#I am SO curious to see how they translate this

[jeonscatalyst]

Do you think Jimin was insinuating that he lives with JK when Jimin said : "If you just watch my trip with Jungkook here, you'll know exactly what I do everyday at home. I'm exactly like this in Korea too." ? I am very new to BTS and Jikook and don't have the history with them so I figured I’d ask an “expert” 😊

I saw a post that is trying to make that point and it got me curious. Thanks for reading this ask AND for having a great blog.

I don’t think he was. I think he was just trying to say that the way we see him in the show with Jungkook is exactly how he is when he is at home in Korea. I don’t necessarily think he was trying to insinuate living with Jungkook but I think he might have also meant that when him and Jungkook are together in korea, those are the kinds of things they do aswell as what he does on his own when he is home.

There’s been alot of speculation that Jimin and Jungkook lived together for sometime after all the members moved out of the dorm and while we don’t know for sure if they did, it isn’t a secret that probably out of all members, Jimin and Jungkook are the two who have loved being together in their down time the most so they would most probably do alot of stuff like this together at home.

I think his statement could generally be interpreted in different ways and since we unfortunately are missing those nuances and contexts that get lost in translation, we might not know exactly how he meant it.

Wish I had a more definitive answer for hun. Sorry.

Thanks for loving my blog btw💜

[trancylovecraft]

I've been thinking about the blood of an unwilling covenant constantly since I first read it and just wanted to tell you, also saw you mention that you probably weren't going to explain the situation with F/Ns parents in fic and wanted you to know I am VERY curious as to what their deal is

EGEGHJIRUGHRHGUI IM HAPPY TO HEAR THAT YOU ENJOYED THE FIC SM!!! I'll be happy to answer, Mostly because if I do a one-shot or smth on it, it may be a while-

AND I KINDA REALLY WANNA RAMBLE.

OK SO. Before I explain I suggest you read the translation of The Official Blue Exorcist Side Story: Bloody Fairytale. You can find a translation here done by @29rynoah which I have read sEVERAL times over. I highly recommend it as it's one of my favourite stories from AOEX.

However if you wanna skip that, Tis cool.

[F/N]'s mother is Maria LaMorte from Bloody Fairytale, Who had given birth to [F/N] during her imprisonment within The Vatican.

[F/N] herself is probably the oldest of the exwires, Her birthday being sometime within early January.

Now here's the million dollar question, Who is the father?

Shiro Fujimoto.

During the events of Bloody Fairy-tale- Maria is in the middle of completing her rather grandeur goal of trying to turn the town into naberius' and other adjacent creatures. Of course, This doesn't go to plan though, When Shiro and Johan show up unexpectedly within the invasion.

Maria of course, As the story goes, Plays the victim and pretends that she had no idea what's going on.

Shiro, Johan, Maria and the rest of the townspeople barricade in the church as normal. The story continues on however there's a switch in the story.

Shiro approaches Maria who is leaning over on the balcony. Of course, Shiro keeps up his demeanour, Already aware of Maria and her intentions. They get to talking and Maria herself is attracted to Shiro despite not recognising her own feelings.

Though, Maria herself DOES recognise seduction as a way of manipulating others.

So of course one thing leads to another and suddenly you have the both of them climbing out of the same makeshift bed. Maria came out of this with much more complicated feelings than she had thought she'd have.

But on the other hand?

Shiro himself is at the point in his life where he's much more dark and gritty than the one we see raising the twins. This is an average thing for him, He's a player, He sleeps with women left and right. He knew very well that this was an attempt to manipulate his feelings.

But to be honest? He doesn't care.

The story plays out like normal afterwards. Shiro exposes Maria's plan and she gets sent off to the Vatican for Life imprisonment. Shiro and Mephisto get in the car and they drive off as normal.

However this time, Maria comes out of it pregnant with [F/N].

She was born almost one year before The Blue Night within a holding cell in The Vatican. Her birth was completely unexpected from both the guards as well as Maria, Who was one of the rare cases of not showing at all during a pregnancy.

[F/N] was born fragile and weak, Both doctors and guards believing she would die soon after birth. And on records? That's how it went.

According to The Vatican, The baby died a few hours after being delivered. Shiro was told of the baby's existence while he was caring for the twins.

Of course, At this time he's a different person from who he was a year ago (Post-Blue Night) and now feels shocked and a bit of regret for not knowing of [F/N]'s existence.

However, There wasn't much he could do now.

The baby had died, He couldn't change that.

However despite what the records have said. Some of the staff that were employed to help deliver the child had sworn that they saw a tall man carrying away a baby in his arms. His identity unknown, Hidden by the darkness of the night.

[F/N] was left on the doorstep of the youth centre in Japan without a single note or any clue as to where she came from. The youth centre, After having no parents claim the child, Took her in and raised her within the adoption system.

It's still unclear where her penchant comes from, Though the leading theory is the mixture of demonic influence from both sides of her parents (Maria's being her association with undead demons, Specifically Kin of Astaroth. Shiro's being the fact that he's a clone as well as a bit of satanic influence lingering on him. So much so that in some aspects, You can consider [F/N] somewhat related to Satan in a sort of 3rd parent situation.)

Perhaps you can even consider her not entirely human. Though, That part is up for interpretation.

But as it stands? Her two birth parents are Maria LaMorte and Shiro Fujimoto.

-TML

[neversetyoufree]

OH MY GOD????

Fucking 大好き!!

They said 大好き?????

[batri-jopa]

Quite recently I realised that whenever I hear or see a word "always" it sounds in my brain more like polish "za każdym razem" (that is "every single time") instead of what I've been taught ("zawsze" is more like "now and forever"). Would you please tell me what it really means?

[fear-is-truth]

BABY CRIMSON AND CLOVER

pairing — dad!sukuna x fem!reader

synopsis — sukuna being a girl dad (in his own way)

tags — fluff. heian era ⨟ wc — 630

◟✿. requested. divider by @/v6que

The sun began its slow descent, bleeding a warm, amber glow through the thin paper of the shoji doors. You sat comfortably on the tatami mat, gently swaying your baby daughter in your arms. Her tiny hands reached out eagerly, sometimes landing on your hair or the soft fabric of your robe. Each giggle that escaped her was a sound so pure and innocent it melted your heart.

From the doorway, Sukuna stood with his arms crossed, his usual scowl deeply etched into his features. The King of Curses appeared utterly unimpressed, yet his eyes never left the little bundle in your arms.

“Oi,” he grunted, stepping closer. His shadow fell over the two of you as he loomed.

“That thing of yours is too loud.”

You looked up, a smile tugging at your lips. “She’s your daughter too, Ryo. And she’s just excited to see you.”

Sukuna kneeled beside you, his crimson gaze narrowing as he regarded your daughter. When the baby’s bright red eyes locked onto his, she let out a delighted squeal, her little hands reaching for him, fingers opening and closing as if demanding his attention.

“Tch,” he scoffed, though he didn’t pull away when her tiny hand caught hold of his finger. It was almost comical how small she was in comparison to him.

“Always grabbing at everything… what does the brat think she’s doing?”

“Because she’s curious,” you replied softly as you watched their interactions begin father and daughter. He huffed, a sound that could have been a laugh if it came from anyone else.

“Curious, huh? More like a nuisance.”

Despite the complaint, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he watched her with a mix of annoyance and curiosity. Her little hand tightened around his finger, and with a small, encouraging smile, you shifted her from your arms and gently placed her in his. He hesitated for a moment, as if unsure of what to do, but then adjusted his hold, cradling her against him. Your daughter settled into his embrace easily, her bright eyes fixed on his, a small coo sounding from her lips.

Sukuna scoffed again, but this time, there was less annoyance. He looked down at the baby girl, who was now babbling happily, one hand clutching his finger while the other reached for your robe.

“You think you can just grab whatever you want, don’t you?”

His voice was low, a deep rumble that carried an almost menacing edge. She responded with a happy gurgle, still clutching his finger as if in agreement. The hardness in his expression softened for a brief moment, as if her innocent response had somehow disarmed him.

“Well, you’re damn right. Whatever you want, you’ll have. Anything you can grab, I’ll make sure you get it. And I’ll slay anyone who tries to stop you.”

The words were fierce, but the sentiment behind them was unmistakably protective. He’d move heaven and earth for this tiny girl who held so much of his heart, even if he’d never say it outright. He shifted slightly, adjusting his hold so that his daughter was nestled more securely in the crook of his arm. She blinked up at him with wide, red eyes, her tiny hand still clutching his finger as if she never intended to let go.

“You’re lucky,” he muttered, glancing at you from the corner of his eyes.

“Oh? And why’s that?”

“Because the brat likes you more,”

Sukuna replied, though there was a trace of something softer in his tone. Wistfulness.

“She likes you too. She just doesn’t know how to show it yet.”

You chuckled, resting your head on his shoulder as you watched his thumb gently stroke the back of your daughter’s hand.

“She’s lucky to have you, Ryo. And so am I.”

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[chocosvt]

HER | part two.

✧✎ synopsis: wonwoo, a heartbroken and burnt out writer nearing the end of his math degree, wants nothing to do with the seemingly perfect, intimidating girl who has everyone under her thumb. you. unfortunately, his literary talent has got him shoved him between a rock and a hard place when you want to write a book and require his expertise. you two are the furthest from compatible. wonwoo can’t see this going well. at all.

pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader word count: 22.7k genres/tropes: writer!wonwoo, university!au, plug!vernon + boyfriend!mingyu as prominent side characters, SLOWBURN (i am not fucking around this is my slowest burn yet), relationship drama, soul searching, strong angst/hurt (i’m coming for the jugular), comfort, romance, smut, a smoothie of every emotion on earth.

(!) warnings: drug use (weed, cocaine, ecstasy), wonwoo has anxiety + anxiety attacks + fairly dark thoughts, prescribed medication, gambling, intense language, infidelity, throwing up.

✧✎ a/n: just some quick things i want to make apparent!

the fic is told from wonwoo’s pov, not the reader’s! 

all major timeline events are organized through chronological dates

any smut or potentially triggering scenes are NOT MARKED bc the content is already quite mature, so just plz be aware of that! 

bolded and italicized text implies the characters are conversing in korean, tho it doesn’t happen often!

the fic in its entirety is 140k, so it has been split into 6 parts.

updates: in terms of a posting schedule, i'm pre sure i'm just gonna post every saturday night ~12am EST (so technically sunday lol). taglist is included in the comment section since tumblr now has limit as to how many peeps are mentioned per post :p

thanks againnnn! 🌟

⇢ part one | part three | part four | part five | part six ⇢ soundtrack for those curious! ⇢ read at ur own pace! :)

—MAY 12TH.

Wonwoo was sat on his couch with your laptop glowing in front of him, one hand holding up his chin while the other scrolled slowly through your writing. Finally, you’d let him actually glean your work, and he was quite impressed with your natural skill. He supposed the biggest issue was the choppiness—your sentence structures were much like your racing tangents, and in some areas the writing lacked flow and a smooth continuality. But that sort of ability would just develop on its own as long as you were practicing.

For the most part, Wonwoo was leaving behind small notes and highlighting areas that you could revisit at a later time.

“Okay, I’m going to do a handstand.”

However, as Wonwoo had been combing through your work for the past half-hour, that left you with an apparent boredness which somehow translated into an acrobatics session in his living room.

“I’d really prefer you didn’t,” he answered through the fingers covering his mouth, his eyes trained with focus on the document.

“No, no. I used to be so good at them. Watch.”

Wonwoo was in the midst of typing a note when a small, circular embroidered pillow had suddenly struck the laptop, nearly forcing it shut. It was then that Wonwoo looked up with a long sigh, acknowledging the devious, shining smile that sprung to your face.

“Now that I have your attention—”

Wonwoo titled his head, folded his arms, and propped one foot onto the coffee table, somewhat like an exhausted parent who was being heckled by their child to watch the “special trick” they’d just learned. He was internally praying you actually were good at handstands, because that fragile pottery vase and the antique gold clock sitting on the fire mantel had never looked so breakable until now. A cool breeze slivered in through the open window as your arms began raising above your head, and he heard you inhale steadily.

“Go!” You then shouted, either in motivation or impatience aimed at yourself, loud enough to make Wonwoo flinch.

The next moment, you were basically flipped upside down, your socked feet sticking pointedly in the air while your hands stumbled about on the brown rug for a few seconds, attempting to find their place rooted in the fuzz. Wonwoo pursed his lip, impressed.

“See! Told you!”

“I mean, I never said you couldn’t.”

“Are you amazed?”

He watched with a slight bit of nervousness as you walked a few paces forward with your hands, though he kept his calm composure from the couch and dealt you about three dull claps.

“Cirque de Soleil is asking for you, actually.”

To Wonwoo’s utter relief, you collapsed back onto your feet, probably because the blood was gushing to your head and he’d rather not have you faint squarely on the face in his living room. You then sat on your knees for a moment, rubbing slowly at your scalp.

“I’m almost done,” Wonwoo reaffirmed, moving aside the stitched pillow you’d chucked at him earlier and reopening the laptop.

“Don’t let me rush you.”

He chuckled instantly. “You mean to tell me you’re not bored out of your mind? Why else would you be doing cartwheels.”

Finally, you got up from the rug.

“Um, it was a handstand,” you were hasty to correct him, now sinking into the seat beside Wonwoo on the couch with the circle pillow pulled onto your lap. “I could do a cartwheel, though.”

“Yeah, not in this house you’re not.”

“Not in this house you’re not.”

He merely smirked at your attempt to mimic him by employing a cartoonishly deep tone that you found very amusing, made evident by your prideful giggles close to his ear. Just as Wonwoo scrolled to the end of the document to type his last note, you were piqued with curiosity and leaned over his lap, grabbing at the screen to examine how far he’d come during your hour together.

“So, where are you at anyway?”

Wonwoo pressed himself back into the couch, immediately removing his hands from the keyboard. It felt like at the most random, unpredictable times you would swoop in so close to him, and he never quite knew how to react. Most times he would freeze, become stiff and hardly breathing, run his eyes in all different directions around the room because everything seemed easier when he pretended you didn’t exist.

He adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat.

“I’m basically done.”

“You are? Okay. Hm… it seems like you made a lotta notes.”

Wonwoo squirmed in his seat as though it were scratching him. You eventually pulled away, but your knee was now resting on the side of his thigh and you were sitting much closer than before—close enough that your shoulder was digging into his and he could sense your full, bright eyes burning a stare at his pink cheek.

“They’re mostly easy fixes…” he mumbled, refusing to look at you, instead scrolling impetuously through the document with jerks of his pointer and middle finger.  

“Well, what do you think of it?”

He paused, still staring at the laptop.

“Of what?”

“Wonwoo, my writing, obviously,” you said with a warm laugh and a soft breath that rushed over his neck in such a pleasurable, lightheaded way. “And look at me,” he heard you ask in a lower, more sincere voice, your fingers then ghosting along his tense jaw in a fleeting, sensitive touch as you guided his head gently in your direction, “I just want to know you’re telling the truth.”

He was accustomed to your eyes being filled with sparks and the readiness to pit the most sharp-tongued comment in history, and so Wonwoo was able to relax ever so slightly upon realizing how your gaze had become increasingly mellow, welcoming even.

“Well, you’re obviously good at it,” he managed to answer the question without his voice trembling, “just some pacing issues, mostly. You’ve got a bit of an issue with run-on sentences and closing up a scene. But you plan a lot, which is nice. I mean, you can only get better.”

An earnest smile picked its way across your face, framing your polished teeth and pushing up the apples of your cheeks. Wonwoo had to look away—sometimes it was too much—you were too much, and he refused to let himself drown beneath your intensity that he found purely terrifying. Your knee proceeded to pull from his thigh and you were now dragging your body off the couch, which meant that Wonwoo could safely exhale the breath he was holding. He wondered if you just wanted to hear the compliment, or if you were legitimately pleased with his praise.

You walked up to his fireplace mantel, examining the items left along the white, sparkling trim he’d spritzed clean of all dust.

“Did you make this?” Came your inquiry, a curious finger pointing toward the round-bottomed, thin-necked red vase.

Wonwoo shook his head.

“No, it was a welcome gift from the landlord.”

“She made it?”

“Yeah,” he hummed. “Didn’t I tell you? She owns the pottery business downstairs. Saskia. She immigrated here like, eighteen years ago, now. From Poland. I thought you might’ve run into her.”

Shaking your head, you turned back to the vase.

“I didn’t see her at all.”

“She was probably in her office.”

“How did she make all these little emblem thingies? Around the base? Like, this one’s got an elephant. This one is a fruit tree.”

Wonwoo squinted at the vase from his place on the couch. He hadn’t really examined it much, apart from when his landlord had thrust it into his hands while she welcomed him to the building. It never held any flowers, either—not even the brilliant ruby coloured poinsettias his ex-girlfriend's mother was supposed to send.

The relationship has disintegrated before it could ever happen.

“Fuck, don’t know. She has a bunch of little tools down there for more detailed work. Maybe a stamp. You’d have to ask her.”

“It’s really pretty.”

His brows furrowed. “Yeah? You like ceramics or something?”

You turned back to him, shrugging.

“I don’t know. I was just saying, it’s pretty.”

“It is. It’s very pretty.”

With a sigh, you climbed back onto the couch.

“Do you think you’re done editing?”

He picked up the laptop and set it down on the coffee table.

“I think so. For the day.”

“Perfect.” You smiled. “I’ll make time to read your notes tomorrow morning, if I can. Seems like there’s about eight-hundred.”

Wonwoo chuckled, “not eight-hundred. Try twenty.”

“Twenty?!” Your eyes bulged in shock as you gripped onto the embroidered pillow hugged back into your lap. “That’s so many!”

“What—twenty is somehow more than eight-hundred? What fucking planet are you living on where numeracy works like that?”

“Wonwoo, I have so much to do tomorrow!” You winced, tossing your head against the couch and slipping down the cushions.

“Okay, like what?”

“… Gosh… no, no. Fuck it. It doesn’t matter.”

“No, tell me. What have you got to do tomorrow?”

“I don’t want to tell.”

“Why not?” He murmured.

“If I talk about, then I’ll want to do it even less.” There was an empty sigh he heard from your chest as your arms curled tight around the pillow. “Besides, it’s squished all into my colour-coded block on the schedule. The pink one. I just—I don’t want to think about it.”

“Fair. I get that.”

“It’s complicated family stuff.”

Wonwoo huffed sympathetically. “I get that even more.”

“… So, we’re still good for Spring Street on Sunday?” You asked, staring up at Wonwoo from your sunken, defeated slump.

He nodded.

“I’ll be there if you are.”

—MAY 14TH.

The Spring Street Fair. It happened every single May, for three days straight, usually Friday to Sunday. In the daytime it was cheerier and more watered down for the children that came hand in hand with their parents, looking to feed the alpacas and ride those nauseating teacups and sob until exhaustion because they accidentally let go of their kitten-shaped balloon. However, at night, the fair had become a beacon for the older, rowdier university crowd.

Wonwoo never went despite all his recent years living in the city, but Vernon had, usually on accounts of “business” which really meant selling drugs for idiotic prices behind the Whirler or the Starship. You wanted to go, but hadn’t told Wonwoo the reason. He opted to assume it was another part of your story—maybe you ran into Mingyu at a similar fair when you were younger, and it was therefore very integral you go Spring Street tonight. It was the exact opposite of what Wonwoo typically appreciated doing on Sundays, and he knew for a fact he’d loathe it, every single part.

“No fuckin’ way!” Vernon’s voice exploded through the crackly static on Wonwoo’s phone as he stood in line for the fair, gazing over top everyone’s heads to gauge the ticket booth. “I can’t believe your loser ass actually crawled outta bed for that.”

Wonwoo scoffed, “yeah, it wasn’t my choice.”

“Then what for?”

“Her. She wanted to go. It’s for the book.”

He was supposed to meet you inside the fair. It was almost ten o’clock at night. The sky was beautifully clear, illuminated with pinpricks of starlight, and the air had once been crisp. Now, Wonwoo was beginning to smell sparked cannabis, and he assumed a likewise scent would follow him all damn night. The horrid, anxious process of standing in the mile long line was made palatable through his conversation with Vernon, who—shockingly—wasn’t even there.

“Ohh, the book, the book. Wait—she’s gonna write her book at the fuckin’ Spring Street Fair? How the fuck does that work?”

“No, it’s not like that,” Wonwoo chuckled. “It’s stuff about the settings, the environment; she uses it to help with her writing.”

“Hm, doesn’t make much sense to me, probably ‘cause I don’t like readin' or writin' or anything with books. But, damn, I’m jealous of you, Glasses. Do y’know how hard I tried to smooth talk my way into that girl’s pants? N’somehow, you can write good—”

“Write well, not good.”

“Oh, fuck you—write well—so she takes you everywhere like a little purse dog. When does that happen to me, yeah?”

The line started slowly pouring forward, and Wonwoo felt himself get dragged along. Probably another five minutes and he would be at the ticket booth, getting one of those neon bracelets circled around his wrist that were nearly impossible to rip off.

“Why didn’t you come?” Wonwoo asked.

Vernon groaned, “got into some bullshit with this guy who’s not payin’ up. I’m handlin’ it, though. If I can manage to get it all sorted, I’ll come later. It’s too fuckin’ easy selling those gummies to the first years, dude. Shit, it could be some Flintstone vitamins and they’re actin’ like Chicken Little. Cracks me the fuck up.”

Wonwoo cleared his throat, smiling. “You’re such a cunt.”

“Hey, hey, you are what you eat, okay? And, when you get inside or whatever, text me where you’re hangin’ so if I do come, I can see you for a bit. Dunno if your girlfriend will approve.”

The air began mottling with a thin, chalky smoke that drifted from somewhere down the crowded string of university students. Again, the line shuffled, and the congestion gradually broke up as more people were allowed into the fair. Wonwoo switched the phone to his other ear, getting his wallet ready.

“Don’t even start.”

“Start what? I said nothin’.” Vernon’s laughter was raspy and obviously laced with a smirk that Wonwoo could hear.

“Don’t be such a prick. She’s not my—”

Suddenly, Wonwoo’s phone began vibrating against his palm, and when he pulled it down an immediate lump conjured in his throat upon reading your name. His heart jolted, and it wasn’t until someone pushed hard on his back to urge him forward that he realized the line was once again ambling closer to the ticket booth.

Vernon sighed, “so, again, tell me where you’ll—”

“Shit—uh, gotta go. Talk to you later.”

A few remnants of Vernon’s miffed, guttural cursing managed to leak through the phone before Wonwoo could press to accept your call. In an instant, his friend was blipped away, and he heard your voice instead. He held back a cough from the astringent, cottonish air.

“Wonwoo, hello. I’m glad you picked up. So, where the hell are you? It’s nearly ten! Did you not get in line early?”

Wonwoo kept the phone secured between his shoulder and ear while he shimmied the coins out from his wallet.

“No, I did, promise. Just about to pay. Where are you?”

“When you get in, just follow the arrows. They're lit up with those blue lightbulbs. They go to the tavern. I’m having some drinks with my friends. Don’t worry. You won’t have to do much socializing.”

“Uh, okay,” Wonwoo answered, internally counting up the money in his hand until he was certain of the amount. “Mingyu’s there?”

“No. He always plays poker with his friends on Sunday.”

An unbeknownst pressure escaped his chest.

“Okay. I’m close to the front. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Sure. Don’t be late!”

“I know. Bye.”

Hanging up the phone, Wonwoo had just enough time to wriggle the device into his back pocket before handing the ticket booth clerk his coins. She dropped the cold change into his hand, then asked to see his wrist, where she proceeded to attach the bracelet with the words Spring Street Fair etched into the orange, plasticky-feeling paper.

Finally, he was let inside.

Blue arrows, blue arrows—that was all Wonwoo kept reiterating in his head like some religious hymn as he followed the glow throughout the fairgrounds, weaving his way between large groups of people that he gleefully didn’t recognize. Eventually, he saw the tavern you were referring to—an outdoor bar with picnic tables set up everywhere, beneath cheap little strings of warm, lambent lights.

Even with his glasses on, Wonwoo was still squinting as he walked between each table, attempting to discern your dolled-up face somewhere amongst the strangers sipping on their large mugs of alcohol, that was until he heard his name being called over the music rumbling from the bar’s horrible speakers. When he looked straight ahead, he saw you cutely waving him over. With each step he took, Wonwoo reminded himself to breathe, to loosen up, to stop clenching his fists so painfully tight as though he were going to split someone’s eyebrow. Breathe, breathe, breathe. Just breathe.

You stood up from the table to welcome him, and he felt your hand settle softly on his lower back. The touch was grounding.

“So, everyone, girls, if I could get your attention for just a moment despite the general impairment going on here—this is the mystery guy whose been helping me write. Wonwoo.”

God—he wanted to puke, all those big, curious, unabashed eyes soaking him in like freshly dipped watercolour to a cloth canvas. There was a cluster of high-pitched voices that repeated his name in a shrill, unison greeting. However, Wonwoo was unable to meet a single girl’s gaze, and so he opted to stare down at a paper plate on the table aligned with cinnamon-sprinkled churros.

Again, he wanted to throw up.

“So, of course, Wonwoo’s been the biggest help with everything,” you said, to which he could sense your nails subtly digging at him through his clothes, most likely a silent urge to say something so he didn’t seem so unprecedentedly stiff and metallic.

He cleared his throat.

“Uh, yeah. I’m just proofreading, really.” Wonwoo had to swallow. “Some tips here and there. But, she’s pretty good as is.”

“Is that your actual voice?”

His eyes darted to find who asked the question. She was toward the end of the picnic table, tucking a lock of short, coffee brown hair behind her ear. Before the girl was a gigantic and fluorescent pink drink, the glass resembling the shape of a fish bowl.

“… What do you mean?” Wonwoo replied.

She sat up on her knee, continuing to ogle him with those fixated but glazed chestnut eyes. Her mouth seemed to drag as though it was thawing when she spoke. Wonwoo could tell she was already well inebriated. There was no way that was her first drink.

“Your voice,” she repeated, “it’s so… deep.”

“Well… I don’t know. Puberty.”

His comment elicited some giggles from around the table, to which he could feel the cartilage in his ears burning.

“Wonwoo—” another girl then leaned forward with her head tilted up and a coy, drunk smile flittering on her mouth, “—I think it’s so, so great you’re helping Her write. I actually think it’s the sweetest, ever.” Her lashes were coated in smooth mascara and her eyelids were remarkably glimmery, drenched in an electric shade of blue that he couldn’t stop staring at. “Also, sorry, but you’re like, super gorge.”

“Super what?” He repeated, confused at her wording.

But she didn't seem interested in repeating herself, instead scooping the long and impressively silky black hair off her shoulder to spill down her pale back.

“Okay, okay, okay. We’ve all shared some impetuous conversation and we’ve all swooned over him now. Yippee. Unfortunately, we’ve gotta get going, friends.”

Wonwoo felt your hand land on his shoulder and gently tug him backward, away from the table. You then proceeded to grab the glass left at your seat, chugging the remaining alcohol until there was nothing but a melting block of ice cubes clicking at the bottom. While you wiped your mouth, you began aiming a finger at each girl.

“To make a long story short, that’s Princess, Clara, and Bells. Do you have any comments for them before we go?” The impatience in your tone was bleeding through with sheer apathy.

Wonwoo shrugged. “Uh, nice to meet everyone? I guess.”

“Short and efficient. How perfect. Okay, I’ll see you guys later, I think. Actually—probably not. So can someone eat my churros?”

Your arm curled around Wonwoo’s bicep as though to whisk him away as hurriedly as possible. Everyone left at the table began waving, and Wonwoo couldn’t even bring himself to force a fake, pleasant smile because he was still attempting to understand what all those comments even meant. You walked briskly until the poetic, firefly lights of the tavern were lost long behind in the distance, and when you finally paused, he had not a clue where he was standing—a busy centre with people mingling all around him, the wild whirring of carnival rides and chaotic, blinking hues strobing above his head.

When he looked down at you, he was surprised to see you were already staring back, and he could only hold the eye contact for no more than a few seconds or else his heart would skip a beat.

“Sorry about all that,” you said, rolling your shoulders, “I tried to be somewhat reasonable with my drinking for once. I can’t say the same for Clara and Bells. They guzzle cocktails like apple juice.”

“Bells is… the one with all that sparkly blue eyeshadow?”

“Oh—yeah. She loves sparkles. Glitter. Anything glimmery. She’s been like that ever since I’ve known her. Clara was the one who asked about your voice. She has a thing for guys with deep voices and you unfortunately fit the bill. And I’m sorry that Princess didn’t say anything. She kind of just looks and observes. Also I’m like ninety-eight percent sure she popped something in a porta-potty before we met up so she’s probably in a mental state of star-surfing. Anyway. You don’t have to worry about them, alright? It’s just us for tonight.”

 “Well, that’s… easy enough.”

“I’m not sure if we should stand here.”

“Hm?”

You then pointed to something behind Wonwoo, and when he turned his head, he felt a gust of wind from the gigantic, spinning ride that resembled a flying saucer in the nighttime sky. It was always beyond him why anyone would choose to strap themselves into a machine that terrifying. It made him sick just watching.

“If I get throw up on my head, I’m killing myself.”

“Okay, so let’s find somewhere else.”

As he began walking away in search of a quieter area, you grabbed onto the back of his clothes. Wonwoo raised his eyebrow.

“We have to hold hands, or have arms linked,” you said.

For some reason, Wonwoo presumed you were joking, and so he tilted his head at you with a questioning smile. But when your serious expression didn’t crack, he realized it wasn’t a joke at all.

“Oh… why?”

“Because—” you then took a step toward him and spoke matter-of-factly, like you were reading a rule book, “—it’s the buddy system. Always have someone at your side, and make sure you’re linked in some way. It’s too easy to get separated in places like this, otherwise. Have you never heard of that before?”

“I have,” Wonwoo answered, adjusting his glasses. “My—um, my hands are a little cold. I don’t have the best circulation.”

The truth was, Wonwoo didn’t want to hold your hand. He didn’t want to link arms with you. He didn’t want you pressed into his side all night. He didn’t want to have the scent of your hair under his nose or feel your ticklish breath against his neck each time you spoke.

But he didn’t have a good enough excuse to fight it.

“Oh my god, who cares,” you retorted. “And I have super sweaty hands. Like, uncomfortably warm. We'll balance out.”

 “Actually?”

“Yes! Is that a problem for you, sweetheart?”

Wonwoo quickly shook his head in response to your condescending tone. You then reached for his hand, which he offered up for your required holding, and chose to ignore the butterflies in the deep pit of his stomach when he realized how perfectly your fingers slotted with his. He followed your lead through the fair until you came outside a small lemonade booth. Wonwoo thought you would drop his hand, but you didn’t, and his knees felt like gelatine.

“I want another drink,” you told him.

He squinted at their options, which didn’t really consist of much. The prices were obviously insane—it was another reason he hated going to fairs. His wallet always got cleaned out.

“You’re going to have to use the washroom a lot.”

“Ugh,” you gritted in response, brushing some hair from your face, “I hate public washrooms. They’re so gross. Completely unsanitary. Awful maintenance. One time I was here and I walked into the washroom by the Mirror Hall and I swear, a freaking rat ran across the floor! I screamed bloody murder. I’d rather squat in the bush and risk getting, like, poison ivy. But the washrooms have mirrors obviously, and I like checking my makeup and stuff. I wish I could check now.”

“Right now? I mean, your makeup looks fine.”

Wonwoo saw your entire face freeze, and then begin to warp, as though he’d just said the most dreadful thing he could think of.

“Fine?” You glared at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He started stumbling over his words, feeling his chest tighten.

“So, what you’re saying is that I look ugly? That my makeup looks bad? Because if you really thought it was ‘fine’ then you wouldn’t have said it looks ‘fine’ because everyone knows that word is a substitute for passable and passable is just a substitute for ugly!”

He opened his mouth, then instantly closed it.

“So what’s wrong with it? Are my under eyes creasing? Is my contour too dark? Is my lipstick smudged? Did it get on my teeth? Ugh, I knew I should have brought my compact!”

“No, no, no.” Wonwoo squeezed your hand, hoping that he could somehow undo the damage he had no intention of even inflicting in the first place. “Uh—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. You look—” he wasn’t sure he could say the compliment without shivering, but Wonwoo didn’t care in the moment, “—your makeup is beautifully done. There’s no creasing or smudging, there’s none of that."

You kept touching worrisomely at your face. “Are you sure?”           

“I promise.” Wonwoo confirmed, giving your hand another tight, reassuring squeeze that seemed to calm you down.

He had never seen someone switch gears that quickly. You could be perfectly amicable one second, and then break down into near hysteria the next, a slew of anxious thoughts running straight from your brain to your mouth like clockwork.

Wonwoo wondered how Mingyu dealt with such tangents all the time. The trait almost didn’t seem to fit your image.

The line moved forward another step.

“Are you going to drink anything?” You asked after a moment of silence, in a quieter voice. “I want to get the strawberry refresher.”

“Maybe.”

“What will you get?”

“I… don’t know. A regular lemonade?”

“No,” you shook your head, pointing toward the corner of the booth’s menu, “get the pina colada thing. I want to try it, too.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo agreed with a shrug as he retrieved his wallet, not really caring about what he drank. “I’ll pay for it. No worries.”

The longer Wonwoo was at the fair, the less he actually thought about why he was there, until the question leapt into his mind at random while he stood beside you, waiting for a seat on the dauntingly large Farris wheel. He removed the straw from his mouth, swallowing a gulp of his pina colada flavoured drink, and peered down at you. His hand was still interlinked with yours. You had finished the strawberry refresher in about five minutes.

Now, you were texting someone. He didn’t know if it was a friend from earlier or perhaps your boyfriend, but Wonwoo wasn’t a serious sleuth, so he opted to look away despite the natural urge that was pricking him. When you finally tucked the phone back into the small bag slung around your shoulder, Wonwoo lowered the plastic cup from his mouth, making sure to clear his throat.

“So, uh, why are we here, exactly?”

You sniffled. “What do y’mean?”

“Does the fair have anything to do with your writing? Is that why we’re riding the Farris wheel? Oh—speaking of which, I didn’t think to bring the camcorder, in case you wanted any footage.”

“Oh, no,” you said, waving a dismissive hand, “this has nothing to do with my book. We’re palate cleansing.”

“Palate cleansing?” He echoed.

“Yeah. It’s like, doing something different in between a routine, to keep yourself fresh. You always eat breakfast at home but today you skip it and go out for brunch. Y’know, shit like that.”

Wonwoo huffed in amusement. “You could have told me beforehand.”

“Uh, no—” your face scrunched up in clear disagreement, “—I couldn’t, because then you wouldn’t have gone. No offence, but you’re a hermit, Wonwoo. You don’t really like going anywhere or doing anything and you’re definitely one of those people who bores themselves into hating their own life because your stimuli is so limited. That’s why I didn’t tell. Again, no offence.”

“Oh.”

That was all he could string together in response—not even string together, because it was just one boring, monotone sound that basically got carried away in the chilly wind, tinted with the smell of buttery popcorn and weed. It sounded like something that was supposed to sting, but it didn’t really. Maybe he was growing more accustomed to your unprompted judgements on his personal life.

Suddenly Wonwoo had blinked and you two were next in line for the empty cart. The clerk pointed at Wonwoo’s drink.

“You can’t bring that with you,” he said.

Before Wonwoo could think to respond, you had already grabbed the cup from his hand, chucking it straight into the garbage.

“We’re not.”

Pulling on his hand, you guided him into the shaky cart, both of you squishing onto the cold, metal bench. It was quite literally the tamest ride in the entire fair, and yet Wonwoo was still feeling nervous about it—though, that was possibly the fact he was going to be sailed one-hundred feet into the satin black sky, left amongst the stars and the bright, shimmering halo of the moon with you and you alone. He was actually relieved you had tossed his drink, otherwise he might have dropped it due to the trembling in his fingers. It was easier to fiddle with them in order to disguise their shakiness.

“I guess I should have asked if you’re afraid of heights,” you said.

The cart jerked abruptly as the ride began to move and lift you two ever so gradually from the ground. Wonwoo peered over the edge for a brief moment to watch his distance grow from the people below, their jumbled mess of conversations fading in place of quiet.

“Uh, no. I’m okay with heights,” he finally answered.

He saw you glancing down as well, smiling to yourself.

Wonwoo wasn’t sure if he should attempt at conversation or just maintain the stillness between you. Usually, he couldn’t stand it, and the pressure to talk and fill the silence always tended to fail or squander something potentially enjoyable. But he supposed it was typically like that in a situation where two people weren’t the best acquainted—that’s why Wonwoo always quite liked Vernon, despite his rough, nonconformed edges and often vulgar way of speaking.

He was able to carry a conversation so naturally that the quieter moments never felt suffocating, instead falling exactly where they should, like puzzle pieces. But that was harder with you.

Maybe it was because you could be intimidating, unpredictable—Wonwoo was never truly relaxed around you because there was this intangible, looming worry that he needed to have the perfect responses and be the most perfect person. He found that perfect people only hung out with other perfect people and Wonwoo was certainly not that—perfect. You must have seen it by now. He was just as rough as Vernon no doubt, but in a different, hidden way that had to be dug into like an archeologist looking for broken bones.

The Ferris wheel slowed down, coming to a stop. You weren’t at the very top, though the air was notably cooler and much fresher. When he inhaled a long breath, it smelled purely of night and not overpriced, buttery fair food and burning weed. He noted that you stared straight ahead, at the crescent-shaped moon, which mirrored a backward stare with how squarely it sat in front of the ride. For once, Wonwoo wasn’t squirming, wriggling, stressing at the silence. When he spoke, he did it because he genuinely wanted to.

“How was your Saturday?”

“My Saturday?”

“Yeah. I saw the schedule. You had to run a bunch of errands with your mom. Looked like you were pretty keyed up.”

“Oh, yeah. I mean, I want to say I was overreacting the day before about how much I was dreading it. But then it fucking happened. And… I, uh… I realized I was exactly right. It was awful. I did get to your notes, though… yeah—I just—I squeezed them in between brunch with my mom’s friend who could talk herself to death and the excruciating car ride to the publisher’s office.”

“Mmhm.” Wonwoo smiled tenderly. “Did they help at all?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out, “a lot, actually… thank you.”

“I’m sorry your Saturday went so terribly.”

Huffing in response, you nibbled on your inner check.

“Yeah, well, it is what it is… I already knew it was gonna be a shit show. So, what is it that you write about, anyway? Because you seem like you know a whole lot. Seokmin says you let him read some of your poetry, but it was only like, two excerpts.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Wonwoo recalled the memory of Seokmin picking up his leather notebook when it fell out from his bag one day. He’d pestered him about the contents until Wonwoo succumbed and presented him with some lifeless, impatiently scribbled prose that he’d most likely jerked out on the bus or in between his lectures. Seokmin seemed to treat it like fine, prestigious gold, though Wonwoo knew it was the least personal of his work that he would never let another living soul on the planet breathe—not one scent of the ink or even the paper.

“So, you write poetry?”

“I started writing poetry, haikus and all that easy stuff. I developed the interest a lot more through high school. But I never sat down and tried writing anything like a novel until I... I started uni.”

“Yeah. Deciding to be a math major. I still don’t get it,” you sighed, fidgeting with some rings on your fingers. “But what do you even write about? Like, what’s your inspiration?”

Wonwoo paused, looking down at his knees.

“… Life.”

“Life?” You defeatedly slumped into the seat. “That’s the million dollar answer your intelligent brain chose to erect? It’s just that when I think about it, I’m letting you help me with my writing, but I’ve never even read a little smidgen of yours. How’s that fair?”

The higher the Farris Wheel climbed, the stronger the breeze blew, and Wonwoo could feel its tendrils lashing across his cheeks and parting through his hair. You huddled further into your jacket.

“Well, you took Seokmin’s word for it,” Wonwoo laughed.

Your eyes rolled, but you smiled gently. “I know.”

Suddenly, your hand had reached out, and you were pushing the floppy, black tresses off his forehead. Wonwoo’s fingers dug bluntly into his arms. You then angled yourself in the small cart, looking back at him, sculpting your gaze to each crest in his face.

“Why don’t you ever push your hair back?”

The question hit the dark, cold atmosphere like a sizzling ember and Wonwoo was afraid to even open his mouth because he was certain a dying squeak would come out. You continued to play around with the locks, earthing your fingers deep into its texture and attempting to style it despite the persistent, fluttering breeze.

“Um…”

“If you styled it like this—” you moved in closer, staring with so much focus at your nimble movements, “—yeah, like that. It shows off your forehead, gives you a bit of class. I mean, the wind’s messing it up. You don’t tend to do anything with your hair.”

“No.” Wonwoo swallowed, hard.

“Well, you should. Not all the time, obviously. And I’m not saying you look bad with it down—not at all. But you’ve got nice, smouldering features and they’re so much more… framed… when you show your forehead.” You collapsed back into the seat, and that tingly feeling he experienced when your fingers had been tugging and pulling was disseminating throughout his entire body. “I mean, look at how my friends reacted to you. I should apologize for that again, by the way. O-M-F-G, they see one hot guy, and they lose their grip.”

He nearly choked. “Hot?”

It didn’t sound right. Not at all.

“Well, what the fuck, Wonwoo? You’re not ugly.”

“Did you think that when you first saw me?”

You had folded your leg again as the Farris wheel came to another stop. This time, at the very top, at the centre of the night.

“Did I think what? That you’re not ugly?”

“Never mind,” Wonwoo grimaced, hearing the cart creek as you better positioned yourself to face him. “It’s pathetic like that.”

“No. I didn’t think you were ugly. Did you think I was ugly?”

Wonwoo wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of the question, but he smothered it down because he knew one little laugh might hit your ear the wrong way, and it would be flames, sputtering and spewing. Obviously, he didn’t think you were ugly—he never had, even before he ever spoke to you. But he wasn’t so shallow as to only regard someone’s physical appearance. You were still terrifying.

“I wouldn’t consider anyone ugly... and I wouldn’t ever use it to describe some aesthetically. But—I mean, I think people can become ugly through their personality, if that makes sense.”

“Yeah, like, if they’re rotten inside.”

“Mmhm.”

“I agree.”

“What was that word your friend Bells said?”

You shrugged, “which word?”

“She said something like, you’re super… I don’t know… super something.”

“Oh—” you sat up more in the cart, your back pressed against the uncomfortable corner, “—Bells said you were super gorge.”

“Meaning…”

“Meaning super gorgeous.” You made a big show of the rehashed compliment, parroting your friend's tone and swaying your shoulders.

“Oh… really?” Wonwoo shook his head. “I thought she was referring to gorge as in when you gorge yourself, from eating.”

“No,” you giggled at him, “it’s a short form, dumb-dumb.”

“Why make a short form out of that? Is it really that strenuous to say the word gorgeous? It’s only an extra syllable.”

“Okay, well, this isn’t the nineteen-twenties. We don’t all cross our T’s and dot our I’s. It reminds me of how you text.”

He furrowed his brow. “How do I text?”

Your eyes rolled frivolously. “I dunno. Like you’re typing to a business colleague or something. You’re so formal. When I think of you texting, I imagine it’s like someone using a typewriter. And that funny little ding sound it makes whenever you start a new line.”

“Oh.”

“What—no one’s ever told you that before? No way.”

“That I text like I’m using a fucking typewriter? No, actually. I can’t say I’ve heard that.”

“Well, it’s not a big deal. You’re just not very plugged into the internet, I suppose. Which is a good thing. It gives you prestige.”

At that, Wonwoo chuckled. “Does it?”

“Yes,” you smiled, eyes full of starlight, “and—just ignore Bells, okay? She was being kind of weird but that can be fully attributed to those three shots I told her not to take.”

“Hm.”

You continued to stare at him with a plotting smile.

“Hm what? What’s the matter?” The metal of the cart squeaked as you leaned forward, your voice suddenly lathered in mischief. “Did you think she was cute?” He heard your tone drop, and your low, smooth voice breathing hot against his ear. “Did you think about fucking her, Wonwoo?”

“No—what the fuck—not at all.” Quickly, he’d pushed you away and off his shoulder, to which you retreated into the corner with a giggle that should have made his skin crawl, but didn’t.

“Well, how would I know?” You answered, tilting your head and stretching out your arms high into the blackness, as though you were trying to reach for a star. “I never know, because you never look at me. It makes me think you just lied and you do think I’m ugly.”

Wonwoo glanced over the edge of the cart, at the almost nauseating distance between himself and the fairgrounds, covered with miniature, bustling people that seemed like breadcrumbs by comparison to their place in the sky. He didn’t want to sink into this conversation. Besides, how was he supposed to look at you when your fingers were just gliding through his hair and your lips were whispering close enough to brush up against his ear? How was he supposed to act composed? Normal?

“Hey, Wonwoo?” Your fingers snapped.

But he just kept thinking. Like he was cut from a separate cloth than you—the fabric of his universe wasn’t woven with yours and he could ruminate as much as he wanted to and it was impossible to hear your intrusions. Why couldn’t he look at you?

You intimidated him, yes. You scared him, double yes.

He already knew that. It couldn’t just be that.

“Wonwoo? God… you shut down over the simplest things.”

“I don’t know.”

You paused, staring him up and down, perplexed.

“What? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know why I can’t look at you.”

There was a lasting silence between you. Wonwoo felt like he might throw up for acknowledging the fact out loud, and his fist tightened in his lap as though to ground himself—to remember where he was and to breathe slowly, because having a panic attack on top of a stupid Ferris Wheel was the last place it should happen. He hadn’t even realized that you’d shifted closer, one leg curled beneath you while you spoke at the side of his head. But he didn’t hear you, couldn’t see you—there was a harsh void inside him that sounded like suctioning air and static. His fingernail was pressing so deeply into the flesh of his pale skin that it was beginning to faintly bleed.

And—all of a sudden—there were these hands cautiously gripping onto his face, pulling him toward you. He kept staring at the movement of your soft lips, focusing on their pronunciation until everything flooded back in one overwhelming whirl and it felt like being slammed by a freight train.

Wonwoo then grabbed onto your bare knee as a crutch. He didn’t mean to. But you didn’t seem to care.

“—everything okay? Wonwoo? Do I need to like, call someone? Because you look like you’re going to be sick.”

He heaved in a gaping breath, feeling how cold the midnight air was in the thinning atmosphere that encompassed him. It was soothing, akin to a hand massaging along his back.

“Wonwoo?” You repeated his name, sounding awfully scared.

Pulling off his glasses, he rubbed at his eyes. He blurrily saw you touch the spot on your knee where his hand had buried into.

“Sorry,” he then coughed through the heartbeat raspy in his throat, bringing the glasses back to his face, “I spaced out.”

“Spaced out?” You echoed. “That wasn’t spacing out.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

He thought you fight might it.

“Well…” you sighed, glancing around uncertainly, “are you okay? Is there someone you want to call? I don’t know.”

But you didn’t. Thank God.

“No, I’m—” he stopped, gulping back the words.

“… Yeah?” There was a softer intrigue in your cadence.

Wonwoo looked at you. Fully this time. He looked straight into your eyes that were like a glossy, moonlit ocean, detailed with swirling riptides of surprise and apprehensiveness, but also immense depth that seemed genuinely appreciative of his gesture.

“I’m fine.”

And then he watched you nod, smile, and in return study his cavern eyes with the same intensity and wonder. It was such a peculiar experience, staring at you, understanding a little more of your truth, your gentleness.

He didn’t feel as scared.

—MAY 16TH.

Wonwoo had been standing before the mirror in his washroom for the past half-hour or so, primarily just staring, examining, and pulling at the long, limp fronds of his hair. There was a point in his life when he legitimately put effort into styling it, and all his old hair products were still sitting in the cabinet. Though, his ex-girlfriend had tended to help him with it most days, because he found the strands were just too thick and stubborn to work with.

However, since the Spring Street Fair, Wonwoo hadn’t been able to shake those comments you made—about how nicely his face could be framed and the smouldering nature of his features. He would never think to describe himself that way as it seemed particularly pompous and kind of foolish, but hearing you say it was different. The thing was, Wonwoo had no idea where to start, and attempting to rummage his fingers through his hair just didn’t feel as stimulating or electric compared to your meticulous, sweet touch.

In the midst of opening his cabinet for a comb, Wonwoo heard his phone vibrate. He looked down at the sink, seeing the screen brighten with a text notification from Vernon.

[ Vernon | 12:54 pm ]: hey Glasses

[ Vernon | 12:54 pm ]: Solar Pop at 2?

Wonwoo thought about it for a moment, running his thumb down the spine of the comb to hear the little thwip. And then he sighed in decision, texting back a thumbs up. It’s not like he was working later, and as much as Wonwoo would love to believe that today might be the day he made actual progress on his own story, he knew it was just wishful thinking. In reality he’d waste ample time staring into the document, pondering all the scenes and emotions and nuances he could write rather than moving to write anything at all.

Besides, he hadn’t eaten yet today. The thought of a juicy, sauce-slathered, bun-toasted burger being his first meal prompted the boy’s face to sallow greenly with sickness, but the longer he stood in the washroom, combing and slicking and running styling balm through the black bird’s nest on his head, Wonwoo felt the hunger start to bite like an emaciated, starved dog. He left his apartment knowing he would be somewhat late, but Vernon was always later.

And while Wonwoo sat in one of the booths at Solar Pop, flicking the laminated menu back and forth despite knowing the exact order he was going to place, he thought about sending Vernon another text to ask where the hell he even was. Wonwoo could only sip his slippery glass of coke for so long until the waitress decided he was crazy and had been one-hundred percent stood up.

“Hey, fuck, I’m here.”

2:24 pm—that’s when Vernon finally arrived, sliding himself into the leather bench opposite to Wonwoo while tossing his big, metallic clump of keys onto the table. The boy then proceeded to shimmy off his black jacket, propping his elbows onto the table.

If Vernon ever pulled a tardy stunt like that with you, Wonwoo imagined his friend would probably get stuffed into one of those boxes for sawing people in half. Except it wouldn’t be magic.

“Did you get pulled over or something? Police raid? Traffic stop?” Wonwoo asked, now resting his menu down flat.

Vernon laughed, shaking his head. “Uh, no. Couldn’t find my fuckin’ car keys,” he spoke in a breathless voice. “Sorry ‘bout it.”

“Couldn’t find them?” Wonwoo almost scoffed at the excuse while his friend began scouring his way through the menu. “Dude, they’re the fucking size of a bowling ball. How could you lose them?”

“Okay, okay. Fuckin’ skin me alive, why don’t you?”

“You didn’t come from your place, I’m guessing.”

At that, Vernon began to grin, the metal on his pierced lip glinting underneath a ray of sunlight through the blinds. He was still occupied with choosing which burger he wanted. Wonwoo picked the same choice every time. Vernon always tried something different.

“No, I didn’t,” he rasped, flashing his sharp teeth and flipping the menu over, “but when Maleeha Rabia sends you a text at goddamn one in the morning of her tits, you don’t roll over n’ go to bed like some loser. Besides, my ecstasy was just sittin’ around and I had to use it one way or another. Anyway, doesn’t fuckin’ matter. I think I’ll get the Double Bacon Crunch Burger. Sounds good as hell.”

Finally, Vernon threw the menu down with conviction.

“Jesus Christ—” his copper-burnt eyes then flared open as he looked across the table at his friend, “—who the fuck are you?”

Wonwoo itched his nose. “Um, what?”

Vernon leaned forward, seeming captivated. “Uh, your fuckin’ hair? How’d you get it like that? It’s all brushed over and soft lookin’ and shit. I feel like I shouldn’t be sittin’ with you, Prince Charmin’.”

“I just put some balm in it, combed it around,” he answered, reaching for his drink. “Took me a humiliating amount of time.”

“Well, consider me starstruck. What’s made you do all that?”

Before Wonwoo could answer, the waitress returned to the table with her small notepad and shiny pen. Vernon pitched his order first, and Wonwoo followed, asking for the regular quarter-pounder with a side of hot crinkle-cut fries. Once she whisked the menus away and promised to grab Vernon’s root beer float, Wonwoo realized he still had to answer his friend’s question. He didn’t exactly want to tell the truth, because he knew Vernon would never let him hear the end of it, but Wonwoo also didn’t want to be too dishonest.

“Your face is doin’ that thing.”

“What thing?” Wonwoo answered, swallowing his sip of soda.

Vernon crossed his arms on the table, accenting the canvas of darkly-inked tattoos needled into his skin. He shook his head.

“It’s ‘cause of your little girlyfriend, isn’t it?”

Fuck. Wonwoo should have just opened his mouth straight away and spieled out some quick-witted lie. Now he would be painfully subject to Vernon’s unfiltered teasing. Leaning back in his seat, Wonwoo unearthed a miserable sigh at Vernon’s smirk.

“You’ve gotta drop that bullshit.”

“It’s true,” Vernon pressured.

“No, it’s not.”

As though to interpret Wonwoo’s steadfastness as a challenge, Vernon leaned further over the table, dropping his voice but still smiling devilishly through every word he mimicked between his teeth.

“Oh, Wonwoo, your hair looks so fucking sexy like that. It makes you look so perfect. You’re from my dreams. Please, just fuck me right here, right now so I can push my fingers through it ‘cause it’s so soft and silky and I’m basically in love with you.”

“Shut the fuck up. Please.”

“That was a good impression, though, wasn’t it?”

In the loud space of Wonwoo’s disgusted silence, the waitress placed Vernon’s drink onto the table and ensured the food would be coming soon. Vernon watched her walk away, back into the kitchen.

“Hey,” he then grinned in capitulating fashion, “take a stupid joke, alright? I know she’s not in love with you and she doesn’t wanna suck your dick—she’s got a fuckin’ boyfriend. If it makes you feel any better, I’m just projectin’ ‘cause you know I’m jealous.”

Wonwoo sucked in a sip from his coke, shaking his head.

“There’s nothing to be jealous of.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Vernon dismissed, poking his spoon at the near perfect scoop of vanilla ice cream afloat in the frosty mug, “but just so y’know, your mopey ass left me out to dry on Sunday night. Shoved me off the phone, didn’t respond to one of my texts. You’re lucky I even asked you t’hang today. Did she take your phone or something’?”

Shit. When Vernon said it like that, Wonwoo seemed like a terrible friend. Maybe he did deserve a deal of teasing. But at the same time, Wonwoo knew how easy it was for your attitude to flip and he hadn’t been at all interested in starting the night with hostility.

“Okay, fair.” He admitted, rolling up his sleeves.

“And?” Vernon raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“I’m sorry.”

“There you fuckin’ go. That’s all I wanted t’hear, Glasses.”

The truth was, Wonwoo actually quite enjoyed his time with you that night—despite the transient, bickering hiccups and his nearly faltering panic attack, he had fun. Actual fun. Of course, as soon as your ride ended on the Ferris wheel, you’d clutched onto his hand like a snake sinking in its fangs and dragged him throughout the entirety of the fair to find a washroom. Nonetheless, he really loved playing some carnival games with you, like skee ball and the water pistol. He was even able to win you a pink stuffed bear that you had carried close to the chest for the remainder of your time at the fair.

Wonwoo thought he could spend another night like that with you again. Just to get out of his apartment, to feel exhilaration in the pit of his stomach, to laugh until his lungs dried out, to hold your warm, comforting hand in his even when it became too clammy or inconvenient because otherwise you would scold him for letting go.

“Food’s on the way,” Vernon perked up like a child about to be served a slice of birthday cake as the waitress walked over with two full plates, “if you can’t finish yours, I’ll take it.”

“Yeah—how about you focus on chewing and not choking to death first,” Wonwoo sighed, watching his friend’s metaphorical tail wag.

Once she set the food down, inquiring about any refills, and left while flashing her perfected customer service smile, Vernon grabbed the burger with both his hands, taking a gigantic, succulent bite that somehow didn’t singe the roof of his mouth. Wonwoo winced, instead going for his crisped, golden fries.  

“Damn. You’re really that hungry?”

“I’m ravenous,” Vernon mumbled, picking up a few caramelized onions that fell onto his plate. “Dude, I woke up at noon in Maleeha’s bed. She was out cold. Nothin’ in her pantry but some stale fuckin’ Fruit Loops that I may have tried. I’m a grown ass man. I need a meal.”

“I’m glad you’re so proactive," Wonwoo answered, sinking his burning hot fry into the small side-bowl of ketchup.

It took them less than half an hour to clean their plates. Wonwoo tended to eat at a slower pace, with smaller, more savoury bites, while Vernon sloppily devoured his entire burger and gobbled down his fries with the occasional dipping into the root beer float’s ice cream. They scarcely talked in between, too focused on eating and drinking. Wonwoo pushed away his plate when he’d finished and proceeded to wipe off his salty, crumb-speckled fingers with a napkin, meanwhile Vernon took a moment to sink backward into the leather seat, placing a hand over his full, satiated stomach.

“Hey, do y’think they have any Life Savers?” He eventually piped up while sticking a toothpick into his mouth. “I want grape.”

Wonwoo scoffed, tossing the napkin onto his plate and taking out his phone. “Who the fuck likes grape?”

“Me, you smartass,” Vernon answered, turning backward in his seat and scanning the restaurant for any colourful candy bowls.

He couldn’t deny that he was hoping to see a text from you, but there was nothing, and his chest dropped. Wonwoo decided to open the schedule you had made, curious as to what you were even doing today—work until five o’clock, and then you were going out for supper with some friends at Terra Cotta.

He thought about texting you. His thumbs kept hovering above the keyboard in contemplation, even though he knew for certain he wouldn’t text anything. He would just stare and hope.

“Holy shit. Uh, oh my God. Wonwoo. I-I see—”

Vernon had suddenly reached a hand onto the table, slapping the lacquered wood a few times to garner his attention.

“What?” He mumbled in agitation, keeping his focus glued to the phone. “If you see the Life Savers just go up and take some. I swear, they’re not gonna fucking care you’re not twelve years old.”

“No, no, no, dumbass,” Vernon hissed, turning back around in the booth, his honey eyes glistering in oils of dread and panic. “Look, actually look. That’s Mingyu, isn’t it?”

Immediately, Wonwoo clicked off his phone, instead squinting into the distant corner of the restaurant where a notably tall, black-haired boy with tanned, amber skin had emerged from a doorway, standing in a somehow casual but imposing way that only be Mingyu.

It must be Mingyu, and that fact became glaringly obvious when Wonwoo made the unintentional, floundering mistake of staring straight into the boy’s wandering and earthen brown eyes.

“Oh my fuckin’ God, oh my fuckin’ God,” Vernon kept reiterating under his breath, bouncing his knee like an anxious student waiting for their test. “He definitely saw us. Or—he definitely saw you. This is so bad, man. I think he’s gonna rock me.”

“What?” Wonwoo whispered back harshly, attempting to float his gaze away from Mingyu in a casual manner. “For what reason?”

It seemed like Vernon almost wanted to gag at him. “Um—because of what fuckin’ happened between me n’ his girl! At that party? I told you about that shit, didn’t I?” He rasped from across the table, his bottom lip worried between biting teeth. “Dude, what if he tries to pull a fast one? You’re what—like six foot something? You have to help back me up. I can throw a pretty solid punch—even better when I’m shit-faced—but that might not be enough. Lady Liberty’s built like a brick.”

“Okay, you’re acting crazy,” Wonwoo uttered in disbelief. “I doubt he’s going to be anything but physical, especially in a public place. And, you said you didn’t know Her was in a relationship.”

“How the fuck do I know he knows that? Can’t exactly use my infectious charm on someone whose girlfriend I tried to rail.”

Vernon somehow dared to spare another rapid glance over his shoulder, only to shed an entire mould of colour from his complexion.

“He’s coming, he’s—”

“Shut up and relax,” Wonwoo mumbled. “I’m sure it’s nothing big—he’ll say a thing or two and be on his way. God, I’ll handle it.”

For some reason, Wonwoo thought he should be sinking into consternation a lot more than he actually was, but it’s not that his chest wasn’t thumping or his mind wasn’t spinning amuck with worry. It was more so that he was managing the whirlwind, as best he could, as much as he could manage. Mingyu wasn’t a complete stranger, and all their past interactions had been boringly cordial or even forgettable. Nonetheless, Wonwoo would still prefer to avoid the boy because that made his life simpler in the grand scheme of anxiety.

“Hey, Wonwoo,” Mingyu approached the table with a confident, leisurely stride, extending his large hand for Wonwoo to grab, exchanging a dap. “I almost didn’t recognize you for a sec.”

“All good,” Wonwoo answered, attempting a polite grin that felt much more sweltering on the inside than out. “How’ve you been?”

Mingyu shrugged, burying his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants while he gazed at the slitted curtains for a moment, pondering his reply. “Decent. Playing a lot of basketball. I don’t think I’ve seen you since I came to the pharmacy. You still there?”

“Still there.”

“Well, at least I haven’t had to come in for a fuckin’ pregnancy test yet. That’s good I suppose, yeah?” The boy chuckled, then tilting his head a certain way to crack a stiff spot in his neck.

“Aisle five if you ever need it.”

Mingyu responded with a smirk that perhaps lasted a second too long, and these slimming, analyzing eyes—a gaze that Wonwoo felt ripple in his gut. He chose to believe it was nothing dire, or else he would spiral right there on the spot and lose all fine-tuned control.

Meanwhile Vernon had been sitting quietly the entire time, most likely hoping he would remain in the dark, skulking shadows outside Wonwoo’s spotlight. But he must not have been hoping hard enough, because Mingyu proceeded to smile at him, again extending his hand for another dap, which Vernon yielded apprehensively.

“You’re a pretty recognizable guy, unfortunately,” Mingyu acknowledged with a husky laugh—a clear reference to the boy’s identifying tattoos and numerous facial piercings, “I think you deal to at least a third of my friends. It’s Vernon, right?”

“Mmhm. Yes sir.” To Vernon’s luck, he had a well-polished and gleaming smile that made it impossible for him to seem disingenuous, though Wonwoo knew he was wilting inside.

“I’m sorry about Dots.”

“Oh, uh. All good. It is what it is, y’know?”

Mingyu nodded.

“Hey—those tattoos are crazy good. Where’d you get them?”

Vernon looked across his arm. “Thanks. Mostly Liquid Impact—dude there that I call Funfetti ‘cause he eats Funfetti box cake all the time. Uh, but his actual name’s like, Axel or some white-boy shit like that. He’s done a majority of it. The others—man, I don’t know. Half the time I’m off my fuckin’ face and wake up with shit I never remember.”

“Oh, yeah?” Mingyu sniffed, running a hand through his long, shiny onyx locks of hair. “Guess you also don’t remember promising my girlfriend the best sex of her life, right?”

At that, Vernon looked straight to Wonwoo, and Wonwoo returned the enlarged, incinerating stare straight back, reading the split-second terror that swam like flopping fish in Vernon’s eyes. The atmosphere hit the ground with a palpable and ugly shatter.

“Yeah, um—about that—”

Mingyu then balanced backward on his foot for a moment, beginning to chuckle, sway his head, as though to dismiss the entire accusation in the same intense breadth it was mentioned.

“Nah, nah. I’m playing around,” the boy chuckled, rubbing at his nose. “You didn’t know she was taken. No hard feelings, yeah?”

Vernon immediately nodded his agreement, and the tension nailed into his broad shoulder line seemed to melt. “For sure. No hard feelings. I mean, she’s beautiful. Can’t even imagine what it’s like bein’ her boyfriend when you’ve got sluts like me around.”

Mingyu grinned, “no, you’re good. I know she gave you some attitude about it. Bit of a troublemaker herself. But, yeah. Water under the bridge.” The boy’s attention then turned back to Wonwoo, who was more than eager to somehow extinguish the conversation from you as a topic. “I know she’s hangs out with you right now.”

“Oh, yeah,” Wonwoo hummed, “the book thing.”

“She doesn’t like talking to me about it.”

“Well, don’t stress,” he answered, catching the sunlight that blitzed through the curtains and dipped like a gold paintbrush into the boy’s eyes, turning them to warm molasses, “she’ll show you the whole damn thing when it’s over and done with.”

Mingyu huffed, “I thought she’d have dropped it by now.”

“I don’t think she will. She’s pretty committed.”

“Hm.” He nodded simply in response, kissing his teeth.

Vernon folded his arms, leaning back into the leather seat with the toothpick again sitting in his mouth. “You got any plans for the summer, then? Doesn’t your pal always throw a huge party?”

“Yeah, actually. Doing it this year if we can manage. Seungcheol’s parents pretty much spend their entire summer bouncing around all the Great Lakes. We’re gonna do a co-hosting type deal and—shit, since you’re here, this is really good timing.” Mingyu then looked down at Vernon and lowered his gravelly voice. “I know what your main gig is. What about blow? You sell it?”

A slow but gradual, catlike grin trudged the edges of Vernon’s mouth, to which he pulled out his toothpick and set his elbows onto the table. “Look, can’t chop it up here, man. Ask one of your friends for my burner. I can get you to the ski slope, but it costs, obviously.”

“Nah, that’s fine. It’s just—my last plug fell through.”

“Tough.”

“Yeah. Okay, well, I should get going. I’ll follow up with you later. Do you care if Seungcheol knows the number, too?”

“No,” Vernon shrugged, planting the toothpick into the corner of his mouth and flicking it with his tongue, “just don’t go throwin’ it around. I could only get enough for a couple people, anyway.”

“All good. Okay—later, guys.”

Mingyu stepped away from the table with a wave and a flash of his pearled, charming smile, nothing but the mild scent of his fresh and expensive-smelling cologne to swirl through the now vacant space. In true espionage fashion, Wonwoo and Vernon both picked open the slots between the restaurant curtains, cautiously observing the boy’s stride into the parking lot and onto the sidewalk, where he at last disappeared into the warm, sunny afternoon.

Heaving a gigantic exhausted breath, Wonwoo took off his glasses and set them in his lap, massaging deep into his eye sockets.

“Y’know, he’s not that fuckin’ bad,” Vernon commented, “I mean, he scares the shit outta me, but that could have gone worse.”

"Jesus Christ—I can’t believe what I just watched.”

His friend laughed, banging his fist excitedly enough on the table to engender the silverware clattering on their plates. “Ha! I know, right? Dude—Seungcheol and Mingyu are the kingpins of that fuckin’ university you go to. They can cough up the big bucks for that shit. Just imagine the distribution pay I'm gonna get with them on my roster—actually, that couldn’t have gone better.”

“And where are you gonna get it?” Wonwoo pressured, at last settling his glasses back on, clarifying Vernon’s smudged, blurry face.

“Well, let me fuck around and work my magic.”

“I don’t want him to use you.”

“Pfft. I don’t give no fucks about being used,” Vernon cackled, wearing a self-indulgent, luminous smile and continuing to play around with the toothpick while he readied his wallet to pay. “You know what you should worry about, Glasses? Sweet talkin’ the fuck outta that dude’s girl and securin' yourself an invite. You probably don’t even need to try sweet talkin’—she obviously likes you.”

“No,” Wonwoo grumbled, “no way.”

“You don’t want to go?”

“Why would I want to go, dumbass? The last time I went to a party, I ran into you. They’re loud and suffocating. I’ll pass.” Wonwoo also pulled out his wallet, taking his card. “Besides, I get the sense Mingyu doesn’t trust me a whole lot. I’m not gonna stir the pot.”

Vernon shook his head. “You stir the pot every time you hang out with his girl to go write romantic poetry and run around, gigglin’ at Spring Street. N’yeah, exactly. You met me. I don’t get the fuss.”

“It’s nothing like that," Wonwoo answered in frustration.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re a Patron Saint. I just want my Life Saver.”

—MAY 19TH.

Wonwoo was going to your apartment today for the first time, and it had nearly killed him in the process.

His abhorrent sleep schedule hung over his head every single instance he woke up at lunchtime, the entirety of his mornings wasted to weathered heartbreak and its lasting, stained consequences. Needing to be at your apartment for ten had Wonwoo buckling his face into anguished hands the night before, wondering how he was going to pull off such a triumph without wishing for death.  

He did know one thing for certain—the sound of his alarm erupting into its timely, strident beeping made him instantly sick. In fact, the first thing Wonwoo did was half-stumble in complete bleariness out from his bed, dragging a white sheet along by his ankle as he burst into the washroom and hung his head over the toilet like he was sweating through a wicked hangover. But it wasn’t alcohol. It was months of bad, soul-stitched habit festered up in stomach bile and perhaps, a hatred for himself. It was his own fault, in a way.

And yet, when you texted him a half-hour later to reconfirm your address, Wonwoo replied with not the slightest hint that he was feeling pretty fucking terrible. The headache and shudders followed him down the street, onto the bus, and into the lobby of your notably opulent apartment complex. He felt rather incongruous amongst all the marble—the white trim, the clean, untainted air, even the breakfast table with dispensable lemon water and small, fruit-topped pastries that somehow made Wonwoo want to kill himself.

He looked down at his phone.

[ Her | 9:10 am ]: 717 thorton street, unit 61

[ Her | 9:45 am ]: are you almost here? :)

Wonwoo pressed the button to the elevator.

[ Wonwoo | 9:50 am ]: Yes. In the building.

His phone vibrated immediately with a text.

[ Her | 9:50 am ]: I’m so excited

The doors pulled apart. Wonwoo stepped aside for a couple who were leaving the elevator before he entered. Quickly, he clicked the button to close the doors, not wanting to share the space with anyone but himself and the headache throbbing at the forefront of his cranium. He sighed, glancing at his texts again to reply.

[ Wonwoo | 9:51 am ]: Do you have any Tylenol?

[ Her | 9:51 am ]: most def

[ Her | 9:51 am ]: what’s wrong?

[ Wonwoo | 9:52 am ]: Nothing much. Just a headache.

When he didn’t receive an immediate answer, he assumed you had put the phone down to search your medicine cabinet. Getting off the elevator, Wonwoo proceeded to find the correct apartment. He put his fist up to the door, and then, at the last second, stopped.

There it was again—the same melting pot of anxiety and butterflies that had bubbled up when you first visited his place.

He supposed the feelings never truly disappeared each time he would see you, and he was beginning to detest it. Why couldn’t his body just adapt? Get over it? What purpose did it serve to constantly remind him of his unkempt emotions? It was like the idea of you terrified him more than you as an actual person, because in person, he felt comfort, as crazy as it sounded. So why couldn’t his anxiety and security just complete that stupid sliver of a synapse for once?

Knock knock.

After a moment, the handle clicked, and the door to sumptuous unit 61 was pulled open. For the first time, Wonwoo saw your face without any makeup, and it sort of made him stutter in his words—not that he was shocked in abhorrence at the contrast, more so the vulnerability behind it, the fact you felt comfortable enough to shed your compulsion with always presenting a perfect, glamoured face. He was pleased to see you were in a fuzzy pair of pink shorts and a white, thin long-sleeve that were basically pyjamas.

Maybe it was weird to think, but you seemed more human.

“You made good timing. I’m impressed.”

“Thanks,” Wonwoo answered while stepping inside, toeing off his sneakers next to your plethora of shoes at the doormat.

“I would obviously say tour first, but I have your Tylenol sitting on the counter over here, for your headache. Can you dry swallow or do you need water?”

“Dry swallow?” Wonwoo laughed, following you toward the kitchen area. “Who the fuck dry swallows any sort of pill?”

“I don’t know! Personally, I don’t. But there are some freaks out there who do. I was actually testing you. And you passed.”

“Lucky me,” he sighed.

Taking a seat at one of stools displayed around the large, granite-surface island, Wonwoo waited for you to pour him some water. Obviously, the apartment was spacious, gorgeous—the large, white-fluffed rug in the centre of the living room was definitely suited to you, though he was surprised by the tall, lush potted plants aligned by the window panelling. He didn’t know you had a green thumb.

While placing down the water, you shifted closely into the seat beside him, and Wonwoo could smell the scent of strawberries on your skin. You let your chin press into the hammock made with your hands, watching as he set the pill on his tongue and gulped it down.

“So, is it really bad?”

Wonwoo turned the glass back and forth atop its coaster, deciding on whether or not he should tell the truth. It always tended to sting him when he lied, and so he turned to you, shrugging.

“I felt it when I woke up. But it’s manageable.”

“Oh, I get that sometimes.”

“It’s because of my repulsive sleep schedule, no doubt.”

You smiled at him, adjusting your leg under the island.

“Is that why you prefer afternoons all the time?”

“Pretty much. It’s a horrible habit. I’ll break it somehow, I’m sure. Just a stupid hump to get over. Anyway—” Wonwoo slung the laptop bag off his shoulder and onto the counter, “—your place looks pretty sweet. How are you? What’s the plan for today?”

“Well,” you hummed, slapping an arm down onto the reflective granite, “I’ve wrote some more this week. I’d love for you to proofread it. Maybe we can go out for lunch later, but you’d need to give me time to get ready. I mean, I did shower this morning…”

He watched you pause, and then swallow. "You don’t care, do you?”

“About what?” Wonwoo answered.

“Oh, well—never mind, then.”

“No, what is it? What don’t I care about?”

You started to grin, hiding half your face with a hand that slowly scraped across your cheek, as though to rub off any remaining lethargy from the morning light. Wonwoo waited for you to answer.

“… I look like a mole.”

He at last realized what you meant.

“No, you don’t.”

“I was just feeling lazy. I know, gasp, what an insane word to come from my mouth. But I’m glad you don’t care. I didn’t think you would, but I still wasn’t sure. At least your reaction wasn’t obvious. My chin is breaking out so please don’t stare at it, if you can help it.”

“Oh, well, you know, you look—” that one banished word almost slipped, but Wonwoo smoothly mended the break, “you—you have nothing to worry about. I get breakouts, too. It sucks, but it’s life.”

Your bare, soft face turned cheerful in a fawning smile.

“I know. I guess I'm just not very used to the feeling of people seeing me like this. Did you want to do lunch later?”

Wonwoo leaned back in the small seat, running his hands up his knees, knowing damn well he hadn’t eaten breakfast.

“Uh, I should probably start with like, cereal or something.”

“You didn’t eat?”

“No appetite.”

“I’ll fix you something. Unfortunately, no cereal. But I'll get some the next time Mingyu and I do groceries. So, what do you like best? Toast? Oatmeal? Scrambled eggs and toast? Orange juice? Bagel?”

At the mere mention of orange juice, his fist clenched. Attempting not to dwell so obviously, Wonwoo straightened up and smiled.

“I like toast.”

“That’s good. It’ll be easy on your stomach.”

Wonwoo watched you squeeze off the stool and open the fridge to pull out a plastic bag of bread. He watched you stand on your tiptoes to reach into the highest cupboard and grab a plate. He watched you pop open a jar of fresh raspberry jam and slot the bread into the toaster. He could watch you do anything, it seemed.

Anything at all.

It took Wonwoo about half an hour to eat his raspberry toast and skim through the newest additions to your document. You were getting more into the thick of your relationship with Mingyu—just as you’d warned—but Wonwoo was able to gloss most cloying paragraphs without too much bitterness or personal weight clouding his possible critiques. Wonwoo was still seated at the island, meanwhile you were lying face down on the plump-cushioned couch, an arm dangling off the side. In a morbid way, you looked very much dead if not for the shallow rising and dipping of your back.

“Done, for the most part.”

Your head perked up, and he was relieved to see you hadn’t fallen asleep or suffocated. “When will you add your notes?”

“After lunch. Is that okay?”

“Mmhm.”

“So…” Wonwoo slid down in the chair, reaching out his arms with a gigantic yawn, “you actually snuck into his basketball game?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, letting your chin snuggle into the blanket strewn underneath you, “I was obsessed with him. I couldn’t help it.”

“I wouldn’t expect your first date to be at the nature museum. The way you wrote about the butterfly exhibit was nice, though.”

“It was fun. Mingyu wasn’t the biggest fan, but I had always wanted to go. There was this huge skeleton of a blue whale, and sometimes the museum would play the whale’s ballad—” you flopped onto your back, staring up at the ceiling with a tender, ardent laugh as your fingers twirled the fluffy knots of the throw, “—it used to scare Mingyu so bad. He kept telling me he was gonna leave our date unless we went to another exhibit.”

“The sound can be pretty jarring if you’ve never heard it before, to be fair,” Wonwoo reasoned, now massaging down his legs.

Shoving your body to sit upright on the couch, you poked out your tongue at him, grinning, “don’t defend his loserness.”

He huffed in response, “my bad.”

“Should we do a tour now? I really want to show you my room. And if I keep lying on the couch, I’ll fall asleep.”

“Uh, sure. Do you want me to wash my plate?”

“No, no, it’s fine. Just leave it in the sink.”

After Wonwoo cleaned off the granite island, he came to join you in the living room, the white rug resembling what he imagined a cloud to feel like underneath his socked feet.

A thought had suddenly popped into his head.

“There’s a nature museum here, too.”

You grabbed the blanket, wearing it like a shawl around your shoulders. Wonwoo had never seen you so sleepy before.

“I know.”

“Have you ever gone?”

“No. Not at all. I did ask Mingyu once when we first came here for university. But I think he was still mortified from the whale thing. I dunno. Anyway, is that your round-about way of asking if I ever want to go? Because I would, to help with the story.”

Wonwoo scratched along his collarbone, heated with the itch of being blatantly exposed for his plotting. However, he hadn’t suggested the museum with the intention of employing it as a visual to sharpen up your scene-work. He was hoping to go just for the sake of it—like a palate cleanser, as you had previously mentioned.

But he obviously wasn’t going to articulate that.

“We can plan it more later,” he said.

The tour started in the living room, which Wonwoo had become well acquainted with throughout his half hour of sitting at the kitchen island, occasionally flicking his eyes toward the couch to ensure you were still alive. You explained that the pristine white rug was a housewarming gift from Mingyu’s parents when you first moved into the apartment, and he felt guilty for even stepping on it.

He decided to ask about the plants by the windows.

“Oh, I don’t actually look after those,” you answered, touching at one of the heavy and balmy-looking green leaves from a plant nearly as tall as you, “Seokmin comes over to water them and stuff, gives them special nutrient food—even sprays their leaves with this misty bottle thing. I tried giving them all to him, but he says he’s got no space at his apartment—which is total bull by the way.”

“Maybe he just wants an excuse to see you.”

“Yeah,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes, “doesn’t everyone?”

Wonwoo bit back a stupid little smile as he followed you into your bedroom—the place you seemed most enthralled for him to finally see. You twirled into the open space and threw the blanket off your shoulders, then whipping your hands into the air akin to a magician who’d just performed the most grandiose magic trick.

“Tada! Bedroom reveal!”

He pushed up his glasses, taking a good, solid look around at everything he could: the prestigious makeup vanity with the drawers left half-open, your dresser, lined with photographs of what he assumed to be friends, family, and Mingyu, the beaded, dangling chandelier, the ajar closet doors that revealed your unsurprising magnitude of outfits—skirts and dresses and professional blazers and lascivious things from threads of lace and silk. He finally looked to your beautiful bed, which you proceeded to flop onto.

“This is my favourite part,” you hummed.

Taking some further steps into the bedroom, Wonwoo began recognizing smaller details, though he couldn’t explain what he was feeling. He always thought a bedroom was such a personal, intimate space, like a treasure chest stuffed with memories and pieces of person’s essence that couldn’t be captured using words alone. To sit on someone’s bed, or sift through their drawers for a pen, or even grab a shirt from their closet—he felt it was all so… sacred. It was the reason he had such a hard time having others in his bedroom.

“The bed is your favourite?” He wondered.

“Yes,” you giggled, a glimmer flashing into your eyes like diamonds in the sun as you climbed onto your knees.

Before Wonwoo knew what was happening, you had clutched a hand into his shirt and jerked him toward the covers. He landed beside you, and his heart thrust with electricity.

“You could have just asked me to sit,” he chuckled, wiping some wrinkles off his shirt and adjusting his glasses.

“Nope.”

“Bed’s comfy.”

“Duh,” you sunk backward, smirking at him, “it’s a bed.”

“Hey, you should have seen the bed I had growing up in Changwon. My older brother and I, we hated it. Shit was like sleeping on a piece of cardboard. It didn’t get better for years.”

Propping your head onto a pillow, you continued to smile prettily at him with those entrancing eyes, and for a second, this piercing fear struck in the core of Wonwoo’s chest that he had just spoke about himself—actually spoke about himself—in a manner that screamed of vulnerability. He felt terror. Why did he do that?

“Hm. I guess I’m just spoiled, with my memory foam and all.”

At least you didn’t push into the topic. You were getting better at that, almost like you could interpret the subtle tweaks in his face or the stiffening of his bones. Wonwoo rested his elbows on his knees.

“Your room’s nice. It smells like you.”

He heard you giggle, “what? Like strawberries?”

Wonwoo pursed his lip, looked down at his fingers. “Yeah…”

For a moment, his eyes lingered unfaithfully on your exposed midriff, down to the fluffy hem of those pink lounge shorts. He squeezed his wrist tight, practically stopping his own blood flow, willing himself not to think anything unhinged that would simmer up to fuel his self-hatred later. The longer your head spent sinking into that plump pillow, the more your lids fluttered with sleep. As he continued to gaze about the room, he spotted the pink stuffed bear that he’d won you at the Spring Street Fair, sitting atop your bedside table.

“You’ve still got that?”

“Hm?” You pushed up onto your elbows, yawning. “Oh, yeah! ‘Course I still have her. It’s a perfect little memento from that night.”

“Well, I did go through a lot of effort to win it.”

“Oh, I’m aware... wanna know what I named her?”

“What?”

“Miss Priss.”

Honestly, Wonwoo was surprised you hadn’t stuffed it into your closet or abandoned the toy in some innocuous corner of your apartment. Instead the bear’s vibrant pink face and slightly lopsided eyes were staring him down, making him rerun Vernon’s words in his head: ‘you stir the pot every time you hang out with his girl to go write romantic poetry and run around, gigglin’ at Spring Street.’

Wonwoo immediately shoved the memory aside, letting the implications sizzle up and burn on the hot coals of his brain.

“Hm. Funny.”

You rolled your eyes.

Wonwoo tapped his wrist, thinking.

“So, uh, I hope you don’t mind me asking this, but why don’t you live with Mingyu? I know he stays over some nights.”

Lifting yourself up with one arm, you shrugged, opting to stroke a hand along the blanket to smooth out some crinkles. “I don’t want to move in with anyone unless I’m engaged.”

“Actually?”

“Yeah. I mean, that's what I told my parents, at least. They used to really push for us to have an apartment together. Which makes sense. They freaking love him. I swear, more than me," you laughed, picking at your shirt. "I get it, too. Mingyu and I have pretty much been tied at the hip all these years. But we agreed that we wouldn't live together until things went to the next level. He does keep a lot of his stuff here for when he does stay over, and vice versa. He’s got an extra key and everything, his own nightstand, bathroom stuff.”

“And that’s for certain?”

You tilted your head. “What’s for certain?”

“The engagement thing. Or was it just to shake off your parents?”

“Well… I guess I mean it. Is that weird to you?”

“No,” Wonwoo said. “I personally haven't heard it plenty.”

“Yeah, most people are surprised to learn we don’t live together. I guess we really give off the impression that we're together in most things, if not everything. It's good to get a little space, though."

“Well, I understand it—wanting to have your own space. I mean, I think everyone should try living alone, just once if they have to. You learn more about yourself, I suppose.”

You cracked a smile at him. “What have you learned?”

Wonwoo chuckled, knowing all the things he could never say were tingling right on the tip of his tongue. “Well, I meant in a general sense. I wasn't exactly talking about myself.”

“Ha—you learned how to be a hermit.”

“I'm pretty sure I was always like that.”

“Yeah, but probably not that bad.”

“That bad?” He furrowed his dark brows at you, staring straight into your eyes that twinkled with challenge. “Meaning what?”

“Please, you would not leave that apartment if it wasn’t for your commitment to the book. Maybe for work, some groceries every now and then. Otherwise, your ass is not leaving.”

“Damn. Just call me a loser.”

“Fine,” you huffed, pushing up onto your knees, “loser.”

Wonwoo managed to hold the penetrating, spirited strength of your gaze, and he was proud of himself for doing so, even if his heart felt like it was going to leap into his throat. It was still difficult for him to be routinely engaged in eye contact, but he knew how much you appreciated it—the feeling of being listened to and experiencing someone’s dedication to presenting their full attention.

Since it was getting close to lunch time, Wonwoo figured you might want to start thinking of where to eat. He was getting notably hungry, and having to function off some toast coated thinly in raspberry jam wouldn’t be enough to power him throughout his proofreading. He pulled out his phone, wanting to check the time, and began sliding off your comfortable, warm bed.

“Did you want to—”

“Hey, wait, wait, wait—” Wonwoo felt your hand curl around his bicep in a firm grip and begin to pull him back down, “—before we get up and everything, I want to talk to you about something.”

Oh no.

His stomach writhed.

Wonwoo started praying it wasn’t about his and Vernon’s encounter with Mingyu at Solar Pop—not that anything particularly terrible or concerning had happened—but maybe Mingyu had mentioned something to you. Maybe he didn’t like Wonwoo and thought it was best you stop writing together, stop seeing each other.

His mind started quivering with a steadfast hurricane of awful thought and Wonwoo knew the flushed colour had most likely drained from his face as quickly as a popped balloon.

Your hand remained on his bicep, squeezing it.

“Why do you look so worried, already?” You chuckled in a quiet voice, rubbing his arm until Wonwoo visibly relaxed. “I haven’t even said anything yet. Unless, you think I should be worried, too.”

“No.” Wonwoo shook his head. “Just—never mind.”

“Hm, well, that’s kind of what I want to talk about.”

As your hand drifted off his arm, Wonwoo sat crossed-legged, narrowing his eyes at you in question. “What do you mean?”

The conversation began with a clunk of silence, to which you glanced down at the bed for a moment, clearly biting on your inner cheek in contemplation. Wonwoo desperately wanted you to spit it out. He hated when empty words hung so burdensomely in the air.

“Well… there’s no easy way to bring it up. And I’m not sure you’ll even want to talk about it with me, but I keep noticing it, again and again. I think it’s at least worth it to put it on the table. And, if it’s not my business, you can freely tell me to screw off.”

“Oh… okay.”

And then you were looking at him, not with any sort of accusation or anger or even disappointment. Somehow, Wonwoo knew what you were going to say, and he braced himself for it.

“Do you… do you have anxiety?”

Wonwoo said nothing. He wasn’t sure if it was an issue of not wanting to speak or being unable to.

You breathed out heavily in response.

“Okay, silence, I definitely saw that coming—but, um, I’m not stupid, you know? Your face just gets so pale, and I feel like I can see the heartbeat in your chest… and you always do that thing with your fist. Clenching it. It always looks so painful but you never seem to care and—anyway—I just… I can tell when it happens and it kind of bothers me that you try to like, shrug it off or call it ‘spacing out’ when it’s really clearly not. And, maybe that’s my fault.”

His gaze had shifted to lock with yours.

Again, you weren’t staring at him with any malice or dejection—he’d come to learn that your eyes were actually quite soft most of the time, soft but always glittering, like a handful of silk. Still, Wonwoo couldn’t yet find his words, which must have come across as remarkably shocking for someone who spent their whole life grabbing all the shiny bits of possible vernacular.

You sat up straighter, touching his knee.

“Is it my fault you don’t want to talk about it? Can I at least know that much?” There was an imploring desperation in your face.

Wonwoo at last cleared his throat.

“I don’t talk about it with anyone.”

“Okay, I get that. But, did I make you feel like you couldn’t bring it up? At all?” Your fingers dug a little harder into his knee, though Wonwoo knew you probably hadn’t realized it. “I just—I do want to know, actually. Because sometimes I let myself get in the way of being present for other people. But I care. I honestly do.”

He nodded, cracking his knuckles.

“I mean… I definitely wouldn’t have thought to bring it up with you. I guess I felt like, if I did, what would it accomplish? You might think I’m incapable or… I don’t know.” He shoved his hands underneath his glasses, rubbing at the indents on his nose. “As you can see, I’m not the best at talking about it. I don’t talk about it.”

You folded your legs in similar fashion to Wonwoo.

“Well… um… do you… is there anyone that could, like… I don’t know what I’m saying. I guess, are you coping alright, is what I’m asking. I really don’t mean to overstep. I swear.”

At that, he chuckled quite loudly. Your face twitched in surprise at his reaction, and the hand slipped off his knee.

“It really doesn’t matter. I just deal with it.”

No. He took nothing. He did nothing. Wonwoo just sat and suffered and felt no initiative to help himself. At that point, he really didn’t want to dissect the topic any further. He could sense the slithering under his skin, the way his body physically bristled like a perturbed cat at the thought of having to be any more open than what he'd already shared. The choices he made in his life weren’t important if he was going to end up back in the same slippery trench.

“Oh. Well, I hope you take care of yourself,” you said with a smile, giving his bicep another gentle squeeze. “That’s all.”

—JUNE 2ND.

About two weeks had passed since Wonwoo visited your apartment. Afterward, you had met up four times to continue writing and making small ventures to places that you deemed vital for developing your story. Wonwoo found himself enjoying most trips.

He remembered the ice cream shop. Apparently, it was the date where Mingyu had officially asked you to be his girlfriend. You had gotten their most popular strawberry cheesecake flavour while Wonwoo ordered mint chocolate chip, which was a rather boring but favourite classic of his. No doubt, you sat across from him on their outside patio the entire time, pitting remarks about how awful his choice was in lieu of writing anything down in your document. With every spoonful he ate, Wonwoo had to keep reminding you to stay focused, and eventually, his repetitious ordering worked.

"Did you actually come here to get any writing done or did you just want the ice cream? We're not palate-cleansing are we?"

"Why can't two things be true at once?"

“Can I see your laptop?”

“No—hey! Don’t try to grab it!”

“Why? Because you’ve written fuck all?”

"For your information, I have a bullet-point list going."

"Oh, yeah. A bullet-point list, hm?"

"Yes. It has all my major writing points. Point number one: Mingyu seats me down at the table. He's clearly nervous. We've only been in the shop for a minute or two and he won't stop brushing his hair behind his ears. Point number two: Mingyu grabs our ice cream from the counter. He gives me his flavour, rocky road, by accident, and then we awkwardly laugh and switch. Point number three: I remember thinking his nerves were endearing, and—"

"Okay, okay. I get it."

"Exactly. Let this be a lesson in poor assumption. Don't try to assume anything about me, Wonwoo. It's probably wrong."

And then there had been the journey to Mooney’s Bay, one of the most well-known beaches outside the city—probably because the lake actually looked a clean, salty blue and the soft sand wasn’t littered with drifting pieces of plastic. It had been the first place Wonwoo took his brother when he came to visit from his office in Korea, and the picture they had taken together with their pant legs cuffed up, standing knee deep in the water, was still pinned to the corkboard in Wonwoo’s bedroom. However, Wonwoo hadn’t been back to the beach since, until you dragged him there in an hour-long car ride. He had mostly looked out the window, thinking, as always.

You said that Mooney’s Bay reminded you of a cove from your hometown, a more clandestine one, where you and Mingyu used to splash around in the isolated, iridescent waters at night, laughing into the chilled breeze and coughing up all the liquid splatted into the other’s face. Wonwoo had used the video camera to record some footage of the beach per your request. By evening, most people had packed up their coolers and umbrellas and sun towels, granting him more freedom to film wider, panned shots. He remembered standing at the foam shoreline, feeling the sand squelch wetly under his bare feet, recording you wading further and deeper into the water that reflected like a bleeding, scarlet portrait of stained glass.

“It feels amazing! You should come in!”

“I can’t. It’ll ruin the camcorder.”

“So put it down! In the bag! There’s enough footage.”

“But the sun is setting behind you. It makes for a good shot.”

"So just hurry up! The water is the perfect temperature."

"But—"

“I’m not asking you. I’m telling you.”

"Well, I don't know... I, uh—I can't swim."

"This isn't swimming, this is wading. Just go up to your knees. It's been a hot, long day. I think this will help get the scowl off your face."

“… Fine. At least give me a second to fix my pants.”

The third location, while not his favourite, had been an open bar that was conveniently placed a few streets over from his job at the pharmacy. Wonwoo had went there a number of times with Vernon in the past, usually after he finished a midterm or handed in some grating assignment, though Vernon tended to drink more than his body could sufficiently handle. By the end of the night, Wonwoo would most often find himself being a mediator between his tattooed, foul-mouthed friend and whatever blundering, equally drunk idiot he happened to be arguing with.

It was too much for his anxiety.

Nonetheless, he’d met you there after work despite the churning cauldron of memories that he harboured, unsurprised to find you seated at a small table swarmed with dewy drinks and shots that interested observers had sent over. Wonwoo felt each digging, plying stare that sculpted against his back as he sat beside you—he even choked down one of your retched tequila shots (while not the best idea), hoping it would mellow him out.

You never really explained why the bar was pertinent to your history with Mingyu—or, maybe you had, and Wonwoo was simply one flaming shot past coherent of properly digesting your words. He did, however, remember your entire, almost scientific explanation of why you liked wearing low-cut or heavily revealing tops at the bar, and Wonwoo had listened along as best he could manage, even when that floating sensation started hazing through his mind. At one point, this girl who Wonwoo had never encountered once in his life came up to him with a polite tap on his shoulder and an inquiring smile.

“Hey—sorry to intrude—and this may be a super dumb question, but you are guys together?”

“No, no. Not at all. I’ve got a boyfriend. He’s single.”

“Oh, perfect. I was just—I was sitting over there, in the corner with my friends, if you can see. Anyways—I said something dumb about how you were really good looking, and now I’ve been dared to come up and ask for your number. So, um, yeah…”

“No, I’m good. Thank you.”

“O-Oh. Wait… are you… being serious?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Sorry. This is really fucking embarrassing… uh, I guess I won’t linger then. Bye.”

“… Jeez… had a bit much to drink or something?”

“No—just don’t like giving out my number to strangers.”

“She was cute, though. Probably a fun one-night stand.”

“Then you have sex with her, yeah?”

“Ha! You’re so funny. When’s the last time you even had sex? I mean, you obviously pull. At least, I think you do…”

“I don’t remember. Months and months ago, I guess.”

“Wow! Zero play. I kind of respect it. I could never, though. So… actually, let me guess: you’re the type of person that can’t have sex without attachment? You need to be in love?”

“What’s it to you?”

“I’m just asking.”

“I don’t know.”

“God. You’re so fucking boring, Wonwoo.”

“Because I don’t go out of my way to find some pretty girl to have sex with every week, I’m boring? How does that make sense?”

“No, not that. I mean the fact you never really want to discuss anything about yourself. Honestly, sometimes talking to you is like pulling teeth, y’know? Anyway, move back a little. Backwards cap with the earrings has been staring on and off for the last ten minutes and I want one more free shot before I call it a night.”

The most recent place you had been together was the popular drive-in at Richmond’s Farm. Wonwoo knew that in the autumn months leading up to Halloween, the venue was turned into a haunted carnival with all the typical attractions: pumpkin patches, horror movie screenings, corn mazes, and masked, fake blood-spattered psychopaths chasing people around with a roaring chainsaw.

Seokmin, despite being quite weak-stomached and completely disastrous when it came to anything horror-related, had actually implored Wonwoo to go the year before after hearing the raves about their newest House of Nightmares, although Wonwoo declined in order to study for a test.

Really, there was no test.

Wonwoo just hadn’t been in the mood for losing all his hair and being crammed into pitch black, narrow corridors with a murderer promptly waiting around the corner. He hoped Seokmin wouldn’t ask him again this year—then his excuse would be obvious.

In the spring and summer, however, the farm mostly broadcast screenings at their drive-in theatre behind the maize field, and you had leaped at the opportunity to go because it was the perfect chance to relive one of your favourite dates with Mingyu. By your explanation, he’d taken you to see Crazy, Stupid, Love before you two had departed your hometown for university. But the drive-in obviously wasn’t playing that movie, and so you two had to settle for watching their only available screening, 500 Days of Summer.

Wonwoo hated that movie.

Of course, he hadn’t told you that.

Before the movie had started, Wonwoo helped you throw down a blanket into your trunk alongside some couch pillows that you grabbed from your apartment, creating a makeshift lounge in the rear of the car. Since the screening was late at night—and way past your typical good girl bedtime—you were worried about falling asleep halfway into the movie, though Wonwoo promised he would keep an eye on you to ensure you wouldn’t miss anything important.

Since it was too dark to film anything of quality on the camcorder, Wonwoo left you alone in the blanket-pillow trunk to scribble down any nostalgic, limerent sentiments while he grabbed some snacks. You had told him to get gummy bears, because you hated the way broken pieces of popcorn kernel shells would sliver between your teeth and dig into your gums, neither did you want a soft drink since it would be an abundance of sugar before bed, and it always resulted in a breakout the next morning. He was able to make it back to the car just before the screening started.

He remembered how strange it all seemed, sitting so close to you underneath the blanket, occasionally feeling your elbow dig into his arm or your knee bump his thigh, and the sharp blip it would cause in his pulse. Wonwoo remembered how often you complained about the temperature throughout the movie—first, it’s too hot, now, it’s too cold, you’re too close to me, you’re too far away and I’m cold again, I need the blanket, I don’t want the blanket—Wonwoo hadn’t realized a person’s body temperature could fluctuate that drastically. 

However, the worst part of that night happened about half an hour before the movie ended, just when Wonwoo was beginning to feel relieved about going home. You were getting sleepier by the minute, and Wonwoo could tell from the yawning every now and then, wanting desperately to rub at your eyes but refusing because it would smother the mascara into somewhat concerning, black whorls.

You had nudged his arm, and when he glanced over at your face, exhausted and half-illuminated under the watery, bright cast of light from the screen, you asked him in a quiet, dulcet voice: “is it okay if I rest my head on your shoulder for a few minutes?”

Wonwoo had wanted to say no—of course you can’t, because if you do, I will sit here stiff, and hardly breathing, and listening only to my own heartbeat. It will be the sole thing I’ll think about for the next three days no matter what I do to mask the memory. I’ll keep thinking about it until you burn out in my mind like a star.

But then Wonwoo had agreed instead.

He proceeded to clench his fist upon feeling the weight of your head sink softly to his shoulder. Your legs had been curled up underneath you, and your knees were then pressing flush against his leg. Every breath he inhaled was faintly tainted with the scent of your sweet, fragrant shampoo and it was fucking killing him.

“You’re so tense,” you had whispered in a giggle, “if it makes you uncomfortable, I don’t have to. It’s just because I’m tired.”

“No—” it had come out somewhat like a blurt, and Wonwoo just knew the tips of his ears were tingling red, “—it’s okay. I promise.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure… what?”

“Just wanted to look in your eyes when you said it.”

“Fuck, not that again.”

“I have to know!”

“Okay, that’s fine. Movie’s almost over, anyway. Just don’t fall asleep because then I really won’t know what to do.”

That had been four days ago.

Now, it was almost midnight. Wonwoo was sitting on the roof of his apartment with a messily rolled up blunt in his fingers—the second one he prepared, mostly out of impatience—drawing in a slow and deep breath that ghosted from his lips like wispy fog flowing down a shallow hill. He then coughed twice by his elbow, attempting to clear the stinging prickle that caught against his throat.

“You’re so fucking full of it,” Wonwoo laughed.

“No! I’m not.”

“You did not write thirty pages in a day.”

“Uh—actually, I did! And the fact you don’t believe me is a testament to your own wilted motivation. I am very motivated.”

He smiled at the sound of your voice crackling through his phone, which he’d been holding with the latter hand. Breathing in another hit, Wonwoo pulled at the sides of his black beanie, grinning through the thin cloud that was exhaled in a quick, neat puff.

“Okay, you wrote thirty pages. Didn’t have to fucking drag my career through the mud in doing so. I mean, I guess it’s a hobby.”

“For all I know, you’re the biggest poser that ever posed.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. I still don’t know what you write about.”

“I told you.”

“No—you fucking didn’t. You said something vague and ambiguous that could have meant literally anything. All I had to go off were some sing-songy praises from Seokmin.”

“I give you pretty good notes, though.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“So I must be decent.”

“I don’t even know why I bothered calling you. I was supposed to be in bed, like, an hour ago. You’re such a distraction.”

“Fuck,” Wonwoo laughed, tapping the warm blunt to knock off a clump of papery ash, “it’s been an hour already?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I don’t know why you called either.”

“To complain about that lady whose makeup I had to do today! She was horrible. God, were you not listening?!”

“No, no, I was. She told you the makeup she wanted, you said it wouldn’t suit her too well, and then she got all pissed off when it looked exactly how you said it would. That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh. Well… I just thought you should know about it.”

“Mmhm.”

Silence followed his velvet, almost teasing hum, but Wonwoo didn’t mind it, and he assumed you didn’t either. Your phone call had been completely out of the blue, only a few minutes after he’d climbed onto the roof and started sparking his lighter. An hour had already passed—Wonwoo couldn’t believe it. Time had never seemed so blurred and insignificant before, like tomorrow didn’t exist at all.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

Wonwoo repositioned the phone in his hand.

“From time to time, yeah.”

“What strain?”

“Northern Lights.”

“I’ve never had that one. I mean, I’m not much of a stoner, and neither is Mingyu. I don’t like the way it feels in my throat—that dry, burning feeling. And I hate the cotton mouth afterward.”

“Shouldn’t be that bad if you’re inhaling it right.”

“Well, maybe you can teach me one day.”

He let the blunt hang from the corner of his mouth for a moment, a very fluttery-feeling smile taking shape. Not wanting you to hear that slight bit of giddiness in his tone, Wonwoo took another hit, holding the smoke in for longer than usual before exhaling.

“Do you, uh… do you still want to go to that museum?”

“Oh—the nature museum?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll have to do some poking around in my schedule. I have this stupid leadership council meeting for SSA that I have to go to.”

“That’s fine. Text me when you figure it out.”

“Okay… gosh, it’s really fucking late.”

“Yeah, you should get some sleep.”

“Are you pushing me off the phone? If anything, I should be the one pushing. You’re not doing anything to fix your terrible sleep schedule. And I certainly don’t want you to ruin mine.”

“That’s what I’m saying—you need to get some sleep.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have said it like that.”

“How did I say it?”

“Like you were pushing me off the phone!”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. How ‘bout this: I know how important structure is to you, and I am deeply concerned that this late night conversation we’re having may somewhat affect your sleep. And while I’ve thoroughly enjoyed talking to you and hearing your pretty voice through my shitty phone speaker, I think we should both go to bed.”

“That seems fair.”

“Great. So, goodnight then.”

“No! I want to be the first one to say goodnight.”

“Why?”

“Because, I say goodnight, then you say goodnight back, and then I get to be the one who hangs up first. It’s a courtesy thing.”

“Uh, okay then... I’m listening.”

“Goodnight!”

Wonwoo smiled. He smiled so fucking widely and brightly that he could feel the muscles in his face aching.

“Goodnight.”

—JUNE 7TH.

Since the quickest route to the nature museum was about half an hour from Wonwoo’s apartment, he suggested that you stop by around lunch time so that you two could make the walk together. It wasn’t too warm outside—the large smattering of clouds dotted in the sky and the typical city breeze helped to keep the temperature down.

“We’re not allowed to film in the museum,” you said from your seat at his small dinner table, “so don’t bother taking the camcorder, I guess. I’ll just try to soak up everything as best I can.”

Wonwoo was sat across from you, waiting for you to finish the heated-up carton box of creamy mushroom pasta that you’d raided out his freezer. He’d tried his best to eat beforehand as well, but the most he could stomach was some milk and cereal in addition a handful of blueberries. It was still better than his usual routine, which involved skipping any sort of meal post lunchtime.

“If you really needed to, I’m sure you could take a couple pictures,” Wonwoo answered, brushing a hand through his styled, pristine black hair that you had earlier littered with a flustering spiel of compliments. “I doubt the exhibits will be exactly the same, but if it's more so to capture the feeling, then it won’t matter much.”

You patted the corner of your mouth upon finishing the last few noodles left in the box, nodding your head in agreement.

“My journal’s in my bag. It should be fine.”

Wonwoo flipped over his phone to check the time.

“How was the SSA meeting yesterday?”

“Oh—I didn’t go.”

“Really?” Wonwoo asked while settling back in his chair, watching you toss the fork into the carton. “How come?”

“Because, it’s mostly pointless. We always sit there, in front of all those old, crusty men, trying to explain to them how we can improve the campus, the student experience, blah blah. And they act like they’re legitimately consuming our input, using phrases like: ‘oh, we hear you, we understand, we’re gonna try our hardest’—just for them to put, what? Another fucking seating area in the dining hall that no one asked for or cares about? It’s totally ridiculous.”

“Hm, yeah.”

“Anyways, I hate being on it. I hate going. I understand it looks good and whatnot, but it’s a huge waste of my time.”

Wonwoo picked up the pasta box, continuing to hum his agreement while taking it into the kitchen. He dropped the fork into the sink and folded up the cardboard to stuff into his recycling.

“It’s one meeting. A skip won’t kill you, or them.”

“That’s what I’m saying. Mingyu thinks I went, though. So, if you run into him or something and the topic fucking miraculously pops up—just don’t give anything away. It’s a little white lie.”

Coming back to the dining table, Wonwoo snatched up his wallet and shoved it into his back pocket, raising an eyebrow.

“Why wouldn’t you tell him?”

You pushed back in the chair, sighing heavily.

“He really thinks I should stick with it.”

Wonwoo didn’t say anything in response. He simply nodded, not wanting to hover on Mingyu as a conversation piece for too long, and waited for you to shoulder on your purse.

“Okay,” you then smiled, “let’s go look at some nature.”

Despite their boring, lacklustre reputation, Wonwoo had always enjoyed going to museums—art, history, science—he’d even been to a museum that delved into ancient coin minting and the development of currency. He supposed it was his appreciation for learning new information of his own free will, unlike the fast-paced, passion-draining, wringer system that was university. Furthermore, he was surprised that you would share his interest in the matter.

“Why wouldn’t I like museums?” You had stopped just before the acclaimed beetle species wall, aglow behind a glass sheet. “I wrote in my draft that Mingyu and I went to a nature museum, remember?”

“I know. I’m just surprised you have that much of an interest in them. Your life seems so upbeat. I didn’t think you would be into something that most people find fairly dry and anticlimactic.”

“Right.” Twirling back around, you continued walking down the corridor, your eyes tracing the organized arrangement of lustre-shelled beetles. “Because everyone else is too stupid and you’re the true upper echelon who actually possesses the mental capability required to appreciate something as seemingly trivial but totally enriching as…” you then paused at the glass, squinting to read the embossed label below an oblong-shaped beetle with an iridescent green shell, “… as the Chrysochroa Fulgidissima? I don’t know, something like that—also known as the Jewel Beetle. Its species is native to Japan and Korea. It’s a… woodboring beetle?”

“Why would I know?” Wonwoo laughed, coming to stand beside you and look at the plaque settled to the white background behind the display glass. “You’re the one reading it.”

“Ugh—doesn’t matter. I was going somewhere with my speech and now I forget… oh, yeah! So, you think you’re smarter than me?”

Placing a gentle hand on your lower back, Wonwoo urged you to keep walking forward in order to let the people faintly mumbling behind you examine the wall, who seemed much more interested.

“I never said that,” he answered softly.

“Okay—but, do you think you’re smarter?”

“In what sense?”

“Did you take the Frontiers evaluation for calculus?”

“Yes.”

“What’d you score?”

“9.8.”

“Shut the fuck up! No you didn’t.”

Wonwoo merely tapped the black-framed glasses further up his nose, smirking slightly, and began shaking his head while continuing down the exhibit. You hurried after him, remembering to lower your voice to match the collective quietness.

“Prove it,” you whispered.

“Go to prof Bradbrook’s office. My name’s on her wall.”

“I hate you.”

“Why? What did you score?”

“I’m obviously not going to say it now.”

Wonwoo still remembered the day his test score came back—he’d opened the envelope in Miss Bradbrook’s office, and while she sat across from him, practically squirming and jittering with anticipation, Wonwoo had glossed over the paper slip with the smallest, most low effort smile. He knew he was supposed to feel relieved in that moment—overjoyed probably—to realize his notable success and the upstanding conformation he was legitimately good at something. But in truth, he hadn’t really felt anything at all. He sort of just smiled. That was it. That was all he could muster.

And his life had mirrored that moment ever since. In the past, it would come and go. Yet, that day, it just stuck. The only time he ever experienced any glint or sparkle of happiness, it had come from his girlfriend—but even she couldn’t imbue much from him that day.

“Well, that’s not what I expected you to ask.”

You glanced over at him, adjusting the bag on your arm.

“Meaning?”

“There are different types of intelligence. I thought you meant, in a more general sense, am I smarter, or more knowledgeable. To be honest, I can’t say. I mean, I feel like I’ve experienced and seen a whole lot, but that’s just life’s illusion.”

“You won’t really know ‘til you’re on your death bed.”

Wonwoo returned your glance, squinching his brown eyes in a judgemental but innocuous way that gave bloom to his smile.

“Thanks.”

“I can’t help it. Museums make me think of death. I think it’s the really cold, still air. Especially in nature museums where they need to preserve things. Like, look at that fox. It’s a bit ominous.”

On the exhibit to his right, Wonwoo observed another display protected by glass. There was a fox, with a rusty, auburn coloured coat, poised atop a fake precipice of grass. Wonwoo knew what you meant—it was the eyes, like two leaf green beads, so immensely detailed but lifeless to an almost uncomfortable degree.

“I want to see the aquarium exhibit next,” you said, tugging twice at Wonwoo’s sleeve. “I heard it’s really dark in there.”

“Well, we can go take a look.”

“And we can eat afterward? There’s an atrium.”

“Sure.”

Wonwoo let your arm link with his, following the natural flow of museum-goers into the next exhibit, leaving behind the shiny, colourful wall of beetles and the auburn fox in its lonesome enclosure.

The aquarium exhibit was one of the most spacious in the entire museum, placed in a large, dome-topped room, with shadows creeping at every corner. There were some lights—deep, blue lights that rippled and wriggled across the floor, like waves patterned against ocean sand by the sun rays. He didn't know from where, but he could hear water sloshing, a very soft sound that led him to imagine the wet sand squelching under his toes.

You approached another display wall, filled with a school of lemon-yellow and azure coloured fish placed around vibrant, unique corals.

While you busied yourself with reading the informative plaque, Wonwoo spent his time taking a more in-depth inspection around the mystifying exhibit. He noted the stingrays and luminous jellyfish flocking above his head, held on near-invisible little wires that would occasionally glimmer if they twisted the perfect angle.

After a generously long venture throughout the room, reading all the plaques and pointing to different fish behind the glass just to comment, “I think that was in Finding Nemo,” you had wanted to sit down, spotting a bench positioned before an aquarium.

Wonwoo agreed, and you collapsed on the bench together.

There was a period of comfortable silence where you both watched the aquarium, meanwhile the dappling, blue pattern cast to the floor danced and flickered around at your still feet. The atmosphere seemed so vivid that Wonwoo was surprised the next breath he took wasn’t a mouthful of liquid and sea salt, or that his body wasn’t miraculously suspended and floating about in the echoey shadows.

And that’s when Wonwoo decided he liked the aquatic exhibit very much—more than all the others.

He looked down at the hands folded in his lap, specifically at the scarred, ruined cuticle belonging to his right thumb and how it had withstood years of his anxious scratching. Wonwoo then breathed out softly, feeling his heartbeat begin to pick up.

“Want to know something?” He asked.

You stared back at Wonwoo with an intrigued pique of your brow.

“Like what?”

“Well, first of all, we both took creative writing, you know.”

"Uh, okay," you sniffed, "sure."

"No, like, we took the course together. In the fall. Prof T?"

"Really?" You pinned him down in a non-believing stare. "Wait, you're talking about that basement auditorium, right? In Gildan Hall? It always smelt like old computers and dust bunnies?"

"That's the one."

Scoffing out some dry air, you leaned back.

"Woah. I don't think I ever saw you... did you go to each class?"

He nodded a few times. "Almost all. To be fair, I sat more in the back, off to the corner. I wasn't exactly thrusting myself into the limelight."

Folding one leg over your knee, you chuckled. "Sounds like you."

“I have this really specific memory from that class, when that random guy, whoever he was, sat in the seat you always took. Your so called unofficially-assigned-assigned-seat. And I remember that really tense feeling right before you walked in, because we all knew you were gonna chew him out for it. The way you marched straight up to him was already violating enough, and then you basically ruined his whole day.” Looking down at his hands again, Wonwoo smiled at recalling the memory. “You absolutely terrified me. I don’t even think you understand how much I wanted to avoid you.”

He caught your eyes, shimmering like the water-stained floor, with an emotion he couldn’t place.

“Actually?” Was all you said, hardly sounding surprised.

“Yeah.”

Your face began searching around the shadowed, sloshing exhibit for something unseen. He decided to let the silence settle like a thin sheet, instead listening to the tidal pushing and pulling. The soft sounds reminded him of being a child, wandering beaches into the late evening with his older brother during summer vacations, and picking up shells just to hear the ocean speaking inside them.

Aloud, you breathed in, shaking your foot.

“I can’t really remember what was going through my head that day. I know I’d had a fight with Mingyu before going to class, so I was feeling pretty amped up and short-fused. I knew I was going straight to another SSA meeting that I hardly cared about immediately after, and then I would work until the evening. I knew I would have to make dinner when I got home, even though I’d be downright exhausted, and the next morning, I’d have to wake up early to attend some bullshit press, social, interview breakfast thing for my mom’s new lifestyle magazine. Having that idiot sit in my favourite seat was probably just the straw that broke the camel’s back, I guess.”

“Hm,” Wonwoo hummed, suddenly experiencing a profound sympathy for you that he never imagined he would feel. “When you give it a bit more perspective, it doesn’t sound so…”

“Completely and utterly bitchy?”

“Well, I wasn’t going to use that word, but, sure.”

You grinned at him through the dusky rippling of auroras that flitted across the exhibit, seeming like you were under the sea—and he was, too, sitting side by side in the somehow peaceful depths of the chaotic whirlpool that had pulled you two together.

“I have a memory.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo returned your grin, “I want to hear it.”

“So, remember earlier how we were talking about the Frontiers evaluation for Bradbrook’s calculus class?”

“Mmhm.”

"So, after all the Frontiers scores came out, I'm not gonna lie—I really thought I had one of the better marks. It's not like I specifically trotted around, throwing out my grade to anyone passing by, but I was parading a little bit to my friends. And then, like, Clara or something, told me that there was this guy who almost got a ten. I asked her who, and she said she didn't know—just that she overheard some of the basketball guys talking about it.

I thought she was lying. I didn't say that, though. But I remember it was on my mind every night. Like, it was itching me so bad. I wanted to know who the fuck was smart enough to get a damn near perfect ten on Frontiers. Some of those problems are ridiculously hard. I started writing nonsense around A-block. They straight up give students problems that serious, esteemed mathematicians can't fucking solve. So, honestly... I was quite jealous of you... despite not even knowing who you were. I can't believe that was you, asshole."

Wonwoo cracked his knuckles, beginning to laugh at that intense but lighthearted glare you were sending his way. Of course, you mellowed everything out with a big smile he felt his heart skip a beat over. You had actually went to bed thinking about him.

Holy fuck.

Maybe not him in physicality. But in spirit.

That was close enough.

"I just did the study guide." He shrugged.

Your knee pushed into his. "Oh, yeah, the study guide. Jeez, why didn't I think of doing that? Let me go kill myself right now."

"Keep tabs on it for next time."

With a roll of the eyes, you laughed almost to scorn him.

“I hate people like you.”

And Wonwoo laughed back. “Meaning?”

“Things come to you so naturally. You don’t have to try.”

“Sure,” Wonwoo agreed, scratching his nose and proceeding to nudge up his glasses, “things like mathematics, numbers, problem solving, taking something whole apart and then looking at its pieces. I guess it does come to me naturally. I can’t complain. But there are also plenty of things that don’t. And… if I could, I’d probably trade all my stupid math and logic and puzzling for what I’m missing.”

You tilted your head, staring intently at Wonwoo through the blue sea between you, almost into his brain, it felt like.

“What are you missing?”

At first, Wonwoo didn’t respond. To answer your question meant an intimate exhumation of the flaws that he’d been willfully ignoring for the past year, if not his entire damn life. It meant at last turning over the round, flat rock that had been sitting at the foot of his wooden porch since childhood, and realizing the bottom was sculpted with the grittiest texture and wet with the thickest dirt. The rock was hiding long-legged spiders and ugly, skittering bugs and it would have probably been better to let the rock sit there, untouched, only facing the warm and comfortable glow of the sun.

Wonwoo didn’t want to turn the rock.

Not at all.

“A plethora of things, I’m sure.”

Squeezing onto your wrist, you smiled at him.

“I think I’m the opposite.”

“How so?”

He watched you inhale a long, slow breath, and then huff it all out through your nose. Wonwoo bumped his knee against yours.

“You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.”

“No, no. It’s not like that…”

Looking up to the glowing aquarium, the dull light reflected back unto your face, and Wonwoo again saw the glisten in your eyes.

“I just feel…” for a moment, your chest stilled, “… I feel like I’m so much of everything that I just blend into nothing. You know, like when a child takes a whole bunch of paints and squirts them all together thinking it’s going to create this beautiful, never-before-seen new colour? But, instead, it’s just greyish-brownish, nothing.”

Your face turned back to him. Wonwoo watched you chew down on your bottom lip, meanwhile your eyes glazed aloof, off to the side, as though you were rummaging through so many different thoughts and experiences that it required your utmost mental focus.

“And—” you swallowed tightly, and it sounded so painfully dry with stinging emotion, “—I just don’t want people to see that I’m so much of nothing. I just find myself covering it all up.”

Were you going to cry? Wonwoo felt himself jolt inwardly with panic. He had never seen you cry and he had therefore never developed the best protocol to tackle such a situation. Some people preferred immediate comfort, others—a reassuring stroke on the back, maybe some uplifting monologue. Or, maybe, they didn’t want to be touched at all. They just desired the simple, thinking silence and all its clarity. He remembered you saying something about it—that you did like to be comforted, but only in very certain circumstances.

First, Wonwoo subtly wiped off his hand against his thigh, and then he took in the softest breath. Through the flickering, midnight blue mirage, Wonwoo reached for your hand. He settled his cold fingers inch by inch under yours, and, with a timid but gentle thumb, Wonwoo caressed in a slow path along your knuckles.

You glanced to him appreciatively, saying nothing, but squeezing his hand in return. He figured he’d done right.

Maybe more things came to him naturally than he thought.

Before leaving the nature museum, you and Wonwoo had stopped at their atrium as promised to get in a quick meal. While you poked a fork into your sad-looking salad, making small scribbles every now and then to the journal at your elbow, Wonwoo ate a grill-pressed sandwich and flicked through his phone. He was surprised to check the time and realize you had spent about three hours there—it felt so much shorter. Wonwoo hated how quickly each moment flew past when he was with you. It was always so bittersweet.

He had wanted to know what exactly you were penciling in the journal, though he never asked, knowing he would probably be proofreading it from your document later. Obviously, you were thinking about that particular date with Mingyu from years back in your life—that was the principal point in going to the museum. However, Wonwoo had chosen to regard it more as hanging out, not caring if that was a particularly delusional or untruthful choice.

After finishing your meals and tossing the plastic remnants into the recycling bins, Wonwoo looked outside the atrium’s towering glass wall to note how cloudy the sky had become. From the bright, eggshell turquoise in the afternoon, to an especially muted grey that seemed brewing and heavy with a downpour. You adjusted the bag over your shoulder and suddenly grimaced at the sight.

“Jeez, is it going to rain?”

“It could,” Wonwoo sighed. “It very possibly could.”

“I swear. I obsessively check the forecast in order to plan all my outfits around it. It never said it would rain!” You then threw the bottle of iced tea you’d been drinking into the garbage with an aggressive slam. “This shirt is a horrible choice. It will be stupidly see-through."

Wonwoo glanced around the atrium.

“There’s lots of empty tables. If we want to sit and wait it out, then I don’t think anyone would get mad. But, I mean, it’s up to you.”

“Why’s it up to me?”

“I don’t know. Just—if you don’t want to get your outfit all soaked. I’m sure if we left now, we could make good distance before it really started raining. I’m not opposed to getting a little wet. But I have no issue with staying here and letting the clouds go over.”

You folded your arms, and your head fell to the side. He’d seen that look before. It was your own patented prelude to disaster.

“I never said I was opposed to getting wet.”

He laughed. “Well, you certainly insinuated it.”

“Do you think I'm some sort of whiny little priss?”

"I think you named your bear Miss Priss."

"I think you're a smart ass. Take that smirk off your face. Now."

Wonwoo wanted to sigh, but he didn’t. He then thought about trying to tenderly explain his way out of it with his smooth words. As much as he would think he’d figured you out, there was still a part of him that was very confused by you and how to adjust to your behaviour.

This time, he decided he would do nothing.

“Okay. Let’s go, then.”

He reached out his hand for you to grab.

“As if,” you scoffed, walking around him toward the exit doorway, into the museum garden, “not after you just insulted me.”

Wonwoo could do nothing but laugh in response, because he had caught that faint smile on your face as you passed him, and the sweet beading in your eyes. He simply followed you out the doors.

During the walk back to his apartment, it had yet to rain at all, not even a typical, humid summer drizzle or the smallest bit of spitting. Maybe it was just way more cloudy than usual, or it was a concerning spread of city smog tainting the sky. It’s not like he wanted it to rain, anyway, though more so for your sake than his.

About a little more than halfway through the walk, however, you came to an abrupt stop outside a flower shop, and Wonwoo watched you lift a doubtful hand to your cheek and wipe something off it. Before you could say anything, Wonwoo felt a big, cold, wet drop smack just above his eyebrow and begin leaking down. He used the sleeve of his shirt to clean it up, only to experience another fat droplet strike a second later, right onto his glasses.

“You can’t be serious…” he heard you mumble.

Making the mistake of looking up, more and more droplets fell swiftly from the daunting, dark grey blanket strewn across the entire skylight. They began painting all over the sidewalk, the roadway, shaking down into the brilliant purple and white petunia pots outside the florist shop. And Wonwoo froze for a moment, because he honestly hadn’t expected to be caught in the rain, let alone the downpour it was unfortunately shaping up to be.

“Ow!” You winced sharply. “One just fucking hit my eyeball!”

“Shit—let’s hurry.” Wonwoo hid his phone. “My apartment’s only like, ten minutes away, less if we run really fast.”

“Run?!” You gawked at him. “I don’t run!”

“No, you fucking sashay, I get it.” In a matter of seconds, those intermittent raindrops had evolved into an unrelenting, bathing barrage. Wonwoo could feel his clothes beginning to dampen, and his glasses were streaming with water. He slapped his hand onto yours, jerking you forward despite your stiltedness. “And I’m so sorry but you’re going to have to sacrifice one part of your pretty fucking princess routine for just five minutes so we can get back to my place.”

“My pretty fucking wha—!”

Once Wonwoo’s fingers were clasped tight with yours, he started to run, and whether it was voluntary or not, you ran along with him, shouting something that he couldn’t quite hear over the rain that bounced in loud splatters against the sidewalk and the adrenaline echoing in his own ears. He could hardly see through the downpour, but he’d walked that path so many times that it almost wasn’t necessary. At one point, he’d stepped onto the street prematurely, and he heard the loud, startled honk from a car.

“Jesus Christ, Wonwoo!” You half-laughed, half-coughed, clutching onto his slippery hand even tighter, “I’d ideally like to live!”

“We’re almost there!” He chuckled back.

“I think I’m going to lose my fucking shoe!”

“I’ll buy you a new pair!”

Wonwoo didn’t stop, and you didn’t either. He was soaked to his bones, with thick, drizzling fronds of hair plastered to his forehead and the glasses nearly slipping from his nose—the scent of earthy but ashen rain all around him—and still Wonwoo kept running, a very blithe smile permanent to his mouth despite all his discomfort.

Upon reaching the entryway to the pottery shop, Wonwoo almost skidded completely past it since the sidewalk was so slick and pouring like an angry river. You slammed into his back, and it was then that your hands unintentionally separated. Instead, he felt your fingers flesh into the sopping cloth covering his shoulders.

“Be careful on the steps!” He shouted overtop a reverberating crack of thunder that shook from behind the grey sleet sky.

“If I slip, I’m pulling you down with me!”

Wonwoo was pleased to hear the equally bright smile that bled into your words, meanwhile your fingertips dug even deeper into his muscle. Once inside the shop, a gust of wind proceeded to blow the door shut, and all Wonwoo heard was hard rain against the glass.

—END OF PART TWO.

[hopelessdelusional]

i cannot physically stop thinking abt american transfer student! reader x bkg

like i’m american and compared to japanese culture americans are so fucking messy 😭 that being said if you went to public school (and wasn’t apart of the “popular” group) you’ve witnessed crazy shit-ESPECIALLY in the south like these schools are not for the weak

you never back down from his insults or threats, bc you’ve dealt with dickheads like him all the time in america! public school was insane so this doesn’t phase you at all. when he notices that you don’t even flinch at his crazy antics he feels…different. especially when you insult him right back like it’s nothing. you always have a come back for him and you have physically fought him (and won) on multiple occasions. it makes him start to admire and respect you (and obviously fall in loooooove)

he slowly drifts closer to you, mentally and physically. i am a stern believer in physical touch bkg like fucking fight me. he would want to always be near you so that yall will accidentally brush hands or bump shoulders, every touch sending a shock down his spine

tbh i think the only way to be able to date bkg is to also be mean and i just cannot stop thinking about FUNNY their pre!relationship would be

*bkg saying some bullshit*

you, mumbling in english “big back bitch”

bkg: HAH⁉️WHATD YOU SAY⁉️

we know that shoto can speak english (at least like decently) and tbh i head cannon denki speaking english as well bc idk it suits him. with that being said, whenever you say something crazy in english shoto is always like 😮 and denki is HOWLING meanwhile bkg is CRAZY jealous bc he can’t understand english

like u don’t understand bkg is soooo jealous bc u and denki bond over music, tv shows, and movies and he keeps kicking himself on passing up his parents offer to teach him english. not to mention yall whisper shit in english a LOT and you guys are not slick with how much yall be giggling. bkg is always glaring at yall whenever that happens, and there have been a couple of times where you felt bad so u told him what yall were saying and you get so happy when you see his mouth turn up into a smile while he chuckles.

this is so random but it also pisses him off when u have t shirts on with english words. so it’ll be like dinner time and he’s huffing and puffing and ur like “???” and he keeps glaring at ur shirt like “what does he have against the tv show friends like he’s never heard abt it until now???” and it wasn’t until denki was like “yooo you watch friends? that show is so stupid i love it” that he settles down. from there on out you always find a way to translate your shirts for him

AND MUSIC don’t even get me started on music. you’re singing along so passionately and he’s like. “what are they singing abt i HAVE to know” so he’ll try to be sneaky and use his phone to translate stuff. if it’s a song abt a shitty ex he’ll have the most violent urge to fly to your home state and kill the ex who made you feel like this-but if it’s like megan thee stallion? my dude is sweating and blushing but pissed bc he’s sweating and blushing and basically long story short kirishima goes up to talk to him and gets blasted in the face.

he watches all your favorite movies and tv shows (subtitles on) and he will never admit it but he loves when you whisper the translations in his ear.

another thing that peaks his curiosity is you’re friends from home! america is 14 hours behind tokyo…so talking to ur friends from home can cause difficulties. when it’s late at night the class will see you furiously texting your friends bc it’s morning time for them. sometimes on weekends you guys are able to call, so if you’re ever on call walking into the kitchen for a snack bkg is so curious as to what you and your friends would be talking abt. he always sneaks a peek and you best believe he learns all of your friends names and faces.

friend: “who was that hot guy that you were talking to?”

you: “huh? oh that’s katsuki, i told you abt him”

friend: “dude…you were totally giving him fuck me eyes”

you: “AYO DO NOT EVEN START WITH THAT SH-“

(he was looking at you with such passion and love in his eyes but ur just too dumb to see it)

you tend to crave a lot of american snacks and food, and sometimes bkg will go out to a special shop that has american shit and bring it to you.

“you wouldn’t fucking stop saying how much you wanted it so here take it nerd”

*you’re all teary bc like “omg he went out of his away to go across town to get me some stupid snacks omg im falling for him”*

you love cooking american foods/foods you grew up with for the class and you specifically yearn for bkg’s approval. you eventually learn about his love for cooking and he teaches you japanese dishes while you teach him the dishes you know. the two of you bonded so much while cooking together.

(this part is me venting so just bare with me okay) and god forbid you have a toxic ex in america that’s some fucking loser white boy bc bkg will rip that man to SHREADS. he has you cry laughing over all the insults he comes up with when you finally crack and show him a picture.

“he literally looks like a block of feta cheese yn, he looks like the type to trip on his own shoelaces. he definitely doesn’t read any higher than a ten year olds level-“

it actually ends with a sweet moment of him watching you laugh and when you two lock eyes he tells you that you deserve better, that you deserve someone who will actually treat you well. he scurries off after that bc he realizes he was too soft in that moment and you never stop thinking abt that.

eventually you get him to confess and start dating, obviously having to take it slow bc there’s no way bkg dated anyone before you. slowly figuring out everything that works for the both of you, the relationship is very loving and accepting.

bkg slowly learns all of your favorite songs and knows what they translate to. when you sing love songs to him not thinking he knows what they mean, he just smiles and says smth cheesy like “oh you must really like me huh?”

you of course teach him words in english and you try to tutor him in the language but he’s not the easiest person to teach to, especially a whole new language. but the couple of phrases you teach him are just for your sake so you can talk shit and include him in it, and he loves it so much.

(dw bc by the time he’s an adult he can speak english and his accent is SO cute and you love it so much bc everything he does is so amazing)

when the two of you get older you are able to bring him home! he meets all of your friends and family, even tho he’s literally the most nervous you’ve ever seen him. he knows english by this time but he keeps overthinking it so much, and once he’s surrounded by a bunch of people who’s first language is english he messes up a couple of times and sometimes messes up translations. he gets so mad at himself but you are able to talk him down and tell him not to be so hard on himself.

you bring him to all of your favorite restaurants and areas, shopping included. he wants to know everything about where you grew up, hoping it will somehow grow the two of you even closer to each other. once you’re in public and at restaurants you still insist on speaking japanese since that was the language the two of you used when you fell in love, and even tho you guys get weird stares you refuse to switch. bkg also enjoys it bc when it’s the two of you speaking japanese it’s like you two are in your own little world, like you two really do belong together.

but also you guys shit talk in japanese so. much. like it’s not even funny. if you have family members that you dislike, you better believe you’re whispering in his ear all about it catching him up on family lore when he meets all of your family.

that’s all i can think of rn, but god. i’m obsessed.

[singukieee]

—my all time favourite bts fics (pt. 2) ᯓᡣ𐭩

consists of my personal favourite bts fics that I've read countless of times. including those from other platforms, such as Wattpad, AO3, and Patreon.

For some works that are cross-posted between tumblr and wp/ao3, I'd only link them to the latters bcs I find it easier to read and navigate the stories on those. but I also tagged all the authors I know are here and linked the rest so you can check their blogs out yourself!

I'll also separate this list into several parts simply because there's too many... So it'd be easier for you guys to navigate!

red means unfinished

blue means finished

🗯️ editor's note

(sorted by alphabetical order)

Dreams of You by seoktishie

You are a theater actress who dreams of becoming a successful Broadway star. You’ve dedicated your whole life hustling for the show, surrounded by a supportive family and friends you never thought you would lose your best friend and boyfriend on the same day. This puts your dreams to a halt, and you decide to take a break and a soul-searching trip to Korea, where you meet a successful artist that reconnects your love for the arts. OR You accidentally meet Kim Namjoon of BTS, and you had no idea of how an amazing person he is nor how he is the leader of the biggest boyband to date!

🗯️ the yearning and pining *chef's kiss*

Epiphany by 2stanornot2stan

Your soulmate mark seemed self-centred to you "I'm the one I should love" Who would ever want to love someone with that as their soulmate mark?

🗯️ this one is painful. but writing's so good, doesn't fail in pulling my heartstrings.

Escapade by bonnehh_

"Where the hell am I?!" He shrieked, stumbling over his feet like a newborn deer. He was a panicking mess, spinning around in circles to see the unfamiliar sight of giant trees and bushy plants covering the land. The forest was heavily rich with greenery, vegetation and strange fruits. Fallen leaves covered the ground, creating a crunching sound after every step he took. "Calm down, Sweets." I calmly voiced amidst his loud screeches. My words cut through his mess of a mind making him freeze on his spot. Turning on his heel, he noticed me. He stumbled back immediately, possibly because I was covered in angry, red scratches and the bandages covering my arms alerted the male. "What the fudge?!!?! Who- who are you??" He shouted, alarmed by my…seemingly beaten-up figure. "I'm Diana. Welcome to the game." I smiled softly. Hoping my excitement can keep a hold of itself for the sake of keeping the man from getting scared. Dumbfounded, He could only let one word out, "Huh?". Oh boy.

🗯️ a cool one! many adventures and mc has freakishly good survival skills. this honestly cured my longing for that one fic that's no more that was also survival, adventure and game themed with slight crack. I think it was called 'Ready Player One'? (not that famous book and movie). but I think it was a translated ver of a chinese ff on another platform. Idk I still missed it very much, it was also very good. (If you know anything abt this, pls dm me!)

Ethereal by @purpleyoonn

After leaving your home in need of a fresh start, you open a bookstore with the hopes that the words you read could bring you solace. You never realized that the books you loved would bring you home instead.

🗯️ I love soulmate stories, this author also has good writing so

Euphoric Endeavours by haveagreatday

Through a series of curious happenstances, the Boys of Bangtan - your campus' most popular and most handsome group of individuals - set their sights on you, a regular student with a stubborn streak and a wayward mouth. Strangely enough, the mere sight of them sets your instincts off, red-lights flashing in your brain - danger, danger, danger, danger. It's too bad that they can't seem to leave you alone, though. They like you too much.

🗯️ enemies to lovers, anyone?

Everything Falls (Into Place) by Hiromi_20 / @blog-name-idk

"I… I might know someone who has a spare room," your brother finally muttered hesitantly. You perked up from where the couch had been swallowing you. "What! And you didn't tell me?" You accused. "You'd be living with a bunch of dudes." "Oh my god Jackson," you groaned, rolling your eyes. "The fact that you're even suggesting them means that you know them all and they're good people, right? It's not like they're gonna murder me and hide my body in the walls or something." "Well, yeah, but…" "But WHAT?" you almost screamed in frustration. "They're all… hot." Silence for several moments. Then you started guffawing uncontrollably, unladylike snorts escaping from your lips. "You are such a dork," you gasped between laughs, tears coming to your eyes. "If I promise not to let them gangbang me, will you please ask?"

🗯️ another really well-written crack fic! goshhh this one's so goood! this one's the real friends to lovers, gosh the pining is just *chef's kiss*

Finding My Pack by @untaemedqueen (paid on Patreon but so worth it)

In which an all-alpha pack unexpectedly found their mate isolated in a sterile room. So the only right thing would be to pamper and love her to make up for all those years she spent alone and lonely.

🗯️ spicyy 🥵 but also cute. I love protective mates

Flaw in The System by Strayberry_

She has 8 moons on her wrist. So do they.

🗯️ honestly Idk what to say about this one. just prepare your tissues for this family of misfits that fit so well together.

Full House by fillomina

Y/N has a steady job and lives alone, that is, until she tags along with her friend to the shelter. Jimin, Hobi, and Yoongi have been waiting to get adopted, and their chance has finally arrived. With the small hybrid pack now living with Y/N, her life never has a dull moment. As Y/N gets used to her new family, she also begins learning more about old friends, making new ones, and getting a very full house.

🗯️ I'd say that I don't like the fact that yn's kinda treated as a doormat at some parts, but it's still good and quite well-written found family fic.

Getting Back Into The Swing of Things by @jellifysh

Hearing her voice now, Namjoon was reminded of the times when she was all he had. How she was his everything, supported him with everything she had, even if it meant giving him the shirt off her back. "Joon?" Y/n sniffled. "I know it sounds crazy, you don't even have to, its been years," "No," Namjoon was agreeing before he could even think, before he could even remember the other people who lived in the house just the next room over. "No, its okay, I mean, we promised each other right? We'd never turn our backs on each other?" "You can stay with us, it'll be fine I promise, I'll handle everything, don't worry at all, it'll be great! Like, old times, okay?" Namjoon was tripping over his words now, he just felt like if he didn't see her now, he would be too late for… something. What, he wasn't sure, but there was an urgent need to have her home safe.

🗯️ just re-read this one again literally yesterday, still as good as the first time. I love strangers to friends to lovers.

Her by untouchablerave

The question hangs between you, and you’re desperate to ask it. Usually, you don’t mind much who is on the other end of the appointment, as you’re so focused on a list of kinks, trying to map out a scene in your head, but this time, the ‘who’ is all you can focus on. Your boss looks at you. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this but… do you know BTS?” Your head snaps up in shock. “You’re fucking with me,” you gasp. “I’m dead serious,” your boss replies. “Jeon Jungkook just came of age. He wants to lose it right away.”

🗯️ spicy but soft soft softtt

Hidden Marks series by Havenesa

❶ Hidden Marks

What does it mean to be soulmates? What do I love about her? What is the reason? Does there need to be a rational reason to love someone? Maybe I love her amber eyes, or the way she tries to hide her smile whenever we get into playful arguments, or her love for just living. Maybe I just love her because she is simply just Han Sera.

🗯️ This one's so angsty yet so good, the writing's also so good at making the characters so human that I'd always end up sobbing at every re-read.

❷ Connecting Hearts

What defines a soulmate? Is it the mark that you were born with, only shared with a selected few? Or a bond which was created through pain and suffering? You'll have to read to find out.

Highlight by Alphathyx

Hana attends Atlas Academy of Arts also known as the AAA to pursue her passions in Hiphop with best friend Hoseok and Prince Charming Jimin. The school gets selected along with other arts schools to compete in an inter-school competition which prize could open doors to any arts students dreams. She along with seven boys, discover what it means to love, but a tragic incident spirals the competition and them into a mystery no one saw coming.

🗯️ friendship and struggle to success <3

Hotel California by Deliebre

You are a badass business guru that works for a huge gaming company. Your home is Korea but you travel often. You are in California for work but keep bumping into hot Korean men, which makes you want to do more than bumping...

🗯️ immediate connection... yes please!

In The Dark by BearPawBeach

"How can that be? I am looking right at you. I am speaking to you right now." "That's the thing. I don't know! That's why I came here today. Yesterday, when you laughed at me, you laughed at me. I almost didn't believe it myself, but the more I thought about it, the crazier it sounded. So I came here to see you and to know if you can see me!" she blurted out. He could not believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. "Look, you don't need to lie to me. There is no need to make up some crazy excuse to meet someone." "I'm not lying! I really am invisible," she argued back. The man just threw his hands up to concede and turned to walk away from her again, walking right out of the building. The girl followed in hot pursuit. "Do you really not believe me? Why would I make something like that up? Yes, I know it sounds crazy. If I were you, I would probably think it's nuts too, but I am telling you the truth!"

🗯️ mc is invisible in this one, story's kinda sad and cute!

In Your Roots by sweetinsanityy

Jungkook is the perfect alpha, a little too perfect. Being the youngest in Bangtan, a group full of alpha's, friction has been happening between him and the boys. He's too strong, too dominating, too wild, and too much for Bangtan to handle. The perfect solution? An omega just for himself. You happen to be the perfect candidate. But the other boys want a taste of you as well. Or, you're hired to be an omega for Jungkook to take care of, and maybe he and the rest of the boys get too attached.

🗯️ another one about the boys being absolute simps!

Iridescent Love by @imnotlauriane

From a fated meeting to a life filled with wonders, the path of discovery is much, much harder than what I had prepared myself for. Especially when my identity, the only one I knew of ends up being a total lie.

🗯️ sad... but it got better. and what did I say abt imnotlauriane's stories? they're all good!

It's a Little Complex? by Infired_Mochi

Starting college and moving into a new apartment with complete independence has been your goal. Due to all the hard work at the cafe during your high school years, and your parents pitching in a few dollars, you can afford to stay in the apartment that is just the right size. However, did you get more than you bargained for? A few other college students occupy the rooms next to yours, seven to be exact. Eight rooms reside on the third floor of the apartment complex and yours is on the farthest right wing, apartment number 308. Just wait until you meet them.

🗯️ sooo it's a little complex... just read it!

Late Bloomer by basicwitch13

Despite growing up in a wolf pack, you were never able to shift nor had a second gender present itself. It seemed, by all accounts, that you were a typical human. So you carried on, burying yourself in your work as a sociology professor—until one of your students introduces you to his pack and changes everything.

🗯️ yes to yearning, pining, and healing.

Like Crazy by @euphoricfilter

The story of seven loves across eight lives.

🗯️ so freakin well-written

Little Do You Know... by @yoongiofmine

In a world where idols and actors can’t date, whether it be because of contracts, lack of time, or the dangers that involve having your personal life leaked, the market opened up for a new work field. Playmate Agencies emerged to supply the entertainment world with highly trained companions for hire. Bangtan is looking for new playmates. And you just happen to be the one all of them choose.

🗯️ another idk what to sayy, just read bcs it's so gooood.

Magic Shop by AriZedd

In which Yn is meeting new friends (and an old one) getting charmed day by day.

🗯️ just read this crack fic, strangers to friends to ... I'm obsessed.

PART 1 | PART 3 | PART 4 | NAVI

[whumpinggrounds]

Writing Deaf Characters

I am making this a series now so pls drop requests if there is something you’re curious about!

Disclaimer: This is all based on personal experience and research, all of which relate to the American Deaf experience. It’s not perfect, nor is it representative of a global experience of d/Deafness. If you plan to write a d/Deaf or hard of hearing character, please do your own research! This is intended to give people a few ideas about where to start.

Vocab

Deaf = Refers to the cultural experience of being deaf and immersed in Deaf communities.

deaf = Inability to hear some or all sound.

Profoundly deaf = Inability to hear almost all or all sound.

d/Deafblind = Inability to hear some or all sound and as well as having some level (usually high) of visual impairment. 

Hard of hearing or HOH = A person whose inability to hear may not rise to the level of deafness or profound deafness, or simply may not identify with the term.

Deaf of deaf = A Deaf child born to Deaf parents.

CODA = Child Of Deaf Adults. This refers to hearing children, not d/Deaf children.

Manualism = Refers to the belief that d/Deaf children should be taught only sign language and should not be taught or expected to learn to speak.

Oralism = Refers to the belief that d/Deaf children should be taught only to speak and should be discouraged from learning or using sign language.

Bilingual-bicultural or bi-bi education = A school of thought that combines oral and manual education for d/Deaf children.

Mainstreaming = The belief that d/Deaf children should be educated in the same schools and classrooms as hearing students. (More widely refers to the belief that disabled students in general should be educated in the same schools and classrooms as nondisabled students.)

Deaf gain = The Deaf community’s answer to the term “hearing loss.” Rather than losing hearing, a person is said to be gaining Deafness.

Cochlear implant/CI = A medical device implanted into the inner ear which (debatably) produces sensation that is (somewhat) analogous to hearing.

American Sign Language or ASL = An American system of communication consisting of hand shapes, hand movements, body language, facial expressions, and occasionally, vocalizations.

Signed Exact English or SEE = A manner of communicating that directly translates English words into signed equivalents.

Home sign(s) = Signed communication that is specific to the signer’s home or community, which may not exist or be recognized in the wider world.

Identity First Language or IFL = A system in which someone is described first by an identifier that they choose and feel strongly connected to. Examples include describing someone as an Autistic woman, a disabled individual, or a Deaf man.

Key Elements of Deaf History

Can’t emphasize this enough - this is a VERY abbreviated list! It is also not in order. Sorry. That being said:

For a long time in America, Deaf children were not educated, nor was it considered possible to educate them. When this did change, American deaf children were educated in institutions, where they lived full-time. These children were often taken from their families young, and some never regained contact with their families. Some died and were buried at these institutions, all without their families’ knowledge.

In the early 20th century, oralism became popular among American deaf schools. This mode of teaching required lip reading and speech, no matter how difficult this was for students, and punished those who used or attempted to use sign language. Pure oralism is now widely considered inappropriate, outdated, and offensive.

Hopefully you’ve gleaned this from the above points, but d/Deaf schooling, education, and the hearing world’s involvement are a very sensitive subject. Proceed with caution. It’s unlikely your d/Deaf character would have a neutral relationship with schooling.

Helen Keller is probably the most famous deafblind person in America. In her time, she was also known for being a socio-political activist, a socialist, and a vaudeville actress. There are dozens of other famous d/Deaf people who are a quick Google search away. Give your Deaf character Deaf heroes, please.

The Americans with Disabilities Act, or ADA, was passed in 1991, and represented a landmark victory for disabled activists in America. Among its provisions were closed captioning for Deaf individuals, ASL interpreters for public services, and the right for d/Deaf children to attend accessible, accommodating public schools. The ADA is a HUGE deal. It’s also not perfect.

In 1961, cochlear implants were invented. I was going to write more about cochlear implants here, but it’s too long. New section.

Cochlear Implants

Massively massively massively controversial in the Deaf community. Always have been, potentially always will be. For people who strongly identify with Deafness and the Deaf community, CIs are an attack on their identity, their personhood, and their community’s right to exist. 

Do not allow people to “hear.” The input that a person receives from CI can, with physical therapy, training, and time, be understood and processed in a similar way to sound. This does not mean it would be recognizable to a hearing person as sound. It is often described by people who have them as being metallic, buzzy, or robotic. YouTube is a great resource for sound references.

In order for a cochlear implant to be effective, a personal will have to participate in years of training and therapy to correct process, understand, and interpret the feedback given by the CI. This is not negotiable. Even if your character just lost their hearing in an accident last week, a CI will not allow them to instantaneously regain that hearing. Nothing that currently exists in the real world will do that.

CIs, to be most effective, are almost always implanted when the recipient is very young. This decision is often made by hearing parents. This, again, is massively controversial, as Deaf activists argue that it violates the child’s bodily autonomy and is inherently anti-Deaf.

A cochlear implant, once placed, irreparably destroys any residual hearing that the recipient may have had. This is because it penetrates the inner ear in order to function. This residual hearing cannot be regained, even if the cochlear implant is not used.

Deaf people do choose to get cochlear implants of their own accord. Many d/Deaf people are very happy with their cochlear implants! It is still a highly charged choice in light of the political history surrounding d/Deafness and hearing.

Notes About American Sign Language

ASL is not a signed version of English. It is a distinct language, with its own vocabulary, slang, and grammar. Just a sentence would not be constructed the same way in Russian, Spanish, or Tagalog, a sentence in ASL would not be a direct translation of its English equivalent.

Deaf people have historically lower rates of literacy. This is not due to a lack of intelligence; it is because ASL and English are two different languages. ASL has no written equivalent. In order to be able to read or write, d/Deaf children must learn an entirely different language. This means that it is not realistic to always be able to communicate with d/Deaf people through writing.

As ASL is a visual language, many signs started out as very literal gestures. This means that many older signs are continuously being phased out as they or their roots are recognized as stereotypical or offensive. Please be careful in researching signs. I recommend Handspeak or Signing Savvy for accurate, relatively up-to-date information.

Many online “teachers” do not have credentials to teach ASL, and especially due to the prevalence of “baby sign,” home signs, invented signs, or false information spreads unchecked. If you see multiple different signs advertised for the same English word, please be diligent in checking your sources.

Not every English word has a distinct signed equivalent, and not every sign has an English equivalent.

SEE is almost never used by Deaf people. It’s rarely used and is generally thought of as a “lesser” version of both English and ASL.

ASL is a complete, complex, nuanced language. A character would not switch into SEE for a technical conversation or really any reason. Complex ideas, technical terms, and even poetry can all be expressed in American Sign Language.

Just like in English, there are some signs that are only considered appropriate for certain people to use. For example, the sign for “Black” when referring to a Black person has a modified version that is only used by Black signers. This does not mean it is a slur or the equivalent of a slur. It is a sign reserved for Black signers referring to other Black people.

Things to Consider/Avoid/Be Aware Of

I hesitate to tell anyone to avoid anything, because I don’t think I have that authority. That being said:

The Deaf community has a complicated history and relationship with cochlear implants and the concept of being “cured.” What message are you sending when you write a story in which a d/Deaf character is “cured” of their d/Deafness?

Generally speaking, d/Deaf people do not identify with the “disabled” label. Each person has their own preferences, and those preferences should always be respected. Your character(s) may choose differently than their real life community, but you should put thought into why that is.

Generally speaking, d/Deaf people use IFL. This means that a majority of d/Deaf people in America would describe themselves as d/Deaf people, rather than people with deafness, people with hearing loss, people that are hard of hearing, etc.

Okay I lied I’m going to tell you what to do here: Do not use words like mute, deaf-mute, or dumb when describing d/Deaf people. Hearing impaired is also not ideal but is considered outdated, rather than outright offensive.

The best lip readers are judged to be able to catch 30% of the words people say. How realistic is it to have a character that relies 100% on lipreading? What do you gain when you write a character that lipreads, and what do you lose?

Yes, Deaf people can drive. I don’t know why so many people wonder about this. It’s okay if you didn’t know, but please don’t come into my ask box about it.

Assistive Devices/Aids

Cochlear implants ^ see above

Interpreters. Will have gone to school for years, might have specific training for certain environments or technical terms, etc. For instance, an interpreter that works with Deaf people that have mental illnesses would be fully fluent in ASL as well as having requisite mental health training in order to interpret for them. Interpreters could be a whole other post actually, but I won’t tackle that now.

Closed captions. Self-explanatory.

Alarm clocks, fire alarms, and doorbells that use light instead of sound. This is sometimes a typical flashing light, but particularly fire alarms in predominantly d/Deaf spaces can be overwhelmingly bright. Bright like you’ve never seen before. Bright enough to wake someone from a dead sleep.

Some assistive devices also use sensation - alarms that actually shake bedframes exist and are the best choice for some people!

Service dogs - can alert people to sounds like the above - fire alarms, doorbells, knocking, etc.

Hearing aids. Generally not controversial in the way that CIs are. Only effective if people have residual hearing. Do not really expand the range of sounds people can hear, just amplify sounds in that range. Very, very expensive.

Microphones. If a d/Deaf or HOH person is in a crowd/lecture setting, the speaker will want to use a microphone. If this is a frequent occurrence, the microphone may be linked to a small personal speaker or earbud used by the d/Deaf or HOH person.

TTY: Much less frequent now that everyone can text and email, but stands for Text Telephone Device and was/is a way to send written communication over a telephone line. The message is sent, the phone rings, and a robot voice reads the message. Obviously, this is not effective for d/Deaf people communicating with other d/Deaf people, but it was often used to communicate with hearing people/hearing establishments, as when setting up appointments.

Media About/Including Deafness

No media is perfect and unproblematic, but here are somethings I have seen that I can verify do at least a pretty good job -

CODA is a movie that features Deaf actors, ASL, and a story about growing up, family, and independence vs. interdependence. 

The Sound of Metal is a movie that features ASL and a story about identity, recovery, and hearing loss/Deaf gain.

A Quiet Place is a movie features ASL and Deaf actors, although Deafness itself is not necessarily integral to the story.

BUG: Deaf Identity and Internal Revolution by Christopher Heuer is a collection of essays by a Deaf man that discuss a wide range of topics. This book is not always up to modern standards of political correctness.

Train Go Sorry by Leah Hager Cohen is a memoir by the granddaughter of a Deaf man, which discusses the intersections of the hearing and Deaf worlds.

Far From the Tree by Andrew Solomon is a research book about the effect of horizontal identity on parent/child relationships and features a chapter on d/Deafness. This is a good look at how d/Deafness can impact familial relationships. Some aspects of the book are outdated, and it was written by a hearing author, albeit one who extensively interviewed Deaf and hearing parents of Deaf children.

If you made it this far, congratulations! Thank you so much for taking the time to read through my lil/not so lil primer :) If you have any questions, comments, concerns, or feedback, please feel free to hit me up! If you have any requests for a diagnosis or a disability you’d like me to write about next, I’d love to hear it. Happy writing!

[kaibutsushidousha]

Every otaku producer on any at least decently-sized project is chained to very BIG MONEY merch contracts. Merch sales are one of the biggest cogs making the anime industry run and because of that, merch manufacturers expect producers not to allow anything that would make their products fail to reflect the contents of the show.

A recent example that sparked controversy about this is the new Tokyo Mew Mew reboot anime. Mew Mew is a series where pretty much everyone important has food names, but the early scanlators failed to notice how far this motif extended and rendered Quiche's name as Kisshu. This is spread in the fandom enough to make merch makers assume that was the proper way to spell his name in English and produce pins with the name Kisshu written in Roman letters. Thanks to that, over a decade later, the Mew Mew translator on Crunchyroll subs is forced to use Kisshu on her script despite knowing it's wrong.

But this is a Type-Moon post, so let's talk about Type-Moon instead. On October 29th, 2010, Nasu released Fate/complete material III, containing profiles for all Servants featured in Fate/stay Night. In his lack of English knowledge, he most likely relied on Google to learn how to romanize all those names. This generated two curious results: Arthuria was rendered as Altria, as the first search result for アルトリア would be the cigarette corporation, and Rider favored the French spelling Medousa over the English Medusa.

Flash forward to May 25th, 2016. At this year, Fate/Grand Order had already been released and proved itself a commercial success against all odds. In celebration of that, FuRyu Corporation sculpted the source of all evil.

FuRyu's figure utilized the erroneous "Altria" from Complete Material III. Here is where I want you to notice that FuRyu did not release a Medusa figure alongside it. "Altria Pendragon" is the only character in this collection.

Our next chronological stop is August 14, 2016. Merely 3 months after the FuRyu Altria figure began to spread its corruption through all we know and love. That's the day Fate/Grand Order Material I came out, containing profiles for Saber Arthuria and Medusa.

As you can see in the right corner, Medousa is no more. Due to having 6 more years to learn things and no merch contract forever chaining him to his spelling mistake, Nasu had the opportunity to correct Medusa's name, which also settled it as the name FGO NA legally had to go with.

So when I say FGO NA translators went with Tam Lin because it's literally illegal not to do so, I am talking about

[maryleclerc]

𝐫𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲 — charles leclerc

pairing: prince!charles leclerc x reader

summary: in which prince charles and princess y/n of monte carlo announce their pregnancy of their first royal baby

vote for the royal baby name here ❤️

warning: english is not my native language and i did use google translation also i did not know much about the royal rule so please don’t take it serious, i’ll be grateful if you leave comment to let me know about my writing if i needed to fix anything

read previous part: 𝐫𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 > 𝐫𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

charles_leclerc with y/n_leclerc

Liked by y/n_leclerc, lorenzotl and 174,730,461 others

charles_leclerc We are really happy to announce that we are expecting our first child. Y/n and i decided to not appear in any public event until the birth of our child for safety of my wife and baby. And we also receive lots and lots of congrat and with all the best wishes for both of us and baby

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y/n_leclerc ❤️❤️

sofiagraace Love you both

heismydreamman She will join the Christmas Night ceremony with the royal and we’ll see her bump show

princessy/nmyheart Am i the only one here thinks she’s going to name her child Anne?

jessicalauree So freaking adorable!!!!

y/n_leclerc

Liked by charles_leclerc and others

y/n_leclerc Throwback to our wedding day and honeymoon ❤️ @charles_leclerc

Comment are limited

theroyalnews

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theroyalnews

The Prince and Princess of Monte Carlo first public appearence since the announcement of Princess Y/n pregnancy. Princess Y/n appeared in public today with a long, flowing black velvet dress to hide her pregnant belly, it seems that Prince Charles has become a protective husband to his pregnant wife when he repeatedly refused to stand for too long at today's ceremony. Towards the end of the session, we had a chance to ask a few questions with Prince Charles and Princess Y/n.

"Prince Charles, how do you feel about today's ceremony?" “Well I feel very happy and excited at the ceremony today, it is a very important ceremony for my mother Queen Pascale” Prince Charles said, and I ask Princess Y/n “And Princess Y/n, how do you feel?” She answered “Since I'm pregnant right now, it's natural to feel tired but this is only a side effect and the main part is that we can enjoy this happy time together with the Royal Family”, “I have Just a few short questions, can the Prince and Princess answer a few questions for me?" “Of course” They both replied at the same time. “First question, surely you also know that the announcement of the pregnancy has shaken all the people with joy, right? So a few people emailed us asking us to ask you about the baby's gender was? Is this information that is allowed to be revealed?” Prince Charles nodded his head and answered my question “I know this is information that everyone is curious about, although we are the Prince and Princess of Monte Carlo, we must always adhere to the principles given by the royal family", Princess Y/n replied, "But of course we'll let everyone know as soon as we have the baby." She laughed, then I continued to ask the last question "Then Prince Charles and Princess Y/n have come up with any name for the royal baby yet?”, Princess Y/n replied, “Charles and I haven't come up with any name yet but we plan to name the baby with our traditional royal name", "Because she likes traditional names, I like more modern names, but I love her and the baby so the name will be decided by her" Charles said then both of them laughed.

What do think the Prince and Princess will name their baby? Leave us a comment about what you are thinking!

tag charles leclerc , y/n_leclerc

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diwkjd_ I guess they will name it Charlotte or Carlotta, easily Charlotte is a tradition name and its also Charlotte is female version of the name Charles… isn’t it cute

unclejamees I don’t know what they’ll name him/her but i just love the fact Princess Y/n chose to name their baby with royal tradition name

penelopejanes It’s definitly gonna be named Charlotte

⤷ jaada How are you so sure?

⤷ penelopejanes Idk, just so easy to guess, i mean Charlotte also royal tradition name tho

beaniw I got the opportunity today to talk with Prince Charles and Princess Y/n and they’re super nice and Charles is super protective of his wife lately

[todomitoukei]

Japanese vs. English Todoroki Family Finale - A 426 Comparison

Just a few days after Horikoshi announced that there were only 5 chapters left, the so-called final chapter for the Todoroki family came out, as always sparking lots of discussion and bringing forth countless questionable takes, followed by the release of the official English translation.

So let’s take a closer look at the Japanese lines, starting with the Todoroki family’s short conversation before going to see Touya:

「来なくて大丈夫って言ったのに！」

「来なくて ; konakute」-> not coming 「大丈夫 ; daijoubu」-> okay; alright 「って ; tte」-> quoting particle (casual of と) 「言った ; itta」-> said 「のに ; noni」-> even though

= “Even though we said it’s okay not to come.”

「それを言うな��貴方たちもよ冬美夏雄」

「それ ; sore」-> that 「を ; o」-> direct object marker 「言う ; iu」-> to say 「なら ; nara」-> that being the case; on the topic of 「貴方たち ; anatatachi」-> you (plural) 「も ; mo」-> also; too 「よ ; yo」-> emphasis particle 「冬美 ; fuyumi」-> Fuyumi 「夏雄 ; natsuo」-> Natsuo

= “On the topic of saying that, you too, Fuyumi, Natsuo.”

What stood out to me here was Rei calling him Natsuo, when usually, everyone else (except Endeavor) calls him Natsu-kun or Natsu. Calling him by the full version of his first name rather than a shortened version might be done to indicate that things have changed, although not necessarily in a negative way. It's more that there has been a shift.

By the way, I am working on a masterpost talking about how the family addresses + refers to each other. Yes, I am going through the entire manga for that (this is a cry for help). Once the manga is finished I will post it (at some point), so look out for that if you’re interested in finding out exactly how many times who gets called what (yes, I am counting and making graphs)!

「お母さんでも…」

「お母さん ; okaasan」-> mom 「でも ; demo」-> but

= “But mom…”

「それを言うならおまえもだ冷」

「それ ; sore」-> that 「を ; o」-> direct object marker 「言う ; iu」-> to say 「なら ; nara」-> that being the case; on the topic of 「おまえ ; omae」-> you 「も ; mo」-> also; too 「だ ; da」-> be 「冷 ; rei」-> Rei

= “On the topic of saying that, you too, Rei.”

I love that he almost fully copies Rei’s phrase here. This is the first of many unoriginal lines that he has in this chapter. It only goes downhill from here.

「義務感で来たんじゃねぇから！皆そうだろ」

「義務感 ; gimukan」-> sense of duty (obligation) 「で ; de」-> with; by 「来た ; kita」-> came 「ん ; n」-> explanatory particle 「じゃねえ ; janee」-> isn’t 「から ; kara」-> because; so  (used to change the other person’s thoughts etc.) 「皆 ; mina」-> everyone 「そう ; sou」-> so; that way 「だろ ; daro」-> right?

= “I didn’t come out of a sense of duty! Everyone is that way, right?”

Usually, a second phrase would follow up the kara, but can also be left out when the meaning of that second phrase is implied enough. Since Fuyumi said Shouto didn’t have to come (if he didn’t want to, didn’t feel comfortable etc.) there is an implication that perhaps he only showed up because he felt like that was expected of him. Ending his clarification of “I didn’t come because I felt obligated” with kara “so” the implied follow up would be along the lines of “don’t worry”, which then gets wrapped up suggesting that all of them are showing up not because they feel pressured to do so, but because they want to visit Touya - since they basically just went around in a circle letting each other know they didn’t have to come if they don’t want to.

「会話は可能ですが一日に数分が限界です」

「会話 ; kaiwa」-> conversation 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「可能 ; kanou」-> possible 「です ; desu」-> to be 「が ; ga」-> but 「一日 ; ichi nichi」-> one day 「に ; ni」-> at; in 「数分 ; suufun」-> a few minutes 「が ; ga」-> subject marker particle 「限界 ; genkai」-> limit 「です ; desu」-> to be

= “Conversations are possible, but a few minutes a day is the limit.”

I’m not sure how long Touya has been in here, but this line indicates that the staff members have been talking to him and I’d be curious to know what those conversations were like. What did they talk about? What kind of attitude did he give them? What was his reaction when he first regained consciousness? These are the questions we want answered, but alas, the Todoroki family plot simply isn’t about him. All the way to the bitter end it shall remain focusing on the most underrepresented group of them all: rich middle-aged men.

「緩やかに死へと向かっている…それが今の轟燈矢です」

「緩やかに ; yuruyakani」-> slowly 「死 ; shi」-> death 「へと ; e to」-> towards 「向かっている ; mukatteiru」-> to face; to head toward 「れ ; sore」-> that 「が ; ga」-> subject marker particle 「今 ; ima」-> now; current 「の ; no」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe 「轟燈矢 ; todoroki touya」-> Touya Todoroki 「です ; desu」-> to be

= “Slowly heading towards death… that is the current Touya Todoroki.”

The particle e is a directional particle that can be translated as “toward”. Adding the particle to after it adds an emotional emphasis to the part that follows the to particle as opposed to just stating a fact, there is sympathy in this claim.

As for the claim itself - I know that a lot of people are convinced he is going to die because look! Random nameless character #47AAB7 said so, it must be true! But to be honest, I’m not even going to entertain that thought because despite all the criticism I have for this story, Horikoshi isn’t that bad of a writer. If he had wanted Touya dead, he could’ve easily killed him at the end of the last war. It makes zero sense for him to be saved and then pass away quietly and peacefully in a hospital (or whatever that place is).

Even if we were to say that Shouto managed to save him emotionally, so that counts as a win! It’s kind of a shit win if the only difference is that you now get to die “at peace”, which also could’ve been accomplished on the battlefield. At this point, it’s just inefficient and therefore, him dying at this point is not going to happen.

「........ぞろぞろと」

「ぞろぞろ ; zorozoro」-> in droves; swarming 「と ; to」-> adds emphasis

= “....In droves”

Zorozoro is used to describe several beings (can be humans or animals) that appear or move together like a swarm. This certainly is the first time the entire family is together, so it’s not surprising the rare sight is being pointed out in a joking manner, although he undoubtedly means this in a positive way as it contradicts his prior belief of no one in his family caring about him or missing him.

The fact that, upon first waking up after his coma as a teenager his immediate thought was to return and apologize, and now after ten years he finally gets the chance to talk to them and what is the first thing coming out of his mouth? Calling them a swarm. Forever and always the most relatable character.

「ハハ…観光名所じゃねぇんだよ........」

「ハハ ; haha」-> haha 「観光名所 ; kankoumeisho」-> tourist attraction; sightseeing spot 「じゃねぇ ; janee」-> isn’t 「んだ ; nda」-> explanatory particle 「よ ; yo」-> emphasis particle

= “Haha… It’s not a tourist attraction, right?”

If he was a tourist attraction, Hori better drop the location right now. Please. For research purposes or whatever.

「燈矢」

「燈矢 ; touya」-> Touya

= “Touya.”

「今後の話をしに来たんだ燈矢」

「今後 ; kongo」-> from now on 「の ; no」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe 「話 ; hanashi」-> talk, conversation 「を ; o」-> direct object marker 「しに来た ; shi ni kita」-> came to do sth 「んだ ; nda」-> explanatory particle 「燈矢 ; touya」-> Touya

= “I came to talk about the future, Touya.”

Kongo literally means “after now” or in other words, the future.

「俺はヒーローを引退するよ」

「俺 ; ore」-> I  「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「ヒーロー ; hiirou」-> hero 「を ; o」-> direct object marker 「引退する ; intai suru」-> to retire 「よ ; yo」-> emphasis particle

= “I am retiring from being a Hero.”

He says as though he has a choice. This is also one of those “This could’ve been an email” kinds of lines.

「元より戦いが終わったらそうするつもりだったが 最早自力で立つことすらままならん」

「元より ; moto yori」-> all along; from the first 「戦い ; tatakai」-> war 「が ; ga」-> subject marker particle 「終わったら ; owattara」-> when it ended 「そう ; sou」-> so; that way 「する ; suru」-> to do 「つもり ; tsumori」-> to plan 「だった ; datta」-> was 「が ; ga」-> but 「最早 ; mohaya」-> already; no longer 「自力 ; jiriki」-> one’s own strength 「で ; de」-> with 「立つ ; tatsu」-> to stand 「こと ; koto 」-> nominalizes prior word/phrase 「すら ; sura」-> even 「ままならん ; mama naran」-> beyond one’s control; unable to do as one wishes

= “Since after the first war ended, I decided to do so, but I not I am not even able to stand on my own anymore.”

Mamanaru combines the words mama “as it is; as one likes” and naranai “to be unable to” to create a word that describes that something is beyond one’s control, one is unable to do as they wish or something is not going the way one wants it to. In other words, a great word to sum up Endeavor’s entire life story.

The way he continuously takes over conversations that are supposed to be about the entire family - aka his victims - and makes it about himself while pitying himself - in front of his victims - never fails to impress me. At least he is consistent I guess, but it would have been great to see him actually change in the end. Surely he is done, oh no, nevermind, he keeps talking- 

「ヒーローエンデヴァーは焼かれて死んだ

おまえの炎は誰よりも強かった」

「ヒーロー ; hiirou」-> hero 「エンデヴァー ; endevaa」-> Endeavo 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「焼かれて ; yakarete」-> burned 「死んだ ; shinda」-> died 「おまえ ; omae」-> you 「の ; no」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe 「炎 ; honoo」-> flame 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「誰 ; dare」-> anyone 「よりも ; yorimo」-> more than 「強かった ; tsuyokatta」-> was strong

= “The hero Endeavor was burned and died. Your flames were stronger than anyone else’s.”

「そっか　ご愁傷様　事が済んでから諂うなよ…卑怯者…」

「そっか ; sokka」-> I see 「ご愁傷様 ; goshuushousama」-> my condolences 「事 ; koto」-> things; matter 「が ; ga」-> subject marker particle 「済んでから」-> after it ended (済む + てから) 「諂う ; hetsurau」-> to flatter; to suck up to; to carry favour 「な ; na」-> na (negative command form) 「よ ; yo」-> emphasis particle 「卑怯者 ; hikyoumono」-> coward

= “I see. My condolences. Don’t suck up to me after it’s over… coward…”

Here is my beef with the official translation: they keep making Touya say the most random words and phrases, but then don’t make him say “don’t curry favour”?? “Don’t be toady”?? “Don’t be toady, Todoroki” would go so hard… wait… you know what… Here’s a little extra from me to you:

Back to business:

「そうだな　燈矢は誰のことをよくわかってる　ずっと見てたんだもんな」

「そう ; sou」-> so; that way 「だ ; da」-> be 「な ; na」-> sentence ending particle; used to seek confirmation 「燈矢 ; touya」-> Touya 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「誰 ; dare」-> anyone 「の ; no」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe 「こと ; koto 」-> nominalizes prior word/phrase 「を ; o」-> direct object marker 「よく ; yoku」-> well 「わかってる ; wakatteru」-> to understand 「ずっと ; zutto」-> continuously 「見てた ; miteta」-> was watching 「んだ ; nda」-> explanatory particle 「もん ; mon」-> because; indicates reason 「な ; na」-> sentence ending particle; used to seek confirmation

= “That’s right, isn’t it. You know everyone so well. Because you have been watching continuously.”

「俺に見てほしかったんだもんな

なのに見なかった…」

「俺 ; ore」-> I  「に ; ni」-> at 「見てほしかった ; mitehoshikatta」-> wanted me to look 「んだ ; nda」-> explanatory particle 「もん ; mon」-> because; indicates reason 「な ; na」-> sentence ending particle; used to seek confirmation 「なのに ; nanoni」-> and yet; despite that 「見なかった ; minakatta」-> didn’t look

= “You wanted me to look, right? Despite that I didn’t look…”

If I didn’t know any better I would say this was a conversation with a toddler. I usually like to point out that Horikoshi really nails the sibling experience, but he is also, unfortunately, really good at accurately writing how privileged middle-aged men talk. A mangaka of many talents, but at what cost?

「俺はお父さんの子どもなんだから」

「俺 ; ore」-> I  「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「お父さん ; otousan」-> dad 「の ; no」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe 「子ども ; kodomo」-> child 「なんだ ; nanda」-> explanatory particle 「から ; kara」-> because; so

= “Because I am dad’s child.”

「おまえはエンデヴァーじゃない！！」

「おまえ ; omae」-> you 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「エンデヴァー ; endevaa」-> Endeavor 「じゃない ; janai」-> isn’t

= ”You aren’t Endeavor!!”

Yes. That’s why we love him.

「誰が何と言おうと........　おまえの炎（ねつ）は俺のヘルフレイムだ

あの告発映像を毎日見続けている」

「誰 ; dare」-> someone 「が ; ga」-> subject marker particle 「何と ; nanto」-> what 「言うと ; iou to」-> to try to say 「おまえ ; omae」-> you 「の ; no」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe 「炎 ; honoo」-> flames 「ねつ ; netsu」-> heat; rage; mania 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「俺 ; ore」-> I  「の ; no」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe 「ヘルフレイム ; herufureimu」-> Hell Flame 「だ ; da」-> be 「あの ; ano」-> that 「告発 ; kokuhatsu」-> complaint; prosecution 「映像 ; eizou」-> footage 「を ; o」-> direct object marker 「毎日 ; mainichi」-> every day 「見続けている ; mitsuzuketeiru」-> continue to watch

= “Whatever people try to say… Your flames (rage) are my Hellflame. I’ve continuously watched your prosecution video every day.”

This wouldn’t be a translation breakdown if we didn’t have a case of the furigana don’t match the kanji! Essentially what this means is that the furigana - written in brackets - show what the character says out loud, while the kanji shows what the character means. This time, when we get the kanji for flames in the second sentence, the furigana read netsu, which can meat “heat”, but also refer to “rage” or “mania” and since flames are hot, “heat” wouldn’t make it necessary to opt for a different reading, hence Endeavor is saying that the rage of Dabi was, in fact, Endeavor’s Hellflame.

「おどお゙さん見で」

「おどお゙さん ; odoosan」-> dad 「見で ; mide」-> look

= “Dad, look”

You might notice that the words are spelled differently from the normal otousan and mite. Softening the t sounds to a d sound highlights the difficulties he has speaking while being on fire. In addition to the softened t to d, the u also gets changed into an o with dakuten (the two lines on top), which only exist for the sounds that can become softer (t->d, h->b, k->g, s->j), which can’t be done to a vowel like o. In this case, the dakuten suggests that the o is said with emotion and somehow stands out from how it would be said normally.

「これからー」

「これから ; korekara」-> from now on

= “From now on-”

「毎日来る　話をしよう」

「毎日 ; mainichi」-> every day 「来る ; kuru 」-> to come 「話 ; hanashi」-> talk; conversation; chat 「を ; o」-> direct object marker 「しよう ; shiyou」-> let’s do/have

= “I will come every day. Let’s talk.”

「あまりに遅すぎたけれど話そう」

「あまりに; amari ni」-> too much; overly 「遅すぎた ; ososugita」-> was too late 「けれど ; keredo」-> however 「話そう ; hanasou」-> let’s talk

= “I was much too late, but let’s talk.”

Both amari ni and adding -sugiru to the stem of a verb can be translated as “too much” and in combination place an additional emphasis on the verb, in this case, being late, which could be referencing anything from the specific instances he showed up to too late (i.e. when Touya set himself on fire on Sekoto Peak) or in a more general sense him trying to show up as a father too late (the only example would be showing up in the hospital here and the fact he has retired and plans on protecting the family from facing any consequences for all of this, although even that is still more the bare minimum of making up for his mistakes rather than being a father but I doubt he understands the difference).

「心拍数上昇これ以上は負担が」

「心拍数 ; shinpakusuu」-> heart rate 「上昇 ; joushou」-> rising; ascending 「これ以上 ; kore ijou」 - > any more; any further; any longer 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「負担 ; futan」-> burden, load 「が ; ga」-> subject marker particle

= “His heart rate is rising. Any more will (be) a burden.”

The ga would normally be followed by a verb (in this case most likely kakaru = to put), but is being omitted here as the meaning can be understood regardless.

「冷　夏雄　冬美　焦凍が…　残してくれた時間で話そう」

「冷 ; rei」-> Rei 「夏雄 ; natsuo」-> Natsuo 「冬美 ; fuyumi」-> Fuyumi 「焦凍 ; shouto」-> Shouto 「が ; ga」-> subject marker particle 「残してくれた」-> reserved for us (残す+くれる) 「時間 ; jikan」-> time 「で ; de」-> with 「話そう ; hanasou」-> let’s talk

= “Rei, Natsuo, Fuyum. Let’s talk with the time Shouto reserved for us.

Adding -tekureta after nokosu implies that someone did a favor for the speaker. Here, it means that Shouto reserved the time to talk to Touya for them.

「憎いなら…憎いと　なんでもいい　ぶつけてくれ…！」

「憎い ; nikui」-> hateful 「なら ; nara」-> if 「憎い ; nikui」-> hateful 「と ; to」-> speech particle 「なんでもいい ; nandemo ii」-> anything is fine; it doesn’t matter what 「ぶつけてくれ ; butsuketekure」-> throw it at me

= “If you hate me… hate me. Anything is fine, throw it at me…!!”

「燈矢兄私も…！」

「燈矢兄 ; touya nii」-> Touya-Nii 「私 ; watashi」-> I 「も ; mo」-> also; too

= “Touya-nii, me too…!”

「話したい事たくさんあるの」

「話したい ; hanashitai」-> want to talk 「事 ; koto」-> things 「たくさん ; takusan」-> a lot 「ある ; aru」-> to be 「の ; no」-> explanatory particle

= “There are a lot of things I want to talk about.”

This is about him getting piercings and dying his hair isn’t it. Maybe even taking off his shirt on live TV in front of the entire country. If only we could see that conversation…

「今日は止めにしましょう！！また明日にでも…」

「今日 ; kyou」-> today 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「止めにしましょう , yame ni shimashou」-> let’s stop 「また ; mata」-> again 「明日 ; asu」-> tomorrow 「に ; ni」-> at 「でも ; demo」-> or something

= “Let’s stop for today!! (You can come back) tomorrow or something…”

「最後に一ついいですか　聞きたかったことあるんだ」

「最後 ; saigo」-> final 「に ; ni」-> at 「一つ ; hitotsu」-> one 「いい ; ii」-> good 「です ; desu」-> to be 「か ; ka」-> question marker particle 「聞きたかった」-> wanted to ask 「こと ; koto」-> thing 「ある ; aru」-> to be 「んだ ; nda」-> explanatory particle

= “Can I (ask) one last thing? Because there is one thing I wanted to ask.”

The first panel or first sentence ends in the polite form using desu ka as he is asking the employee for permission to ask one more question. The second panel or sentence, on the other hand, is casual as it ends in da, so without even waiting to receive an answer from the employee, he instantly goes to directly address Touya-nii for this extremely important question.

「燈矢兄　好きな食べ物何？」

「燈矢兄 ; touya nii」-> Touya-Nii 「好きな ; suki」-> to like 「食べ物 ; tabemono」-> food 「何 ; nani」-> what

= “Touya-nii. What’s your favorite food?”

Everybody liked that. It was really great when the spoilers came out and as soon as Shouto said he wanted to ask Touya something everyone instantly knew what the question was going to be. Also a lot of pressure for Touya. Wrong answer and his little brother can pull the plug. 

「......体力の限界ですね今日は眠らせてまた…」

「体力 ; tairyoku」-> stamina; endurance 「の ; no」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe 「限界 ; genkai」-> limit 「です ; desu」-> to be 「ね ; ne」-> sentence ending particle; used to seek confirmation 「今日 ; kyou」-> today 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「眠らせて ; nemurasete」-> to let someone sleep 「また ; mata」-> again

= “This is the limit, isn’t it. Let’s let him sleep again for today.”

「蕎麦」

「蕎麦 ; soba」-> soba

= “Soba.”

These lines are always my favorite to break down. It’s not easy translating such complex phrases so please recognize the years of studying it took to be able to perfectly translate this kind of high-level sentence. Thank you.

I can only imagine him going back to his classmates, looking at Bakugo and saying: “You were wrong. It’s soba.”

「おんなじだ」

「おんなじ ; onnaji」-> same 「だ ; da」-> be

= “It’s the same.”

Usually, the word same is written as 同じ and read as onaji. In itself, these two spellings have the same meaning, however, the more standard onaji would be used in the sense of something or a situation being exactly the same, for example attending the same school as someone or facing the same problem. Onnaji, on the other hand, indicates something has very similar properties and is used more in the sense of the same color, taste etc, which is why this spelling has a bit more emotion associated with it.

So Shouto is saying that it’s the same, but he says so with emotion. Rather than stating a fact, them having the same food holds meaning to him. 

「これ以上は平行線だ　交わるよ　無理にでも」

「これ以上 ; kore ijou」-> from here on; any further 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「平行線 ; heikousen」-> remaining far apart; not reaching an agreement 「だ ; da」-> be 「交わる ; majiwaru」-> to cross; to mingle with 「よ ; yo」-> emphasis particle 「無理に ; muri ni」-> forcible; forced 「でも ; demo」-> even

= “From here on it’s parallel lines. I will cross, even if by force.”

「焦凍…　ごめんな…」

「焦凍 ; shouto」-> Shouto 「ごめん ; gomen」-> I‘m sorry 「な ; na」-> used to say something emotionally

= “Shouto… I’m sorry…”

If only… Shouto had heard this… and they could’ve talked about this… that would be crazy, right? No, why don’t we focus on the main character again, instead of getting a conversation the entire story has been building up to.

「俺はここまでだわ　悪いけど気持ち変わんない　俺はもう付き合わない」

「俺 ; ore」-> I  「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「ここ ; koko」-> here 「まで ; made」-> until 「だ ; da」-> be 「わ ; wa」-> 「悪い ; warui」-> sorry 「けど ; kedo」-> but 「気持ち ; kimochi」-> feelings 「変わんない ; kawannai」-> unchanged 「俺 ; ore」-> I  「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「もう ; mou」-> already 「付き合わない ; tsukiawanai」-> don’t associate with

= “For me it’s (ending) here. I’m sorry, but my feelings haven’t changed. I won’t associate with you anymore.”

The particle wa is used when reflecting one’s view toward a situation after coming to a conclusion. There is a nuance of confidently affirming the phrase or regretting the situation, depending on the tone, which we don’t have here, but this reads more as a confident statement than one of regret, although it might just be a little bit of both.

「ああ」

「ああ ; aa」-> Ah

= “Ah.”

「彼女と籍入れたい　式は挙げない紹介もしない」

「彼女 ; kanojo」-> girlfriend 「と ; to」-> with 「籍入れたい ; seki iretai」-> to get married; to want to have a name entered in the family register 「式 ; shiki」-> (wedding) ceremony 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「挙げない ; agenai」-> to conduct 「紹介 ; shoukai」-> introduction 「も ; mo」-> also 「しない ; shinai」-> won’t do

= “I want to enter the family register with my girlfriend. We won’t conduct a ceremony and I also won’t introduce you.”

Normally, to talk about marriage or getting married you would use the word kekkon (suru). Here, Natsuo specifically uses the term “to enter in the family registry.” While these two words can be used to mean the same thing (= getting married), entering the family registry differs in that one person enters an already existing family registry rather than creating a new one upon marriage, which is why this can also be used for when a child gets adopted by a step-parent or if a child takes on their other parent’s last name after a divorce.

Again, this can just be treated as a synonym for getting married, but it might also be to emphasize this as an act of removing himself from his father rather than an act of love. It surely feels like an odd time to be thinking of marriage, with the current situation not having him in the right mental or emotional state for such a big step to be smart (he already did the whole “cutting my hair during a crisis” so he should follow that with dying his hair or something else that is going to affect his life less than marriage).

Let’s face it: had he said this while they were with Touya, his big bro’s heart monitor would have gone crazy before he would have broken out of that machine to talk some sense into his little brother.

Also, not to insult Natsuo because he is very sweet, but I just have to mention the irony of him getting married as a means to solve his issues when that was also his dad’s first step. It’s obviously different, but still worth pointing out.

「ああ…分かったな」

「ああ ; aa」-> Ah 「分かった ; wakatta」-> understood 「な ; na」-> sentence ending particle; used to seek confirmation

= “Ah, I get it.”

「姉ちゃんは？仕事やめたんだろ？」

「姉ちゃん ; neechan」-> big sister 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「仕事 ; shigoto」-> job 「やめた ; yameta」-> to quit 「ん ; n」-> explanatory particle 「だろ ; daro」-> right

= “What about you, big sis? You left your job, right?”

I do like the symbolism of him standing in the middle of the street, ready to use the crosswalk, while the rest of the family remain on the side of the road, but I am also worried he is going to get hit by a car.

「うんでも　生徒のお母さんが新しい職場紹介してくれてねサポートしてくれるって」

「うん ; un」-> yeah 「でも ; demo」-> but 「生徒 ; seito」-> student 「の ; no」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe 「お母さん ; okaasan」-> mom 「が ; ga」-> subject marker particle 「新しい ; atarashii」-> new 「職場 ; shokuba」-> workplace 「紹介してくれて ; shoukai shitekurete」-> introduced me (as a favor) 「ね ; ne」-> sentence ending particle; used to seek confirmation 「サポートしてくれる ; sapooto shitekureru」-> support (as a favor) 「って ; tte」-> quoting particle (casual of という)

= “Yeah, but the mom of a student introduced me to a new workplace. So she’s being supportive.”

Similar to before, the -tekurete suggests that this introduction as well as the support is seen as a favor.

「........正直責任は果たしたと思う　罰も受けたと思う…もういいんじゃねーの？」

「正直 ; shoujiki」-> honestly; frankly 「責任 ; sekinin」-> duty 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「果たした ; hatashita」-> accomplished; carried out 「と思う ; to omou」-> to think 「罰 ; batsu」-> punishment 「も ; mo」-> too 「受けた ; uketa」-> received 「と思う ; to omou」-> to think 「もういい ; mou ii」-> that’s enough 「ん ; n」-> explanatory particle 「じゃねー ; janee」-> isn’t 「のか ; noka-> question marker particle seeking an explanation

= “Frankly, I think we’ve fulfilled our responsibilities. I think we already received our punishment. That’s enough, isn’t it?”

This line has gotten some negative attention as fan translations have this line directed toward Endeavor, whereas the official English translation has this line be directed toward the entire family. As you can see in the breakdown above, there is no explicit human subject in this sentence to clarify who is being addressed here, in addition to the fact that he has his back turned to us readers with no indication as to who he is looking at.

However, the last person he directly addressed was Fuyumi, who was also the one speaking right before this line. Furthermore, the next line is Endeavor saying that he will ensure to take the blame and whatnot from here on out so that they do not need to face any more consequences for this.

With that being said, to me this reads as him talking to the family, specifically as a response to Fuyumi suggesting that her former student’s mother introducing her to a new workplace and supporting her is somewhat of a favor. While we don’t know exactly why she left her job, there is still a suggestion that this situation has impacted her negatively and that people showing support is somehow worth noting. And yes, Japan has a culture of blaming the entire family when a family member commits a crime, however, Natsuo’s line then seems somewhat frustrated at this, feeling as though they all already faced consequences (like Fuyumi leaving her job), and that they shouldn’t have to face consequences for the rest of their lives, let alone feel overly grateful for any person that still treats them as individuals rather than an accomplice for something they had nothing to do with.

Overall, this line reads more like he wants them to be able to move past this, rather than have this now haunt them after they have already been struggling their whole lives by growing up in the Todoroki household.

「犯した罪の賠償と謝罪を一生をかけて続けていく

見ていなくていい子どもたち（おまえたち）に降りかかる火の粉をできる限り俺が受け止める　生き延びた意味があるとすればそれだけなんだ」

「犯した ; okashita」-> committed 「罪 ; tsumi」-> crime; sin 「の ; no」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe 「賠償 ; baishou」-> compensation; reparations 「と ; to」-> with 「謝罪 ; shazai」-> apology 「を ; o」-> direct object marker 「一生 ; issho」-> whole life 「を ; o」-> direct object marker 「かけて ; kakete」-> make; put out 「続けていく ; tsuzuketeiku 」->to continue from now on (続ける+いく) 「見ていなくて ; mitenakute」-> not looking 「いい ; ii」-> good; okay 「子どもたち ; kodomotachi」-> children 「おまえたち ; omaetachi」-> you (plural) 「に ; ni」-> to 「降りかかる ; furikakaru」-> to happen; to befall 「火の粉 ; hi no ko」-> sparks 「を ; o」-> direct object marker 「できる ; dekiru」-> to be able to 「限り ; kagiri」-> limit; degree 「俺 ; ore」-> I  「が ; ga」-> subject marker particle 「受け止める ; uketomeru」-> to catch; to stop the blow 「生き延びた ; ikinobita」-> survived; lived long 「意味 ; imi」-> meaning 「が ; ga」-> subject marker particle 「ある ; aru」-> to exist 「とすれば ; to sureba」-> then; if so; if 「それだけ ; soredake」-> that much; to that extent; only that 「なんだ ; nanda」-> explanatory particle

= “From here on out I will continue to make reparations and apologize for my committed crimes for my whole life. I will catch as much of the sparks that fall on you kids who don’t have to watch. If there is any meaning in my survival, it is just that.”

Again, he says “you” but means “children”. The miteinakute ii is used to say that “it’s okay not to watch”, in other words he does not expect them to keep in touch with him or anything along those lines.

The -teiku after tsuzukeru is used to imply that something will continue from this moment forward. While he didn't make up for his mistakes, from now on he will.

「........地獄だぞ」

「地獄 ; jigoku」-> hell 「だ ; da」-> be 「ぞ ; zo」-> emphasizes the speaker’s will or opinion; can be inviting to the listener

= “........It’s hell.”

「ああダンスの誘いを受けたんでな」

「ああ ; aa」-> Ah 「ダンス ; dansu」-> dance 「の ; no」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe 「誘い ; sasoi」-> invitation 「を ; o」-> direct object marker 「受けた ; uketa」-> to accept 「んでな ; ndena」-> explanatory particle

= “Ah, I did accept the dance invitation.”

「…初めてだよ　お父さんの事　かっこいいって思えたの」

「初めて ; hajimete」-> first time  「だ ; da」-> be 「よ ; yo」-> emphasis particle 「お父さん ; otousan」-> dad 「の ; no」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe 「事 ; koto」-> nominalizes prior word/phrase 「かっこいい ; kakkoii」-> cool 「って思えた ; tte omoeta」-> to seem; to appear 「の ; no」-> explanatory particle

= “It was the first time that you seemed cool.”

 Natsuo has called Endeavor by many (disrespectful) names. This is the first time he calls him by the standard/polite term for father. This is not to say that he likes him now. With the whole marriage talk in mind, this feels more like him letting go of his feelings for a second to make a somewhat neutral statement. Neutral in the sense of being able to recognize and view something his dad has done in a positive light rather than letting his feelings completely take over his judgment.

「焦凍は？学校戻るんだろ？」

「焦凍 ; shouto」-> Shouto 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「学校 ; gakkou」-> school 「戻る ; modoru」-> to return to 「ん ; n」-> explanatory particle 「だろ ; daro」-> I think; right?

= “What about you, Shouto? You’re returning to school, right?”

「うん」

「うん ; un」-> yeah

= “Yeah.” 

「乗ってけよ姉ちゃんも」　

「乗ってけ ; notteke」-> I’ll give you a ride 「よ ; yo」-> emphasis particle 「姉ちゃん ; neechan」-> big sis  「も ; mo」-> also; too

= “I’ll give you a ride. Nee-chan, too.”

「ありがとう」

「ありがとう ; arigatou」-> thanks

= “Thanks.”

「親父　お母さん　俺にはA組（みんな）いるから大丈夫だよ！　俺は自分でなりてえようになれるから！」

「親父 ; oyaji」-> dad 「お母さん ; okaasan」-> mom 「俺 ; ore」-> I  「には ; niwa」-> as for 「A組 ; e gumi」-> class A  「みんな ; minna」-> everyone  「いる ; iru」-> to be  「から ; kara」-> therefore  「大丈夫 ; daijoubu」-> alright  「だ ; da」-> be 「よ ; yo」-> emphasis particle 「俺 ; ore」-> I  「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「自分 ; jibun」-> myself  「で ; de」-> with 「なりてえ ; naritee」-> want to become (casual of naritai)  「ようになれる ; you ni nareru」-> to reach the point where; to come to; to begin to 「から ; kara」-> because; so

= “Dad, mom. I’ll be okay because of Class A (everyone). I can reach the point of being what I want to be!”

Just like before we get furigana that differ from the kanji. Shouto says that he will be alright because everyone is there, but he specifically means Class A when he says that.

「地獄でも」

「地獄 ; jigoku」-> hell  「でも ; demo」-> even though

= “Even though it’s hell.”

「おーう早かったな！！大丈夫だったかあ！？」

「おーう ; ou」-> Ooh 「早かった ; hayakatta」-> early 「な ; na」-> sentence ending particle; used to seek confirmation 「大丈夫 ; daijoubu」-> alright 「だった ; datta」-> was 「かあ ; kaa」-> question marker particle

= “Oh, you’re early! Was it alright!?”

「おなかすいた」

「おなかすいた ; onaka suita」-> I’m starving

= “I’m starving.”

「見てる人がいる」

「見てる ; miteru」-> looking 「人 ; hito」-> person 「が ; ga」-> subject marker particle 「いる ; iru」-> to be

= “There is someone who is watching.”

Me. I’m the one watching. But at what cost? The family’s two most used words have got to be “hell” and “to look” . Someone please teach them some more words.

That concludes the Todoroki family interaction in this chapter and supposedly for the story (everyone disliked that). Personally, this does not read as a conclusion so I am going to just treat this as the beginning of the conclusion, instead. And perhaps the final in the sense of the whole family not getting together anymore because Natsuo isn’t going to be around Endeavor anymore.

Personally, my biggest issue with this chapter is the fact that while it’s called final and set up as though the family and we finally get closure by everyone reuniting with Touya, it’s just another episode of self-pitying with a grown-ass man that has still not changed or understood anything despite everything. Yes, he finally managed to talk to Touya, to apologize and acknowledge both Touya’s pain as well as his own accountability in the entire affair. However, the rest of the family could have been left out of this chapter entirely since they said nothing other than “we have lots to talk about” which is obviously a beginning, but I’m sure we all have been waiting patiently to get an actual conversation not just hear them say that they want to talk at a later point, which we then won't ever get to see.

The soba part is amazing, of course, but it could and should have played a bigger role in this chapter.

People have been expressing various opinions in regards to the family’s current situation and their future, though - again - it would be great to see more of that because this chapter only briefly touched on various interesting points and then didn’t explore these points more because if there is one thing this world needs more is privileged people whining about how hard their life is and the many sacrifices they have had to make (= barely facing consequences).

That being said, we’ll see what the final 4 chapters will offer and whether we will see the Todoroki family make another appearance.

And no, Touya won’t die.

[honeygrahambitch]

"No witnesses then?" Will asked as he entered Jack's office with Hannibal closely behind him.

Jack looked defeated. The whiskey bottle on his desk was the proof. He was probably waiting to call it a day and drown his frustration into a glass of whiskey.

"There is a witness. We brought him in but by the time we will interrogate him, our serial killer will have committed three other crimes."

"May I ask why we are not interrogating him now?" Hannibal asked.

"We need a translator. He doesn't speak English. Took the Bureau a few hours only to find one and he can make it here in a few days."

"What does he speak then? There's a high chance Hannibal speaks it." Will commented.

"I don't speak every language on earth, darling."

"I don't speak Lithuanian."

"Lithuanian?" Jack inquired.

"Aren't you Lithuanian, doctor?" Will asked.

"I am but I haven't spoken it in years. I doubt I can be of any help."

"So be it, then."

"Doctor." Jack started. Will and Hannibal recognized Jack's persuasive voice and Will immediately regretted opening his mouth. There was no way out now. "It would be of great help if we got the physical features of our killer. I am only asking you to try. It's the only way I will be able to sleep at night."

Hannibal looked at Will, then at Jack.

-

Jack and Will watched Hannibal from behind the glass of the interrogation room.

Hannibal spoke fluently with only few hesitations. There was something else that Will couldn't point towards. He felt bad about making Hannibal help with the case. When he had said he couldn't speak Lithuanian, Will knew he wasn't being modest about his skills. He had said that just because he hadn't wanted to speak Lithuanian.

Will detected some sort of awkwardness from Hannibal in the first few minutes but he masked it well. The discussion went smoothly.

Jack was nodding pleased.

"And he was saying he can't do it." Jack commented, paying so much attention to what was happening in front of them that one could think he was understanding every word. "We might catch this one by tonight, Will."

"Hopefully."

And they did. A bit later than what Jack had expected but Hannibal's report had been of great use.

-

"You caught him." Will said as the doctor was pouring him a glass of wine.

"You and Jack did."

"We wouldn't have without your help. It made a difference."

Hannibal said nothing, which was unusual and which reminded Will of his earlier eerie feeling.

"I'm sorry about making you do it. I figured you weren't comfortable."

"You didn't make me do anything. You know how persuasive Jack can get."

"How was it?" He wasn't sure wether Hannibal would want to talk about it.

"Quite an experience, I'd say. Words I have not pronounced in years. I might have made a lot of mistakes. Good thing you and Jack couldn't tell."

"It was more than a skill issue. Words have their way of taking you to certain places. And his accent was extremely authentic."

Will smiled softly. "I am sure your Lithuanian skills are better than mine."

Hannibal brought his glass of wine to his lips and smelled it thoughtfully.

"It took you down the halls of your memory palace."

"And it opened some locked doors."

"Did you manage to close them back already?"

"Not yet. I might linger in there for a while."

Will grabbed his fork and played with the sushi roll that was resting on his plate.

"It's something he said before leaving the interrogation room. He asked me why I can speak Lithuanian. I told him that I am, in fact, Lithuanian. He was very surprised by that. He said I didn't sound Lithuanian at all." Hannibal explained and took a sip from his glass.

"You don't have to keep to yourself." He said, sensing the amount of thoughts running through Hannibal's mind. "What else bothers you?"

"How did that make you feel?" Will asked genuinely curious and was relieved to see Hannibal cracking a smile. He knew Will hated that question.

"For a second it made me question what I am. The place you are born in doesn't define that. Nor does your family, be it dead or alive."

"Then nature and nurture have no power on the individual?"

"I wouldn't choose either. I would have said that they both have a role in defining who we are."

"Implying that you no longer believe that?"

"I kept reflecting on this subject while I was cooking. I didn't come to a satisfying answer. Then you knocked."

"And?"

"And here I was going to say something inappropriate. I can't now that you made this confession."

"And I found all the answers I needed. I see myself in you. And that is more than what Lithuania will ever mean to me. And more than what nature and nurture can explain."

"What was it?"

"Today I learnt that listening to you speaking Lithuanian does certain things to me."

Hannibal put down his fork and knife, his lips slightly parted. He didn't try to hide his surprise.

"Well." He said thoughtfully. "I had made up my mind I would never use it again after today. But this changes everything."

[blissfullsvn]

under the glow

pairing. yeonjun x reader genre. fluff, established relationship word count. 0.6k warnings. n/a (just disgustingly fluffy. and they kiss a lil but ntg suggestive) masterlist

yeonjun shines on stage.

his body sways with the music, movements clear and precise. his voice melts into the instrumental and delivers the melody to curious ears, dripping with honey. his eyes twinkle when he looks at the audience; smile brightens when he sees looks of joy from them. on stage, yeonjun shines the brightest.

but in times like this, yeonjun shines differently.

in times like an early sunday morning, rays of light peeking through the curtains and casting a halo on the half-awake boy, yeonjun shines just like the premature sunlight. like the glow of a firefly under the summer heat. like the moonlight glossing over rippling waves and dark roads.

yeonjun doesn’t shine so brightly that it hurts the eyes, but he shines softly. comfortably. not enough to blind, but enough to grasp attention, that you can’t help but keep your eyes on him.

as yeonjun lets out a quiet groan and stretches with all limbs, then looks around like he’s processing every stimuli that he takes in, you only watch him silently. admire him silently.

when he turns to face you, the recognition in his eyes is instant. you truthfully can’t remember the last time his eyes weren’t this warm to you, scrunching into crescents whenever he so much as glances at you, even from miles away. so before he can greet you in his raspy, morning voice, you find yourself reaching forward to press onto his plush lips.

yeonjun’s eyes widen in surprise, and he looks a little confused, but fond all the same. his lips stretch across his face, and then it falters slightly, transitioning into a soft smile that translates all the adoration in his eyes. he taps your nose, asks you if anything's up, and stares at you with honey all the while.

your heart is full. so, so, full. this man, who has way too much love to give, is wholeheartedly ready to give all of that to you, and more. you stare at him, eyes dancing across his every feature, from the mole under his eye to the perpetual pout in his lips, and find yourself reaching for his lips again.

this time, when you try to pull back again, yeonjun frames your face and holds it there, thumb rubbing gently across your cheekbone. he smiles, then leans over to connect your lips once more. and again. and again. and a few more times more. it’s all quick, chaste pecks, until he pulls away again for longer, and he just stares at you. like he’s fascinated. like he can’t believe he has you under him (which happened in the midst of attacking you with love), one hand supporting his weight and the other carefully wrapped around your jaw, fingers trapped behind your ear.

and slowly, he tilts your head upwards, lowers himself, and closes the gap between you. slow and soft, but meaningful. in perfect rhythm, as if dancing for the birds singing their repertoire. with each movement, love seeps out from heart to heart, captured from mouth to mouth, until your entire body is so full of love that it’s about to explode and you have to place a hand on the stopper.

for a few moments, you look at each other, take in the sight of your heaving chests in sync, breaths echoing around the room, and the rays of sunlight bathing the room in a golden glow. it’s silent, but so many words are exchanged. 

then the sunlight grows stronger and shines directly on yeonjun, and he immediately yells at the blinding rays before rolling over and burying his face in his pillow, grumbling about how the sun is annoyingly bright for a sunday. 

the atmosphere vanishes with your laugh, but the love is always there.

that’s how it always is with yeonjun.

a/n. am i aware that this is incredibly self-indulgent (again)? yes. do i care? no.

also super unnecessary tmi no one asked: i wrote this while i was charging my phone bcs it was dying but then it ended up overheating (don't use your phone when it's charging) so i almost d worded . stay safe guys (no one)

© blissfullsvn 2024. All Rights Reserved.

[arminsumi]

hii could i request something with suguru involving his shoulder blades... maybe tattoos... body worship or smth? such a vague idea sry

PHYSIQUE

↳ GETO すぐる + fem!reader

note : oooh! good timing for this req i am currently so deeply in love with the male physique. it's so beautiful. smth about the cleft between men's shoulders makes something click in my brain.

warnings : 🔞 minors do not read/interact : contains sexually suggestive content

🍒 More from Jay : GETO works / JJK works

during the day, a white shirt drapes his muscular torso just perfectly enough to hint to his martial artist's physique, the cleft between his shoulders very pronounced.

suguru wears the shirts that have teasing, elbow-length sleeves. he doesn't realize that you're aching to see more of his toned arm, and the tattoo spanning it. it vines around his bicep, runs down his forearm; black ink in his skin of a dragon. he loves when your eyes catch onto the tail of it, and when your fingertips ghost the art. your touch gives him slight goosebumps.

you gawk when you see him behind closed doors, taking his shirt off in the dim glow of your bedroom light. his arm muscles flex as he rids the fabric and tosses it.

"like what you see, hm?" he asks.

it's all there, for you to look at; that pretty, toned physique that hides behind baggy clothes all day.

"touch my body." he commands softly, "don't get shy on me now, didn't you want to do... this?"

he grabs your hand, and places it in the center of his chest, flattens it out, right over a red ink tattoo between the cleavage of his chest. suguru's heartbeat is heavy, you can slightly feel its galloping thump as you splay your fingers out and press hard.

by his encouragement, your hand drifts down his middle. slowly. so slowly, your lips are parted and he loves how starstruck you look. it makes him feel good. makes his ego swell to have you staring at his body like it's the sculpture of david.

he kisses you hard. the passion matches the dim gold light of the room. and this light really reveals the dips and curves of his body so well. the dents of his abs. the contortion of his back muscles as he moves his body softly against yours. his broad shoulders.

suguru relishes in your silent body worshipping, he drinks it up. he looks down at your smaller figure, softly palming your head as your fingers ghost more of his tattoos, the cryptic ones that make no sense, the symbols almost runic-like spanning down his side.

he smoothly navigates your fingers to his reddish brown nipples, all perky and sensitive. the smallest noise comes out of him when you play with his nipples. he tries so hard to not ask you to play with his sensitive nubs. it's embarrassing for him. so he makes you switch focus to his pecs.

"here... squish your fingertip in here... feel that? mhm. pretty firm, isn't it? you know how it feels for a man to touch his own body...? yeah. it's rough. but your hands... they're not calloused... they're so soft and small... almost ticklish... especially down my sides... and over my nipples, too... l-like that haha... fuck. um. anyways... yeah. you said once... that you like this part?"

he brings your hand to his v-line. and god its... yum.

"drooling for me, princess?"

"fuck, haha... shut up... yeah i am..." you respond.

"hey..." he smirks, "tell me... what's your favorite part of my body?" he asks, genuinely curious, his tone sounding a bit self conscious. just a bit. he's always had that shiver of insecurity over his shape.

"every part of your body is my favorite..." you reply honestly, tracing your fingertips around his skin, exploring his body like a map full of hidden treasure.

his eyes light up. brows raise. heart flutters. throat constricts.

"... really?" he whispers. that was unexpected of you to say, and he needed to hear it.

"yeah... i love it..." you admire.

"oh really? you love it? well then... how about you show how much you love it with those pretty lips?"

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

[akookminsupporter]

I finally got to watch MiniMoni’s listening dinner, and here are my thoughts:

1. In Spanish, there is a phrase "polo a tierra," which I find difficult to translate directly into English. Essentially, it means that someone is a grounding force or anchor for another person, providing stability and balance. So, Jimin is the person who keeps Namjoon grounded and balanced within the group, and probably plays a similar role in his life in general.

2. I gained a deeper understanding of the dynamics of Jimin and Namjoon's relationship. I think they balance each other very well, not only artistically but also intellectually. Jimin understands Namjoon even when what he says isn't entirely clear. I feel that for Namjoon, Jimin is also someone who truly listens and comprehends what he says. And he really treasure that. The fact that Jimin can finish Namjoon's sentences and ideas confirmed to me that they operate on the same wavelength.

3. Am I the only one who wasn't surprised when Namjoon said he intended to enlist at the same time as Hobi? Now, I wonder how much and how often their enlistment plans changed after Jin’s enlistment at least.

4. I would really love for them to be completely honest in the future about everything they’ve gone through. I wish they would talk about the expectations placed on them by the industry, their country, and their fans. I would love to hear them speak candidly about how they felt at certain moments, when they read specific rumours or when they were told certain things.

5. Namjoon mentioned that they went through a long and difficult time due to the issue of their military service. I would love for them to talk more about that in the future.

6. It’s curious, amusing, and endearing how BTS - as a group- is always present in everything they say as solo artists. I know it might sound obvious, but what I mean is that, for them, the group and what it represents it isn’t exactly separate from their solo careers or productions, even though technically it is. I don’t mean this just musically. 

7. It’s lovely how they repeatedly affirm that they are always together, even or especially when they are not physically together. It’s heartwarming to confirm that they genuinely know and support each other.

8. It’s incredible to see Namjoon’s level of introspection. It’s refreshing to see how he has reached perhaps uncomfortable conclusions about his personality or behaviour as the group’s leader. Although I think this has also happened in his life in general. Considering he is a famous person, adored by millions, a Korean (noting that Korean society, especially for men, tends to be very macho and often struggles to admit flaws), and a man, it’s remarkable.