that was a perfectly good idea too, and slid into a chair between his cousin and his brothers, stealing specifically only the strawberry and chocolate-related pancakes—whoever thought that blueberries belonged in breakfast treats was very confused.

“Did you sleep well Gumdrop?” Britton asked, fluffing Addy's hair on his way to help Paris and Troy.

“It's not too early for you?” Red smiled, his green eyes sparkling.

Addy's mouth was full, so he just said, “Mmmm,” and kept on munching.

Which was clever, because it was right about then that the rest of the cousins showed up. The first sign was the tell-tale portal created by Luci because he never wanted to bother himself with walking down the stairs, but before he could step through, there was a crashing noise as Miles, Sylvester and Cisco came colliding down the stairs in a tangle of limbs and excited shouts loud enough to wake the dead.

“HAPPY EASTER!” Someone shrieked, and in half a moment the kitchen was full and noisy and excited. Luci jumped in and then he and Miles promptly got in an argument about who made it down first, which Sylvester and Cisco both simultaneously dove for the pancakes, managing to nearly trip each other.

“Whoa there, dumplings,” Britton chided gently, as Red deftly reached to catch the two boys, in one fluid motion setting them into chairs.

Cisco practically bounced in his chair, “Mommy, Daddy, I'm so excited to go get eggs, do you think there's gonna be a lot? Did the Easter Bunny come and give us stuff?”

Red smiled, “I'm sure he did, licorice stick. But take a breath and eat your breakfast first, okay?”

Cisco promptly proceeded to shove pancakes in his mouth, still trying to talk until Marie shot him a dirty look from under her perfect princess eyebrows, and Sylvester, who was eating his food in silence, elbowed him in the ribs.

Given the number of kids in the room who were related to Gluttony, breakfast disappeared ridiculously quickly, and Red and Britton had their hands full keeping up with everyone.

The instant the pancakes—and eventual bacon—had vanished, the stampede of Sinlings rushed to the back doors of the porch, which were thrown open wide by Zel and Brice, who had been doing the last minute preparations to make sure that the hunt went perfectly.

The gardens and lawn of the Sin's Mansion spread out before them, glimmering in the early morning sun, bright verdant greens, the newly sprouted butter yellow of the daffodils, warm reds and pinks and oranges from the tulips—and there scattered amongst those colors, were the glittering gems of plastic shining Easter eggs.

All the Sinlings just gaped, mouths and eyes wide for about 1.25 seconds. And then Miles, Troy, and Luci all started to make a break for it—right up until Red and Brice simultaneously shouted, “Waaait just a second.” The two dads made a brief eye contact, and Red just ceded to Brice, going back to stand with Britton by the door.

“All right now y'all,” Brice said, “Here's the rules. You've got 30 minutes to try 'n get as many eggs as you can.” He grinned, “The one who has the most at the end wins somethin' really cool.”

“Whaaat?” Miles whined, and Brice raised an eyebrow.

“You'll jus' have to win and find out.” The Sinlings clamored excitedly, “All right—ready, set...go!”

And they were off like a shot.

Everyone had their own basket—pink and blue and yellow and black for all the various Sinlings they went with. Addy's was red, with little pink ribbons threaded through it and pink fluff at the bottom to keep the eggs from knocking around.

There was a bet, instigated by Luci probably, on who could use their powers and abilities and skills to find the most eggs. All the Gluttony kids could practically smell the chocolate—Addy could for sure, he could feel the delicious candy in the spring-colored eggs all around him. Luci was hopping around the field like the Easter bunny himself—appearing wherever he saw eggs. At least, he did that right up until Miles snuck up behind him and tackled his cousin, yelling, “That's cheeeeeating!” and refusing to let him up until he promised to stop. This started a 3 minute long argument about the rules and who was doing better, which finally ended, somehow, with them agreeing to team up in their usual dynamic duo in order to beat everyone else.

Marie had dragged Tavros down finally from his cozy bed, despite the fact that the Slothful Sinling had said he didn't want to, and was pulling him around with her. Roy kept bouncing over to say hi, but every time he did, Princess Marie gave him an evil eye and said, “Go away! You'll get our eggs!” Finally, Roy just had to satisfy himself by looking out of the corner of his eye to make sure nothing was going on with his sister.

Conveniently, this slowed him down substantially in his plan to find eggs.

Troy and Paris were staying closer to the house, where the eggs seemed to be a little bit more dense, but also better hidden among the flowers. Troy, of course, slowly kept wandering closer and closer towards where Miles and Luci were, keeping an eye on them. Paris, meanwhile, was well on his way to winning, using his particularly good sense of smell to pick out the chocolate among the flowers—although he did occasionally get distracted by the delicious aromas from the tulips especially.

Somewhere out in the lawns, Cisco and Sylvester were running around, exclaiming and diving into bushes to grab their prizes, holding them up in triumph and generally having an excellent time.

Addy smiled to himself, glancing back up at the porch where all their parents were sitting, watching over them.

Dream was sitting on the porch swing, Parkere's head in his lap as the orange-hooded Sin watched through half-lidded eyes. Zel and Brice were lounging on the deck chairs, both having acquired fancy little drinks that they were sipping. Luci's parents weren't actually present—but that was all right because at this point Zel and Brice had basically adopted him as a fourth child, and besides, this sort of thing really wasn't Mikel and Dodge's cup of tea. Red and Britton were sitting on the steps, snuggled close to each other, and occasionally calling encouragement—Red met Addy's eyes and smiled, “Having fun, Gumdrop?”

Addy nodded, and went back to his meandering.

It really was a perfectly gorgeous day—the sun was perfectly warm, and everything smelled amazing. Addy was sorely tempted to just settle down and photosynthesize in the sun, but then his Gluttony reminded him that candy was within reach, and he went back to searching. He found one particularly difficult one, which had been delicately tucked inside a tulip of the same color, as well as one up a tree, which required some shimmying to get.

Thirty minutes went by remarkably quickly, and at the end, Brice stood up on the steps and counted down, as everyone scrambled to find any last eggs.

“TIME!” he shouted, “Everyone back to the porch—lets see who won!”

All the Sinlings scrambled back across the lawn, now in a race to see who could get back first (except for Tavros, who still had to be encouraged by Marie), and piled into a huddle on the porch, all comparing their egg quantities. It was pretty obvious that the true competition was between Marie, Paris, Addy, Sylvester and Cisco, and Miles and Luci—the others definitely didn't have as many, due to their various distractions.

“All right, all right,” Brice interrupted their discussions, “Count 'em up!”

And then there was silence, except for quiet murmuring as everyone sat down and began counting their eggs—or at least, there was silence until Miles and Luci got into an argument about who had which eggs in their collection, and nearly had one stolen by Cisco (Sylvester rolled his eyes and asked, “Do you have a death wish?”).

When all was said and done, though, everyone called out their numbers—and somehow, someway, it was Paris who came out on top, beating Marie out by only 2 eggs.

Addy grinned at his excited little brother, bouncing on the steps, as Marie glowered a bit.

“All right, here's the prize,” Zel had brought out a large box, grinning as she stepped across the porch, “First place goes to Paris.” Brice reached into the box and pulled out a glittering silver and pink crown. All the Sinlings—but especially the Pridelings—gasped in awe, as Brice set the crown perfectly in Paris' curly pink hair.

“Ah! It's beautiful!” Paris spun around, and dashed over to his parents, “Mommy, Daddy, do you like my crown, isn't it pretty? I'm like a princess!”

Marie looked even more sour, right up until Brice added, “And second place goes to my Princess Marie.” And had another circlet, only slightly less fancy than Paris'.

In fact, everybody got crowns—all in their preferred styles. Marie had pink gems set in silver and rose gold, Roy's was plain gold with blue, sturdy and respectable, and Miles' was dark silver with midnight blue gems. Tavros' was just a simple golden circlet, and Luci's was black with red stones. Troy's was dark too, with green accents, Cisco's was a simple black, and Sylvester's was simple silver with tiny little blue gems. Finally, Addy's was gold with both red and pink gems that were arranged somehow perfectly arranged to match the pink streaks in his hair.

All the Sinlings scampered around, showing off their Prince and Princess and King and Queen crowns, exclaiming to their parents and cousins about their excitement, and about the day—and then there was the excitement of the actual candy in the eggs, and before long everyone was also hyped on sugar and chocolate and delicious candy.

After a bit, Addy had snuggled up with his parents, contentedly munching on a butterfinger and watching some of the younger ones play tag out on the lawn.

“Did you have a nice Easter, Gumdrop?” Britton asked, fluffing Addy's hair.

“Mhmm...” Addy nodded.

And then Roy came up and grabbed his hand and pulled him off to play tag with everyone else, “Come on Addy!” His golden hair and blue eyes shone in the sunlight.

[donvex]

A PLAYLIST OF RICHIE TOZIER APPEARANCES

Fandom: IT (2017)

Pairing: Reddie ( Richie Tozier / Eddie Kaspbrak )

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: 

Eddie is, by all means, a popular vlogger. He’s worked hard to get himself where he is, and the fans love him for that, appreciate him for that.

But they’re also somewhat obsessed with Richie Tozier, and trying to decide if Eddie is, in fact, dating him.

So sue them.

AO3 Link

For @odeto-tozier, based off of their Vlogger!Eddie post.

Tag List: @killerxqueer @richietozierlitaf @princely-dots

I. 101 WAYS TO DITCH YOUR FRIENDS - 932k VIEWS

One of the most popular videos on Eddie’s entire channel, at least for a while, this is where Eddie introduces them. The Losers Club. He’s mentioned them, sure. Talked about having them on for a video, showed off their makeup or their art and directed his fan base to their social medias, but this is where he finally introduces them.

Big Bill is first. Eddie’s best friend, the sweetest guy there is, always there for Eddie. One of the only people to not have made fun of him in middle school for having asthma, Bill knew stuff to do. Places to go. Things to see. And the thing is, Eddie may not have needed an inhaler anymore, but he still never breathed as well as he did when he was with Bill. They’d run all night and never need to catch their breath, that was the kind of bond they had.

And then there’s Mike, and okay, maybe Bill isn’t the sweetest guy in the world. He’s up there, sure, but he doesn’t compare to Mike Hanlon. From the moment Mike is on screen, he’s smiling. Then he realizes he’s being filmed, and he smiles even more. He wants to show the camera a thousand things, from the soft sheep on his farm, to the flowers he’s pressed in his free time, to the pages of history he has organized on his book shelves. Mike is smiles and safety, strong and soft all at once.

Ben is quiet most of the time he’s on camera. While Eddie promises Ben’s all laughs when they’re hanging out, he’s just too shy to do anything for what could possibly (and definitely would) be thousands of people. He’s better at writing words than saying them, and Eddie shamelessly uses that as an opportunity to plug Ben’s up and coming poetry book that he’s been setting up a kickstarter for.

Beverly, Stan, and Richie come as a tangled group. It’s a whirlwind, really, the four of them pushing through the walmart doors at almost 2am. There’s a lot of swift laughter and fumbling of the phone, unwillingly passing the camera from set of hands to set of hands. At some point Richie refuses to give the phone back, holding it high above his head, camera angled down towards a clearly angry Eddie.

There’s a lot of banter, and even Bev and Stan can be heard “oo-ing” in the background and yelling out to “just kiss already!” It’s clearly a joke (maybe?) between a close group of friends, but all of Eddie’s fans instantly latch onto this. It’s perfect, an equal amount of fond push and shove on each end, and it’s addictive.

The walmart group each get their own sections later, and some more group videos are thrown in towards the end, but all of the gif sets made seem to revolve around Richie. His sections is mostly Richie taking the phone and talking about himself, making bad jokes that Eddie swears he’s going to cut out, but it all stays in the video anyway, gasoline on the fire.

II. FUCK THE CHALLENGE SYSTEM - 458k VIEWS

Eddie hates challenges. All of his fans know this, just as they know that any challenge they want Eddie to do - they send to Richie.

Because Richie gets Eddie to do anything.

And that, right there, is what holds every single fan up. If they weren’t dating, why was Eddie putty in Richie’s hands? Best friends, sure, but none of Eddie’s other friends convinced him to do challenges.

(They don’t mention that maybe, just maybe, it’s because Richie is a little shit that loves pushing Eddie’s buttons, and all of his other friends respect him when he declines.

Yeah, they just don’t mention it.)

Except this time, there is no actual challenge. Eddie is going off about how wrong they make him feel, how perverse it is to not only force an uncomfortable situation onto him, but to then expect him to force another youtuber into doing the same. It’s unfair, and unclean, and while he respects any fellow vloggers who enjoy the challenges, he’s officially cancelling any challenge videos on his page ever again.

Richie, who just seems to always be around when challenges are mentioned (who seems to just always be around) immediately flies into the frame.

“You heard it! Eds spagehds is officially moving all challenge videos to my page, so if you want to catch them, you’re gonna have to follow this mother fucker right here.” Eddie’s protests and profanities go ignored, shouts of, “Rich, no! Fuck no!” and then the video cuts to an unfamiliar room, with Eddie moping dejectedly in his chair.

It’s thirty seconds exactly (00:30) of Eddie looking sadly into the camera, dead silence around him. In the empty space next to him, a chair that presumably expects to host one Richie Tozier, is a hyperlink to Richie’s channel, and their first Challenge Compilation video.

( Eddie Finally Does All the Challenges He’s Been Refusing, All At Once - 212k Views )

And now the subs know that Richie can make Eddie do anything, any fucking thing.

And they know what the inside of Richie’s room looks like, too.

III. WHY GAYS RELY ON PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION - 644k VIEWS

This video is literally the most fucking blurry, conspiracy theory, I-Have-Proof-Of-The-Lochness-Monster shit that Eddie’s fandom has ever seen. It is, by all accounts, a normal ass vlog. Eddie’s there at his counter, bright sunlight from the large windows in his kitchen filtering into the space, a cup of (presumably) black tea immediately to Eddie’s right. Not that he’ll ever drink it in the video, because he never does, but he does use it to keep his hands warm when they aren’t busy flying all over the place while he angrily vents about why public transportation is the worst, but actually driving makes him too fucking anxious to function.

Because, come on, fuck turnpikes.

The video is approximately two minutes and thirteen seconds (2:13) long, and yet this video has triple the amount of views as every past two minute long vlog for the past four months.

(Four months ago Eddie released a two minute vlog that was nothing but Eddie’s friends petting his hair, and Eddie making soft happy faces in return. The fandom continues to keep that video alive, if only by desperately comparing the length of Richie petting Eddie to the length of every other loser doing so in hopes that the numbers will add up and mean something. So far, it doesn’t.)

There’s really nothing about this vlog that stands out, not even the mug Eddie uses or the clothes he wears. The outfit is one that they’ve seen before, between fashion vlogs and #ootd instagram posts.

No, the reason this particular video skyrockets in popularity is not because of anything Eddie does, but because, around 1:43, from a very distant shot, you can see a figure lazily walking into the kitchen, grabbing a bowl and some cereal, and leaving. That figure, almost 100% wearing nothing but boxers, looks a hell of a lot like one Richie Tozier.

You know, disregarding the distance. And the pixelation. And Eddie’s face cutting off the figure most of the time anyway, because it is his vlog.

But that almost-naked figure in the background is definitely an almost-naked Richie Tozier, the fandom swears it.

IV. PRETTY BOY TRANSFORMATION - 722k VIEWS

The entire fan base already knew Eddie was a pretty boy. That was half of the appeal of his channel in the first place, that you knew exactly what you were going to get. A safe place for any identity. Eddie had been sent plenty of soft shirts and flower crowns already, and half of what he opened on his unboxing streams was pastel. The fans didn’t need to make edits or gifs or icons - Eddie was perfectly happy to wear all of it on his own.

But Eddie with make up, that was an entirely new type of pretty boy.

The video starts with Bev and Eddie bickering, and quickly devolves into not-so-subtly shoving each other’s shoulders while trying to get in front of the camera. They’re both laughing, wide smiles and warm eyes, until finally Bev pushes Eddie’s head down and sticks her whole face into the camera to let all 1.2 million subscribers know that she is, in fact, going to do Eddie’s makeup - but only after letting Eddie pick his own outfit, first.

The dusty blue eyeshadow is a safe choice, and matches the large sweater Eddie’s wearing. Then Bev is drawing large wings onto Eddie’s tan skin with white liquid, and lining his bottom lid with decorative dots. Eddie tries to sass Bev the entire time she’s trying to put on white lipstick that she had found from god knows where, but Eddie refuses to stop talking until finally she admits defeat and let’s Eddie put on a soft matte pink instead. The last touch is silver glitter, thickly painted from the corner of Eddie’s eyes and down his cheeks.

The orange light of the sun skips across Eddie, shimmering like dust. Eddie makes a pouty kissy face, lips puckered and eyelashes fluttering, head just barely resting on his hand while his large sleeve slides down his thin wrist. And that’s when it happens.

The first actual conclusive clue.

(So the fans say. Because really, an audio clip that is exactly .02 seconds long is hardly more conclusive than any of their video evidence, but the file still spreads like wildfire.)

“Cute, cute, cute!”

The voice comes from off screen, and Eddie snaps his teeth in the direction of Richie’s voice before the video hard cuts to Eddie posing for the camera.

V. TRANSPORTATION STRIKES AGAIN - 834k VIEWS

It’s another shitty phone video, and this time the quality is even worse because of the trembling car. A quarter of the video is blurred, and again, this is another two minute vlog. Two minutes and thirty one seconds (2:31) to be exact. A quarter of that leaves, well, not much actual time to have actual footage.

Once again, Eddie’s transportation life is crumbling. The buses are all shut down, too many workers on strike, and there’s no other quick way to be mobile. He’s stuck in Richie’s run down truck, and maybe he’s a little fond of it, but he doesn’t have time for Richie to make seven ridiculous pit stops.

The fans are a little disappointed that they don’t get to see Richie and Eddie’s gas station excursions, but they notice when the video cuts from an empty truck to one filled with drinks and snacks, and that only means one thing - Eddie gave in and let Richie get whatever he wanted. Again.

One point for the shippers.

It’s a short glance into Eddie’s life, just something quick to keep his subs satisfied until he can finish editing his full length video, which he promises will be out by the end of the next day.

“Aw, Eds, it’s like you care.” Then Richie’s ruffling Eddie’s wind swept hair, and Eddie is trying to keep his stern expression on despite the laughter that starts bubbling up from his chest. He swats at Richie’s hand, yelling at him to watch where he’s fucking driving, but even behind the wheel Richie manages to be a menace.

Then they’re there, wherever there is, (and yet again the fans wish they knew, because Eddie casually keeps skipping over it, but they can at least realize there’s a line of privacy there somewhere that they shouldn’t overstep). Then Richie is taking the phone from Eddie, mock saluting it, and kissing Eddie’s head before pushing him out the door.

Yeah, the all of the fans double take, too. Rewind the video, and then rewind it again. Throw on captions for good measure. That’s definitely there, they aren’t searching pixels this time.

Richie just kissed Eddie on the forehead. If he isn’t whipped, which he should be, all of Eddie’s fans will be whipped for him.

+I. THE REAL MTV: CRIB TOUR!! - 1.1M VIEWS

Eddie’s not in his normal spot. The lighting is different, and the camera is close to his face - utilizing an above angle that Eddie doesn’t use often.

But Eddie’s smiling, his face expression tired and content. Most of his greeting comes out mumbled, and he tries his best to address his fans, but he can’t. He’s too comfortable, he tells them. He recently invested in a good pillow, and boy, has it made all the difference. He’s not a sell out, he just doesn’t see anything wrong with product placement. If a quality brand is willing to offer him merchandise for free, he’s gonna take it.

Except then he’s pushed, and the feed goes hazy for a moment, until the phone is back up in place - and zoomed out this time, too.

Eddie is on his couch, curled up in between Richie’s legs. “I’m not a pillow, Eds. I’m not sponsoring you.”

“Of course you are, shut the fuck up.”

Then Eddie’s rambling about how comfortable the cushions are, how warm the sunlight is, how he doesn’t think he’ll ever walk again if it means he has to get up. He goes on like this for a long while, and Richie just watches him, his own hair wild with sleep and a smile taking up over half his face. When Eddie realizes he’s talking to himself, he turns in Richie’s arms to look up at his face, and Richie jolts.

“Hey there, princess.”

“Are we going to show them our new apartment or not?”

“Mmmmm…. or not, if that means I get to stay here with you.” Eddie sighs in defeat, but he doesn’t look disappointed in the slightest as he leans back to lay his head against Richie’s chest. Richie dips down to kiss his forehead before taking the phone, leading his own rambling.

Twelve minutes in, (12:46 exactly), Eddie blinks awake. He looks up and wordlessly cuts Richie off, pressing their lips together gently. There’s a few seconds of silence where the two pull back to stare at each other with soft smiles curling their lips, sunlight filtering between them.

The fandom cries.

“Come on, loser, let’s show them our new home already.”

The fandom cries harder.

[artificialqueens]

your body as a museum of careless gestures (biadore) - dylann

A/N:

Adore’s impulsive, sure.

But she’s more “don’t sober up at all for 36 hours because you’re sad you can’t randomly drop your own responsibilities and fly out to Europe” impulsive than “actually fly out to Europe” impulsive.

(or

Bianca is vulnerable, homesickness is a real bitch, Europe is very far away and plane tickets are unreasonably priced. Also, old patterns are hard to break, especially when you don’t even want to break them.

A reunion fic, everyone. That’s what this is.

Drag names and she/her pronouns for both throughout most of this. Shoutout to Dare for some solid constructive criticism and noticing my missing paragraph breaks.

Content warnings for mentions of weed and alcohol; sex; minor breathplay)

They FaceTime once, in early August, while Bianca’s at an airport somewhere in Europe, and Adore’s shitfaced in Seattle.

She’s home after a local show, still in full makeup, but she’s pulled her wig off and her own hair is piled up at the top of her head in a messy approximation of a bun. Her phone keeps flashing on every couple of minutes, lighting up with various notifications.

Bianca liking a recent Instagram post, or the occasional tweet, or commenting on pictures they’re both tagged in. It’s the clear signs of someone who’s bored and in some sort of situation where they can’t do much besides fuck about on their phone.

Adore knows she shouldn’t text because— well, because she isn’t having the best night anyway, and while talking to Bianca might help at first, it’d probably fuck her up worse in the long run.

She’s stripped down to her underwear and the remnants of a practically destroyed Sex Pistols tank top when her phone buzzes again. It’s another Facebook comment, and she caves.

To Bea 🍹 (3:27:02am) how the fuck bored are you??

Bianca fires back a 😂 almost immediately, and then types a response. The three dots that indicate her thinking pop up a few times, until she settles on

To Adore 🔞 Delano (3:30:03am) Airport. Plane’s delayed.

(3:30:12am) cafe’s not even open, I hate Europe.

Adore mutters “No, you don’t,” to herself as she situates herself in the middle of her bed. Last night’s bowl is still half-packed at the sill of her open window, and she thanks past-Adore for being so considerate as she picks it up and takes a hit. 

And then she remembers Bianca can’t actually hear her.

To Bea 🍹 (3:31:45am) no you dont

(3:31:57am) can i call you???

To Adore 🔞 Delano (3:32:05am) 🙃👌🏼👌🏼👌🏼👌🏼

Adore props her phone on her nightstand, and tilts the small reading lamp so it hits her face from the right angle. She’s wearing very light sea green contacts, and she knows for a fact her eyes look stunning.

The connection takes a moment and then the black screen lights up to reveal Roy who looks like a parody of an airplane traveller. He’s clearly exhausted and bleary-eyed under the rim of his baseball cap, and he’s wearing a plush fuchsia pink travel pillow around his neck like a goddamn statement piece.

Adore lets out a delighted laugh, and then goes,

“You look horrible.”

“It’s good to see you too,” Roy laughs, giving his camera a long look. “Isn’t it, like, way past your bedtime?”

“Has anyone ever told you you use emoji like a thirteen year old girl with a secret Instagram account?” Adore fires back.

“Are you calling me old?” Roy asks, feigning offense well enough that it makes Adore break and she shoots the camera a shit-eating grin as she nods and lights up her bowl again.

“Call me old one more time and I’ll buy a house somewhere in central Europe, take up farming, and never fucking come back,” Roy threatens lightly.

“No one would miss you here,” Adore says, perhaps a second too late to be funny.

Roy doesn’t answer, which is fine. Adore is usually obsessed with filling silences, like it’s her personal responsibility to make sure everyone’s constantly entertained. Roy’s an exception.

They’ve been silent around each other enough that it hasn’t felt awkward in years. 

“How’s Europe?” she asks eventually.

“Fun. Loud. Really fucking hot,“ Roy shrugs. He reaches up and presses his thumb against the bridge of his nose before rubbing along the outline of his eye socket. It’s rare and unsettling to see him that quiet and clearly drained.

Adore smokes and watches him as she contemplates how okay it’d be to say what’s actually on her mind.

“Hey, Bea?” she says quietly, as she shifts to lie down on her stomach.

“Yeah?”

“You look really tired. But um— I hope you’re just tired? Europe’s not making you, like, sad, is it?” Adore trails off for a second and presses her eyes shut as she refocuses. “That’s dumb. I mean. A continent can’t make you sad, right? I don’t know—“

“I’m fine,” Roy says and his face lights up with a small, fond smile which makes him look more like himself. “How are you doing? You look—“

“Fucking wasted?” Adore supplies. She aims for a joke but it just kind of comes out tired and flat. Plus, selling Roy the whole act is kind of pointless. “Yeah. I had a weird night, I don’t know. The whole album thing is fucking stressing me out.”

“People are gonna love it,” Roy says quickly, earnestly. He seems more awake. “They’re gonna eat that shit up.”

“You’re supposed to say that ‘cause you love me,” Adore whines jokingly, but then he just shrugs and nods in agreement, which makes her soften. “Thanks. Honestly. It’s just so— people wanna hear the old shit, you know? And the new stuff’s so different, I just— what if they don’t wanna hear it?”

“They keep asking for the old stuff ‘cause they haven’t heard your new stuff,” Roy reasons. He’s holding his headphones’ microphone close to his lips and it sort of feels like he’s in the room and talking directly to her if she closes her eyes.

“You’re right. Thanks, Bea,” she sighs, and then bites her lip as she adds softly, “I miss you.”

“Come to Europe,” Roy laughs a little. He can always recognize when she’s on the brink of some sad spiral and can usually pull her right back out. Adore opens her eyes to watch him laugh at the camera.

It’s impossible not to smile back.

“Right, are you gonna fly me out?” she laughs, making a show of pursing her lips at the camera.

“You wish,” Roy grins, and then his eyes drift over to something out of frame. Some sort of airport announcement comes through the speaker of Adore’s phone, entirely too far away and jumbled to be understandable.

“Hey, listen, I gotta go,” Roy says. “I might finally get to make it to a plane.”

“Awesome, fly safe,” Adore nods, scrunching up her nose as she fights off a yawn.

“You get some rest,” Roy adds. “This was fun, let’s—“

“More often. Yeah. I’ll call you.”

Adore smiles, and they say their goodbyes and hang up.

And then they don’t talk again for weeks.

***

The morning after the last FaceTime call, Adore had woken up with a screenshot of her own bank account, and a bunch of screenshots of various potential flights on her phone. Looking at them (and maybe the hangover) had made her sick, and she’d deleted them with her eyes half closed.

Adore’s impulsive, sure.

But she’s more “don’t sober up at all for 36 hours because you’re sad you can’t randomly drop your own responsibilities and fly out to Europe” impulsive than “actually fly out to Europe” impulsive.

It’d been days, maybe weeks, after the call when an ad had popped up on her Instagram feed, quite aggressively advertising Bianca’s upcoming gig on Fire Island.

New York is, in comparison to central Europe, closer.

Closer, easier to get to, slightly more reasonable.

So Adore had called her manager and said she’d do that one interview she had scheduled over the phone, and that she was going to be out of town for a few days. Her manager wasn’t impressed, but it was just a weekend, and she’d already made up her mind.

She doesn’t really call or let anyone else know she’s going.

When she walks into the club, the security guard gives her and her ID a long, curious look, but other than that, it’s dark enough that no one really notices or pays attention to her.

She’s wearing a Bianca t-shirt she’s mercilessly cut up into a douchey tank top tucked into a short, faux leather mini skirt with an unnecessarily chunky zipper in the front. Underneath the tank top, she’s in a lacy black bandeau that only draws attention to the boy chest, which is the exact effect she’s aiming for. The tight fishnet covering her legs culminates in heeled combat boots. Her hair is long and black and just messy enough that from afar, she looks like she could be just another girl here for the show.

It’s great, and she feels kind of incognito, even though she’s not necessarily trying to hide. She’s just not here to put on a show, either.

When she gets a drink, the bartender shoots her a knowing grin and says this one’s on the house, she only smiles back and thanks him and doesn’t argue. There’s being lowkey, and then there’s just being plain stupid.

The club is already pretty full, and it’s crowded by the time Bianca takes the stage to host.

Adore doesn’t quite care for the actual event and she lets herself be distracted watching her even when she’s off to the side, and clearly not supposed to be pulling the focus.

It’s impossible for Bianca not to pull focus. In a bodycon dress that somehow manages to be both leopard and floral and still be incredible, she looks like every wet dream Adore’s ever had. Bianca’s focused and attentive, she watches each performance and laughs along, and her lips are so shiny, and her eyes are so bright, and Adore is so tempted to make her way over to the stage and pull her off now, like she can’t wait another minute.

But the reality is, she’s waited this long and now that she’s here, Adore wants to do this right. So she sits back, accepts a couple more drinks from the bartender, and lives out her groupie fantasy, screaming and howling with laugher as if she’s just there to prove she can be louder than everyone else in the club.

At the end of the show, Bianca performs a number and the crowd goes wild, and Adore wants to be cheering with them, except she’s transfixed, breathless as she watches Bianca in her element.

“It never fucking gets old,” Adore yells at the bartender once Bianca’s left the stage. Her ears are ringing.

“She’s great,” he agrees, sliding another refill across the bar for her.

“She’s the best,” Adore corrects. “Can you send her a large gin backstage? Tell her it’s from a fan who claims to know her.

The bartender laughs and fixes a drink, and Adore, who’s only human, watches the sway of his hips as he walks through an unmarked door behind the bar which presumably leads backstage.

When Bianca comes out (from a different door, off to the side), she scans the club past the faces of people who notice her and either try to flock to her, or take a few steps back in some sort of classical awe. She glances around with a look Adore has come to realize means she’s expecting to see an acquaintance who’s dropped her name in hopes for a drink and a catchup.

Then, Bianca notices her and her entire face shifts.

Adore watches her face go from a public, performative smile through shock, through defeat, all the way to blossoming into a genuine smile within a split second. Bianca mouths something in her direction and heads over, and Adore’s heart is pounding so hard in her chest that it makes her cough.

Then, Bianca’s in front of her and pulling her into a hug, and saying into her ear,

“You motherfucker.”

Adore laughs loudly, pulling back just enough to catch Bianca’s eyes and grin at her.

“You absolute motherfucker,” Bianca repeats. “You could’ve called—“

“I wanted to surprise you,” Adore shrugs, as if it’s that simple, and Bianca softens.

“Well, I am surprised,” she laughs. Her hands are still around Adore’s waist and she’s becoming more aware of that by the second. “But I left my drink in the dressing room so we’re gonna have to continue being surprised there.”

Adore just nods. She picks up her glass and follows Bianca through the crowd. When Bianca reaches back, she slips her hand in hers, and hopes the club is just dark and confusing enough that no one would see.

***

“I can’t believe you just pulled this shit,” Bianca says as they walk into the dressing room, which is cool and only illuminated by the lightbulbs that line the mirror.

She closes her eyes for a split second and Adore watches her stage poise and energy leave her body like air from a recently popped balloon.

“I wanted to see your face,” Adore shrugs, and squeezes her hand as she brings herself closer. “Plus, it’s been a while since I’ve watched you—“

“Tonight wasn’t that good,” Bianca says quietly. “It’s not even technically my show…“

Adore bites her lip, and takes a sip of her drink as she says,

“I wasn’t gonna push but— are you okay? I mean, you seem—“

“I’m okay,”

Bianca pulls her hand away from Adore’s and walks around to sit down on the makeup chair, her back turned to the room. Adore just kind of stands there, swallowing uneasily once they break contact. Bianca is never like this, and witnessing it is terrifying, and Adore’s chest is tight as she attempts to figure out how she’d help the most.

“I just feel like I’ve been away for so long, you know?” Bianca says suddenly. Her voice is barely audible over the dull, unrecognizable bass that filters through the walls. “I’m not even sure if I’m away from— This summer’s just going by so fast. I feel like I’m always catching up with people. Like, tonight, when I stepped out—“

“You looked fucking terrified,” Adore supplies. She’s taken one cautious step towards Bianca’s chair and is hovering there.

“‘cause I was,” Bianca agrees, and it comes out in a shaky laugh. “Fuck, Adore, I was so worried I was gonna have to sit down and have a chat with some local queen I haven’t seen in years and make it look like I’m having the time of my life, you know?”

“Yeah. I know.”

Years of sharing dressing rooms have taught Adore that usually, Bianca would be out of all of her drag by this point. Now, she’s just sitting there, her eyes distant as she looks into the mirror but not really at herself.

Adore sighs and walks the rest of the distance to the makeup table, planting herself directly behind the chair. She drapes her arms over Bianca’s shoulders and crosses her wrists at her chest. Bianca’s hand comes up to cover her wrist, pressing down just a little, as if she’s afraid Adore might pull back.

Bianca’s nails are a dark shade of greenish gold and they glitter as they catch the mirror light. Adore wants to tell her she’s never looked more beautiful.

“It just gets kinda lonely,” Bianca says, quiet enough that Adore isn’t sure if it’s for her at all. She doesn’t answer.

Instead, she moves her hand just a little underneath Bianca’s, so she can run her thumb along the side of Bianca’s hand. Bianca sighs and closes her eyes again. Her eyelashes cast long shadows down her cheeks.

Adore doesn’t move, just lets Bianca breathe and take in the physical weight of her presence, lets her be quiet until she seems a little bit more grounded. Adore can feel it under her arms when Bianca exhales a long breath and her shoulders relax.

“Well, I’m here now,” Adore says finally, quiet and intimate, and it feels like dipping one toe in cool water.

She hasn’t planned this far in advance, never knows quite where they stand when they’ve been away from each other for so long, only knows that she’s here, and she’s here for Bianca, in whatever capacity Bianca needs her to be.

“Yeah— motherfucker,” Bianca repeats softly, in an almost-laugh. “You’re here.”

Then, she makes the choice for Adore.

Bianca pushes the chair back and stands up, turning around to face Adore in one swift, decisive motion. Adore catches her eyes and when Bianca tilts her chin down in the slightest of nods, it’s enough.

Adore launches herself forward, resting a gentle hand at the curve of Bianca’s neck as she kisses her with all the intent of an innocent death row inmate who’s been granted one last wish. Bianca responds almost immediately, her hands coming to rest at the small of Adore’s back. Adore (who, again, is only human) rolls her hips into the touch, which gets a noise halfway between a groan and a laugh from Bianca. It sounds more like her than anything Adore’s heard from her so far tonight.

“Missed you,” Bianca whispers once she pulls back. Up close, her eyes are so incredibly bright.

“I’m here.”

“You are.”

They exchange reassurances in a terribly familiar rhythm, and something in Adore’s chest twists a little. It must show on her face because Bianca says “Shhh” even though she’s silent, and is then she’s kissing her again.

This one lasts longer. Bianca licks her way past Adore’s dark plum lips and all Adore can do is respond in small, breathless sounds as she drops one hand down to grip the table behind Bianca, essentially trapping Bianca between herself and the tabletop.

A bunch of lipsticks fall down and maybe something rolls off the table, and Adore lets out a careless laugh into Bianca’s mouth. Her world feels lighter than it has in months. She doesn’t want to think about it at all.

Bianca distracts her, luckily, as she drops her hands past her ass to brush her fingers under Adore’s skirt. Underneath the thin layer of fishnet, Adore’s — unsurprisingly — untucked and wearing the tiniest briefs which leave most of her ass bare. Upon making that discovery for herself, Bianca lets out a laugh which is both appreciation and utter defeat.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Adore Delano,” she hums, pulling back to draw in a very deep breath.

It’s overdramatic but earnest and Adore feels so fucking wanted.

“I dress to impress,” she says sweetly.

“Jesus,” Bianca whispers, and her exasperated smile reaches all the way to her eyes. “Shut up.”

Adore laughs loudly, and it comes from deep in her chest. This is easier than anything else she’s done in so long. She knows Bianca feels the exact same way because she’s still laughing as she kisses her again.

By the time Bianca pulls back again, Adore’s hard and dizzy and the only coherent thought in her head is a vague curiosity about whether the door to the dressing room locks.

“Where are you staying?” Bianca is asking quietly. The outline of her lipliner has blurred and her eyes are dark and bearing so much promise it makes Adore’s head spin.

She grins in response.

She has one bag — a way too expensive designer carryon — that she’d dropped at a friend’s apartment before explaining that no, she didn’t need a place to crash, just storage room, thanks, I’ll see you tomorrow.

She hadn’t bothered with a plan B.

“You bitch,” Bianca laughs fondly. “Yeah. Come on.”

***

Bianca’s hotel room is tiny and taken over almost entirely by the bed in the center. There’s a suitcase half-open in one corner. The lights are off, and the room is instead illuminated by the pale orange glow of street lamps filtering through the (truly hideous) cream tulle curtains.

Adore’s head is swimming. She lets herself fall back onto the mattress, laughing breathlessly as she props herself up on her elbows to look at Bianca who pauses a few steps away to kick off her heels.

“Hold on—“ Bianca starts, heading over to the small table in front of the mirror.

“No, no, no,” Adore says quickly. “No time. Come here—“

Bianca laughs as she stretches to pull the zipper of her own dress down.

“Fine. Just this, then,” she negotiates and Adore nods, and falls silent as she watches her strip and unclip her wig to pull it off.

It’s rare for Bianca to stay in drag when they hook up, but de-dragging takes too long, and Adore is too turned on to survive waiting for her any longer than she absolutely has to.

Plus,

“You look so fucking beautiful,” Adore whispers, lowering herself onto her back as Bianca crawls on top of her. She’s completely naked now and it’s purely instinct when Adore reaches for her cock. Bianca catches her wrist and pulls her hand away, her lips curving in an amused smirk.

“You’re so fucking impatient,” she says quietly and Adore responds with a low groan because Yeah, no shit, aren’t you?

“You’re right,” Bianca agrees, still smirking like some wicked demon of temptation from the depths of Hell when she comes down to catch Adore’s lips in a messy kiss. Adore’s all about hyperbole when it comes to Bianca.

And then Bianca’s grinding her hips down as she licks a hot stripe down the side of Adore’s neck, and literally nothing in Adore’s entire life has ever felt nearly as good.

“That’s cute,” Bianca comments, her lips almost brushing the thin strip of leather. Adore’s wearing a simple one-ring choker, and her face turns a deep shade of pink the second Bianca decides to acknowledge it.

“Told you,” she smirks, and manages to school her voice into an almost challenging singsong. “I dress to impress.”

“Stop talking,” Bianca replies lowly, hooking a finger through the ring to tug Adore up as she kisses her again. Adore’s eyes fall shut and she gasps helplessly into the kiss, and then all she can do is part her lips for Bianca’s tongue.

Adore’s tank top and the lacy bandeau are long gone. She’s still wearing the skirt, and tights, and briefs, and that’s three layers too many, and she’s so uncomfortably hard, and Bianca knows and is ignoring her because apparently, Bianca likes to torture people.

(Which is, on occasion, actually true. And welcomed. Just—)

“Bea,” Adore whines, actually whines, because this is unbearable. “Not right now, Jesus, please.”

“No?”

“No. Come on, I’m done waiting, fuck me now, please,” the last word comes out indignant, as if she’s only saying it to be polite but she doesn’t really want to. It works for Bianca, apparently, because she lets go of the choker and refocuses both of her hands’ attention to unzipping Adore’s skirt.

The zipper goes all the way down and the skirt comes undone.

“You thought this through,” Bianca hums, audibly entertained, and Adore drives her hips up in response because Hurry up, yeah I have, I want this, I’m ready, hurry up.

Bianca peels her tights and her underwear down her legs at the same time and brings them all the way down to her ankles but doesn’t take them off.

“I like the boots,” she explains, breath heavy and hot against the inside of Adore’s thigh. “We’re keeping them on.”

Adore feels filthy, like this part of it is somehow taboo, and her dick is already slick with precome against her stomach. She crosses her ankles and lets her knees fall open to the sides, and Bianca responds with an appreciative groan which makes her twitch.

Adore keeps her eyes closed as she listens to the distant sound of a plastic cap popping open, and then two lubed up fingers are pressing against her and she’s gone.

Bianca preps her quickly, efficiently, because any attempt she makes at slowing down is met by Adore with disjointed sounds of protest and helpless jerks of her hips.

“Now,” she moans eventually as she hovers with her hips pushed off the mattress, desperately trying to get more of Bianca. “Now, I’m ready, come on, fuck me now.”

A moment passes in which Bianca considers making her beg, just to get a rise out of her, but Adore is a picture of uncensored want with her messy hair spilling across the pillows, and her flushed dick, and the small crease in her forehead, and frankly, Bianca’s growing too impatient to tease.

Adore cries out loudly when Bianca pushes into her, sending stars flying behind her closed eyelids. Bianca’s propped a pillow under her hips and the angle is torturous and absolutely fucking perfect. Adore’s thighs shake with tension as Bianca thrusts all the way in, almost too slowly, letting Adore adjust to the sensation. It’s already so much, and yet not nearly enough.

Bianca moves experimentally and it draws a soft whimper from Adore. “Yeah— I’m ready, come on.”

And then, Bianca’s off. She grips Adore’s hips to tilt her up and picks up the pace as her nails dig half-moons into Adore’s ass. Adore is incoherent, meeting each thrust with small moans and broken, disconnected swearwords. Her lips are parted and swollen and glossy with spit, and Bianca stares in admiration for a moment before arching down to kiss her.

Bianca kisses like Adore’s darkest secret is hiding at the back of her mouth and there’s never going to be another way to get to it. It’s disorienting, like walking through darkness. Adore’s ears are ringing. Bianca pulls one hand away from her hips and a second later she’s tugging on Adore’s choker again. This time, she hooks her index finger under the strap and pinches it between the knuckle of her middle finger and her thumb. The leather digs into Adore’s throat and she feels it like fireworks at the back of her skull.

Bianca keeps her lips just out of reach as she tightens her grip on the choker, and it drives Adore to  crane her neck, desperately chasing after a kiss she can’t quite reach. The leather digs into her neck and she coughs right as Bianca thrusts her cock deeper inside of her, at a slightly different angle which makes Adore want to scream.

The sound that comes out is closer to a strangled whine, and Bianca meets it with a low laugh which makes Adore blush. Her chest is so tight she feels like she’s one second, one stray touch, one jerk of Bianca’s hips away from bursting wide open.

“Bea—“ she starts, and it’s barely sound. She gasps, dragging in more air. Bianca’s grip doesn’t falter. “Bea. I’m—“

Adore’s voice breaks a loud moan as Bianca drops her hand to her cock. Bianca laughs quietly, breathlessly, as she tightens her grip and gives her a few experimental strokes. Adore accompanies each stroke with a whimper as Bianca picks up her pace so her hand can match the rhythm of her hips. Adore’s brow is beaded with sweat and her hair is sticking to her face and she looks absolutely gone as she drives her hips up, over and over, in an endless race to meet Bianca halfway.

She comes first, with Bianca’s name in a sharp moan on her lips, cum streaking through Bianca’s fingers and onto her stomach.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Bianca groans quietly, arching down to trace kisses along the red mark lining Adore’s neck as she keeps fucking into her in deep, quick thrusts, chasing her own release.

Adore is shaking, spent and oversensitive and unabashedly loud as each move sends a new wave of aftershocks through her body.

When Bianca comes, she goes perfectly still, perfectly silent, her eyes pressed tightly shut and her lips parted in a soundless scream. Adore, who’s watching her through heavy, hooded eyelids, chokes out a moan instead of her.

Then, the only sound Adore can focus on is her own heartbeat pounding in her ears as Bianca lowers herself down, burrowing her face against Adore’s neck. She doesn’t quite kiss this time, just rests there, her breath warm against the cooling sweat on Adore’s skin.

Adore drifts. It takes a minute, or maybe an hour, she’d never know for sure, and Bianca’s growing soft inside of her but neither of them moves. Adore’s limbs feel heavy, inoperable, and she thinks distractedly that maybe that’s not too big of a deal, maybe she can just be there for the rest of her natural existence and she would be okay with that.

Then Bianca moves. She pulls herself away slowly, carefully, like she doesn’t mean to disturb, and Adore still winces at the loss.

“Gotta get you cleaned up,” Bianca says softly. Her voice sounds raw, spent, and Adore finds herself hoping it’s still like that tomorrow. She wants people to talk to Bianca and know.

The sound of the bathroom sink running and Bianca’s footsteps sound so far away and Adore closes her eyes, lets them lull her into a half-sleep as her body cools down and stops shaking.

Minutes later, perhaps, Bianca returns with a warm, damp towel, and Adore breathes steadily as she cleans her up, too tired and too gone to do much but accept it. Then it’s more footsteps, to the bathroom and back.

Then, Bianca’s hands are working her boots open and pulling them off, along with the mess of fabric tangled around her ankles. It feels private in a new sort of way, as if this is where the moment would usually have to break but Bianca’s not letting that happen. Adore’s chest tightens and she lets out the smallest noise as she swallows dryly.

“You okay?” Bianca asks, all gentle attentiveness, as she climbs up and rests behind her, one arm coming to drape over Adore’s hips, her hand angled up to rest at her sternum.

“Yeah.” Adore’s throat scratches, and she knows she’ll wake up needing water. Bianca makes a sound like she doesn’t quite believe her, so Adore amends, “I’m here.”

Bianca laughs. It’s almost inaudible but Adore feels it against her back.

“Yeah,” Bianca whispers. She presses her lips against Adore’s shoulder and holds them there for a long time. “You are.”

***

A/N: the title is from this poem which you should definitely read, it’s beautiful.

[1ove-jin]

The Cat Before Platform 6 (revised ver)

I finally fixed it!!

Jinkook (chapter 1) /  Onesided Jinmin (chapter 2)

This is chapter 1: The Cat Before Platform 6 (Chapter 2 coming soon!)

WARNING: VIOLENCE, GRAPHIC DEATHS, SUICIDES, CURSING

Read it here on AO3

Italics is flashbacks

Time Travler and Gods AU

Jungkook was willing to give anything to bring Seokjin back. The cat before platform 6 blinks at him with all the temptation of the world in it’s blue eye and all the false mercy of a god in it’s yellow eye. Seokjin, on the other hand, comes back to a scene he much rather would have avoided; and Jimin? Jimin just wanted to get rid of the guilt at having killed too many on accident. In the end though, the catch is that nobody remembers anything. Not Jungkook who gave his all, nor Seokjin who came back from the dead, nor that good for nothing cat who dealt out propositions like it was the devil. In the end, it was only Jimin. The great and lonely god, who remembers anything at all.

If anything was a bad omen that morning, it was the rain. However, Jungkook hadn’t really thought of it as a bad omen then because Seokjin loved the rain, and if Seokjin loved it that meant Jungkook did as well. That morning they had woken up and stretched with smiles curling the tips of their lips. It was a good morning. A typically sticky, almost-spring morning with rain tapping jovially on their windowsills. As a bonus, they were both off from Uni for the spring/Easter break. That meant they were Busan bound in roughly around 3 hours, right after Seokjin’s promised “breakFEAST” that would eminence at approximately 12:30 am. Technically, Jungkook wants to correct his boyfriend and tell him that would be considered - literally- a midnight snack, but Seokjin was too excited at the adventurous prospect of having scrambled eggs and hash browns (in other words: the breakfast foods) at ungodly hours of the night, so Jungkook keeps quite and agrees to deliciously partake in the eating of a breakfeast.

“I’m super excited!” Seokjin whispered, flapping his invisible bird wings and wiggling his crooked fingers. Jungkook groaned and hit his forehead against Seokjin’s broad, warm, perfect chest.

“Just five more minutes, hyung. Then tell me about how excited you are.”

Of course, Jungkook feels like a little shit because Seokjin actually agrees, his voice holding a tinge of disappointment and rejection. It’s exactly 2 minutes and 39 seconds before Jungkook can’t stand the sound of his conscious chipping away, so he sits up, rubs his eyes, scratches the back of his neck, and proceeds to look squarely at his boyfriend, wide awake. “Okay. What’s the course of action for today?”

Seokjin promptly jumps up and gives Jungkook a loud, smacking, lovely morning peck. “You could have slept for a little longer you know.”

Jungkook smiles, “I know hyung, but I didn’t want to. Are you going to make breakfast while I pack now?”

Seokjin nodded before crinkling his features into a handsome, yet disapproving, scrunch. “I told you to pack the night before, did you not listen?” The nagging should have been annoying, really. In fact, Jungkook never let anybody nag at him because he was literally the "Golden Student" who never got anything wrong. The star athlete and a top honor roll student, not even teachers touched him, but Seokjin's nagging was different. Jungkook salutes his boyfriend and immediately scrambles off the bed in order to get the dufflebags. Jungkook was only vulnerable to the greatest man in the world; his man. Only Kim Seokjin had the power to wrap Jungkook around his fingers, and surprisingly Jungkook went with him. Because he loved Seokjin more than anyone and anything else in the world. Kim Seokjin was always his one and only, his exception to every rule. Sometimes, at 12 am when Seokjin was nagging him in a raspy voice and messy brown hair; Jungkook remembers that love more clearly than ever. While Seokjin watches with his arms crossed in a feigned anger, Jungkook throws things and cloths in haphazardly while still prancing around in his underwear.

"DONE!" Jungkook huffs, checking the time and whistling at his record-breaking 12 minutes. He lunges for the bed when Seokjin's arms extend to push Jungkook right back up to his standing position. "Awww hyung!"

Seokjin forces his lips to stop moving up into a smile. This was very serious business. "Did you pack our travel toothbrushes?"

"Of course I..." Oh. Jungkook hadn't stepped foot into the conjoined bathroom of course he couldn't have. He sheepishly shakes his head, wondering if he could get over this one relatively easily with a few winks and a cute little smile. Upon trying he realizes Seokjin is in a good mood, so the older lets him off and says he'll take care of it himself. Ecstatic about their trip to Busan in the early breaking lights of dawn, Seokjin had simply quickly decided that Jungkook aegyo sufficed, and instead got up to go to the bathroom. Jungkook throws his fists up into the air in childish victory and grabs the covers; the warm dream world was awaiting him while Seokjin cooked.

“Let’s wear the matching couple coats your mother got us,” Seokjin grins. They had finished the amazing breakfast quickly (Seokjin finished thanks to his excitement to get going and Jungkook finished to match his boyfriend's pace). Seokjin pulls out the green coat and hands Jungkook his burgundy one. Jungkook rolls his eyes, “Stuck up. This is why my mom likes you so much.” It wasn’t exactly Jungkook’s style. He preferred bomber jackets, in casual black if possible. Seokjin was usually the one who flaunted flamboyant pink coats and cute sweaters. Maybe that was why his mother had bought such bright and obnoxiously colored stuff, to please his boyfriend. Jungkook liked to go plain, faded jeans and white Tees were his thing; maybe with a beanie or something if he was really trying to impress. When looking at their wardrobe and closet, it was immediately possible to discern which side belonged to who, and it seemed that his own mother approved of Seokjin’s fashion sense much more than his own.

Seokjin puts on his green coat over the red and black striped shirt he picked out and beams proudly at Jungkook. Somehow his boyfriend makes it all work out and looks like a supermodel ripped right out of the fashion magazines. Jungkook hadn’t known those three colors could even coexsist on a singular outfit until Seokjin wore it, and killed it. “I swear, I don’t wear couple things with you because you look infinitely better in them than I do,” Jungkook complains. He pulled on the dark red, wine colored coat and frowns. It seemed to clash with his brown hair, but Seokjin squeals and calls him every adjective in the book, starting from cute and ending with handsome. “Trust me. For me, you look the best,” Seokjin reassures. Jungkook turns one more time to stare at the mirror and slowly does a once over; maybe the coat wasn’t so bad on him after all. If Seokjin said he looked good, it must have been true.

It’s that awkward time where Jungkook can’t say it’s 3am but he can’t exactly say it’s 4am either, so when Seokjin asks Jungkook has to actually take the effort to read the whole clock. He knew he should have gotten a digital one. "It's 3: 37." Their train was scheduled for 3:45, which in itself was weird, but the rain had scared off possible co-passengers and the platform up ahead looked empty. Since they were taking a train and they were planning to say for a week or two down at Jungkook’s place, Seokjin decided they shouldn’t take the car and park it somewhere public for a extended time. That left one option. To walk.

“We can take the normal way,” Jungkook had reasoned while looking at his watch, “Or. We can take the shortcut through the actual track road and get there on time to actually catch the train.”

Seokjin, the sensible and proper one in their relationship, usually wouldn’t have agreed with Jungkook’s crazy detour. Jungkook had given him the look that reminds Seokjin that if he hadn’t insisted on packing fifty million snacks for the road they could have already walked to the proper platform and back.

“Alright,” Seokjin gave in, not too happy with his folded integrity, “let’s take the shortcut.”

That's how they ended up walking on the rocks that were complied evenly all over. It was quite a messy situation. Seokjin had two left feet, which Jungkook always made fun of him for but loved anyway because he could actually do something to take care of his hyung. The point was though, that Seokjin could trip on flat land with his laces tied neatly.

Luckily for Seokjin though, even the rocks couldn’t trip him up this time despite their slippery wet unevenness. Jungkook practically had a death grip on him that helped his feet stay grounded and propel him forward in a decent walk. “Rocky wet ground is a bad idea,” Seokjin notes to himself and Jungkook snorts. “It’s okay, I got you right?”

Seokjin turns to face his dear athletic and way-too-strong-to-handle boyfriend to give a sarcastic smile when something white catches his eye. Seokjin wonders if a patch of snow hadn’t melted off the tracks yet, but that couldn’t be possible. The weather the past week had been uncannily warm, even borderline hot, and the sweet rain currently permeating his cloths was proof of spring's awakening. All traces of winter should have been annihilated long ago by the fresh new season. In the distance he hears their line and Jungkook vaguely says something about running to catch that train when Seokjin finally deduced what exactly the curled white dot is.

“Jungkook!” Seokjin yanks his arm back and starts running for the creature.

“SEOKJIN!” Jungkook hollars in sheer horror, wondering what had gotten into his rational boyfriend. It was craziness. Seokjin was running towards the train and not away, to platform 6 where they were supposed to climb up and board. It was the wrong direction, and panic grips Jungkook until it seems into every pore in his body and shakes him until he vibrates with fear.

“The cat, Jungkook!” Seokjin yells and Jungkook finally zeros in on the stark white thing in the middle of the track. Seokjin’s kind instincts would of course focus on saving the poor animal, and Jungkook’s instincts would of course focus on saving Seokjin. Using his well toned legs he starts for the creature. Jungkook curses under his breath and prays that he will make it to the target before his boyfriend does. Bounding through the middle lane, hair whipping wildly in the wind and teeth clenched in determination, Jungkook easily surpasses Seokjin and stretches for the creature that strangely, calmly looks at him, as if he were beckoning Jungkook forward and simply waiting to be rescued. Jungkook lets out a small gasp and his eyes widen when the cat's lips curve up in such a distinct humanly familiar way, he almost suspects his eyes and wonders if the creature is truly there. Jungkook feels like if he simply opens his mouth and speaks to the cat, it will miraculously understand and evade the oncoming danger on it’s own with it's own intelligent mind. He scoops the cat up into his arms and practically feels the kinetic motion of the train incoming on his left side.

“Shit!!” Jungkook curses, his shoe jammed between the wooden track and some rocks, refuses to budge. He could bend down and rip the sneaker off, but that would take too much time. Jungkook doesn’t know when Seokjin had caught up with him, but his boyfriend is right behind him, yelling his name. He says something, maybe it was “move” or maybe it was “watch out” Jungkook couldn’t hear properly with the sound of the train furiously charging towards him and the rushing of his blood that swirled towards his head as if anticipating death and wanting to cushion his mind. There’s impact, but it’s soft. Way softer than what he imagined and way softer than what it should have been.

Jungkook watches the rocks come up towards his face and feels Seokjin get hit before he can actually hear the strangled scream. He feels it in his gut, a terrible wrench and squeeze and stab. The train apathetically rolls by, its malicious purpose fulfilled. Jungkook drops the cat and hollers in furious agony for the train to get out of his fucking sight. Something was wrong. Terribly out of order. Failed. Fate had failed; it had let him down, so much so that Jungkook suspected he was actually in a living hell. He was supposed to get hit. It was supposed to be a tremendous smash of the train against his ribcage and not some soft shove on his back and a face full of pebbles. He wishes the blood curling scream had come from his own throat; it would hurt less if that were the case. Jungkook feels like his heart fell and became smothered in the grave of stones. He feels like he'll never have it beat again. The train antagonizes him and laughs it’s loud rumbling laugh, “chicka chick chika chick,” as it moves by slowly and carefree. Jungkook starts running, toward the last car when he sees it approach and the sleepy faces are pressed against the window, not even taking notice of his frantic colorful curses. They move by in dauntless, uncaring, tranquility.

“SEOKJIN!” the sight of Seokjin’s green jacket on the floor in a heap hurls a deep panic into Jungkook’s throat and he chokes back a sob as his knees smash the ground by Seokjin’s unmoving body. It couldn't be too late, could it?

“Seokjin?”

…

“Hyung?”

Yes. Seokjin had always liked that nickname the best, maybe he will respond now?

“HYUNG? HYUNG! HYUNG!”

Silence.

It was heavy and too complete and entirely too cruel. “Wake up! Umma said she made a cake just for you. She put strawberries on it, the ones she grew herself! Come on. Hyung don’t do this. Open your eyes we have to go to Busan. Come on!” Jungkook begs and pleads and forces the tears down. He would not cry. He could not cry. He shouldn’t cry! Why should he? There was absolutely no reason to cry. Everything was fine, Seokjin was just a little shocked, that was all. He was resting his very startled brain and soon those beautiful brown orbs that crinkled when he smiled and shone when he told an old “ajae” gag and winked at Jungkook when he was attempting to flirt were going to open up. Seokjin was going to say he was sore from landing wrong and ask Jungkook why he didn’t wake him sooner and they were going to be a little late, but they were going to go to Busan and Jungkook was finally, finally , going to ask his parents if he could get permission to propose to and marry Seokjin.

Jungkook was never religious, but he prays. To a god whom he wasn’t acquainted with, to the cosmos, the stars, hell even to the sun if that would just work. He prays for them to help wake Seokjin up faster. Anything if they or it or she or he could help Seokjin.

“Come on hyung. You don’t like sleeping this much, come on.” Jungkook’s arms wrap around Seokjin’s shoulders and his legs come under to help Seokjin’s torso lay down comfortably without getting shards of hard earth stuck on his back. “Hyung? Kim Seokjin, open your eyes.” The body was already cold against Jungkook’s fingertips and rain was mixing with Seokjin’s blood, but Jungkook doesn’t move. He’s appalled. His anger is misplaced, but he wants to kill that goddamn cat, and the conductor, and the uncaring, unmoved people on the train who passed by without even an exclamation or a sign of that wretched emotion, pity. The indifference of the train baffles and shocks Jungkook until he wants to destroy it. He feels like he can pick up the metal monster and rip it to pieces, shred by shred. Everything, the stupid white fluff ball and the good for nothing people and even that inanimate train was too alive. Breathing, blinking, moving along. Everything was too alive while Kim Seokjin was too dead and that made Jungkook livid with injustice. Because if anything on the planet deserved to be breathing and blinking and moving and living: it was Seokjin.

“I’ll kill them all,” Jungkook finally sobs, after half an hour of just sitting with Seokjin’s body. He wanted to desecrate the world and watch it burn because how dare it continue to move and function while the angel in his arms was gone. The audacity of the place to keep turning normally as if nothing happened infuriates Jungkook. “I’ll… I’ll really… seriously,” Jungkook has trouble breathing through his shrill sobs and the rain, as if it were the only thing sympathizing and mourning with him, pounds down on him harder until his eye sight is skewed and the lines that define him start blurring.

“Instead of killing everything, why not save everything?” The voice purrs, quite literally, besides Jungkook. Growling harshly Jungkook whips his head around looking for the invader who dared to interrupt his moment with Seokjin.

“Show yourself!” Jungkook howls, clutching Seokjin tighter and afraid that the stranger would take him away for good. If it was the grim reaper Jungkook was going to fight him. He was going to battle him until death, ironically, because he couldn't possibly let Seokjin go. Seokjin would be scared of the stranger, scared of the new cold and dark and strange place. Jungkook couldn't let Seokjin go through that, death or not.

“I already have, are you ignoring me because I’m a cat?”

Jungkook glares at the cat and it takes a moment for his brain to fully register the fact that yes, indeed, the cat’s lips moved in an abnormal pattern that was never observed in cats before, at least not by humankind. Dumbfounded, he wonders if he’s really lost it after Seokjin’s death, and he doesn’t doubt that he’s actually gone insane. Losing Seokjin could do that to him. It starts with one or two soft giggles, but soon Jungkook is laughing. Cackling into the sky, his mouth collecting liters of rainwater. "Fuck. Fuck. I'm crazy. FUCK!"

“No. You’re not crazy, I’m just special.”

The fact that this cat was special and hyper intelligent fuels Jungkook’s hatred for it. If Jungkook ever had a reason to drop Seokjin, it would be to kill the damned cat. The cat could have moved. It could have understood his yelling. But Jungkook was not going to let go of Seokjin, for any reason, so he opts to cursing the cat until it was silly embarrassed at his profanity. “You fucking lil ass, I'll rip your fu--”

“Woah woah! Didn’t you pray for a chance? I’m giving you one. He didn’t deserve this fate…after all.”

Jungkook agrees and defensively growls at the cat. Of course Seokjin didn’t deserve it. Seokjin was the kindest, most benevolent person Jungkook knew. If anything, everybody should have been more like him. The world would have been a better. There should have been more of Seokjin. Seokjin deserved to be blessed with a long and healthy life, helping others. He was even studying to be a doctor so he could save lives. That type of person, no matter what anybody said to Jungkook, deserved to live in his eyes.

“What would you do then, to give him another chance?” The cat asks boldly, like it was authorized to a payment for the damages it caused. Jungkook wants to point out the disgusting haughtiness and the unjust entitlement complex but stops himself. If the cat could talk, it must have been able to do something. It must have some power (or it must have borrowed the power of someone greater, Jungkook didn't really care where the power was coming from). In the end, it didn’t matter if it was dark magic or the devil in disguise, when Jungkook had prayed to “anything” for help, he hadn’t excluded even Satan himself as an option. Because if it was for Seokjin. If it was for Kim Seokjin, “I can do anything. Anything.” The answer came without hesitation, without a thought, without pause.

The cat pounces on the offer. “Anything? Really? Then how about…”

The first day they met it’s because of Jungkook’s annoying best friend, Kim Taehyung, who also happened to be Seokjin’s cousin and who ALSO happened to need a quote "muscle pig" to help his relative move into an apartment in Seoul, had dragged Jungkook along for the job. AKA the volunteer work, since he wasn't really getting paid with anything more than a bowl of black bean noodles. Seokjin was moving up from Gwacheon that day and in Taehyung’s eyes Jungkook was perfect free labor. Still, he blames his damned loyalty because he came along knowing the conditions. He just hopes that Taehyung's cousin was much quieter and less of a headache than his best friend.

Jungkook had heard about Seokjin and how amazingly kind, beautiful, and funny he was, but considering the source was a drunk Taehyung who cried over missing his cousin’s cooking and “mother like hugs” while trying to call everyone and brag about Seokjin at 12 am, Jungkook didn’t know if the information was accurate. For all Jungkook knew, this Seokjin person could be mean, ugly, and a total bore. Taehyung had a habit of adding too much fat to his stories. He called it improvision, Jungkook called it somewhere between a lie and a scam.

Jungkook takes the first few boxes from the man in the moving truck and heads towards the elevators when a stranger to his side wordlessly takes off the top box. Jungkook was actually grateful because although he didn’t exactly want to admit it, the moving man had overestimated his physique. “Thank you,” Jungkook turns and stops short at the tall man who’s beaming at him with all his black haired, two earrings, broad shouldered glory.

“No problem, this is all my stuff anyway,” Seokjin grins and watches the floors on the elevator changing as it came down to retrieve them. “You must be Jeon Jungkook, right? Taehyung's friend?”

“Yes! That's me... Jungkook. Jeon. I mean. Jeon Jungkook.” Jungkook blurts out his greeting a little too loudly and a little too fast for it to be considered nonchalant. Flushing slightly, Jungkook lowers his voice and nods again, “right. You must be Kim Seokjin?”

Seokjin winks, the first ever wink Jungkook got from him and the one that was forever stuck somewhere in his heart and tucked neatly away in the ‘most beautiful things i’ve witnessed in my life’ box. Surly nothing was going to dislodge that beautiful small blink from Jungkook's heart that was already sold at first sight.“That’s me! Nice to meet you Jungkook!”

Jungkook wishes badly that he could stick out his arm and offer a handshake, but all he can give is a nod. “Nice to finally meet you too. I heard a lot about you.”

“Oh?” Seokjin’s eyes sparkle with a childlike and playful curiosity. “What did Taehyung say about me? I hope it’s nothing weird.”

Jungkook shakes his head fervently, “oh no no! He said you were kind, beautiful, and funny actually!”

Seokjin laughs at his cousin’s never changing repertoire. “So? Is it true?”

“Huh?”

“Am I kind, beautiful, and funny?”

Jungkook looks at Seokjin flustered, but he was never a good liar. Although he could control himself when thinking rationally, it seemed like Seokjin had somehow cut that filter and short-circuited Jungkook’s tongue with his heart. “Kind, definitely. Beautiful, for sure. I’m not sure about funny. We just met.”

Seokjin hums in approval and looks intently at Jungkook, “I’ll have you know… I’m hilarious.”

“I’ll give you this one,” Jungkook answers and the Cat, named Jae, grins in hungry anticipation, waiting to devour the memory. Jungkook, with some lessons and a little time to practice, condenses the memory into a tiny yellow ball and places it in front of Jae who savagely rips it apart with its fangs and swallows it in large greedy gulps. Licking it's lips and letting out a satisfied sigh, Jae nods with approval and somehow (although it was much smaller than him) lids his eyes and looks down on Jungkook; like it was the victor.

Jungkook was too preoccupied with the strange sensation in his buzzing head to notice. It was strange. Something Jungkook felt like he would always remember forever, was suddenly no longer in his brain. For a few minutes it was confusing and every time he tried to recall how he and Seokjin had met something would tickle his mind then float right out of his grasp. Even if he told himself he gave the memory away so he should technically have a copy, it was like the slate was completely wiped clean by an invisible hand, never to be reclaimed. It baffled him and threw him off, but he was powerless to bring the memory back.

“Thank you for the offering. Now. I’ll let you restart the day. Think about it carefully. Okay?”

Jungkook wakes in cold sweat and the only reason he knows the whole ordeal wasn’t a dream was because the pain in his heart was too real and the scratch he gave himself on his wrist while he was saving the cat still leaked with blood and he really couldn't remember the day he met the love of his life, sleeping so soundly next to him. Next to him? Jungkook turns suddenly and sure enough, Seokjin was sprawled out on their bed in his pajamas. "Oh my god..." Jungkook whispers, a sickening feeling of joy and confusion mingling and twisting his organs makes him want to throw up. It was like he drank too much and didn't eat enough, but he was still unbelievably happy that the cat did one thing right. Seokjin was alive. Seokjin groans and mutters that he’s tired, but he supposed he must get up. A long, high pitched beep is still ringing in Jungkook’s ears, but it starts to fade with Seokjin's voice. Yes. Seokjin's voice. The remedy and panacea to all of Jungkook's worries that melted away and dissipated, floating off like dust falling through beams of sunlight.

Seokjin’s only thought at the moment was much different than an anxious Jungkook. Seokjin was only shocked and musing that it was truly a phenomenon because Jungkook was sitting upright in bed before him, he theorizes the reason behind Jungkook’s early activity. “That excited to go to Busan, huh?”

“NO!” Jungkook hollers and Seokjin jumps, startled. “We can’t go to Busan today!”

Seokjin gives Jungkook a strange look and cautiously asks why. “Umma called last night and said her cousin’s friend’s sister died. She needs to open shop for her cousin.”

Seokjin frowns a bit in defeat and Jungkook slumps in relief. Perking up Seokjin springs out of bed, “Then let’s go help her!”

“NO!” Jungkook angrily shouts and Seokjin slows his motions, cautious of the suddenly frantic and loud Jungkook. “Is something the matter? Why are you like this today?” The fear and confusion and pure utter heartbreak in Seokjin’s voice melts Jungkook’s resolve. He thinks about going to the main road towards the train station but the faces of people rushing past without a care as Seokjin lay dead comes back too fresh and too vivid for Jungkook to stomach.

“Okay. I'm sorry. let’s go. Let's go to Busan. But let’s drive there, hum? No trains. I… I have a terrible fear of trains," Jungkook looks down at his hands, ashamed at his poor excuse. He didn't know what else to say though, he couldn't think of another lie, and he surly couldn't tell the truth.

Seokjin raises an eyebrow because every time they had to visit their parents in the country, the two of them had taken trains. Jungkook in particular liked the fast and comfortable travel. “All of a sudden?” Seokjin inquires, genuinely confused but also concerned at Jungkook’s distress. Anybody could see Jungkook was having a hard time coping with something and fidgeting in nervousness. Seokjin doesn't understand because just the other day, Jungkook had been so excited to go because apparently he had to ask his parents something very important. Today though, he looked like a different person completely. Haggard, shook to the core, and desperate, but for what, Seokjin did not know. He wonders if maybe his boyfriend had a nightmare. "Since when where you afraid of trains, Jungkook?"

‘Since the day you died,’ Jungkook thinks silently, watching Seokjin’s face crinkle with concern and his eyebrows scrunch with curiosity. “Just… I saw the movie Train to Busan a few days ago.”

Seokjin thinks about the hit zombie movie and relaxes instantaneously. It seemed the ordeal was nothing big and maybe Jungkook had a nightmare about that silly virus. Still, if Jungkook felt squeamish, Seokjin didn’t want to force him into riding the train for hours. “Okay, let’s drive there.”

Seokjin offers to drive, but Jungkook just feels too nervous to accept that offer. He takes the wheel and bypasses all the rest stops, much to Seokjin's pouting.

"You really want to get there quickly, don't you?"

Jungkook nods without really thinking. Whatever Seokjin wanted to think, Jungkook would let him. In actuality, Jungkook wanted to get off the road or any sort of transportation quickly. It made him nervous. Jungkook keeps checking the time and each minute that gets closer and closer to 3: 45 am, Jungkook grips the wheel a little tighter until Seokjin points out that his knuckles are white with strain.

"Are you sleepy? I can drive."

Jungkook smiles, thinly, and pats Seokjin's thigh, "It's okay. I'm good. Get some rest."

Seokjin takes Jungkook's hand, but Jungkook pulls away. Two hands on the wheel. It was safer, was what his parents always told him, and he wasn't taking risks today. Especially not in the rain, which he had welcomed before, but was now his enemy. Seokjin cocks his head in perplexity because Jungkook had gotten out of the habit of using two hands long ago, especially during long trips because it tired his arms out. Placing his long legs on the dashboard Seokjin grins, "I'm not going to sleep. I need to keep you awake!! Listen to me sing!" He leans over to press the radio and Jungkook smirks. In a different path of fate or no, this was definitely the person he loved.

"That's probably a good idea. Stay awake with me then."

Seokjin nods and belts out to classics on their CDs, because none of the radios were playing lively music which Seokjin, for some reason, thought was very appropriate at 3:45 in the morning. 3:45. Jungkook holds his breath, not daring to set fate off on it's nasty course by letting out air. The digital clock on their car changes to read 3:46, and Jungkook almost cries in relief. It was over. He turns a soft curb and finally lets out the breath filling his lungs heavily, if all those movies he watched were right than after the designated time passes it didn't matter what---

Seokjin freaks out and yells, but the truck was unavoidable. It hits them and sends their small Honda Civic flying backwards. It rolls madly like a slinky down the stairs, hit, hit, hit, flip, flip, flip. Jungkook turns his head and opens his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. Instead his tongue is smacked with the flavor of coppery blood and sweet rain; intermingling and mixing into the taste of death. Seokjin's death. The one thing he wanted to avoid.

That time around, it was the second attempt. Jungkook had forgotten something crucial. Something so important that he wants to choke himself for forgetting. He should have listened to Seokjin and reset it, then maybe he wouldn't have let down his guard. If only he had remembered that the car's clock was off. He looks at his watch, the digital one that he remembered to put on this morning for a more accurate read. The protection screen had shattered off and the neon blue numbers blink, broken and forever frozen in time. 3:45. "I... I'm so stupid."

Jungkook's laying in his car, that somehow landed right-side-up, and he's begging, wailing, for someone to call for help because his phone, god knows where that was, probably wouldn't even function. The road they're on doesn't get cars until approximately 15 minutes later and Jungkook knows, even if they came right away, the medics couldn't have done anything. Jungkook only manages to get a slight scratch on his neck from the seat belt. Seokjin is immediately pronounced dead and his body is hard to even lay on the stretcher because it simply is not straight. It's curved and turned and bent at strange angles and as beautiful as Seokjin is, was, always will be; Jungkook can't bear to watch. Seokjin’s head had snapped back so fast with a sickening crunch that he died on the spot. Jungkook knows he’ll never be able to drive a car ever again. All he can see is Seokjin’s neck in a strange angle, completely twisted away from his spine. Seokjin’s eyes still open in terror, mouth frozen in a scream that never got to see the world, and the goddamn drunk driver in his truck? Sprawled out and snoring, unfortunately alive.

Jungkook can see Jae approaching and it's not anger, it's desperation that hits him first. Extending his bloodied hand, Jungkook's thick voice barely chokes out the words he wanted to say, "Help... Help me."

Jae flicks it's tail excitedly, body shaking with anticipation and fur surprisingly dry and glowing in the harsh rain. "That will cost one memory. Which one will you give me?"

Their first date, if it counted, was at a cafe for some coffee and because Jungkook needed help for his biology project. Seokjin claimed he wasn’t all that helpful but ended up doing half the presentation preparations in a flash while Jungkook, in that same amount of time, was able to deduce that mitosis was a thing and it worked… for reasons… and babies were made. Although Seokjin laughed and helped explain why that wasn’t directly, exactly, the correct way to put it, Jungkook wasn’t listening, or even trying to listen.

Seokjin’s laugh was a wonderful thing. It was like chimes in the wind or birds in the morning; and Jungkook didn't even like birds. Or the morning. But that was what Seokjin's laugh sounded like so Jungkook supposes he can learn to like them. The chuckle was Sweet. Melodic. Carefree and airy. A little breathless, a little squeaky, but it was very perfect. Something he wanted to keep listening to and something Jungkook wanted to intentionally cause, even if it was at the expense of his own image.

“So cranes don’t bring the babies in a bundle huh?” Jungkook asks, knowing full well that it was a ridiculous old fable. Yet, Seokjin laughs, and it was all okay.

“You’re the funny one,” Seokjin nods, acknowledging Jungkook’s skill and Jungkook feels this strange sense of pride for a thing that was very mundane and not that big of an accomplishment. If you asked him thought, it felt like he won the world. And maybe he had, because it was his cute little efforts that moved Seokjin’s heart eventually. That first date in the small cafe, with their warm caramel macchiatos and blueberry muffins and messy bio notes, was the start of Jungkook’s mission to make Seokjin happy and the start of Seokjin’s mission to make Jungkook his.

“Take it!” Jungkook shoves the yellow ball at Jae who gladly takes it like it’s owed to him. “Good luck this time!!!”

Attempt 3:

Jungkook deduces that they only have to stay home until 3:45 and although Seokjin will be annoyed at him for missing the train, it would be worth. Jungkook scarfs down the food Seokjin makes at double the pace, purposefully ignoring Seokjin's warning to slow down and chew.

"I told you that you were going to get sick!" Seokjin stands outside of the bathroom door, his hand clenching the doorknob and another holding an extra roll of toilet paper. "Do you want me to go out and buy--"

"No!" Jungkook cries desperately. That would ruin the plan of keeping Seokjin at home, where everything was safe. "Those don't really work, you know that." Jungkook pretends, and acts, with all his might that his stomach is in pain. In truth, his good-for-nothing healthy metabolism was a little too fine for his taste and a little too great to be convincing. He just hoped he sounded like he was in pain. Although Seokjin had been in theater during high school, it seemed he couldn't pick up the fake moans of pain in Jungkook's breath, so that was a relief.

As soon as Jungkook's watch hits 3:45, Jungkook walks out of the bathroom, hunched up like he'll double over any second. "Ugh. Sorry we missed the train hyung. Look like we'll have to take the next one tomorrow."

Seokjin sighs softly and gently leads Jungkook to the bed, "Don't worry about it Jungkook. I'm just glad you're okay, okay?"

The next day, it was still raining. Jungkook happily takes Seokjin to the train station and they make it to Busan where his mother is all open arms and nice strawberry cakes. After dinner, Jungkook wants to try and tell his parents his plan to marry Seokjin, but Seokjin is stuck to him, and although it sounds terrible out of context, Jungkook asks his mother to get rid of Seokjin for a few minutes.

"Seokjin-ah? Could you please go and buy some soap for the dishes from the convenient store?"

Although it was raining harshly and freezing in the returning-winter-flower-cold, Seokjin agrees, happy he can help. Because he can't find his jacket, which was dragged away by Jungkook's dog and hidden somewhere, probably behind the sofas or under a staircase, Seokjin say's he'll be quick and runs out in his shirt. As soon as he does step out, Jungkook's mother turns to him excited barely able to wait. She of course, only expects good news.

"What is it? What's so important that you had to make me kick out my future son-in-law?"

Jungkook almost lets himself grin at the nickname his mother has always used since day one, and turns to his father. His father, a man of few words, but with the largest heart in the whole of Busan, motions for Jungkook to go on. He might not have shown it as openly as his wife, but Jungkook's father was quite curious also. Jungkook perpares the most serious face he could muster, thick eyebrows pointed down and jaws clenched.

"I don't want you to call Seokjin 'future son-in-law' anymore," Jungkook deadpans, the smile being suppressed into a thin line and his eyes hardening. "I'm sick of it. He's not 'future son-in-law.'" His mother raises in protest, tears in her eyes. She's ready to hit her son's chest and yell at him and demand 'how can you do this? how can you do this to Seokjin?' when Jungkook's father holds her back. Although he can't understand his son's sudden deceleration he calmly asks for an explanation.

"I want you to officially call him 'son-in-law.'" Jungkook breaks out into laughter that he could no longer contain and Jungkook's mother cries hot tears of joy while yelling in angry protest.

"You little shit!!!!! I thought you were crazy!!!!!"

Jungkook jumps up and down while laughing, "That's a yes?! We can get married?!!"

"Of course you shit!!!" Jungkook's mother snaps, beyond angry at getting tricked, "I almost had a heart-attack because of this! You better marry him now!"

Seokjin walks in on the commotion soaking wet and understandably confused. "Ahhh!! My Seokjin-ah! My son! Come save me! My son tried to kill his poor mother!" Jungkook's mother wails while hugging her blinking future son-in-law. "Of course mother. Jungkook! What did you do?"

Jungkook simply shrugs. It was a surprise. "You'll find out."

Seokjin never finds out. 3 weeks later Seokjin's cold eventually leads to pneumonia that eventually kills him. It's such a shock because it wasn't the day that he was supposed to die. It wasn't at 3:45. And who the hell heard of a 24 year old dying of pneumonia when the cheery blossoms were budding outside? All in all, it wasn't supposed to happen. When Jungkook's mom finds out about Seokjin's sick condition she sends soups and meals, and eventually comes up herself from Busan. Jungkook forbids her from meeting him and lies that it's Cancer, some exotic form. It was Seokjin's request. If he got better they could say it was a miracle, if he died, Jungkook's mother wouldn't blame it on herself for sending him out to get soap. Seokjin didn't even know that it was really Jungkook who asked for her to send him out, but he complies with Seokjin's wishes anyway. That was Seokjin, even on his deathbed, he cared more for others.

When Seokjin dies suddenly, the doctors are baffled and speechless. They have nothing to say to Jungkook, and of course they don't. He poured every ounce of money he had in his measly student bank account in hopes of Seokjin getting better and he died because of something ridiculous. Unheard of. So quickly too. His lungs were healthy, Jungkook protests. He grabs the head doctor by his collars and shakes him while yelling that Seokjin had no problem belting out high notes in his favorite songs. Seokjin's lungs were healthy, he was healthy, he worked out all the time and ate home cooked meals and he always drank tea in the morning, not coffee like Jungkook himself. Kim Seokjin was healthy. So why was he dead?

Jae is nowhere to be found. Jungkook's mother cries while hugging onto Seokjin's mother who cries even harder, with an intensity so great her husband has to support her the whole funeral. Jungkook sits in front of the coffin and stares at the beautiful picture, a school picture (because a 24 year old just doesn't have a formal picture for a funeral, they just didn't.) It's his 6th bottle of soju and he can barely feel his legs. The rooms are dark, the people have trickled to only close family and immediate relatives.

"I'm a little late? Huh?" Jae's voice causes Jungkook to turn in anger. "late?" He spits, "Late?"

"Aren't you going to ask me to give him another chance?"

Jungkook fills up another cup of soju and tilts his head back, letting the bitter clear liquid painfully scald his throat as it went down. "Why did he survive that day, just to die later? He survived after 3:45... It doesn't make sense."

Jae sits down next to Jungkook and sighs, pity dripping from its mismatched eyes, gleaming with something that Jungkook mistakes as tears. "That's the thing kid. Death has no rules, no logic. It follows no schedule and has no limits. I'm sorry to say this, but he lived for three weeks from your starting point. I need 21 memories."

Jungkook looks at his alley and sighs. He was the only one who Jungkook could lean on. The only one who had enough power to help him, and even if he hated this feeling of losing to a cat, it was for Seokjin. He could do anything for Seokjin. "You're pretty cruel, Jae. Waiting until after the funeral. My parents, his parents, everybody he ever had a connection with had to know about his death and mourn."

Jae shrugged. It wasn't really his problem, in fact, he enjoyed watching this human process of accepting death. It was an intriguing sight indeed. "I'm sorry. I was busy," is all he says to his prey, who looks at him with an unmasked and unhappy trust. Jungkook knows he's being forced to trust and rely on Jae, but he honestly had no other option and nowhere else to turn. For some reason, this cat was helping him, so he had to obey and he had to comply and he had to lose.

Jungkook gives up 21 memories in order to go back to day 1.  He gives up important ones, small ones, medium ones and all the ones in between. He gave up good ones, bad ones, medium ones, and the ones in between.

The good ones consisted of....

1. A Sunday morning, their classes were canceled because the professor emailed everybody that he was too hungover and was simply not having it. "That's professor Yoongi for ya," Jungkook smiles, settling into Seokjin's side with his own bowl of cereal. Seokjin says that Jungkook's bowl looks tastier despite it being the same type of cereal, and in the end, somehow, the two end up spoon feeding each other out of their own bowls.

2. Jungkook was drunk out of his mind, but he really knew how to make it up to his boyfriend. By the time he gets home he has his arms filled with flowers and he's sobbing. Something about how he'll never drink again, also something about how the flowers reminded him of Seokjin so he had to get them. All of them. Seokjin asks if Jungkook really thought this would work.

3. It did work. The next day Jungkook wakes up confused at his greenhouse of a living room. Seokjin's wearing a flower-crown and holding on made of pink roses, beaming. "They were pretty, so I forgive you." Jungkook learned that flowers always work.

4. Making a cake to surprise Seokjin for his birthday would have gone much smoother if Taehyung hadn't eaten all the strawberries, if Taehyung hadn't licked the spoon and then mixed the icing with said spoon, and if Taehyung didn't crumble the cake while flipping it onto a plate. Jungkook is frustrated and bothered, Taehyung is apologetic with his boxy grin not being very convincing, and eventually Seokjin gets home to a mess. Making a cake to surprise Seokjin for his birthday would have gone much smoother if it wasn't Seokjin himself who made the cake. "I'm sorry," Jungkook shakes his head in shame. "For what?" Seokjin asks, lifting his chin, "It's the thought that counts." Jungkook learns that Seokjin gives more than he receives, always. Even on his birthday.

5. Grocery shopping at 5 am? You'd think Jungkook would complain, but when Seokjin lets him crawl into the cart and pick out some of his favorite snacks, Jungkook knows he's blessed with the best husband material boyfriend in the world. Why where they grocery shopping at 5 am with the cashiers and workers stocking food looking at them funny? Why not? Seokjin was stressed, he wanted midnight snacks and some beer, they didn't have Uni the next day. It all equated. Obviously, the only option was to grocery shop. At 5 am.

6. The first time Jungkook's parents meet Seokjin he expects some form of shock, but Jungkook's mother loves Seokjin as soon as he says his name and sends the whole family a flying kiss. Jungkook smiles because he understands. That flying kiss had gotten him too. It had gotten him good.

The bad ones were...

7. Not even cats and dogs fought this badly. With nobody to rip them apart, the apartment is in total pandemonium but they're still not done heaving and glaring at each other in disgust. "He touched you!" Jungkook yells. "You punched him!" Seokjin hollers back. Jungkook is mad jealous, crazy jealous, insanely jealous, and Seokjin doesn't comprehend. In fact, as if Jungkook didn't feel unfair and wronged enough because Seokjin wasn't understanding him, Seokjin storms out of the house with the car keys. "FINE!" Jungkook hollers at the closing door, "LEAVE!" But he regrets those words even as they're leaving his mouth.

8. Jungkook lives 2 weeks without Seokjin. Without a text. Or a call. They don't even meet at Uni. Every day in those two weeks are a pain. They're torturous. The same dull ache beats in the white cage of his, and it's all a jumbled blur of burden. Jungkook realizes he can't live without Seokjin. Not after he found Seokjin. Jungkook realizes he needs to find Seokjin, apologize and get him back. No matter what the cost was.

9. Jungkook finds Seokjin. Finds him kissing Jungkook's upperclassman in the music practice room. Seokjin's sitting down, guitar in his crossed legs, and Kim Namjoon is kissing him. Jungkook learns what betrayal is. He learns the feeling of heartbreak. No. Heart-take. Seokjin took his whole heart and wouldn't give it back. He burned it and dropped it and shattered it, but Jungkook could never have it back and he could never give it to anybody else. He knows. Jungkook knows nothing good will come from repeating his mistakes, but he pushes himself forward to punch Kim Namjoon in his face and fight him. It's childish and immature and a bad idea, but Jungkook doesn't care. Nothing matters. Seokjin wasn't his anymore, but he was still Seokjin's, so he tries to justify what he does next.

Medium memories... Jungkook guesses these are his medium ones,

10. Seokjin gets up and slaps Namjoon so hard Jungkook freezes in fear. "I thought I told you," Seokjin growls, "I have a boyfriend."

11. They make up over hamburgers. It was so Seokjin. Seokjin devours 3 burgers, a milkshake, fries, and asks Jungkook to buy him ice cream. Jungkook's wallet cries in starvation, but his face is a full bloomed smile. After the meals Seokjin sighs, "You were going to punch him again." Jungkook's heart clenches in fear. What if Seokjin hadn't forgiven him? And it was true, Seokjin had seen right through him. "I see now... that your worry isn't 100% misplaced. I'll be careful. But no punching." Jungkook nods, agreeing. Swearing. He crosses his right arm across his left chest and does solemnly swear that he won't ever punch someone in front of Seokjin. He'll do it in private. Although Seokjin knows, he smiles. "violence is never the answer, Kookie." Of course not. "But I do admit... there's some crazy adrenaline when you hit someone who offends you. Isn't there?"

12. Seokjin and Jungkook set the record and break Professor Min's, proudly. Professor Min just casually grunts at them, annoyed. "Damned kids. How did the two of them sleep for 39 hours straight? Is that even humane?" Anything could be done with the right willpower. Jungkook and Seokjin just happened to have that willpower.

13. Stealing kisses at a bookstore was Seokjin's romantic fantasy ever since he saw that one Japanese film that Jungkook had forgotten the title to. After he heard about that, Jungkook was crazy about bookstores. Taehyung wondered why in the world his best friend had to have a list of cute and quite bookstores all over the city of Seoul. "Shut up! Just help me make the damned list!"

14. Seokjin shows Taehyung the Japanese Film. Taehyung understands. Jungkook flushes guiltily. "Good luck!!!!" Taehyung hollers. Seokjin is confused.

15. Jungkook claims he needs a new textbook. They go off to every bookstore that conveniently look antique and just like it does not have said modern textbook. By the 9th stolen kiss, Seokjin finally gets over the flustered butterflies in his stomach and understands just exactly what his dear romantic boyfriend was doing, but he plays dumb. "Let's go to another bookstore," Seokjin whispers, "I don't think the textbook is here." Seokjin also didn't think it would be nice to keep kissing and not buying anything when the owner who clearly knew exactly what they were doing, was looking at them annoyed.

And the ones in between...

16. Seokjin dares Jungkook to only use 10,000 won and scare the cashier with his purchases. It was currently 11pm on a Saturday night and rain was just starting to drizzle on the dark streets. Jungkook buys a mask, duct tape, trash bags, and an umbrella- the ones with the pointed tip. He also buys some painkillers. For extra affect. The cashier, either slow or acting nonchalant, doesn't seem alarmed or call for the police. Which was good, Jungkook didn't want to go to jail while trying to amuse his boyfriend.

17. Jungkook dares Seokjin to only use 10,00 won and scare the cashier with his purchases. It was currently 11:08pm on a Saturday night and the rain was falling hard on the dark streets. Seokjin buys a cucumber, Vaseline, tissues, a magazine with some shirtless korean actor on the front, and a father's day card. Needless to say, the cashiers face was mortified, and Jungkook's was steaming. The rain evaporated straight off of Jungkook's hot face. "I won!" Seokjin laughed, dumping the bag of his purchases into the trash as soon as he stepped outside. "Yeah. You definitely won."

18. Seokjin trips down the stairs and ends up in a cast. Cue the story of how Jeon Jungkook became a maid for a month and also how he, although he won't go into detail, ended up with a maid costume on. Frilly dress and lacy socks and white bonnet and all. For somebody who broke an arm, Seokjin was pretty good at getting all of it off in the bedroom later that night. Also, Jungkook learns that Seokjin quite likes being called "Master." Maybe he'll do it more often.

19. Taehyung and Seokjin don't fight a lot, but when they do, Jungkook learns it's a very awkward affair to be caught up in. He'll just leave this memory at that. Things got pretty ugly. And by pretty ugly it mean a smashed mario figure and Taehyung's anime books burned over the stove. Yeah. Not pretty. Over what exactly, you ask? "Bleach is a much better anime than Fairy tail!" START; the boss battle. (Jungkook secretly agreed with Taehyung, but Seokjin would never know).

20. When he was sick, he expected soup. When Seokjin bakes muffins, he eats the muffins. When he gets sick again, he ASK for muffins. That's just how it went. Jungkook changes because of Seokjin, because he loves him. Loves him a lot. Now, when Jungkook's sick, he expect muffins. It's just a thing. It's the new normal. That was life with Seokjin, and Jungkook wouldn't want it any different.

21. When he was sick, he expected just medicine. When Jungkook stays up all night with a cold towel, Seokjin smiles at the consideration. When he gets sick again, he asks Jungkook to just sleep. But of course Jungkook didn't listen, because he loves him. Loves him a lot. Now, when Seokjin's sick, Jungkook can stay up with a cold towel for days. It's just a thing. It's the new normal. That was life next to Seokjin, and Jungkook wouldn't want it any different.

Jae takes all of the memories until he’s full and satisfied. “This time. Try to not go outside, huh?”

Attempt 4: Jungkook finally goes ballistic, much to Jae's amusement, and locks Seokjin up. He's not ready to risk it this time. Seokjin pounds on the bedroom door and throws an understandable fit, and it hurts Jungkook, it really does.

“Why can’t I go out? You’re scaring me Jungkook!” Seokjin hits the door with his fist, rams into it with his broad and strong shoulders, he even kicks it with his well toned legs. Still, Jungkook has locked it and wears the key around his neck, firmly he also holds onto the handle just in case.

“It’s for you Seokjin. Trust me. You might not get it now but it’s all for your own good!”

Seokjin tries to understand. The area they lived in was cheap but fairly dangerous so maybe a gang territory fight had broken out again and Jungkook was very paranoid. But there was a limit to how much Seokjin could take. Jungkook would bring Seokjin his three meals in the morning and leave them on the racks until late night where he would take them out.

Once Seokjin pretended to sleep. Jungkook opens the door and turns his back to set the racks when Seokjin pounces up, running for the door. He got five steps out of the door into the mess that was their living area when suddenly Jungkook's strong arms grab him and drag him (kicking and yelling) back into the room. Jungkook flings him ont the bed, yelling at him to just listen. "Stay where you are. This is all for you," Jungkook mutters darkly, turning his face away from the whimpering one of Seokjin's. He clutches the key in his hand and softly clicks the door shut, once again confining his angel into the small room. University has asked why Seokjin was missing so much and Jungkook applied for an official break stating that he is unwell.

“Could you tell me? Please?”

“No,” Jungkook sighed, his voice muffled by the obstacle, the door. “Just trust me.”

“I do,” Seokjin sighed, placing his hand against the door in desperate need for Jungkook’s warmth. “I do.”

The 4th time ended far worse than the others and it left Jungkook ruined like never before. He doesn't even feel like he should breath. As punishment for being such a terrible and disgusting human who would drive the love of his life to such lengths, Jungkook asks god just to take him instead. Even if it's a unfair trade, Jungkook cries while pounding on his chest in penance and asks for a miracle.

It was the typical day, Jungkook doesn't know how far this has to go, but he's not sure it's safe yet. He hasn't seen Jae in a while and is determined to ask about the fate of Seokjin when they do meet. Thinking with a renewed positivity, that maybe this was working, Jungkook went in to give Seokjin his food and found the bed empty. He assumed Seokjin went to the bathroom and waited, deciding he would give him lots of kisses and hugs to make up for this... this treatment. This confinement, although he winched when he called it that. Jungkook decides that he prefers the word barrier. Yes. This room where they cuddled and slept and woke up next to each other, together, was safety. A barrier against the ill-fated death waiting outside. Still, it's unarguable that Seokjin must have been pretty lonely locked up for 4 months, after all, so Jungkook decides that he'll just stay in here for the whole day. The unlocked door would make him a little nervous, that was true, but he was much stronger than Seokjin, especially nowadays. Seokjin ate less, and it was somewhat concerning, but since he didn't move and wasn't active much, Jungkook thought it was okay. The bathroom is still quite and the lack of noise brings Jungkook right back to the day where he desperately called only to get no answer. “Seokjin hyung?” Jungkook knocks, not wanting to startle his hyung and wondering if maybe he fell asleep on the toilet; that could happen, right?

Jungkook leans against the vanity when his hand brushes against something. "Seokjin hyung?" Jungkook calls out, again, even as he's looking down and reaching for the paper, frowning. Jungkook remembers that morning when Seokjin specifically asked for a notebook to pass time. Curious, and still waiting for Seokjin to finish doing his thing, Jungkook opens the notebook to the first page and his eyes land on the starting two words that dropped his heart.

“Dear Jungkook,”

The letter was long and flowery, just like how Seokjin usually talked. It was in the fine, scrawling, thin script of Seokjin’s perfect hand, too neat to belong to a future doctor, but nonetheless Seokjin's anyway. It held everything in the formula, from the apology, to the confusion, the the eventual thanks and final goodbye; topped off with the words that destroyed Jungkook and killed him where he stood.

“I love you so much, but i can’t do this anymore. If we meet in the next life, I hope we work out. I love you. I love you. I love you… Forgive me.”

There was nothing to forgive. It was all his fault. Jungkook clutches the paper; it was all his fault.

He smashes the door off the hinges and finds Seokjin in the tub, the abandoned bottle lying useless and without its little white insects of death. “Seokjin… No…” Jungkook cries harder than ever before, a fresh wave of hatred for himself filling his chest. The dark blue waters wet him as he splashes into the tight tub, trying to pull Seokjin out. Trying to help him stand. It was futile. "Seokjin. Come back. Seokjin... Please, come on. You wouldn't hate me enough.... enough to do this. I'm sorry! I'M SORRY!" Jungkook sits on Seokjin's cold, watery lap and sobs into his chest. The wet white shirt absorbs more tears indifferently. His brown hair is damp, one long arm floating lifelessly in the water and the other hanging limply off the edge of the tub. Jungkook hugs onto his chest swallowing sobs bigger than pills and dropping tears fatter than blood. “I did this,” he whispered, horrified, as Jae materializes and solidifies right on top of the closed toilet lid. “I did this to him! I made him do this! I killed him this time…” mortified at his own morbid behavior, Jungkook refills the already full tub until it practically overflows with his tears.

“120 memories and this can all be avoided, but this time, they all have to be big memories.”

Jungkook gives out everything. Their anniversaries, accomplishments, breakthroughs; everything. He feels helpless. Every time he wakes up he remembers less and less about Seokjin, he can barely retain birthday and family members and favorite food. All the attentive details he used to know (like which flavor lollipop Seokjin loved or which brand of chicken he ordered or even something as simple as his favorite hue) it was all gone. Yet, Jungkook’s love and determination to save Seokjin no matter what always burned the same, in the center of his being. It was the force that moved him to go.

Attempt 5: Jungkook decides he'll never confine Seokjin ever again. He'll let Seokjin roam free, like the wind. However, he'd stick to Seokjin and always make sure he was safe. 6 months go by and Jungkook starts relaxing, getting lazy. He builds new memories and quickly replaces the old ones. Somehow, with the help of his curious friend Taehyung, gets back important anniversary dates and previous date locations. Of course Taehyung thinks it's weird that the flawless Jeon Jungkook forgot his cousin's favorite color, but a few cookies later and Taehyung's already forgetting what Jungkook even asked.

"I'm kinda tired today, want me to pick up some Chinese food?"

"Umm sure hyung. Get me the honey shrimp and walnuts!"

Jungkook should have remembered that the only restaurant selling honey shrimp and walnuts was on the east side of the city. The closed metal bars and bulletproof windows side. The shattered glass and boarded up storefronts side. He should have also remembered that Seokjin was wearing a blue scarf that day. Blue. The east side of the city. Chinese take out.

Seokjin isn't home by 9:30 so Jungkook pulls on a jacket and forces on his shoes when a call comes bringing with it a familiar ringtone. "Hello? Seokjin?"

"Hello?" It was not Seokjin.

Seokjin was stabbed by a rampant gang member from the BullDog gang that mistook him for a member of the SkyDragons because of his signature blue scarf. The police get to him first and Jungkook can only see white outline where Seokjin used to lay, painfully dying from blood loss. The news serve Seokjin's story as a warning for people to be careful because of gangs and territory wars, but why couldn't they have warned Seokjin about it? The police are taping off sections of the alleyway when an officer's words rattle Jungkook.

"He was clutching this, sir."

The head police officer who looks to be in charge and has a stern face outlined in pity curiously takes the black plastic bag. "What is it?"

"It's chinese food, sir."

The officer takes it out and opens the Styrofoam take-out box, "Honey shrimp and walnut. They only sell it at East East House, the BullDog's frequent store. Why would this young man go there at such a time? Tsk, tsk. You gotta be careful. No matter how young and strong you are! Poor boy."  

Jungkook runs around like a madman, looking for Jae. When several officers patrolling the area stop him and question him or offer him a ride home he shoves them aside, muttering about finding his cat. He finally sees Jae, perched atop a dumpster and waiting, it's blue eye glowing bright and yellow eye blinking with excitement.

"6 months worth of memories. They have to start before the first day I returned you though."

"Why?" Jungkook asks, suddenly feeling as if his life was shortening, which, technically it kind of was.

"Because. If I send you back those 6 months wouldn't have happened, so those memories are fake anyway."

Jungkook doesn't bother with the headache or the mind boggling paradox of time. If it saved Seokjin, whatever was fine. Even if the demand was cruel and hard and unjust. It was fine.

Attempt 6: Six months. Another six whole months, but this time Jungkook was on tooth and nail to make sure Seokjin survived. Six whole months he was a nervous wreck. He abstained from chinese food, avoided 'the east' of anything, really, and made sure to always pick up Seokjin at night. Then Seokjin gets kidnapped by a cereal killer right on campus and becomes the nth victim in some psychotic murder case; how was he found by the police? The loud yowling of a cat alerted neighbors that something was wrong and his corpse were, sure enough, in the dumpster. Jae grins at Jungkook, who’s haggard and merely a shell of himself. He sees Seokjin’s burned face and feels like finding the culprit and dumping acid on him, or boiling him in acid or maybe slowly shooting acid at his face with a toy gun until they died because of low pain tolerance, just like they had done to Seokjin, Jungkook wanted to do it to them this time. Because it was just inhumane, how Seokjin went. “I helped you find the body this time, so double the memories,” Jae slyly demands and Jungkook powerlessly shakes his head.

Jungkook eventually stops keeping a count. Now when he wakes up in the morning it’s all an act. He can barely remember Seokjin’s name, he had forgotten the surname a long time ago. Most times he goes for the safe route of “hyung,” just “hyung.” One time, he wanted so desperately to call the name of his lover, so he tried a blind guess. A shot in the dark.

"Hey Hoseok."

That day Seokjin died because they fought. "Who's Hoseok?!"

Jungkook doesn't have an answer. 'What do you mean you're not Hoseok?' is what he though. Jungkook said nothing because he knew he was wrong. His memory failed him.

Seokjin stormed out only to be run over by a speeding hit-and-run driver. By this time, Jungkook can barely remember Seokjin's face. When the police ask him to identify his boyfriend Jungkook weakly nods.

"I think it's him..."

"Is this or is this not Kim Seokjin?" the man asks, annoyed.

Ah. So Seokjin was his name.

"I think," the face blurs in front of Jungkook and he feels like it's Seokjin, but he doesn't know. What if he identifies the wrong body? What if Seokjin is still well and alive and he identified this corpse and Seokjin gets documented as dead? He couldn't do that, right? Jungkook doesn't know the face. It's the face of a stranger, but the suspicious and strong pang in his heart tells him it is indeed the person he loves. The faint memory. The one memory he retains comes back to him, but it dissapears just as quickly. With no other memories as building blocks or support, his one measly memory isn't enough for him to retain Seokjin's traits, his voice, his quirks, or even his features. The one memory he does have left is merely a photo. Seokjin has, at present, become a mere passing ghost, no better than a stranger Jungkook walked by on the streets. "I don't... I don't know."

"How do you not know for sure?! You guys are boyfriends!"

"Stop it." The female colleague, who had a milder temperament and a softer face full of pity, pulls her co-worker aside. "He's obviously shocked and in denial. This is too much for him. Let's send him home. His parents will come up tomorrow from Gwacheon. They can identify him."

She was right. Jungkook was shocked. He was in denial. It was too much for him. Jungkook needed to find Jae, before this was all gone.

“You said it wasn’t his fate to die!! Then why does he keep dying? No matter what I do! NO MATTER WHAT!” Jungkook finally has enough of it and he grips Jae’s neck in both of his hands. Passing people whisper about his animal abuse and snap pictures to post on SNS with enraged hashtags but Jungkook doesn’t care. This cat was the devil.

Jae scratches at his arms harshly and Jungkook finally lets go, finding it futile to choke a satisfying answer out of it. “Well… there is one thing you’re missing.”

Jungkook growls at the cocky condescending tone and grips Jae, twisting his neck harshly in anger. The cat goes limp in his hands and Jungkook gets ready to give up and just go find Seokjin in the next life. His hope and his only chance were gone. Completely gone.

“Why do humans always do something when they’ll regret it soon after?” Jae asks irritated, his head turning back towards the front of his body, an eerie and long grin on his feline features. “If you want to save him… you have to set fate back to what it was before. Think carefully Jeon Jungkook, that day, someone was supposed to die.”

Jungkook can somehow clearly remember the start of it all. Their walk by the train tracks and Seokjin’s sacrificing shove. It was as if Jae gave back that memory just so it could be extra painful for him.

“A-are… you saying that I-I.. I-I-I have to,” Jungkook shudders and Jae howls with gleeful laughter.

“It’s not a memory you have to give. You have to die. But you won’t do it!” Jae cackles with infinite joy at his own enlightenment and the plight of such a sad human. “You can’t do it! Because you don’t know him!” No man, died for a stranger. That was the undeniable, unshakable foundation and quintessence of mortal man.

“I’ll give you a memory. Let me go back.”

“There’s no use! Don’t you see?” Jae asked in sweet glee, his eyes lighting up, “you won’t be able to die for him, because you won’t remember him! You won’t love him!”

“JUST LET ME GO BACK!” Jungkook hollers as Jae’s face falls flat and becomes impassive, cold even. “Please. Just once.”

Studying Jungkook with a depraved excitement and curiosity Jae starts grinning again, “Okay boy. Give me something.”

It’s a memory Jungkook did not want to give up. His most precious one. The one that he vowed never to lose, even if he lost himself. It was the exact moment he knew that Seokjin would forever be the only one he loved, till he was 90, no. Till the day he died.

Jungkook had been in a pretty bad accident 2 years ago, when him and Seokjin had barely started going steady. The doctors weren’t sure if Jungkook’s recovery would be full and if he could function in society properly afterwards. The trauma was big, the physical pain, even bigger. Even now, Jungkook had a slight limp, very minuscule and unnoticeable to the common eye, but his legs cramped super easily on cold winter days. Jungkook had expected Seokjin to call it quits and run away… but Seokjin came every day after work.

“Yo! I brought more paper! This is an hours worth of talking right here!” While Jungkook ate and Seokjin talked about his day, Seokjin would sit in the opposite bed and fold paper cranes. Jungkook didn’t think much about it and reasoned that maybe that was Seokjin’s hobby, origami. It certainly seemed to fit his image quite well; quiet, patient, good with his hands. Whenever Seokjin finished, he would pack the cranes in his backpack and head home.

Jungkook felt like a simple gossip buddy and not a proper boyfriend. They didn’t have dates and they couldn’t go out. Jungkook felt the break up coming near, just around the corner and waiting for the right time to drop. Seokjin never looked at him, always focused intently on the cranes and writing on them, folding them, then plopping them right into his bag so he could simply up and leave after all his paper ran out. Jungkook got to look at Seokjin though, so he couldn’t complain at all. Seeing Seokjin’s face was the highlight of his day. The doe-like eyes intently focused on his paper, crooked fingers nimbly bending and folding and creasing, light hair being blown out of his eyes occasionally when a huffy breath left his plump pink lips. The sunset would always seep through the window and outline Seokjin’s face in gold. Even though Seokjin never looked at him, Jungkook got to see his world, so he always let Seokjin come visit.

It was a day when cramping was particularly bad and Jungkook thought he would seriously have to cut a leg off when Seokjin comes barging in with a beaming face and a very very large duffle bag in tow. “I HAVE YOUR SOLUTION!”

Seokjin drags in the duffle bag and zips it immediately. He displays a large jar full of his creations and Jungkook sits, flabbergasted and awed by the sight before his eyes. “Are these?”

“1000!” Seokjin beams proudly. He then pulls one out of his pocket and places it in Jungkook’s hand, “This is the sample. Each and every one of those in there are identical.” Jungkook didn't believe in superstitions, but he felt like maybe his leg was considerably better already.

Jungkook gently touches the sample crane in his hand before he notices black ink on it. “Is there a message?” Jungkook curiously asks as his fingers, unaffected by the accident, react by themselves. Seokjin proudly watches without a word as Jungkook figures it out himself and disassembles the crane carefully, in order not to tear it. Inside, with his fine, neat, handwritten words is a message:

“I wish for his full recovery! I know he can do it!”

Jungkook chokes back a moved sob before realizing what that meant. “If this is the sample...You wrote this… in all 1000?”

Seokjin smiles and grips Jungkook’s hand, “Of course. Because… I love you.”

The doctors tell him it's a miracle unprecedented in medical history. Jungkook agrees. Because nobody in his situation had Seokjin; only he did. Of course it was unprecedented. The doctors found a new story to document, Jungkook found his very own miracle: Kim Seokjin.

Jae carefully takes the memory like it’s a prized gem and swallows it whole, enjoying the flavor of victory sliding down his throat. “Fair enough. I’ll let you go back, but I’m telling you. You won’t even recognize him.”

Kim Seokjin is a blank slate to Jeon Jungkook. He neither recognizes the voice, or the face, and he certainly can’t remember an age or a name. All he does know however, is that when Seokjin kisses his forehead and bops their noses together Jungkook feels complete. He knows, that he, Jeon Jungkook, must have loved this man a lot.

“I’m super excited!” Seokjin whispered, flapping his invisible bird wings and wiggling his crooked fingers. Jungkook doesn’t know why he’s excited, but the expression on his face warms Jungkook’s heart so he quickly plays along. “I’m excited too!”

Seokjin clutches Jungkook’s hand and bounces a little with joy, “Should we wear the couple coats your mother bought us last time?”

“Of course,” Jungkook doesn’t miss a heartbeat because he really really likes this man’s smile and he wants to keep it there forever. “Whatever makes you happy.”

Seokjin coos and awws and tickles Jungkook’s side while Jungkook simply drinks in Seokjin’s features and his every word, “You’re too nice to me. I love you.”

Those words engrave themselves onto Jungkook’s heart and his determination is renewed.

“We can take the shortcut through the actual track road and get there on time to catch the train,” Jungkook helpfully advises with purpose.

“Alright,” Seokjin gives in, not too happy with his folded integrity, “let’s take the shortcut.” Jungkook studies this reaction and notes to himself that this man, (Seokjin as he found out by the name on his phone that lights up when he calls in order to find it), was very proper. He didn’t like breaking rules that were set for a reason, like safety or protection for the greater good. It was endearing. One more thing Jungkook tells himself he probably really loved.

Seokjin seemed to have a hard time with the uneven ground so Jungkook supports him, it only feels natural. When Seokjin thanks him Jungkook smiles, “of course. I always have your back.”

Seokjin turns to face Jungkook when something white catches his eye. Jungkook immediately notes the face change and knows that the time to act is coming. He had no more memories to give, this was his last chance. Seokjin finally deduced what exactly the curled white dot is but the train is running in very close.

“Jungkook!” Seokjin yanks his arm back and starts running for the creature.

“SEOKJIN!” Jungkook knew it was supposed to happen, but it still makes him slightly panic nonetheless and it takes all his might to not just sprint forward and repeat the day before. Seokjin was running towards the train and Jungkook forces himself, with all the self control in the world, to wait.

Seokjin’s kind instincts would of course focus on saving the poor animal, and Jungkook’s instincts would of course focus on saving Seokjin. Jungkook runs slightly behind Seokjin and purposely lets him get to the cat first. Quickly and tenderly all at once, Seokjin scoops the cat off the ground. Jungkook stands back ready, watching. Seokjin looks down in panic at his shoe, stuck in the tracks. The train honks madly, long furious wails. Jungkook finally knows the words to say, “Seokjin… Live.”

The pain in his ribcage is bearable, and Jungkook’s so sure that it hurts less than what he went through the first day, what feels like years before. “JUNGKOOK!” Seokjin drops Jae and waits, agonized, until the train finally moves it’s lanky body out of the way.

“Jungkook!!!”

Jungkook looks up at the grey sky that cries with him in relief. It worked. It really worked. “Jungkook! Oh my god! Hang in there! Stay with me! 119! 119 I’ll call right now don’t worry!”

Jae is looking at Jungkook with burning hatred, like he was accusing Jungkook of treason to a high mortal law, but Jungkook doesn’t care. He’s beyond himself because Seokjin is alive. And he’ll stay alive, because this is how it was supposed to be. He had reset fate, just like it was suppose to happen.

“Why? You idiot! Why would you do that?!” Seokjin hugs Jungkook desperately, as if he were trying to weigh down the leaving soul.

“Because I knew, losing you would be more painful… much more painful…” Jungkook had experienced it first hand.

Jae asks him why. Accuses him. Yells at him with his eyes.

I don’t remember this man. This man who is crying so pitifully for me. But i know i loved him a lot. I know he loved me too. Me, a stubborn, rude, clumsy, cold, guy who requires a lot. I know he dealt with my worst, i know he loved my best. He must be kind. I know he smiles a lot and he laughs even more. He’s absolutely beautiful. I didn’t know his name, I don’t know his favorite color, or his favorite food, or what he does as a living, his habits, his pet peeves, his quirks; but I know that my heart was happy when he smiled. That feeling never changed. It was something my heart remembered. I could not bare to think about how my heart would rip apart if he died. Perhaps this was selfish, but I’m happy that he’s well. I wish… I wish for him to always be happy. I know he will be!

“Jeon Jungkook please --”

“Hyung. My hyung. I loved you a lot. I love you a lot. I will love you a lot. Live. We’ll meet again next time.”

Jungkook's hand falls before it can reach Seokjin's cheek. It hits the hard pebbles, but he doesn't flinch in pain. He can't. He's unfeeling and unmoving. His eyes gloss over as they look at the sky which shine his orbs with their clean rain. Seokjin feels like his heart was taken. Like Jungkook took it with him. Seokjin feels like he’ll have to bury his dead heart right next to Jungkook’s body and that it will neither feel nor beat nor react ever again. The cat next to him sits and shakes it’s head, almost looking eerily like a human’s actions.

“Such a waste…” the voice purrs.

Seokjin looks at the cat, startled, as it slowly walks towards them in measure steps.

“I.. I must be crazy,” Seokjin lets out an empty laugh while sniffling, tears blurring his vision and drowning his heart in a watery grave. "Jungkook-ah? come back. I can't live without you. The world doesn't make sense without you. Cats talk and I hear things and... i'm crazy. Jungkook... please come back."

“You’re not crazy. I’m just special. I’m a god, you see, and he didn’t deserve this fate… so… What would you do then, to give him another chance?”

“Anything…”

“Good…” the cat smiles. Humans, Jae concludes, were all the same. Seokjin makes a deal, with the cat before platform 6 because “A memory a day, will keep your boyfriend from death.” He believes that. He has to, it's the only chance he has at saving Jungkook.

(On platform 6, Park Jimin stands, dagger polished and newly cleaned in the Holy Waters of the Goddess of Purity, the mother of his kind. “Jae… So, this is what you’ve been up to…”

Lucy looks at him and tilts her head, “Will you intervene?” Jimin starts walking towards them, power surging through his weapon. “Of course. I have to. It’s my duty now.”

"Don’t be stupid Jimin. Helping humans is worthless, they won’t even remember the benevolence.”

Jimin studies the young men, one alive and one dead -- or getting there-- and continues his steps. "I have a feeling... he will be different."

Lucy sighs but followers her master anyway, changing back into her form as the twin daggers and fitting herself into his empty left hand, "How foolish..." )