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bratshaws · 2 years ago

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goodness gracious 62. brb x oc

im sorry but this scene shouldnt be as hot as it is

a/n: aOKAY THIS CHAPTER MADE ME TEAR UP A BIT??? BUT HEY ITS ALL GOOD

check out the fic's playlist made by the sweet @wiipes !!

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: Fluff, FLUFF MY GOD

chapters:

1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16/17/18/19/20/21/22/23/24/25/26/27/28/29/30/31/32/33/34/35/36/37/38/39/40/41/42/43/44

45/46/47/48/49/50/51/52/53/54/55/56/57/58/59/60/61

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!)

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @shrimping-for-all @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix

@lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls

@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22 @hofficoffi @lexhalstead3

@lorilane33 @legendarydreamersharkparty @luckyladycreator2 @emilybradshaw @j-6o @louisahale @leobabbyyy @kulicny @winter-run @ktjmac @graciereads

Beatrice waits for Rooster by the cabin’s front door, pulling her hat tighter on her head as Jolene remains lying on the couch happily warm. They were going to visit his mother’s grave and noticed he was a lot quieter, she didn’t question him, she knew he had his own thoughts to deal with and she preferred to keep it to herself knowing that if he wanted to talk he would. She wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck, hearing his footsteps approaching from the kitchen, the jingle of keys signaling he was ready to leave.

She looks up just in time to see Rooster gently pet Jolene’s sleeping form, meeting his eyes with a small smile, “Ready?” he asks and she nods in response, offering her hand to him. Immediately he grasps it, interlacing their fingers together and stepping out on the cabin’s porch. Beatrice waits for him to press the card to the locking sensor, it was weirdly satisfying to hear all the locks in the cabin work simultaneously and the windows immediately tint darker so they could only see their reflection.

They wasted no time getting inside the car, Rooster rubbing his hands to warm them up and pushing up the wool collar of his jacket to stand higher on his neck, “I checked the weather app.” he comments, “There’s going to be a snowstorm later tonight. I have no clue how long it’s going to last,” he looks behind the seat to reverse the car, “Hopefully it’ll be just tonight, but if not I’d have to call Mav and let him know we might take the flight back on late monday or tuesday.”

It was understandable, it’d be extremely dangerous to fly back in such an intense weather, “That’s okay, I can let Penny know too if you want?” he nods, looking back forward to drive down the road, eyes flicking around to check their surroundings as they made their way out of the area. He was very tense, she could see by the way his shoulders were up and the muscle on his jaw popped every once in a while, he wasn’t even humming along to Mississippi Queen when he turned on the radio.

She bit her lower lip, deciding to look out the window instead and allow him to have his quiet moment. She didn’t feel like talking would help right now.

The cemetery was just as far as he said, forty minutes, forty five because there was a bit of traffic down the lane. He seemed to tense up more than before, clutching the steering wheel tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. Beatrice frowns, then places her hand on top of one of his, rubbing the knuckles soothingly but not saying anything else, still looking out of the window and feeling his hand relax a little bit.

When they stopped at the parking lot, the fairly empty parking lot, he just stood there with his hands now on top of his thighs breathing in slowly. A lot must be going on in his head, a lot of memories he was reliving right now and it felt wrong for her to intrude by asking if he was okay. But she reached for his hand again, keeping it there just so he knew if he needed her there she was. Beatrice smiled shortly when he squeezed her hand, he didn’t have to say anything besides that, in thanks.

He pulls back to step out of the car, with Beatrice doing the same. The wind wasn’t as bad as last night, while the cold was still awful but she could handle it. Bradley looks up at the cemetery’s entrance, the black curved iron gates appearing much smaller than he remembered the last times he was there, “Okay.” he says with finality, holding his hand back to her to grab, “Let’s go.” Beatrice grasps it, letting him guide the two of them up the steps and into the cemetery. He already knew where to go, he didn’t need to ask anyone for help, just tilting his head back and forth until he found specific hallways and rows that he remembered.

It wasn’t a big cemetery, it had a lot of trees -that now were just twigs because of the winter - and colorful vases with fake flowers that gave the area a pop of color amongst all the neutral toned gravestones. The snow crunched beneath their feet, the only sound besides the casual wind rustling the branches around them, as they walked down a few more steps before Bradley stopped completely.

She blinks, turning to face the two tombstones right next to the other. The snow piled on the curves and on the name plaques, but didn’t hide the names of his parents from view. While it was his mother’s birthday, she knew he wanted to see his father too. Rooster sighs heavily, scratching the side of his jaw while cleaning his throat, letting go of her hand to wipe the pictures’ glasses that were covered with frost, exposing the smiling faces of his mother and father.

They both looked like they were staring at each other, she had a feeling it was actually their wedding picture that was cropped to make it that way. It was really sweet and yet, heartbroken at the same time, they had a whole life together and while she was sure that Carole did a wonderful job raising Bradley, she missed her husband dearly. Beatrice turns towards her silent boyfriend, who is now plucking the back of his gloves, stepping closer to touch his upper back, rubbing it gently, “Hey,” she says,snapping him out of his thoughts, his eyebrows immediately relaxing, “Do you need a moment?”

He didn’t want to say yes, she could see by the way his eyes moved from the gravestones to her. He invited her to come, he didn’t want her to leave. “...no.” he says, “No,I want you to stay.” and he grabs her hand again, interlacing his fingers with hers, pulling her to his side so he’d keep her warm. Bradley inhales the cold air with his eyebrows furrowing again, licking his lips before he speaks, “I should’ve gotten flowers, but she hated fake flowers. They made her sneeze.”

“Yeah,” he was so considerate, “Maybe we can give her something else?” she suggests gently, making her boyfriend turn his head towards her in confusion as she looks back to the cemetery’s entrance, “I saw someone selling those little angel sculptures, do you think she’d like that?” there was? God he hadn’t even noticed, but he did know there was a little shop where people did buy those fake flowers and other stuff to adorn the ground around the gravestone.

His mother would like that, “Yeah. She would.” Beatrice’s little smile made his heart soar, his eyes going back to the gravestones “...Maybe something for my dad too. Doesn’t have to be an angel, but, I don’t know…something else.”

“Maybe they have other types of sculptures.” she says softly, still holding his hand, “We can check it out later, if you want.”

Bradley smiled for the first time since they got there,”I’d like that.” he says, feeling the warmth spread from his heart to his limbs in a matter of seconds. He didn’t deserve her, there was no way he deserved her. How did she land on his life? He was thankful, of course, every single day, but how? She just knew what to say or do to calm him down, to ease his heart and it was possible she didn’t even know how often she did it.

After a few minutes of silence, he spoke again, “...how did you deal with your nonna’s passing?.” he mutters, holding her hand just a bit tighter, “If you can share that.”

Beatrice’s chest expands in an inhale and she looks up to the sky, squinting a bit when she sees a random leaf - probably from the fake flowers - floating away “I don’t know…honestly I…I can’t say exactly how it happened.” her eyes shine with tears she refused to shed, “I found out that she passed when I was in school, I was about to go to my science class when the principal called me…It was,I don’t…” she frowns, “I don’t know, I barely remember going to her funeral. I still miss her, to this day and it hurts she’s not with me physically but there’s some comfort knowing she’s with me spiritually.”

She doesn’t know if her explanation makes any sense, but seeing how Bradley nodded to her every word apparently she did make a little bit. “I feel the same way sometimes, I hate it. I wish they were both with me.” Bradley rubs the pad of his thumb against the side of her hand, their gloves making a brushing sound as they touch, “I was really angry at Mav for a long time, I was alone for a long time, I kicked him out of my life completely until I saw him again at TOPGUN…I guess I didn’t want to admit he was the one family I had left and that my parents would hate knowing I was so…mad at him.”

“It’s not your fault.” she whispered, “You had a lot of feelings you didn’t know how to deal with,Brad. Sometimes we lash out in anger when we don’t know.” Beatrice explains calmly, rubbing his arm with her free hand and then leaning her temple against the sleeve that covered his bicep “Plus, you and Mav are okay now. You two managed to work things out.” Bradley nods after a few seconds, his eyebrows still furrowed, “It’s how life is Brad. Sometimes it takes us years to figure things out, to know and understand our own actions. We can’t go back in time and prevent things from happening, it’s up to us to know how to deal with it.”

He turned his eyes down at her, seeing her sweet smile and the Peruvian styled flaps moving with the wind alongside her hair. His own smile returned and he leaned down to peck her lips, resting his forehead on top of hers with a sigh leaving through his nostrils, “You are just so incredible.” he murmurs, but his eyes blink open when he sees that she’s shuddering a bit, even with the thick layers of clothing she wore, “Hey, do you want to get some hot cocoa? There’s a lady that sells it down the street, she’s always there.”

Beatrice looks over her shoulder to the cemetery’s entrance, chewing her lower lip nervously, “D-Do you mind if I get it now?” her jaw is shaking because of the cold, “I can get you one too if you want?”

As much as he wanted her to stay, he also worried about her wellbeing way too much, “Sure, she’s just a few steps down to the right, next to one of the southern walls.” he explains, leaning down to kiss her nose as she nods, telling him she had some money left and he doesn’t have to worry about it. Beatrice hesitantly lets go of his hand and turns on her heel to the entrance, speeding her step so she’d arrive there faster. He keeps his eyes on her until she turns a corner and disappears completely, even leaning forward a bit to check if he could see her figure but there was no luck at all. She probably ran all the way out of the cemetery in hopes of warming up.

So now he was alone, just for a little bit, but he doesn’t feel bad as he usually did. He turns to face the headstones again, digging his hands in his pockets, “She’s great isn’t she?” he asks the air, smiling even if he gets no response, “Yeah, she’s incredible…I love her a lot,mom. I think…” his breathing hitches a bit and he turns to look around and see if she is coming back, “I’m really serious about her, you know? We’re going to move in together, soon enough, we’re just waiting for our leases to be done with.” he sighs, his breath coming out in a little cloud as he switches his weight to the opposite leg, “But,I mean…I also want, I don’t know, it’s crazy to think about it but I really want to be with Beatrice.”

His answer was silence, which was to be expected, but he could feel something else in the air. Approval. He felt like he was on the right path, he should still talk about it with Beatrice once they move in together, but he really couldn’t see himself without her in the future. It still sounded crazy for him how everything moved fast and yet smoothly, he felt if he continued like this everything would fall in place soon enough. Bradley looks up when he notices that Beatrice still hasn’t returned and he feels a bit worried, “I…I have to go guys but,I’m glad to see you two again.” he smiles, pressing a kiss to his fingertips and touching each of the headstones “I love you both.”

He turns around, speeding his step through the frozen lanes and hallways until he reaches the cemetery entrance. Bradley is panting from practically running away from the headstones until he can see the parking lot, still keeping a steady step as he walks down the right where he knew the hot cocoa lady usually was. Maybe she changed spots? God damn it why didn’t he go with Beatrice? She’s not from there, she doesn’t know anything around here. She probably got lost and now he had to live with the guilt of– oh there she was.

She was in front of the hot cocoa truck, speaking to a small child that was standing next to her. He could see from where he was that Beatrice was handing the child a cup of hot cocoa and crouching down enough to talk to them, probably to check if they were alright. She looks up when she sees Bradley approaching, his eyes closing in relief and he leans on his thighs to calm his wildly beating heart, “Roos? What happened? I– oh…oh no I’m so sorry! I lost track of time!”

He waves his hand to play it off as if it was nothing, but he does lean on the wall of the cocoa truck, rubbing his face with a hand, “Baby, don’t–” he engulfs her in a hug, burying his face on her hair, “Don’t do that again,I was really worried.”

“I'm sorry.” comes her muffled response, pulling back her head to look down at the tiny child, “I was keeping Isaiah company.” her boyfriend furrows his eyebrows, meeting the little boy’s eyes who was now sipping on his own cup of cocoa happily, “He got lost from his grandmama, was crying so much and so I gave her a call and told her we were at the hot cocoa truck.”

It took everything out of him to not kiss her in front of this little boy he had never met before, because of course she would. “I should’ve called you,I’m sorry. I didn’t want to leave him alone but I also didn’t want his gradnma to think I was kidnapping him–”

“God, baby, baby it’s okay.” he sounds so enamored when he speaks, he can’t help himself, “It’s alright, I…” he has no words that could make sense, so he settles with another, “It’s alright.” Isaiah is slowly sipping his cocoa and standing close to Beatrice. She tells Rooster that while on the way out of the cemetery she saw him standing outside crying and screaming for his grandma. Apparently he walked out from where the grave they were visiting was and made his way out towards the parking lot, becoming confused when he could no longer see his mother.

Thankfully he knew his mother’s number and Beatrice gave her a call as soon as she saw him there. Both of them then look up when they hear hurried steps rushing out of the cemetery, a woman rushing over to them and immediately holding Isaiah to her chest, “Oh, baby, oh my god.” she looks up at Beatrice, “Thank you so much,I’m so sorry, I moved my eyes away from him for a minute–” she doesn’t finish her sentence, too ecstatic to have her grandson back, only placing him down so he could finish his cocoa by her side now.

“It’s okay, you really don’t have to thank me.” Beatrice says with a smile, “He was just alone and I just couldn’t leave him there.”

“Of course, of course,” the woman goes to say more but her eyes travel to Bradley’s. There’s a few seconds of silence but her eyes widen, “Bradley? Is that you?”

With her looking at him right now, fully facing him, he finally could see who it was, “Mrs.Washington?” he whispers in pure wonder, the woman in front of him smiling brightly. He drops his arms from around Beatrice, looking from her to Mrs.Washington, “Oh, uh, this– she was my preschool teacher. This is my girlfriend, Beatrice.” she looked just the same, besides the few wrinkles on her face and her short hair was now graying at the sides.

“Oh!” Bea smiles, hugging his arm, “Well, hi! Small world! Nice to meet you.” Mrs.Washington shakes Beatrice’s hand and gives Bradley a look that also reminded him of approval, that she was happy by his choice of girlfriend.

“I haven’t seen you in years,” Mrs.Washington’s brown eyes lift until she meets his own, a warm smile on her face, “Look at you,tall as a building.” Bradley laughs embarrassedly, his cheeks flushing and not only because of the cold, “I’m so happy to see you again, dear. You look great.” God knows what she had to see when he was a child and still understanding that he no longer had a father and he put it on himself to take care of his mom from that young age forward.

“Thank you ma’am. It’s good to see you too.” Mrs.Washington’s eyes softened at the honorific, before she picked her grandson as soon as he finished his cocoa, telling the two she unfortunately had to go. But she didn’t leave before hugging them both, especially hugging Bradley tight, rubbing his back soothingly. She tells Isaiah to say thanks to Beatrice, and he does, but it sounds like a ‘fank you’ in his cute little voice, making the girl melt on the spot and just say he’s welcome.

They both watch Mrs.Washington make her way over to her car, waving them goodbye one last time before she reverses out of the parking lot and away from their view. Beatrice is holding Bradley’s hand, looking at him from the corner of her eye and seeing how he looked…relaxed, a complete opposite from earlier that morning, “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I never thought I’d see her again.” he smiles, “She was my favorite teacher.”

“She seems like she was amazing.” she says, then blinks, “Oh I never got hot cocoa for us, I’m so sorry.” She turns towards the truck but he holds her back, instead walking himself to it and ordering two cups before she did. Beatrice stays glued to his side, hugging his arm with both of hers. The smell was incredible, when she got it for Isaiah she was so worried about the little boy she didn’t even pay attention to it, it had hints of cinnamon and she loved cinnamon.

He thanked the lady, who made it cheaper for them since Beatrice helped that little boy, and handed her the styrofoam cup, bringing his own to his lips as he looked up at the sky, pulling out his phone to check the weather app once more. The said snowstorm wouldn’t arrive until much later, so they had a bit of time for something else he thought about doing once they got there.

“It’s okay, hold my hand.”

“I’m going to fall on my face.” she was clenching his hands so tight it was probably cutting the circulation but he didn’t care. He was glad the ice rink was still open after all these years, he remembered coming here with his mom when he was younger and always having a blast. Beatrice’s wide worried eyes looked down at her feet with the ice skates on, chewing on her lower lip, “I never skated before Brad.”

“It’s okay, I’m here with you.” he is gliding in front of her, much to her demise and worry, still holding onto his hand and on the wall around the ice rank as well, “I’m not going to let you fall. Here, give me your other hand.” Beatrice hesitates in letting go of the wall, but eventually does when he shows her his glove-covered palm, shakily and quickly slapping her own hand on top and holding his fingers, “There we go, now, just follow my lead.”

She tried to not look down at the ice below her feet, nor how she felt her own legs seemed to shake with nerves. She clenches her eyes, then pushes herself forward with the minimum amount of movement, blinking her eyes as she feels they are slowly moving. Bradley grins at her, “There you go, see? It’s not so hard right?” she just nods, still holding tight on his hand, “Let’s go to the middle.” she snaps her head up in surprise, looking back where the wall was and where she could easily lean against if she lost her balance.

“O-Okay.”

“Push your legs, don’t put a lot of weight on it– there you go. You are a natural.”

She felt like a doe trying to walk seconds after birth, her legs still shaking, nerver rising up to her head as she noticed they were getting farther and farther away from the walls. Honestly she wasn’t doing much, she was just letting Brad lead them across the rink, too nervous to move more than that. “I feel like I’ll lose my balance any minute and bring you with me.” she mutters, trying to keep her eyes on him instead of the ice beneath her feet.

“You won’t, it’s all good, gorgeous.” he smiles, “What do you know, we are already in the middle of the rink.” Beatrice blinks in surprise when she notices that indeed they are, the rest of the people around them moving around like they were professionals and…well…skinnier than Beatrice immediately made her feel uneasy. It didn’t help that she saw a group of college age students laughing while looking at her.

Bradley noticed how her eyes lowered, she wasn’t looking up anymore, instead she was focusing on her shoes. His jaw clenched, looking around the rink until he saw them still giggling, one of them even pointing subtly at Beatrice. “Baby, come with me.” she has no choice, she’s still holding his hands…but she’s surprised when he tugs the two to where the group of teens were, widening her eyes.

The group however stopped laughing when they noticed that the two of them got closer than before, one of the girls who dropped her smile immediately because Bradley was looking them dead in the eyes. He didn’t say anything yet, he was clearly much bigger than any of the males in the group were. However when he did open his mouth, Beatrice looked up at him with her mouth parted open, “Move.” It was one single order, one that sounded like he was talking to a group of reckless recruits. But they obliged, quickly too, dropping their heads in shame and then apologizing under their breath as they walked out of the rink.

“Brad…you didn’t have to do that,” but it still felt good that he did, she couldn’t lie. His narrowed gaze melts back to a more relaxed one, offering her a smile and bringing her closer, pressing his lips to her hairline since she wasn’t wearing her hat indoors.

“I wanted to.” he mutters, cupping her chin to tilt her head up, rubbing the side of her jawline with his thumb, “Your comfort is important to me, and if anyone makes you uncomfortable I’m not going to let that slide babe.” and he means that. She still remembers how he acted back when that guy tried to get her number on Halloween, immediately stepping in and cutting that conversation short.

Beatrice smiles, crinkling her nose when he kisses it, “Okay.” she says, going back to holding both of his hands, “Well…let’s try again yeah?”

It takes a few minutes for her to get the hang of it, she’s still nervous but it is really fun. Beatrice tries skating on her own for a little bit, with Rooster being a very vocal supporter of her doing so, even spinning - or partially spinning- after a while. But it was very fun, especially since he was there with her.

They leave the ice rink when it’s nearing lunchtime, with him pulling out his phone and furrowing his eyebrows, “We better go back, the snowstorm is getting closer.” he says,pointing up to the sky where she could see the clouds are huge, grayish blue toned and the wind seemed stronger now. “But I want to go somewhere first, it’s a quick stop.”

“Oh, okay.” she says, both of them entering the car and Rooster maneuvering out of the parking lot once they adjust themselves. Beatrice can only see the clouds get bigger and bigger, although with them gaining distance it was easier to say they had a little bit of time before it actually hit. Bradley parks the car in front of a liquor store, Beatrice watching her boyfriend step out and quickly disappear inside, she can’t see much of what the store looks like because the windows are a bit dark, but Rooster returns with a paper bag that looks a bit heavy.

He hands her the bag when he gets in, “Got us wine.” he says with a smile, making the brunette blink and check the contents, seeing a green bottle with a box of wine glasses next to it. She smiles back, holding the bag close to her chest as Rooster drives them all the way back to the cabin, this time he was humming along to Killer Queen, bouncing his leg following the beat.

When they got to the cabin, she’s surprised to see him park the car a bit further where she saw something she hadn’t noticed before: a garage, well, sort of. It was a container-like space where you put the car but it wasn’t connected to the cabin itself. And considering the snowstorm was getting there, it was wise to leave the car in a safe enclosed area where it wouldn’t freeze. They walked out of the car, Beatrice was thankful she tied her hat tight under her chin because the wind almost made it fly away, it was howling loudly now and the scenery around them was getting harder to see.

Rooster unlocks the door, the noise making Jolene look up from the doggy bowl that Beatrice brought with her as the two humans walked inside. The lights and heating mechanism immediately turned on, “Oh, whew,” Beatrice sighs, pulling out her hat and scarf to place it on the coat hanger, “I’m glad we got here so quick.”

“Yeah,” he says, keeping an eye out, “It’s getting here faster than they said.” Thank God she brought the doggy pads for Jolene to use because even if the pittie liked the snow, she wouldn’t want to do her necessities outside. Especially in such weather. Jolene rushed over to greet them, thin tail slapping the couch repeatedly as her whole body shook, stretching herself on Bradley’s legs as Beatrice took the wine to the kitchen area.

The cabin was a godsend because it somehow filtered the winds howling outside, the glass panes still shook but it wasn’t as loud. Soon enough the scenery outside the large windows turned complete white, they could no longer see where the road and the sky were anymore, it was all completely white, “Thank God the porch and the garage area are heated too, or else we’d be locked in because of the snow.” he comments, dropping Jolene to the floor after he scratches her head, walking up to stand behind Beatrice.

She’s looking to the outside with her eyes wide and mouth parted open, holding the arms wrapped around her waist “We got here really quick.” she mutters, feeling him prop his chin on the curve of her shoulder, joining her on watching the snowstorm outside from the safe and warm space of their cabin, “Does it get bad often?”

“Sometimes, this one looks particularly nasty according to the weather app.” he explains, lifting his head to kiss her hair, pulling back only to check the inside of their fridge, “Well, we have food, so we don’t have to worry about that…it won’t be as bad. We also have–” he grabs a remote that she hadn’t seen the night before, aiming to the wall above the fireplace and smirking when it opens, exposing a flat screen tv “A tv.”

“Oh wow, that’s fancy.” she says, watching him surf through the channels until he stopped at a random movie, “I like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I like wall mounted tvs.” she smiles, walking around the kitchen table to warm up her feet, picking up Jolene in her arms so they could sit together on the couch, “I think we could watch something, right? We won’t be able to do anything else for right now.”

He nods, tossing the remote in the air so it flipped, before he snatched it back preventing a fall, “Oh yeah,” he settles beside Beatrice and Jolene, the dog spread herself to lie on both of their laps as he leaned an arm on the back of the couch and around her shoulder “We can worry about lunch later.”

“I can make us something.” she says, rubbing his fingers sweetly, “You know? It’ll be like…I dunno, like those Christmas movies…except without Christmas.” she giggles, even more when he leans down to kiss her temple, leaning against his side the best she could since neither of them wanted to move too much and wake Jolene up.

“Sounds great to me.” he mutters, kissing her skin one more time, “Sounds really great to me.”

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader

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arbitrarygreay · 2 years ago

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Simoun rewatch episodes 21-26

Yep, this is still very much worthy of being my favorite anime of all time. It holds up! I think Rodoraemon probably should have become a man (although I guess their reasoning is that she has to be a woman to have Mamiina hair?). They could have also played with Morinas becoming a man and defying the homosexuality taboo with Waporif, to really go all the way with their theme being about transgression of the sacred. But the writers were clearly enamored with that imagery of pregnant Morinas. I feel like she's still the most underbaked Sibylla? Like, all of the pieces are there on paper and in dialogue, but we don't really see it demonstrated as strongly as the other characters' traits underline their actions. They also let Halconf off pretty lightly. Insert Mari Okada Mommy Issues joke here (i.e. Halconf gets kid gloves because he's a dad instead). The final conclusion that the show comes to is that institutions cannot be trusted. When people do things for the sake of "society", or rather, the idea of a group of people rather than a personal connection, things will inevitably go awry. One thing that stood out is how Aaeru and Neviril's character development basically ended in episode 25, and episode 26 was overtly about how the others objectify them (like, the characters themselves say so). In the beginning of the show, the majority of Chor Tempest are kids playing at priesthood. For the first stretch of episodes, the characters each come to better understand themselves through a series of selfish moments. These moments are underlined by a tango theme, signifying that people must know their own desires before they can move forward. In the middle stretch, the waltz theme is introduced, as the kids of Chor Tempest, who now better know themselves, begin to act more maturely for the sake of their nation. The waltz appears to underline times when they can work together because of their newfound maturity. However, in the final portion of the show, we see each institution of Kyoukoku betray the characters. The waltz begins to show up for more personal moments, and the tango comes back as characters act out to protect the relationships they've come to cherish. And in a final episode where the others have objectified Aaeru and Neviril into the idea of eternal youth, and muse on if they were unfair in doing so, the show ends on juxtaposing the two against the ruins of former luxury. The tango gets the last word over the waltz, and yet, is not even allowed to end on its own stopping place, instead cut off as the phonograph runs out. This is something we've seen in more than a few anime with queer themes, especially Ikuhara's work. A land of hope and freedom is dreamed of, but the show can never actually dare to conceive of what utopia actually looks like. We can only see people leave. We can never see them arrive, or continue living afterwards. And there is still a sense of loss in their leaving. In that respect, grappling with queer themes through genre can be a cop-out, and simultaneously, the fact that modern shows that simply portray queer couples directly are more common shows just how much the world has progressed. I've described this before as like living in a post-Utena world. Stories like Bloom Into You, Citrus, Adachi and Shimamura, or genre cases like Seven Knights and Symphogear can simply portray the relationships directly, instead of imagining having to go to a land of freedom Over There before they can begin.

#simoun #category: anime #category: femslash

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cuntess-carmilla · 4 years ago

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The level of performance you demand from bi people as a whole, but especially of bi women, is motherfucking insane. I really don't get why you all demand bi women virtue signal their sexuality by "rejecting" men in order to not deem them gross lesbophobes by virtue of existing. "Even" if they prefer men that's not necessarily out of some internalized homo/biphobia. They just like men. That’s kind of part of (most bi people’s) bisexuality. Shocker, I know.

A lot of the behaviors you all accuse bi women of (not taking other women seriously as partners, for example) are behaviors a lot of lesbians in denial exhibit too but in us you see victims of our own pain and misogyny who need help and understanding, while in bi women you see vile irredeemable perpetrators who must be ostracized and punished.

You blame them of their own abuse at the hands of cis straight men in ways that if you remove the "bi" from "bi women" you would recognize as disgusting victim-blaming, WHILE rejecting them & pushing them out of LGBT spaces, which, guess what you fucking geniuses; leaves them to have cis straight men as their only viable option. Funny how that works. You're all "women should stay away from dating bi women" or "bi women fetishize lesbianism by wanting to be with women" but shame bi women for being with men IN THE SAME BREATH. What the fuck do you want them to do? Be celibate for your own biphobic comfort?

I legit saw idiots on Twitter say "normalize lesbians only dating other lesbians" as if that's not what's normalized already. Bi women are already seen as gross sluts that kiss women at parties to turn men on and only seriously date men. What the fuck isn’t normalized about lesbians dating lesbians only?

You think that I, a literal fucking dyke, didn't see women at some point as hot for sex and men as the only viable partners for serious relationships? Would you see me as a disgusting dangerous misogynist for having been there, or as struggling with internalized homophobia? If it’s the later, why don't you extend that same compassion to bi women? Only difference there is that I'm a lesbian and they're bisexual.

Sure, they like men so being with men isn't INHERENTLY torture for them like it is for me, but you don't think that thinking/behaving that way is traumatizing for them too? They love women and are depriving themselves of that experience out of internalized biphobia, misogyny and homophobia. You think that doesn’t fuck them up too? They're hurting too, but you think that, unlike a lesbian who does the same, THEY deserve that suffering.

And no one is telling you to date them or to suffer for them through it just because they're suffering too. What you're being told is to see them as the non-straight women they are who're suffering too and understand the complexity of their situation the same way you would someone like me.

You think too that the “solution” to the horrendous rates of IPV they face with cis straight men is swearing off men. Would you tell straight women to do the same if they don’t want to be abused by male partners? You wouldn't. Because you see straight women as not having "an option" but think bi women do and thus they MUST be asking to be abused. Literal “asking for it” shit. It's all victim blaming + Boys Will Be Boys, but add a "bi" to it and it's progressive somehow.

This points to you seeing women's attraction to men as only ok when it's not "chosen", just a passive reception of misogynistic violence (which, way to take away the agency of women’s sexualities, you dumb bitches), but when they IN THEORY have a "choice" because they also like women, their attraction to men is active instead of passive, and thus they're cock-sucking sluts who’re choosing to endanger themselves. You see women whose desire for men is active, as deserving of whatever results from their involvement with men. You can't be a biphobe without being a misogynist.

You see bisexuality as a fractured amalgam of homosexuality + heterosexuality instead of its own standalone identity, and thus they can and MUST choose one or the other, because their “heterosexual” attraction and their gay attraction are in active competition within them like the fucking two wolves shit. You can’t be a biphobe without being a homophobe.

Bi women's attraction to men is NOT normalized and biphobes are living proof of it. It's not normalized; they're bisexual, not straight. Their attraction to men coexists with, interlinks with and isn't independent of their attraction to women. Bi women ARE shamed and punished for liking men because they don't like men alone, they simultaneously like women and those are inseparable for them.

If it was normalized, it wouldn't be widespread to blame them for the abuse they receive when involved with men, like they should pick a side for their abuse to count or matter. They wouldn't be pushed out of LGBT spaces for being with men, it wouldn't be seen by other LGBT people (even many bi women themselves) as a flaw in their sexuality that makes them a gay-straight chimera. They wouldn't feel ashamed of their attraction to men. They wouldn't be seen with suspicion for liking men if it was normalized.

Them simultaneously liking men is seen as not loving men "correctly" AND as not loving women “correctly”. No LGBT women (including cis bi women and straight trans women) are seen as doing love and sex "correctly".

You can only claim bi women's attraction to men is normalized if you see bisexuality as a Lego combo of straight + gay and thus their attraction to men is separable from their attraction to women. It's not. They're not cherry-picked bits and pieces of heterosexuality and homosexuality. They're 100% bisexual, always, no matter in what way their bisexuality expresses itself. Be it bisexual with no preference, bisexual with a preference for women, or bisexual with a preference for men.

It's not 50-50% straight-gay, 25-75% straight-gay, or 80-20% straight-gay respectively. ALL are 100% bisexual-bisexual. If you can't respect that, you're a homophobe and a misogynist.

And yes, it is HOMOphobic to see bi women with suspicion for liking men. You see "homosexual" attraction as inherently in jeopardy if there's a coexisting "heterosexual" attraction because the gay one will be lesser and you see the "straight" one as a threat that'll take precedent. That’s your gay insecurity from internalized homophobia speaking.

Then too, there's a reason biphobes think bi men are secretly gay, and bi women are secretly straight. You see men as the superior and inevitable choice for both. That's misogyny. If you're a biphobe, you ARE undoubtedly a misogynist and a homophobe, even if you're gay and/or a woman yourself.

Every time people make armchair judgements of bisexual women as man-worshipers all I can think of is my sister who cried rivers of tears to me about how painful and stressing it is to over-perform her attraction to men who're not even her type (she likes gnc men!) just to stay closeted, and when I think of that, I wish so badly I could slap each and every person doing that.

And yeah! You read right, GNC MEN. Bisexuality is "gay enough", "even" in their different-gender attraction, that plenty of bi women prefer gnc men, and plenty of bi men prefer gnc women. In fact, plenty of bi people, including the cis ones, are gnc themselves (with a specific tendency towards androgyny but there's many who're distinctly masculine/feminine at it) and thus much more visible as gay than someone like me; a fucking lesbian, but I'm fem-presenting.

"Bi people can stay closeted while in relationships." So can gay men and lesbians who have beards, who hide our partners, whose partners are trans and closeted, if we're trans and closeted ourselves, or if we’re single and not visibly gnc.

My relationship would be seen as straight by outsiders because my fiancé is a closeted trans lesbian. Unless you’re a transphobe you would NOT call that a fucking privilege. It’s not a fucking privilege that she’s forced to hide herself and hide that the nature of her exclusive love for women is gay. That shit fucking kills her inside. It’s not a privilege that to keep the love of my life safe and myself too I have to pretend that our love is straight when it was so fucking hard for me to just detect, let alone ACCEPT and take pride in that I don’t like men.

All of that keeps us safe, but at great emotional cost. Being closeted is safety for all LGBT people, but it’s not a privilege, it’s PAINFUL. You understand this when it comes to gay men and lesbians, and can feel compassion for us. Why not for bi people? Why are you so angry at bi people? Why do you hold so much contempt for bi people?

I'll tell you why: BECAUSE YOU'RE BIGOTS.

#biphobia tw #⚢

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mayra-quijotescx · 2 years ago

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It never fails to aggravate me to watch the same people who recognize negging for the counterproductive ugly bullshit it is when it comes to dating turn around every election season and apply it as their one strategy to drive turnout for the sole form of civic engagement they themselves participate in.

telling people "if you don't vote you're just as bad as x/you must want y to suffer or z bad thing to happen/you suck and when you get hurt you'll deserve it/etc. etc. et fucking c." will never convince anyone to go vote. It will, however, (rightly!) convince them that you're a highly vindictive asshole with a severe empathy deficit who is not worth engaging with.

You want people to go jump through their local hoops and vote? Give them accurate and helpful information and keep your attitude to yourself. Speak to them as an equal and not as some underling you're simultaneously trying to order to march and accuse of insubordination. And if they still say no, I recommend leaving it at that instead of immediately destroying whatever connection you might have with this person by condescending to them or accusing them of being a horrible or apathetic person. They may come around, they may not, but voting is only the start of community self-defense and civic engagement and shoving away people you share community with because they might not do one (1) thing is self-sabotage in a social milieu where we extremely cannot afford it.

This is not "tone policing." This is literally a day one fundamental of interacting constructively with other people.

And, lest anyone assume that this is coming from a defensive non-voter, I have voted in every election since I turned 18 (I'm 31) and early voted on 10/25. I don't do it out of some high-minded delusion that the system works, I do it because right wingers don't want me to, and fuck 'em. Spite is enough. Don't run off our allies and community members with vitriol because they won't (or can't!) vote.

#instead of getting mad at people for not wanting to bother with an intentionally fucked system ask what you can do to unfuck that system

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thinkingisadangerouspastime · 4 years ago

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(pt 1) i really enjoy all your atla analyses & you've done a great job breaking down the usual arguments re how eip shows that kataang shouldn't have happened. i'm curious about your take on one specific argument that i just saw today, in an analysis of the show by a zker that was otherwise quite good and respectful (i know you've already talked about eip a lot, so no problem if you don't feel like rehashing). the premise: aang didn't just pressure katara in eip, he threatened her.

(pt 2) they point to when katara joins aang & asks if he’s alright: “aang: no, i’m not! i hate this play! katara: i know it’s upsetting, but it sounds like you’re overreacting. aang: overreacting? if i hadn’t blocked my chakra, i’d probably be in the avatar state right now!” the suggestion is he’s threatening her when he says ‘i’d probably be in the avatar state right now’ to describe his anger. i think this take exaggerates and oversimplifies it, but interested in your thoughts on it.

Hello my friend!! It is true I am Old inside and don’t like rehashing dhdlksjslks BUT your comments on my posts are always incredibly kind and insightful so I am more than willing to do a bit of rehashing for you 🥰 Besides! I’ve seen this general take before a few times and it’s always irked me for the exact reason you point out - it simultaneously exaggerates and oversimplifies the situation (and honestly that’s an impressive duality since it’s seemingly contradictory, so hats off to them lmaooo) - and now is as good a time as any to address it. So, for starters, let’s go ahead and get the excerpt they love to focus on so much:

Cut to Aang standing alone on a balcony. Katara enters and walks up to him.

Katara: Are you all right?

Aang: [Angered.] No, I’m not! I hate this play! [Yanks his hat off and throws it on the ground.]

Katara: I know it’s upsetting, but it sounds like you’re overreacting.

Aang: Overreacting? If I hadn’t blocked my chakra, I’d probably be in the Avatar State right now!

Here’s the thing about so-called analyses of this excerpt: in a manner extremely convenient to the poster, they never seek to contextualize this moment. (I mean, to do so would deplatform their entire “argument” - perhaps that’s why they avoid performing a full analysis?) So let’s avoid that pitfall from the start.

Firstly, below are some links to related posts; I’m going to do my best to summarize the most relevant parts, but for anyone who desires greater detail, I gotchu 😤

This post explains why EIP (the play, lol) is imperialist propaganda and is intended to belittle the entire Gaang.

This post explains how Aang never acted “entitled” to Katara’s affections, particularly in regard to EIP.

This post breaks down the infamous EIP kiss like Snopes Fact Checker, covering common misconceptions, important perspectives to consider, etc.

Alright. With that out the way, it’s time for some context.

Aang and Katara have this conversation on the balcony after watching 95% of “The Boy in the Iceberg,” a play chock-full of Fire Nation propaganda that demeans the entire Gaang in order to prop up the Fire Nation as superior (hence why the play ends with Ozai’s victory). Here is my general breakdown of Aang and Katara’s treatment in particular from a previous post:

- katara, an indigenous woman, is highly sexualized and portrayed as overly dramatic and tearful, because the fire nation objectifies women not of their own people and views them as less intelligent and less emotionally stable

- aang, the avatar, the sole survivor of the fire nation’s genocide of the air nomads who is incredibly in-touch with his spirituality and femininity, is portrayed as an overly-airy and immature woman. the fire nation portrays him with a female actor to demean him (like, that’s classic imperialistic propagandist tactics) and furthermore writing his character as a childish airhead reinforces the fire nation sentiment that the air nomads were weak, foolish people who did not deserve to exist in their world

In other words, these kids have just watched almost an entire play that preys upon their insecurities and depicts them using racist and sexist stereotypes about their respective nations. It is completely understandable that tensions might run a little high and that their interactions would not be as balanced as usual (Katara and Aang have a great track record of communicating well with each other, as it happens!).

So we have to keep that in mind when examining the aforementioned excerpt. But there are other factors to consider, too! Namely: they are kids. Children. Teens. Aang is 12, Katara is 14.

If we want to be scientific, a person’s brain doesn’t finish developing until they are 25, lmao, and the preteen/teen years are when the prefrontal cortex that controls “rationality,” “judgement,” “forethought,” etc. is still developing. This doesn’t mean Aang and Katara are irrational and make poor decisions 24/7 (obviously not), but it does mean that in an intense, highly emotional situation, like after watching a play that intentionally demeans them and depicts them as inferior, they are more likely to overreact, more likely to be emotional, and more likely to make mistakes. Like, I’m serious, lol. “Teens process information with the amygdala.” That’s part of the brain that helps control emotions! It’s why teens sometimes struggle to articulate what we’re thinking, especially in situations that require instinct/impulse and quick decisions, because we’re really feeling whenever we make those choices. Acting more on emotion. Our brains simply haven’t finished developing the decision-making parts, lmao.

In sum: Aang and Katara are both kids, not adults, and should be interpreted as such. This doesn’t negate their intelligence, because they are both incredibly smart and Aang is arguably the wisest of the Gaang, but they are human. Young humans. They have emotions, and we should not be so cruel as to assume they’d never act on them.

So taking that all together, we can now acknowledge the high stress Aang and Katara are under, understand why they might be upset (*cough* imperialist propaganda is hurtful *cough*), and examine how their youth might play into their emotional reactions. And funny thing - all analyses that come to the conclusion of Aang “threatening” Katara here do not usually bother with this context. I can’t imagine why!

And you know what, let’s add one more piece of context: Sokka states that Aang left the theater “like, ten minutes ago,” which is what cues Katara to go look for him on the balcony. The reason I mention this line is because to me, it suggests Aang knew he was more worked up than usual! He chose to separate himself from his friends so he could process his frustration! He did not take his anger at the play out on them; instead, he purposefully took time and space to be alone.

With that in mind, I don’t understand at all how Aang’s Avatar state quote could be interpreted as a threat? Canonly, Aang is someone who was aware enough of his frustration to separate himself from the others - yet the logical next step is him threatening Katara as a result? He knew his intense emotions were because of the play (which he says himself), so the logical conclusion is that he then pinned the fault on Katara? What?? Sorry, that interpretation has no textual basis, lmao. But I digress!

Aang tells Katara, “If I hadn’t blocked my chakra, I’d probably be in the Avatar State right now!�� As you said, this is the line people point to in an attempt to justify their (baseless) conclusion that Aang is “threatening” Katara. So let’s bring in the two key pieces of context: imperialist propaganda and age. Given that Aang is 12, and given that Aang has just watched almost a full play that demeans him and everything his people stood for (and let’s not forget it also mocks his and Katara’s love for each other)…

His reaction is understandable. An exaggeration and needlessly dramatic, but understandable. He feels vulnerable and insecure and Aang is human. He is human and flawed and he overreacts here and I love that A:TLA shows how even our heroes, even people who are truly good at heart and in soul, can get overly upset (especially given the aforementioned circumstances!). Would Aang actually be in the Avatar state at that moment, had it been possible? Of course not! He’s young and he’s hurt and as such he says something dramatic to convey his anxieties and frustrations. The line is not meant to be taken literally, and seeing people do so despite all the factors that should be taken into consideration when analyzing it… Cue a long, tired sigh from me and so many other A:TLA fans.

And to be honest? I cannot fathom how people watch this episode and come to the conclusion that Aang is “threatening” Katara. To me, this episode - besides being a recap episode - is one that humanizes our cast even further. Aang snaps at Katara, kisses her when he shouldn’t (which the story appropriately treats as wrong). Katara pushes down her true feelings and retreats into herself, afraid to start a relationship with the boy she loves because she’s already lost him once before and can’t bear to do so again. Zuko further confronts the hurt he’s enacted upon others, especially upon Iroh. Toph practices being vulnerable and accepting vulnerability from others by conversing with Zuko. Sokka witnesses how others have erased his contributions and labelled him as nothing more than the token nonbender in the group. Even Suki learns that she is not the only person who holds a place in Sokka’s heart and that she can never replace what he has lost.

To watch this episode where our heroes must come to terms with how the Fire Nation deems them inherently inferior, with how they have more fights to overcome in the future with the Fire Nation than a single war, and to come to the conclusion that… that what, Aang is abusive? A monster? Irredeemable? That he would threaten his best friend, someone he loves in every way?

Wow. That says more than enough about the viewer, doesn’t it?

#getting back into the swing of things babey ✌️#aang #katara #kataang #kataangtag #the ember island players #atla #avatar the last airbender #amy answers #dramaticowl #amy analyzes #also i am speaking in GENERAL TERMS here lmaooo this is not a direct response to any one post 😂😂

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pradaksj · 4 years ago

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ghostin || part 2 (finale). (m.)

↳do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.

❧ summary ⟶ ❝Though I wish he were here instead. Don't want that living in your head, he just comes to visit me when I'm dreaming every now and then. ❞

❧ pairing⟶ seokjin/reader

❧ genre⟶ angst, angst, and angst … did i say angst? + a bit of fluff? friends to lovers.

❧ word count ⟶ 18,000+

❧ warnings ⟶ major character death! sad ending. descriptions of grieving process.

❧ part of the ⟶ thank u, next series

part 1 || part 2 (final)

“H-He did the right thing,” Jimin stutters, and you were sure he hardly even believed what was coming out of his own mouth,“What he did was selfless,”he declares.

“No he broke my grandma’s heart!” Jia scowls at Jimin, “What a jerk…” she huffs, having been fully engrossed in your story.

“No he’s right,” you say, shocking Jia, “It was an act of complete selflessness and in a sense, I applaud him for being able to do it because God knows I wouldn’t have been able to,” you sigh, “But ask yourself Jimin, in a week from now would you regret it?”

He looks as if he’s about to nod his no, until you add to your question, “How about a year? Maybe two? What about three? Just how sure are you about it?”

He remains silent.

“Tell you what Jimin,” you pause, “Only if you’re one hundred percent sure that you’d have absolutely no and I mean zero regrets about your decision then go ahead and leave,” you say, and he looks at you in a confusing manner, “You heard me, you can get up and leave right now, but,” you add emphasis to the word, “if you have even the slightest bit of a doubt, then all I ask of you is to hear this story till its end.”

Jimin, who by now had grabbed his jacket from the table in preparation to leave, now hesitated. Before you went up to him, he was so sure he wouldn’t regret it… but now after hearing a part of this story of yours… that confidence was long gone. Because if history truly was repeating itself, then he wanted to know the ending to this tale.

And so remaining in his seat, a look of determination covered his face.

“Okay then,” you mutter, ready to continue.

“That night I had cried in that diner for what felt like hours. It wasn’t until the waitress had to tell me that they’d be closing soon that I remembered I was far from Seoul, and so instead I went to my parents’ house and spent the night crying in my mom’s arms. I didn’t tell her right away, but I knew that she had known. Because honestly why else would I cry that hard.

Still though, I kept my mouth shut about it for the week that I slept over there, thinking deep down in my heart that he’d come back and tell me it was all a big mistake. Because if he did, I would’ve forgiven him. Maybe give him the silent treatment for a bit, hell even make him beg a bit, but I would’ve still forgiven him nonetheless.

When I went back to Seoul, I stayed in the same apartment. I paid the same expensive rent despite there only being one person living in there now. I stayed there because every afternoon I’d come back from work with a tiny feeling of hope that when I’d walk in, I’d find him in the kitchen like I always did after work, eating God knows what.

Sadly it never happened....

In the beginning I’d have no problem visiting my parents in their home, that continuous hopeful side in me thinking I’d be able to magically see Jin at his parent’s house.

In reality the only person I’d occasionally see was his mother, who greeted me the same way she always did, acting as if nothing happened. I’m sure Seokjin must’ve told her through a phone call, but yet like the amazing person she was, she never asked me any questions about it. Never uttered his name around me, instead asking about trivial things like my career and such.

With no update on where Seokjin was, or what he was doing, it was only a matter of time in which I’d realize that things just weren't going to play out like how I imagined them to. The charming prince in my story had truly left.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and soon months turned into years. I stopped visiting my parents house as much, and ultimately began to ask them if they could come out to Seoul to visit me rather than the other way around. As going home only served as a reminder for me of what I had lost. No… of what had left me.

And so after about two years of being single, I finally began to date people for the first time in my life, until soon enough I met someone by the name of Seojun. Though it wasn’t exactly love at first sight, it was definitely my first serious relationship since my break up with Seokjin, and slowly I really did fall in love.

I had successfully forgotten about Seokjin.

At least I thought I did ….

I guess this brings us to where our story begins to end….

1999.

“My loneliness is killing me,” you whisk the batter of the cake you were making, “and iiiii,” the shiny ring placed on your left ring finger shines even under the kitchen light, “I must confess I still believe,” you pause for a moment, “I still believe,” you horribly sing the ad-lib to Britney Spears’ chart topper of a song, “...Baby One More Time”.

Out of nowhere, the music on the radio is turned down, “I think that’s enough whisking y/n,” your mom chuckles, “any more and you’ll over mix it.”

Sighing, you follow your mom’s orders.

Today was Christmas, and like every other year, you were spending it at home with your parents. Your fiancé, Seojun, who was out of town to celebrate the holiday with his family as well, would arrive in two days. It was the best compromise the two of you could make, with the agreement that the roles would be reversed for the following year.

Taking out the baked bread she had put in an hour earlier, she immediately sets it down on the cooling rack placed on the table, “You’re going to have to take these to Mrs. Kim right now,” she mentions, while cutting the bread into slices.

Silently, you nod, ignoring the drop in your stomach that you’d feel whenever you had to interact with anything that forced you to remember him.

Despite you successfully managing to forget about him in terms of your daily life, Kim Seokjin just wasn’t someone you could ever completely forget. No matter how much you wanted to.

Wrapping parchment paper around the pieces, you help your mom tie the cute little pieces of red string around it, her belief of presentation adding to the flavor still ringing true to this day.

She inspects them one more time before placing them into the woven basket decorated with many other Christmas like things, along with the two gifts she bought for the twins, “Make sure you remind her about coming over tomorrow with the kids.”

Nodding, you place your coat on and begin to make your way out, “And tell her I said Merry Christmas!”

Making a motion with your hand that you heard her well, you close the door before she can add anything else.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Ah y/n,” Mrs. Kim greets, pulling you in for a hug, “Merry Christmas,” she says.

“Merry Christmas Mrs. Kim,” you smile at her, handing her the basket.

“Come in, come in,” she insists, and reluctantly you do, “I swear everytime I see you it feels like I’m only getting older,” she chuckles, “You don’t want something to drink? Maybe some wine—”

Laughing at her enthusiasm, you say “It’s fine Mrs. Kim,” while looking around the place. She had done an amazing job at decorating this year, not like she never did, “Where’s Mr. Kim?” you ask in curiosity.

“Ah he’s not coming till later, had some paperwork he wanted to finish up at work,” she explains, and you nod in understanding.

“Merry Christmas!” two voices simultaneously yell, and immediately you're met with a giant hug from the two twins.

Eyes widening at how big they had gotten, a smile covers your face, “Now I’m the one who feels like I’m getting old,” you comment, resulting in Mrs. Kim to laugh.

The two, who had to be at least 13 years old by now, were definitely going through the phases of puberty by now.

Ruffling their hair, you recall how baby-faced they once were, only imagining how different they’d look in a couple years time.

Minjun, who now sported braces, was the first to speak, “Woah, it feels like we haven’t seen you in forever!”

Yeonha adds on, “Yeah! You’ve gotten so….” she stops herself from continuing, but you know what she wants to say.

“Old,” you finish for her, pretending to be angry by placing your hands on your hips.

She awkwardly laughs, scratching her neck, a habit she must’ve picked up from her older brother, “Of course not!” she tries to play it off.

“I’m only 25, turning 26 in a couple of weeks if you really wanna be specific, but that doesn’t make me old little lady!” you scold.

She raises her hands to her defense, while Minjun comes to her rescue, “I think the word she was looking for was mature,” he says, “I mean you’re dressed like those office ladies we see on TV,” and you’re unsure if the comparison was supposed to be a good or bad thing, but nevertheless you change the topic, not wanting to fluster them any more than they already were.

“So any gifts you two are wanting this year?” and immediately Yeonha’s face lights up at the question.

Eagerly she nods her head, “I think Santa,” she sends her mom a mischievous look, “is getting me a new beeper this Christmas,”

Mrs. Kim playfully rolls her eyes.

“Santa heard from a little birdy that your old beeper wasn’t stolen, but got dropped in water,” Mrs. Kim comments, and immediately Yeonha’s face pales.

She turns to her twin brother and smacks him in shoulder, “Hey!” he yelps, “it wasn’t me!” he scowls, “It was probably Jin,” and even by a single utter of his name, you feel your heart begin to race, “I swear, it’s like you purposely forget what you tell him on the phone sometimes,” Minjun continues to ramble on, clearly upset by the accusation of being the snitch.

“I think I should get going,” you suddenly interrupt.

“Oh but you just got here,” Mrs. Kim says, failing to notice why you were suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

“Yeah!” Yeonha adds for support, “Jin’s supposed to get here any second now,” she wiggles her brows, even after all these years, still clearly unaware of the circumstances for your breakup.

Mrs. Kim looks surprised at Yeonha’s sudden announcement, “He was supposed to get here at 8,” she mumbles, a wave of guilt washing over her.

You send her a sympathetic look, knowing that it wasn’t her intention to put you in an uncomfortable position, “I’ll see you all soon, I promise,” you say, and Mrs. Kim now barely notices the ring on your finger. A subtle gasp escaping from her lips.

With your hand on the handle, you begin to open the door, “And Merry Christm—”

Stomach dropping at the sight in front of you, you feel as if a semi-truck had hit you, rendering you at a loss for words, “Y-Y/N?”

The first thing you notice about him is the length of his hair. It seemed as if he had grown it back into the mullet he first had when you met him, only this time it suited the mature aura he seemed to have.

Dressed in a black turtleneck, matched with black pants and dress shoes, you weren’t sure if you were in shock because he was right in front of you for the first time in nearly 3 years or because of how easy it was for him to get your heart racing.

It was weird really, despite his change in appearance, for some reason even now you were sure that he was still the same old Seokjin you’d always known.

Noting that you’d been staring at him in silence for quite a while, you finally manage to spew something out, “S-Seokjin,” is all you manage to stutter under your breath.

The twins share a troublesome look to one another, “Come on you two, Mom made Pajeon,” Yeonha says, pulling the two of you by your respective hands and forcing you both inside, “We can all eat and catch up,” she smiles wide and big, “I’m sure you two would love that,” she winks.

“I d-don’t,” you attempt to say something, but too flustered for your own good, you remain in shock.

Glancing at Mrs. Kim, you notice the contemplative look on her face, as if she was debating with herself in terms of what to do.

Making up her mind, she announces, “I’ll get the plates ready,” much to your dread.

Awkwardly, the two of you are seated across from another, the tension in the room only building as you wait for the food.

“Soooo……” Yeonha breaks the silence that fills the room, “What have you two been up to?” she glances at the two of you, waiting for a response.

Feeling a knot in your stomach, you continue to remain silent.

It also didn’t help that Seokjin’s gaze had remained on you this whole time. It was as if he was studying you, analyzing you the same way you had done to him. He wanted to see if you had changed.

Feigning a cough, he ultimately speaks. “Shouldn’t you already know Yeonha,” he questions her, “unless you haven’t been listening whenever we talk on the phone…”

Her face reddens, “Of course I have! You just went to Taiwan recently to consult for some business company and do those boring analyses you always do.”

He shakes his head, “Then there’s your answer,” he simply states.

“Business? So he really did end up giving up on his dream ….” you think to yourself, a bit saddened at the fact. A part of you always assumed that Jin had left you to be well on his way to stardom, that when he left you that night, he truly was being the selfish person he claimed he wanted to be.

“Y/N? …” the sound of your name being repeated brings you back to reality.

For a moment you look confused, “I said what about you?” and for the first time since your breakup, both you and Jin make eye contact, easily taking your breath away.

Face reddening, you take a while to respond, “I um—” flustering with your words , you continue, “I’m um— the head writer at the same company I worked at years ago,” you force an awkward smile on your face.

“Oh…” Jin says, “Do you like it over there?” and the question brings you back to that first car ride to the diner when you had just moved to town. His delivery of the question still as blunt as before.

“Um yeah …” you reply, fidgeting with your fingers.

He genuinely smiles, “I’m glad,” he says, “really I am,” he adds for extra comfort.

And before you could say thank you, his mother enters the dining room, the plate of Pajeon in her hand, along with other side dishes, “Here you kids go,” she places the things on the table, “Make sure you eat it while it’s hot,” she warns before making her way back into the kitchen.

It’s only until you grab the piece of Pajeon with your chopsticks that he finally notices it.

He finally notices the shiny diamond ring you sport on your left index finger.

“You’re engaged,” he suddenly announces says , face unreadable.

As if the room wasn’t awkward enough….

Gulping, you nod, “Yeah,” you exhale, “it happened a couple of months ago,” you add.

The two of you stare at each other in silence, “I’m happy for you,” he gives you a small smile. Silently patting his mouth with a napkin, he gets up from his seat, “Well I just came back from a pretty long flight so I’m pretty tired, so I think I’m gonna head upstairs,” he avoids eye contact for a moment, a sign that he was lying, “Jet lag you know?” he awkwardly laughs, “But it was nice seeing you y/n…”

Getting up as well, you decide that it was best you left as well.

“Merry Christmas y/n,” he says one final time before heading up stairs.

“Merry Christmas to you too Seokjin,” you whisper under your breath.

“Since our breakup three years before, Seokjin had never once gone back home for Christmas, which was why I felt so sure that he wouldn’t that year, but of course I was wrong. So when I told my mom she immediately began to panic for me, remembering that she invited Mrs. Kim to come over the next day, and well of course she didn’t want to be rude and rescind her invitation.

And so I told my mom that it was fine. Whether Seokjin decided he wanted to come over or not, I’d be just fine. At least that’s what I tried convincing myself of…”

“Seokjin, we’re going to be headed our way now,” Mrs. Kim yells over the blasting music. God, did Jin feel like a teenager again. “If you change your mind well … we’ll be right next door!”

He hears her footsteps going down the stairs, signalling that she was gone.

Engaged …. You were really engaged ….

The image of the ring on your finger was the only thing that remained in his mind the night before, and it was what was haunting him even now.

He wasn’t sure what came over him, you were happy, you had found love in someone else just like he’d hoped for years ago.

He should’ve been ecstatic for you … but he wasn’t.

Several questions pondered in his mind once he saw it. Who was the guy? How did you meet? When were you sure you loved him? Was he treating you better than he ever did? Could he give you the future you always wanted? Just how happy were you?

Sighing, he gets up from bed, not wanting to sulk for any longer.

He had to do something, anything, for the meanwhile that he was back home to get his mind off of this. And so grabbing his jacket, he prepares to leave, unsure of just how long he could be in the same proximity as you without doing something he’d regret.

The sounds of crickets chirping fills the air, a wine glass in your hand as you look at the stars above in the sky from the comfort of your front porch.

Inside, your parents were talking about the most mundane of things with Jin’s parents, while the kids were busy preoccupying themselves playing with their newly gifted Nintendo 64. And after getting tired of constantly losing to them, here you were, taking a break from the chaos going on inside.

Seojun was arriving tomorrow, from there you’d only be here for the remainder of the weekend and then back home to your apartment in Seoul, as if nothing ever happened. Ever since yesterday, something was eating at you. You just weren’t sure what. And the only thing you could look at to ease your anxiousness was the ring on your finger, a solid reminder that you had a future to look forward to and that the past was buried six feet under.

Taking a gulp of the drink in your hand, you mentally curse Jin. Why did he have to return? Out of all years, this had to be the one he chose to magically come back in? “Damn you Seok—”

“Y/N?” you look up to see the person you were just damning, car keys in hand. It looked as if he was originally planning on going somewhere, but must’ve walked over here once he saw you sitting here by yourself.

“Seokjin,” you say, a mixture of both shock and displeasure evident in your voice.

Relief washes over him when hearing your response because unbeknownst to you, from afar you looked as if you were completely knocked out, a result of the position you were in while you were deeply thinking. Immediately he eyes the wine glass in front of you, everything beginning to make sense.

“You looked um—” shaking his head, he disregards what he was going to say, “Sorry I’ll just get going.”

And maybe it was the wine talking, but rather than keep quiet and watch him leave, you call out to him, “You can—” you hesitate to continue, “You can sit here if you want,” you say, “that’s only if you want to of course, I’m not forcing you to do anything you don’t want to because I’m not exactly physically capable of doing that and—”

Jin interrupts your tipsy rambling by sitting at an appropriate distance from you, a soft chuckle escaping from his lips, “You always did like getting drunk off wine,” he whispers under his breath, a small smile on his lips.

For a while, the two of you remain in silence, simply staring at the view above. That was of course until you asked him a simple question, “Where were you going?” you mumble.

Bringing his attention towards you, his eyes soften, “Just wanted some fresh air,” he simply answers, being completely truthful.

Silently you nod, “Mm that’s good,” you say, your cheeks a soft tinge of red because of the wine.

“So…”

“So…” you mimic him, causing him to playfully roll his eyes.

“How have you been?” he attempts to break the ice, “I realized I didn’t really ask you that yesterday…”

It was funny really, the two of you truly had become strangers in a sense, just like how he said you two would be that night. But in a way, it also made things more interesting, it was as if he was getting the chance to know you for the second time in his life.

“I’ve been..” you hesitate to find the right word, ultimately deciding on the simplest one you knew, “I’ve been good,” you say, “I’m doing something I love, have an apartment I completely adore, and I found someone—” you stop yourself from continuing.

“You found someone you love?” he says for you, and silently you nod, remaining silent for a moment.

“Why did you—” you pause before continuing, “Why did you become a businessman?” you ask, the question having been on your mind since the day before.

Casually, he shrugs, “There was no future in the world of entertainment for me y/n,” he states, “so I went back to college, worked my ass off, and got a degree in financial accounting. From there the job offers came pretty easily and now I’m a traveling business analyst.”

“Did you do it because of your da—”

He’s quick to nod his head no, “I did it for—,” and at the last second he changes what he was originally going to say, “I did it for myself,” and you feel yourself getting angry.

“But it wasn’t what you dreamed of, it wasn’t something you loved!” you unintentionally shout.

“Hey hey hey,” he places a hand on your shoulder, “any louder and the whole neighborhood will hear you,” he attempts to joke around, and you feel your face get redder than it already was.

Letting go of your shoulder, he looks back up to the stars, his voice becoming soft, “The night I told you about wanting to seriously pursue becoming a director, you told me that if I failed, the real question would be if I’d be able to accept it…” your gaze falls on him while he continues to look up into the sky, “At first I wasn’t able to… I was too ashamed to admit to failure, but—” he smiles, “when I finally did, it almost felt liberating. And so I realized sometimes you have to give up the things you love, for a better shot at a future.”

Bullshit.

Complete bullshit.

That’s what you want to say to him.

And so you do.

“That’s complete utter bullshit Seokjin,” you mutter, taking a sip of your drink, “because if it isn’t then that makes you a selfish person, and you’re the farthest thing from selfish. So that’s just bullshit and you know it.”

He laughs, “It is, isn't it?”

Not expecting him to agree, you look at him in shock before grouchily looking away, focusing your gaze on anything but him.

Failing to hear the brief sharp hissing sound of his zipper being pulled down, you suddenly feel the placement of his sweater over your shoulders. You furrow your brows in confusion, “You’re shivering like a chihuahua,” he explains, scratching his neck like he always did whenever he was nervous.

Crossing your arms, you attempt to hide your face which you were sure by now was as red as a tomato. What the hell were you doing? Sitting here talking to your ex boyfriend of 6 years while your fianceé was probably well on his way here… it was wrong, it was inappropriate. So then if you knew that then why did it feel so … you brush the thought off before you could complete it.

“Because he was your friend first and as much as you hate to admit it, he'll always mean something to you…” you tell yourself, feeling guilty at the thought.

“Y/N?” he says your name, bringing you back to reality.

You look at him, wondering why he said your name out of the blue.

“Do you—” it was now his turn to hesitate, “Do you hate me?” he finally asks, and immediately your mind says no. You could never hate him, even if you wanted to.

He stares at you, anxiously waiting for a response.

“No I don’t.” you simply say, not bothering to elaborate any further, but for Jin that was enough. It was enough to tell him that you still …

“Seojun…” you whisper under your breath, a car pulling into the driveway of your house, a look of surprise on your face. Immediately you push off the jacket from your shoulders, catching Seokjin by surprise.

“So this is who he is…” Jin thinks to himself, watching the handsome man come out of the car, a grin on his face as he locks eyes with you.

Walking towards him, Jin watches as you lovingly greet the man with a kiss to the cheek, the two of you then walking towards him. “Seojun this is Seokjin, his parents are the neighbors,” Seojun offers his hand out, a polite smile on his face, “Seokjin this is Seojun, my fianceé,” the two shake hands. Your past and present finally meeting.

“Seokjin which means to be a great treasure,” Seojun attempts to make small conversation.

“He’s a linguist,” you explain, awkwardly chuckling, noting the fake smile on Seokjin’s face.

“Mm I see,” he mumbles, bitterness in his voice.

“I thought you weren’t coming till tomorrow?” you ask your fianceé, still surprised by his sudden appearance.

He shrugs, “What can I say, I got bored,” he laughs, “So I said my goodbyes early, and decided why not come here to surprise you,” he kisses your forehead, and Jin feels the green eyed monster making its way out.

“Well I should get going,” Jin states.

“You sure?” you widen your eyes at Seojun’s sudden question, “I mean I love your dad y/n but it’d be nice to have someone else to talk to,” he chuckles, “and well I definitely wanna hear about what y/n was like as a teenager from someone who isn’t one of her parents.”

You and Jin both make awkward eye contact, unsure of what to say. “Maybe some other time,” Jin manages to say, “I have to um…” he flusters, “um..”

“Finish typing up that business report you were talking about,” you make an excuse for him.

He snaps his fingers, pretending that that was what he was trying to say, “Mmhmm yeah!” he scratches his neck, “My job just doesn’t want me resting, not even for the holidays, you know how it is...” he adds on, coming for the Actor of the Year award at next year's Oscars.

Seojun surprisingly believes it, “Damn, that’s too bad,” he scratches his chin, a sign that he was thinking of something, “Well are you coming to our engagement party? Maybe we can talk then,” he says, and if your eyes weren’t already wide enough, by now they were well on their way to falling onto the floor. Seojun was just too kind for his own good.

Jin practically chokes on his own spit, “I um—”

Realizing that you probably forgot to invite him, Seojun interrupts before Jin could feel any more embarrassed, “January 12, at the Lotte Hotel in Seoul, 6PM sharp.”

Feeling his face get red, Seokjin nods, “Yeah I’ll be there,” he forces a laugh.

Patting his shoulder, Seojun smiles, “I look forward to talking to you then,” he says, beginning to make his way inside, with you following closely behind, a guilt-ridden look on your face.

Now by himself, Jin silently cursed to himself. Damn him! Seojun wasn’t at all the asshole Seokjin made him out to be in his head. But damn did he want him to be one…. then it’d be much easier to hate the man, and it’d make him much less guilty for what he was planning to do….

“After that night, I’d go to sleep scared. Not because I was in danger in anything, but because I was scared about the feelings I’d repressed for so long now starting to return. I was scared of looking back…”

Patting down your black fitted cocktail dress, you look at yourself in the mirror for a final time, “Everything is going to be just fine,” you whisper to yourself, having cooped yourself in the ladies restroom for quite some time now.

You couldn’t help it, the moment you saw the twins walk in with Jin’s mother, you knew it was only a matter of time before Jin walked in.

Ever since that Christmas weekend, his sudden return into your life had been eating you alive. You had gotten over him, you were sure of it. No … you are over him. Point. Blank.

This ring you wore on your finger signified that you were over him, that there was a different future to look forward to now. That whatever was meant to be in the past was no longer an option for you now. Right?

The door suddenly opens, “Y/N, there you are!” your mom comes in with an upset look on her face, “the host of the party can’t just disappear whenever she wants to,” she scolds.

Staring at her with a doe eyed look, you want to tell her everything. Everything that you were currently feeling, every question, every doubt that was crossing your mind since Jin’s return. But instead you just look away, making your way out.

“Taiwan huh? I’ve always wanted to visit there,” you hear your future brother-in-law, Hoseok, say.

He, along with Seojun, Seokjin, and some other guests were currently discussing God knows what in a social circle.

“Y/N,” Seojun calls out to you, a grin on his face.

Immediately you make eye contact with Jin, feeling your every movement being scrutinized under his gaze.

Sucking it up, you plaster a smile onto your face, reminding yourself that in a couple of hours you’d be in bed, with the only other times you’d have to see Jin being your rehearsal dinner, which was the night before the wedding, and the wedding day itself. And even then he would just have to be another face in the crowd of guests.

Seojun places a kiss to your cheek, “Jin was just talking about his adventures in Taiwan, I’m thinking it might be a good destination for our honeymoon,” he says with genuine excitement in his tone. Oh how naive he was…

“Oh…” is all you can say, struggling to keep the smile on your face, “um yeah, I guess that would be a nice place to go, wouldn’t it?” you attempt to stay engaged with the conversation, and it seemed as if it was enough to fool Seojun because soon he was talking about something else with another guest.

But clearly it wasn’t enough to fool Jin, as he currently had his gaze fixed on you, occasionally taking a sip out of the glass of whiskey in his hand.

“I think I’m gonna go out and get a breath of fresh air,” you whisper to Seojun’s ear, and silently he nods, distracted by the conversation he was currently having.

Going out, you make sure not to be seen by your mother, knowing that she’d only scold you again for trying to leave. And so like the cowardly person you were, all you could do was hide and wait in the hotel’s little garden, sitting on the stone bench, the smell of the flowers somewhat relaxing you.

God, did you just want this night to be over already…

“You shouldn’t have come here,” you suddenly say, feeling the presence of someone behind you, but you knew exactly who it was.

“You looked sad,” you hear Jin say, genuine concern in his voice.

You remain silent.

Sighing, he sits next to you, the moonlight framing his face in such a way that he almost looks ethereal. “Originally I wasn’t going to,” he says, understanding the double meaning to your words, for you meant that he shouldn’t have came to this event at all, “But I needed to see it with my own eyes, confirm that it wasn’t just some—”

“What? Some joke?” you scoff, “Some wretched attempt at getting over you…”

Now it was his turn to remain silent.

You shake your head, “3 years Seokjin,” you say, “3 years you were gone and you just had to come back the year I get engaged,” you bitterly chuckle, wishing you had a drink in your hand, “funny how life works huh?”

Silently he nods, agreeing with you, “I guess it was just a natural sense,” he attempts to joke around, but you remain silent, “I’m sorry,” he randomly says and you look at him confused, “For coming back,” he elaborates on the apology, “if I’d known beforehand I wouldn’t have come back to town for both of our sakes,” he chuckles, being completely honest.

“Hand me that,” you motion to the drink in his hand, and without question he does. Taking a giant gulp, you then finally say something, “I’m getting married in 6 months Seokjin,” you remind him of your future fate, “it was going to happen before you came back, and it’s happening even after,” you turn to face him, wanting to make sure he understood that at this very moment you were placing a line between you two, one that you hoped was unbreakable.

He returns to stare, “I know y/n,” he simply responds.

“Do you?” your face twists into a frown, “Because I know you Seokjin and something in my gut is telling me that—”

“Y/N I know,” he repeats, “but just answer one thing for me…” he pauses, contemplating on whether to continue but does so anyway, “Do you really love him?”

And just as you’re about to respond, he interrupts, “But I mean genuinely y/n, enough where you really can picture the rest of your life with him with absolutely no regrets, no what if’s…” he adds.

Could you? You ask yourself. Could you really imagine being with Seojun with no regrets…..

To Jin, your silence was enough of an answer, but before he could get a word in, a voice suddenly interrupts, “Y/N!” Seojun calls out, “There you are,” he exhales a relieved sigh, “We’re about to cut the cake,” he glances at Jin, nodding as a way of saying hello.

“Oh right ...” you get up from the bench, a black cloud hanging over your head, “I’ll see you at the wedding Seokjin,” you look at Jin a final time, the statement ultimately acting as your answer.

“The six months went by in the blink of an eye, but each and every night when I went to bed, it ate me alive.

The lies I was telling my fianceé, the lies I was telling myself, everything was just becoming too much.

And as the date loomed closer and closer, it was only getting worse. And so the night before the rehearsal dinner I finally came clean…”

Staring up at the ceiling of your bedroom, you’d become accustomed to the sleepless nights for the last six months, faint lines beginning to form under your eyes.

In less than 48 hours you’d be a married woman, welcoming a future you’d always wanted. So then why was it now, you still couldn’t get a wink of sleep.

“Wedding jitters?” you hear Seojun whisper beside you, and you find yourself shocked that he was still awake. Usually he was quick to fall asleep, a deep sleeper as well, so to find him awake was pretty unusual.

You remain silent, hoping he’d just fall asleep, but like the caring person he was, he softly nudges you despite knowing that you were ignoring him, “Seojun, go to sleep, it’s late,” you mumble in the darkness, reminding you of a memory from long ago.

“Something’s bothering you,” he says, now turning to face you, and he nudges you a second time, “You know you can tell me anything…” he adds, wanting to reassure you.

This was your chance, your chance to tell him everything before it was too late. It was speak now or forever hold your peace, and so sighing, you position yourself to sit up, turning on the bedside lamp.

“Seojun I haven’t been completely honest with you…” you announce, now avoiding eye contact. “And well you deserve to know the truth because you’re an amazing person who deserves nothing but the bes—”

“Y/N,” he interrupts you, a soft laugh emitting from his lips, “I know Seokjin is your ex, and I know he still loves you,” he drops the bombshell of news on you, and you could’ve sworn you felt your jaw hit the floor.

“W-wait w-w-what?” you manage to breathe out, and it only makes him laugh again.

He now sits up, nodding his head, “I knew the moment you introduced his parents as the neighbors rather than calling him an old friend,” he chuckles, “you were trying to make it seem a little too platonic,” your face squirms, “and well you’re not exactly the best liar,” he pauses, “Plus your mom isn’t exactly a quiet speaker so when I heard her rambling to your dad about the situation, I sorta just knew.”

“T-then why didn’t you call me out on it?” you immediately ask, but before he could respond, you continue to ramble, “God, I’m so sorry Seojun,” tears well up in your eyes, “I love you, I really do,” you say, completely truthful, “but I-I-I—” you struggle to continue.

“But you also love him,” he completes for you, a look of understanding on his face.

Immediately you nod your head no, “No I don’t it’s just—”

“Y/N it’s fine,” he says, grabbing your hand, but you still refuse to admit it.

“No Seojun, you don’t get it. I love you, I do, more than you ever know and I’m ready to start our future together but—” you look away, “as much as I hate to admit it I’m always going to feel something for him because he was my first love,” you whisper the last part, “but you’re my last,” you reaffirm.

Seojun smiles sadly before sighing, “I know, which is why I sorta just let it be that night at the engagement party because well... I figured that if you were able to make it to the aisle without turning back it meant that you truly did love me,” he pauses, “Because even now you have the choice to turn back y/n, you do understand that right? I won’t be mad, I won’t be too sad, and I won’t hate you for it because I understand,” he says and you feel a teardrop fall from your eye, “that night I overheard him ask you if you really loved me and though you didn’t immediately say yes, you also didn’t flat out say no. And so it seems you’re at a crossroad… ” he whispers.

“Seojun…”

He squeezes your hand, “When you step on that aisle then I’ll have no doubt that you’ve completely unregrettably chosen me,” he says, “and if you don’t then I’ll know you were just never meant to be mine,” he smiles softly.

A silence follows.

“Tomorrow he’s going to the rehearsal dinner, and I’m assuming it’ll act as his hail mary. His final attempt at getting you back,” he suddenly says, “and so it’ll be your time to make a decision … a future with me or a look back at the past with Seokjin,” and he kisses your cheek, his way of saying goodnight before making himself comfortable in bed again, quickly falling asleep, and leaving you in the same sleepless state you were already in before.

He was right, knowing Seokjin tomorrow he was going to do something because you were 100% sure that he would never grow the balls to object to the matrimony in front of everyone. And so as the clock kept ticking, it was only up to you to decide your future.

“The next night came quicker than expected. After all of the guest greetings and pretentious conversations I had to make, it was time for the guests to make a toast. By then I had already made a decision in my mind, I just didn’t expect everything to happen the way it did….

For over the last 50 years I’ve constantly looked back at that night and have asked myself where it went wrong, what could’ve gone differently, what if this, and what if that… as it was never meant to escalate to the point it reached...

But it did … and as much I would love to go back in time and change everything, I can’t. And that’s just something I’ve had to accept, no matter how much it hurts…”

Clink. Clink. Clink.

You eye Jin as he gets up from his seat, his glass of sparkling water in his hand.

You’d been avoiding him like the plague the whole night, just wanting to get to the wedding day as soon as possible.

You attempt to remain calm.

He wouldn’t do it, not here in front of everyone. If he really cared for you like you believed him to, then he wouldn’t.

You knew Jin, and he was the kind of person to pull you to the side or find you alone like at the night of the engagement party in order to tell you something. Never would he stoop so low to do something like this…

Feigning a cough, he speaks, “I want to make this as quick as possible, don’t want to take too much of everyone’s time,” Jin’s mother glances at yours, the two of them unsure of what was going on, “So where do I begin…” Seojun looks at you with an impassive expression, your conversation from the night before coming to fruition, “Ahh I know,” Jin snaps his fingers, “So for anyone who doesn’t know, I actually dated y/n first…”

“Seokjin,” his mother attempts to stop him by harshly whispering his name, but he relents.

“We dated for about 6 years actually, to a point where we sure that we’d spend the rest of our lives together,” he scoffs, “but then I ruined that by breaking up with her,” he reminds you and everyone else around you of the fateful night, “which I know is shitty of me to realize just now how much of a mistake it was. But I mean what are the chances that I come back the year you’re about to get engaged, I mean that has to mean something right?” he rambles, almost as if talking to himself, convincing himself that this was the right thing to do.

Everyone sits in shock of the words spewing out of his mouth, certain that this was only something that happened in movies, never imagining that it could actually happen in real life, “I’m only saying this now because I realize it’d be even more of a dick move of me to object in front of everyone,” he chuckles to himself, “And so I’m doing this now, in front of everyone y/n…” he locks eyes with you, “I’m sorry,” he whispers, “but this is our last chance, a final shot at the future you’ve always wanted... with me.”

The silence in the room was deafening.

Slowly you get up, a heavy feeling weighing down your chest as you clear your throat before speaking, “I know this is a lot to ask but if everyone can get up and momentarily leave the room, I’d really appreciate it,” you announce, “I’d like to talk to my friend privately for a moment,” you look down to Seojun who nods understandingly.

Without question, Seojun begins to lead everyone out, until ultimately it was only you and Seokjin standing by yourselves, a scene all too familiar to you.

“Y/N…” he begins, but you’re quick to cut him off, your hand placed on your temple.

“Why?” your voice breaks, any emotion you’d been withholding beginning to unravel, “Just why?” is all you’re able to ask.

“Because you don’t love him y/n,” he whispers loud enough for you to hear, and it’s at hearing that, that you feel a shift in mood.

“But I do Seokjin!” you yell, seeing nothing but red now.

Silence momentarily lingers in the air, until you scoff.

“What were you thinking, Seokjin? That you could just come back into my life and I’d welcome you back with open arms?” you ask, tears welling up in your eyes, threatening to fall with every word you got out.

He shakes his head, “No but—” he hesitates, walking closer to you, “what are the chances y/n? What are the chances I come back to town the year you’re getting married—”

“The only reason I’m getting married to someone else is because you left me!” you interrupt him, reminding him of the choice he made years ago.

He looks away, “You don’t get it y/n,” he mumbles under his breath, beginning to grow frustrated.

“What’s there not to get Seokjin?” you push at him, now yelling, “If I hadn’t gone looking for you that night, I would’ve been left with nothing but a goddamn note—”

“I was doing what was best for you!” he yells in return.

“For me?” your voice shakes, “Leaving me at a diner in the middle of the goddamn night with some poor excuse wasn’t the best for me! Leaving me to cry in bed, by myself, for almost 2 years straight wasn’t the best for me! Leaving me, not knowing where the hell you were for almost 3 years wasn’t the best for me!” you finally explode, years and years of anger now revealing itself.

“Everything I had felt, the sadness, the anger, the frustration, everything … was finally being released…”

“I begged for you that night Seokjin, begged!” you emphasize, the tears that had been building up, now falling hysterically.

“I was just trying to do what was best for you,” he says, completely and wholeheartedly honest, because it was true. At the time he really was doing it all for you, and you understood that now, truly you did.

“But I just couldn’t let it go… I was still hurt, and that hurt was what was holding me back. That hurt was what was preventing me from walking out the back door with him, ready to finally start that future with him I always wanted…”

“I didn’t need you to do anything for me!” you yell, “I was a grown woman Seokjin! Capable of making my own decisions, just like I am now!” your heartbeat slows down, “I gave you my heart that night Jin!” your voice cracks, not only feeling your heart break for the second time in your life, but all by the same person, “It was you who left me! Not me, you!”

“Because I didn’t want to hold you back y/n,” his voice breaks, “Because at the time I couldn’t give you the things you wanted.”

“And I told you I didn’t care!” you cry out, “Because for me all that mattered was being by your side…” a silence follows, “You were my first love Seokjin,” you breathe out, “the first boy to make me feel completely and unconditionally loved and so for that I thank you,” you say, “I really do…” you grab his hand, “but this—” you struggle to say the words.

“But this is the end,” a tear falls down from his eye, and you can only stare at him in sadness.

“I’m choosing Seojun, completely and unregrettably,” you whisper, placing a final soft kiss to his cheek, “I’m sorry,” I’m sorry for being unable to let go, is what you want to say.

“So then I should go,” he quietly says, and silently you nod, letting go of his hand in the process.

And he watches you as you walk away, “Y/N,” he says your name for a final time and you turn around, sadness still etched in your face.

There’s a brief silence before he continues.

“Live—” he hesitates, “Live a life you’ll be proud of,” he reminds you, and to that you send him a small smile. A chapter in your life coming to its end.

“And so the next day was the wedding....”

“How are you feeling y/n?” your mom comes up to you from behind, practically feeling just as nervous as you were.

You pat down your dress, sighing in the process. Ever since last night, there was a churning feeling in your stomach that had been bothering you, but you reasoned with yourself that it must’ve been due to the events of the night prior, “Nervous but I should be good to go,” you respond, and your mom gives you a smile of reassurance.

Curious to see how many guests had arrived already, you look out the window of the room you were in, which gave a perfect view of the venue. Scanning across, it seemed like everyone was here except…

“Where’s Mrs. Kim?” you ask, “and the twins?”

After last night’s events, Mrs. Kim had gone up to you frantically apologizing for her son’s behavior, rambling about understanding if you didn’t want her at the wedding anymore, but you were quick to tell her that it was fine. That just because Jin did what he did, didn’t mean you didn’t want her attending. Which was why now seeing her seat empty along with the twins’, you were not only confused but a little hurt.

“Maybe they’re stuck in traffic,” she reasons, “they did leave quite late,” she adds.

Deciding it was best not to dwell on it too much, you push it to the back of your mind, “Let’s get this show on the road,” you ultimately say, ready to get married.

“You have to remember that in the early 2000’s, not everyone had mobile phones yet because of how expensive they were. People were still used to calling a house phone by memory and crossing their fingers that you’d pick up. You couldn’t just send a text message to absolutely anyone whenever something of importance happened…” you explain, your voice beginning to shake, “you couldn’t inform someone of an emergency until God knows when,” a tear falls from your eye, “Because if you could, then—” you let out a heart wrenching sob.

“Grandma?” Jia says in concern.

“Then I would’ve never gone through with that wedding…”

Seokjin was tired, no … he was exhausted.

God, was he such an idiot. What the hell was he thinking doing that? You were right, did he really think he could just waltz back into your life and everything would just go back what it once was? And to see you cry like that only made him realize even more of what a complete selfish asshole he was.

But at least, you both found closure right? That was all that—

The sound of Seokjin’s car engine making an ugly noise breaks him away from his thoughts. Almost immediately, he pulls over to the side of the road, purposely stopping near a payphone for reference.

Grabbing the flashlight from his compartment box, he gets out of the car and lifts up the hood of the car.

“Hmm...” he hums, nothing seemed wrong. It was probably just his car’s way of saying that it needed to be replaced by a newer model soon.

He smiles, tapping the hood once he placed it back down. He’s had this thing since his first year in college, it being by his side almost as long as you had been, if not more.

Yawning, he gets back in the car, the need to fall asleep becoming a little too overwhelming. Placing the key back in the keyhole, he turns it in order to turn on the ignition, but to his surprise the car refuses to start, “Come on LadyBug,” he says, the name of the car being something you and him both made up on a drunken whim, it sticking ever since.

Deciding to be stubborn tonight, LadyBug relents.

Sighing he grabs his Nokia phone from the glove compartment, the giant words of “NO SIGNAL” only making him sigh more. He just wanted to go home and sleep already.

Getting out of the car once more, he walks towards the phone booth, inserts a quarter, and dials the number of his parent’s house phone. As much as he hated to ask for help, desperate times called for desperate measures, and his dad should be home.

“You have reached the voicemail box of 45x-7x8-87xx, please leave a message after the beep. Beeeeeep,” the automated voice instructs.

Seokjin groans, maybe his dad was asleep, “Hey dad, I’m sorta stranded out here with a car that doesn’t seem to want to start and well … I think Mom is still at the rehearsal dinner with the twins,” Seokjin begins to ramble, “She’s probably on her way back home, but you know her,” he chuckles, scratching his neck, “she still refuses to get a mobile phone so there’s really no way of calling her till she gets home,” despite his father not being on the line, he still felt awkward asking him for a favor, “I’m on interstate 6, you know … the usual route to get from Gwacheon to Seoul. Well, I’m gonna try calling someone else just in case you’re asleep… bye,” he hangs up the phone, disappointed that he was going to be stuck here longer than he hoped for.

Who else could he call, hmmm.

Ah! Yoongi! Hell maybe even Taehyung or Namjoon! Though it’d been a while since he last saw them, he was sure they’d be willing to do him the favor.

Quickly dialing their numbers one after another, he’s met with the same automated message of, “We’re sorry, you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please check your number and try your call again.”

“Damn, they probably changed numbers,” Seokjin mumbles to himself, unsure of what to do.

Glancing at the time in his watch, he realizes just how late it was. Who else could he call….

The image of you appears in his mind, but he’s quick to shake his head no. He was the last person who could call to ask for a favor, but damn was your number the only number he had left in his memory.

And it wasn’t like he could sleep in his car for the night, that was only an invitation to get robbed on the side of the road.

He needed some kind of help, and quickly at that. And the chances that you were already home were pretty high, never being much of a partier to begin with.

“Fuck it,” he mutters, promising himself that this would be the last time he ever asked you for anything. He could only hope that you still lived in the same apartment….

“We should really start heading back home,” you whisper to Seojun’s ear, the rehearsal dinner having only awkwardly resumed about an hour or two ago. Things were barely beginning to get comfortable again among the guests, not like you could really blame them, they had just witnessed something that looked like it came out of a movie.

“Y/N,” he chuckles, “Have some fun,” he says, as this was probably your 10th time saying this in the last hour, “You deserve it,” he tries to convince you, your whole mood having gone sour since the whole mishap.

Sighing, you look away shyly, “I don’t know Seojun—”

“Come onnnn,” he teases, gently pulling you into a hug, “Just one more hour.”

You roll your eyes, “Hm fine,” you say, easily convinced, “but only one,” you reaffirm.

He nods, “only one.”

“Hello, we are currently either sleeping or—Jin I’m making the message for the voicemail thingy majiggy—” the sound of a high pitched laugh in the background is heard, and Jin remembers how he had been poking fun at you for using your “I mean business” voice, “as I was saying, we are currently either sleeping or at work! Sorry we couldn’t reach your call at this time, but please please please leave a message after the beep and we’ll make sure to get back to you as soon as we can! You ready? Beeeeeep!”

Jin laughs at how silly you sounded, surprised that you hadn’t changed the message in the last 3 years. It probably meant you had no reason to, considering it was pretty rare that you didn’t pick up a phone.

Meaning maybe you weren’t picking up on purpose….

Jin shakes his head, reminding himself that he was calling on a payphone and that there was no way you could see it was him. It was just self doubt getting to him.

“Hey y/n it’s me um Seokjin,” he awkwardly laughs, “I know I don’t really deserve to be asking you for a favor right now, but um,” he exhales a deep breath, “I’m sorta stranded right now and well I tried calling everyone else I could think of at the top of my head, I swear, but no one picks up,” he wants to make sure you understand that you really were his last option, “I promise that after this it’ll be the last time you see or hear of me, but I’m just really tired and well I just wanna go home and sleep. So if you can, I’ll be on interstate 6 with LadyBug,” he chuckles, “Um …” he’s unsure of how to end the voicemail, “I’ll see you soon then… bye ….”

Sighing, he walks back to his car, deciding he was going to try one more time before officially giving up. Twisting the key, he could only cross his fingers that it’d start up.

Vrooom.

A toothy grin appears on Jin’s face as he childishly celebrates, “Oh thank God,” he whispers to himself, rubbing his eyes and preparing himself for the drive ahead.

“Y/N,” your mom calls out to you from the dance floor, a shock ridden expression on her face, “Y/N!” she yells again, this time grabbing your attention.

“What is it mom?” you ask, unaware of the severity of what she was about to tell you.

“We need to go outside, I—” she seems out of breath, “I need to tell you something,” her voice shakes, and an immediate concern covers your face.

“Right now?” you ask, confused as to what could be so important that she needed to tell you at this very moment, in the middle of your wedding reception.

Silently she nods, leading you outside, her hand intertwined with yours. Your dad, with a solemn expression on his face, follows not too far behind.

“Something’s happened y/n…” she begins, voice wavering, “It’s about Seokjin…”

Inaudible words are spoken.

And soon you fall to the ground, the shock paralyzing you in such a way that you were sure this had to be some cruel nightmare, the sound of silent muffled sobs escaping your lips and filling the air.

A tragic story coming to its end.

“He died that night driving,” you hauntingly say, “A car had swerved into the opposite lane, and he was just too tired,” your voice shakes, “He didn’t see it in time,” tears fall down your eyes, “He died that night thinking I didn’t love him when in reality I loved him more than ever before. I was just too prideful to admit it,” you wipe the tears from your cheeks.

Jimin and Jia were at a loss for words, shock running through their veins, their eyes wet with their own tears, “You-You’re lying…” Jimin’s voice breaks, unable to comprehend what you had just told them.

“His mom didn’t get the call from the police until she got home, and even then she immediately rushed to the hospital, clinging onto the tiny bit of hope that he’d be just fine,” you shake your head, lips quivering at the recollection of everything, “She told my mom the next by calling my dad’s travel phone, felt like as a close friend … I deserved to know.”

“Grandma…” Jia says weakly.

“I always ask myself what if I hadn’t agreed to stay that extra hour that night. What if I had gone home like I should’ve and heard that voicemail? Because if I had, I would’ve gone to go get him without even a second thought. But like I said, I’ve just had to accept that what happened happened, and there’s nothing I could do to change that.”

Seojun gently knocks on your bedroom door, dressed in an all black suit, “Y/N…” he softly says your name, “Today’s the funeral… you,” he pauses, “you have to get up…” his voice is gentle, but firm, “You—” he hesitates, “You have to go y/n, you have to say goodbye,” he whispers.

He hears you attempt to muffle your sobs, just like you had been for every night of the last month. But in a room full of utter silence, it was almost impossible not to hear you.

“Y/N…” he slowly enters the dark room, heart breaking at the sight of you aimlessly staring at the ceiling. Sitting beside you, he begins to gently run his hand through your hair, an effort to comfort you.

But the heartfelt action only makes you sob harder, reminding you of the person you had lost, “I—” you barely croak the words out, “I just want to sleep,” you whisper, because you knew that it was only in your dreams that this wretched reality no longer existed. It was only in your dreams that he still… existed. It was the only time you were truly happy.

But by going to that funeral, it meant coming to face with the reality that everything was indeed real. That Kim Seokjin was truly dead.

“I know you do y/n…” he frowns, “but you have to say goodbye,” he repeats his words from earlier.

Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye.

Didn’t he understand? You didn’t want to say goodbye! You weren’t ready, and you weren’t sure if you were ever going to be.

“I don’t want to,” your voice cracks, face feeling moist because of how much you’d been crying.

“I-I know y/n but—” he’s unsure of what to say. What the hell could he say? You were mourning, you were heartbroken. The man you loved more than the world itself was dead, and there was nothing that could be done about it.

“I have to say goodbye,” you quietly mumble into space, the phrase echoing inside your mind, “I have to say goodbye,” you repeat for a final time, an empty look in your eyes.

The rain pours as you watch the casket get lowered, almost as if grieving itself.

There’s a haunting emptiness in the atmosphere, everyone still in too much shock and disbelief to believe that this was all real.

All you could do was blankly stare at what was in front of you, trying your best to tune out Mrs. Kim’s raw sobs, the sound being too much to bear.

She had lost her very first born. The child she learned how to nurture, the child whose job was for her to protect, the child who was one of her greatest joys in this world, but most importantly the child she had no doubt loved unconditionally. And so to hear her cry with such a deep hysteria…. it was just too much….

Your mom squeezes your hand tightly, knowing that no words could take away the pain that you were feeling. She had first hand witnessed the love Kim Seokjin had for you, watching it go from a faint crush when you two were teenagers to a love so strong she was once sure it was unbreakable. You were going to get through this dark period in your life, that she was sure of, but the real question was when exactly would you come to accept it.

The clergy makes the final cross motion, ending his eulogy with God knows what because right now everything was just a big blur for you. Because even now with the sight of his casket being lowered six feet under and seeing both his mother and siblings cry like never before, it just didn’t feel real.

Slowly members of his family begin to leave after bidding their final goodbyes, with the occasional number of them stopping to give you their condolences, only making your heart wrench even more. You weren’t his wife, so why were they treating you like some widow? You didn’t deserve their consolation because you didn’t choose him. Like the horrible person you were, you just watched him leave that night. If it weren’t for you—

“Y/N?” a familiar voice interrupts your thoughts.

Turning, you feel your body go cold, “Y-Yoongi?” and beside him were none other than Namjoon and Taehyung, all three of them having tear stained eyes.

With sad eyes, they give you a small smile, clearly hurting themselves at the loss of their dear friend.

Soon you’re embraced in a hug by them, your body still in disbelief at the sight of them. It had been so long since you’d last seen them, years in fact. Never did you imagine your reunion with them would be here.

“W-we would’ve gotten here sooner but we caught traffic,” Taehyung says with a weak voice, eyes on the verge of spilling more tears.

And for the first time in a month, a small smile appears on your face, “You’re—” you sniffle, “You’re such a bad liar,” and he pulls you in for another hug, this time allowing those tears to fall.

The four of you soon stand in silence, words not having to be exchanged in order to understand what you were all feeling.

Namjoon suddenly speaks, “The last time I saw him was was the day he first came back into town, Christmas,” Yoongi smiles at the memory, all three of them being there, “He stopped by our apartment before going back to his mom’s, said he wanted to say hi,” Joon continues, “even apologized for just disappearing out of nowhere.”

“Tch that idiot,” Yoongi mumbles, “he said the first place he wanted to go was the diner but that they were closed,” Yoongi’s eyes glisten, trying his best not to cry.

“He then promised that for the next time he saw us, he’d to treat us to a meal and some soju,” Taehyung feigns a laugh, “We never got to take him up on it though...” his eyes lower.

“But the thing I’ll remember the most was his horrible attempt at finding out how you were after all those years,” Namjoon shakes his head, a dimpled smile appearing on his face.

Yoongi’s face lights up, remembering just how much he teased Jin that night, “You should’ve seen him,” he chuckles, “Not only were his ears red like how they’d always get but his whole face as well,” tears fall from Yoongi’s face as he laughs, “He looked like a tomato.”

“Ah and the mullet,” Taehyung reminds them, and soon the clear image of the Jin you’d fallen in love with when you were seventeen appears in your mind.

And for the first time since their appearance, you speak, “He—” you softly chuckle, “He was always convinced he’d bring them back in style,” and the boys feel a sudden sense of happiness in seeing you talk about him.

“Yeah he was—” Namjoon suddenly stops speaking, the boys and him now staring at something behind you.

It was Mrs. Kim, who was now walking towards the four of you, a box in her hands. A solemn smile graces her face.

One by one, she hugs each one of them, turning her attention towards you last, “I was—” she pauses, “I was hoping I could talk to you, privately,” she says, the boys silently nodding and bidding a silent farewell to you, glad to have made you smile, even if it was for a temporary moment.

She leads you to a bench, not too far away from his grave.

By now the rain had stopped and the sky was now a gloomy shade of gray.

Placing the box on her lap, for a small moment both of you simply stare at the view in front of you in silence.

You hadn’t talked to her since the night of your rehearsal dinner, not because you didn’t want to, but because looking at her reminded you so much of him. It reminded you of that first day you met him, how she had forced him to show you around town, not knowing that the two of you would be head over heels for one another years down the road. She, along with your mom, had always been your guys’ number one fan, always rooting for the both of you.

“He really did love you,” she stares off into the distance, “up until his very last breath, I’m sure,” she whispers.

You lower your gaze, unable to look at her.

Oddly enough, there was a peaceful aura in the air, both quiet and serene. Just like he would’ve loved it to be. He never did like seeing people cry.

“Whenever he’d come back home to visit, you should’ve seen the way his eyes would light up when he’d talk about you,” she smiles, “always eager to talk about what you were doing with your career,” she fiddles with her wedding ring, “Sungjin would get peeved but Seokjin wouldn’t care,” she chuckles, “he just loved you that much.”

At the mention of his father, only then fo you realize that you hadn’t seen him at all the entire service, “Where’s—” you’re hesitant to ask, not wanting to push boundaries, “Where’s Mr. Kim?” you croak. Yeah, he and Jin didn’t have the best relationship, but did that really matter now? Did any of it matter at this point?

She bitterly smiles, “He’s grieving in his own way,” she says, her voice breaking and her eyes still watery, “Those two had a tough love relationship,” she feigns a laugh, “but—” her voice cracks, “I always secretly knew that Seokjin was Sungjin’s favorite,” she sniffles her tears, “he just wasn’t good at showing it.”

You try your best not to cry, too physically and emotionally exhausted to sob any more. To you, it was just better to be numb than to feel every single emotion heightened, but God was it so hard. Everything just had to be so fucking hard.

Tightly, you grip the bench with your fingers, biting your lip in effort to suppress your emotions.

Slowly, she begins to open the box, pulling out what seemed to be childhood photos of Jin.

A genuine smile appears on her face as she begins to show you them, wet tears splashing onto the squared photos, “I—” she stutters, “I wanted you to have these,” she begins to explain, handing some of the photos off to you, “I tried looking for the photos and videos he’d take when you two met but,” she frowns, “but I don’t if he threw them away or—” she begins to ramble, “so I brought you these instead. I’m sorry they’re not of the exact memory you have of him,” she feigns a chuckle, “you know Seokjin,” she scratches the back of her neck, reminding you of exactly where Jin got his mannerisms from, “he never did like taking pictures.”

She flips through more of the photos, “I’m sorry there’s not that many,” her voice shakes, “I just—”

She needed to keep her memories of him too, is what you know she wants to say.

You notice that she’s also thrown some of Jin’s favorite things in the box, his denim jacket, the original little Mario figure he had always kept on his bed stand and his favorite Mariah Carey album, Daydream.

“I understand Mrs. Kim,” you softly say, “Thank you,” you whisper to her, embracing her in a tight hug.

“I should be the one thanking you,” she says in return. Thank you for loving him, are the unspoken words that linger in the air.

“I should—” you lower your gaze, “I should get going,” you say, feeling as if the world was spinning, your breathing now becoming rapid.

With the cardboard box in your hands, she watches as you hurriedly leave, only hoping that rather than haunt you, things could one day get better for you.

Running as far as you could, you hide behind a pillar.

It was all too much.

Everything was just too much.

Finally, silent sobs escape your mouth as you squat against the cement pillar. Grabbing his jacket from the box, you sob into it.

You just couldn’t let go.

As much as you wanted this all to be some horrible nightmare, you knew deep down it wasn’t. This mind numbing pain was all too real and unbearable for it to be some dream. You weren’t going to be waking up and finding Jin by your bedside, you weren’t going to hear his high pitched laugh ever again, and you weren’t ever going to be able to tell him just how much you still loved him.

Because Kim Seokjin was never coming back.

Your Jin was never coming back.

And it was completely all your fault for it. It was all your stupid miserable fault. If only you had—

“Y/N?” Seojun crouches down to face you, genuine concern on his face. “You’re—” he stutters, “You’re gonna get sick standing out here,” he wipes your snotty nose with his suit’s handkerchief.

Seojun was trying. He was trying to be as supportive as he could, and you understood that, truly you did. But just looking at him was a reminder of your choice because at the end of the day he was the person you chose over—

“It’s going to get dark soon y/n,” he whispers, “I-I think we should get going.”

You stare at him in silence and then turn to face the direction of the grave.

He wanted you to say goodbye.

But you just … you just weren’t ready to.

Because there lied the boy you were once so certain you’d have a future with. The boy who was capable of making you laugh even on gloomy days like this. The one who loved you on your good and bad days. The one who stood in a room full of people just to tell you how much he still loved you, something you knew he was probably so nervous about.

And so you just couldn’t let go.

But knowing you’d couldn’t stay here forever, you had to do the most humane thing you could possibly do. You had to live on.

“And so I did, all for him…”

“Yeojin!” you grab your mischievous 4 year old from the waist, stopping her blatant attempt at touching the stove, “What did I say about trying to touch the stove,” you scold her, and all she does is giggle, clearly unaware of the potential consequences of her actions.

Sadly you couldn’t be too mad, she was still learning right from wrong, but when it came to things like this, it was hard to keep your patience.

Carrying her up the stairs, you continue to scold her, “Remember what I said about it being hot,” you remind her, “you don’t want to end up with your fingers all red, do you?”

She nods her head no, “Of course not mommy.”

“Then,” you sigh, placing your little girl on her bed.

“Daddy said I’m in-de-struct-ible,” she sounds out the new word she’s recently learned, “Like Spiderman!” she mimics the superhero’s web shooting ability, the movie she just saw recently still clearly still in her mind.

“Okay Spiderman, I think it’s time you take a nap,” you say, and she mumbles something inaudible in return, “Hey hey, don’t go giving attitude now little lady,” you hide your smile, “it’s too early for all of that.”

Though not wanting to sleep, she allows you to tuck her in, already planning to get up and play with her toys once you left.

Taking note of her grumpy attitude, you place a kiss on her forehead, gently combing a hand through her hair, “I love you,” you coo.

“I love you too Mommy,” and before you knew it, her eyes were closed, the little girl now “sound asleep”, or at least that’s what you thought.

Sighing, you leave the room, gently closing the door.

That girl was a handful, most definitely, but she was everything you had in this world. Your symbol to keep moving forward, despite that constant need to look back.

Going down the stairs, you hum Mariah Carey’s new song, “We Belong Together” , the famous singer’s latest comeback single having topped the charts these days.

“When you left I lost a—” the smell of something burning gathers your attention, the intense scent of cooking oil alarming you that something was wrong. Your mind goes back to when you grabbed Yeojin from reaching the stove, her arm clearly outstretched—

Boom!

The kitchen illuminates an intense shade of red, a fire now starting from the stove, “Oh my—” immediately you run up the stairs because despite your mind being in utter chaos, one thing was clear: you had to get Yeojin out of here.

Frantically turning the knob to her door, you come to realize that it’s locked, “Yejin!” you yell.

“Mommy, I’m playing!” she giggles, oblivious to the danger you both were in.

You practically begin to punch the door, “Yejin I need you to open the door!” your breathing becomes heavy, panic now flowing in your veins. Smoke was beginning to reach upstairs, signaling to you that this fire was moving fast, dangerously fast.

Taking a deep breath, you take a couple of steps back from her door, “1..2…” using all your force, you ram into the door, effectively opening it in the process.

Without a second thought you grab Yeojin, wrapping one of her blankets around her body and face, immediately running down the stairs as fast as you possibly could.

By now the whole entire living room and kitchen were in flames, and you could hear Yeojin begin to whimper, confused as to what was going on.

“Everything’s gonna be okay baby,” you soothe her, your hand regrettably grabbing the door knob.

Immediately you hiss in pain, retracting your hand, “Oh God,” your hand felt as if it was sizzling.

There was no way you could get to the window, not without risking your daughter’s safety.

Preparing yourself for what you were about to do, you mentally reassure yourself, completely grabbing the door handle and twisting it, withholding the screams you desperately wanted to let out until you were out.

Running out, you place your daughter on the neighbor's front yard, the family immediately coming to assist you.

By now the whole neighborhood was standing outside their houses, concern and worry evident on their faces, “Oh my God y/n,” your neighbor notices the burn on your hand, “Go grab the kit in the basement!” she instructs her son.

By now, your breathing was erratic, a result of all the smoke you had inhaled, “T-The f-fire de—”

“We’ve already called them, they should be on their way. I’ve called Seojun’s job as well—” she immediately reassures you, “You need to relax y/n,” she tells you, but immediately your mind goes to something inside your house that was irreplaceable.

Mrs. Kim’s box.

Getting up from the lawn, you hear Yeojin call out to you, “Mommy!” she yells as you begin to run back to the house, focused on one thing and one thing only.

Getting that box.

“Y/N!” your neighbor tries to get you to come back, but by then you were already making your way inside, using your shirt as a cover for both your mouth and nose, a measly attempt at having more time inside the house.

Running up stairs, you barge into your room, immediately looking to the spot in your closet where you always had the box, but to your shocking surprise… it wasn’t there.

“What the…” you mumble to yourself, your lungs beginning to feel heavy again.

Without a second thought, you begin to ravage the room, knowing your time in here was limited. The fire was going to reach up the stairs at any moment, and once it did, it was over for you.

“What the fuck!” you yell to the empty room, feeling as if you were on the verge of an utter mental breakdown. It had to be here! There was no way you moved it, and Seojun knew better than to touch it. Putting a halt to your search, your eyes widen when you come to realize something.

What the hell was Yeojin playing with?

The Mario figure.

And in the blink of an eye, you run out the room, only to find the hallway now engulfed in flames, making it almost impossible to get into her room, not unless you wanted to burn to death.

“No…” you say under your breath, refusing to believe the box was in there. Your vision was beginning to get hazy and your head was pounding, now unsure if it was because of the fire or if it was because of the state of shock you were in. Tears begin to fall from your eyes as you hear the sound of the firetrucks nearing the house.

“Seokjin…” your voice breaks, realizing that the final things you had to remember him by were now gone. But despite your state of grief, your body knew it had to move on its own. Because by staying here, you’d inevitably die, and he wouldn't want that, not because of something like this.

Lifting up the window in your bedroom, you begin to slowly place your body out, trying your best to work with one hand. The fire was beginning to get to your bedroom, and you simply couldn’t afford to wait for the firemen to come with a ladder.

Sucking the pain up for one final time, you place your injured hand onto the ledge as well, now dangling outside the window, a scream of pain coming out of your mouth.

“Oh my God, Y/N!” you hear Seojun call out to you, “I’m gonna get you help, just hang on!” he yells, immediately running back to the front yard to presumably tell a fireman.

But the pain on your hand was just too much.

You needed to let go.

Even if it meant getting hurt in the process.

And soon you feel the impact of the floor, your arm taking mosting of the hit, most definitely dislocating. The last thing you see being the paramedics.

“Mommy! Mommy! Look what I made for you with all the other kids who were visiting their mommies and daddies!” Yeojin eagerly shows you the scribbling piece of art she created from her car seat, a toothy grin on her face.

“It looks amazing Yeojin,” you feign a smile, trying your best to act normal. Today you had been discharged from the hospital after about 2 weeks of getting your hand and arm treated along with having multiple tests ran because of the amount of smoke you inhaled.

Now, with bandages wrapped around your hand and a heavy cast, which the doctor said would take about two to three months to completely heal, you were on your way to your new (temporary) home. The fire had ravaged absolutely everything, sparing not a single thing in its sight.

It was your fault really, you shouldn't have had the cooking oil so close to the stove, especially without its cap on.

You turned your attention to Seojun, his quietness during the whole car ride not going unnoticed by you. It seemed as if whenever he did talk or laugh, it was unmistakingly fake.

Deciding you weren’t going to press him on it in front of Yeojin, you tell Yeojin to go upstairs to her room once you arrive.

Sighing, you place your things on the dining table, your free arm now feeling sore from its now constant use.

You attempt to make small conversation with your husband, “The insurance company called me at the hospital, said almost everything was covered…” you bring up, but he remains stoic.

You try again, “Yeojin seems to have made a lot of friends, with the way she was rambl—”

He finally breaks his silence by interrupting you, “Why did you do it...” he mumbles, causing your eyebrows to perk up, “Why did you run back into that fire?” he asks, trying to contain his anger.

You feel your body freeze for a moment before answering, “I told you already, I wanted to get the papers in the sa—”

He’s quick to cut you off, venom in his voice, “Stop lying,” he grits his teeth, “There was—” he shakes his head, “There was only one thing in that house that I’m sure you’d risk your life for Y/N, so let’s stop acting dense here…”

You lower your gaze, silence filling the room.

“You could’ve died y/n,” he whispers, and your silence only peeves him, “Died!” he repeats, wanting you to understand the possible severity of your actions.

Narrowing your gaze, you scoff, “You think I don’t know that,” you spit back, not exactly fond of how he was treating you, as if you weren’t a grown woman capable of understanding the consequences of your actions.

“No I don’t think you do,” he retorts back, “Because if you did then you wouldn’t have ever gone back inside that house to begin with!” his voice becomes louder.

“You’re going to wake her up,” you refer to Yeojin, who was probably taking a nap in her room.

It was now his turn to scoff, “Like you care.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you growl in return.

“You almost left her without a mother!” he finally yells, “All for that goddamn—” he stops himself midway, unable to finish the sentence.

You glare at him, knowing exactly what he wanted to say, your eyes already getting watery at the thought of it, “Say it,” you challenge him, “Say what you’ve been wanting to say for all these years,” you mutter.

“He’s gone y/n…” he tiredly whispers under his breath, maintaining your gaze, “He’s been gone for 4 years now!” he cries out, and you feel your face twist in anguish.

“Shut up,” you mutter.

“It’s time to accept it y/n, you can’t keep letting him haunting you, you can’t keep being in deni—”

“Just shut up!” you yell but he relents.

“Life has moved on y/n,” his voice breaks, “it’s time that you do too!”

“But I have! Can’t you see?” tears are uncontrollably falling down your face by now, “I stayed with you despite it all!” you scream, now heaving in anger, “I had a kid with you, we bought that big old house you always wanted—”

“And why is that y/n? Why did you stay with me after his death, huh? Why?” he asks you, his questions ringing in your head, making you feel as if you were going insane.

“Because I made a choice that day!” you yell loud enough for your voice to echo across the room, everything coming to a haunting silence, “Because I chose you that night, when I could’ve chosen him,” you cry, “And I can’t bring myself to regret that choice, not anymore at least, because regretting you would mean regretting her!” you glance at the stairs, signalling that you were talking about Yejin, “And I just can’t bring myself to do that. I chose you, and I have to deal with that decision for the rest of my life. I got up from that bed years ago and went on with my life all for you—”

He shakes his head, “No you didn’t…” he frowns, “You didn’t…”

You did it for him.

“Y/N he’s dead…” Seojun repeats, his heart still wrenching for you even years later, “it’s time you let go and begin to live for yourself. Not for him, not for me, not for her, but for you,” he grabs your hand, squeezing it in the process, “It’s time you let go.”

You pull your hand back, refusing to accept it, “I just—” you muster up your tears, “I just wanted to save what was left of him. Because without it he just existed in my memory and—” your voice shakes, “and now he really only does. Because now he’s really gone,” you sob,“ Can-Can you really blame me?” you weakly say.

“I can’t,” he says, “but I also can’t keep doing this anymore,” he murmurs, “I’ve tried y/n, I really have. But I can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped, and I have to prioritize Yeojin first and so I think—” he struggles to continue, “I think we should get a—”

“Divorce,” you scoff, tears still flowing down your face.

He gulps, “I’ve been talking with a lawyer for about a year now, we’d get joint custody, with no need for court because I don’t see us having to make this a longer process than it needs to be.”

“You’re not taking my daughter away from me,” you clench your teeth.

“I know I’m not and I wasn’t planning on it because damn it y/n, you’re an amazing mother. Truly, you are. But—” he pauses, “But until you find closure and acceptance then I think—I think she should stay with me for the meanwhile, until you’re ready that is.”

Until you’re ready to let go.

By now you were fully sobbing again because not only were you unable to control your emotions, but because you knew he was right. Ever since Seokjin’s death, he was the one who had to hear you silently cry at night, the one who had to accept that no matter what Seokjin would always be the one dearest to you, and who secretly hoped that with time it’d be something you’d get past.

Had it been anyone else, and you were sure they would’ve left you the day Seokjin passed. But Seojun was different, Seojun understood. But he couldn’t prioritize you anymore, not with Yeojin now in the picture.

You feel his arms wrap themselves around your frame, comforting you for a final time, “I’m sorry, for everything,” he whispers.

“Me too Seojun,” you hum in return, “Me too.”

The smell of the fresh rain hitting the concrete headstones fills your nose as you make your way to the resting place of the person you once loved the most. You hadn’t been here since the funeral, too in denial to ever really visit.

It had been three months since your separation with Seojun, your arm now fully healed. Currently, you were staying at a small apartment near your parent’s house, still unable to bring yourself to stay at their place. Not with the amount of memories it brought on.

The last you’d heard, Mrs. Kim had also moved, and you assumed it was for the same reason you couldn’t bring yourself to go back home. It was just too much.

Placing the red roses on top of the headstone, you make yourself comfortable by sitting on the grass, not caring if it was moist from the rain.

You just wanted to talk to him.

“I’m getting divorced, you know?” you begin, deciding to catch him up on recent events, “Things didn’t seem to work out between me and Seojun,” you chuckle, staring at your now naked ring finger ,“Not that you hadn’t predicted it already.”

Silence.

“We had a daughter together,” you mention the hyper little girl, “Her name is Yeojin, I think you would’ve loved the name,” you say, “She—”already you feel tears beginning to well up in your eyes, “She sorta laughs like you, that same kind of laugh that unintentionally makes everyone around her laugh,” you begin to ramble, “she seems to like Mariah Carey as much as you too, she’s the only artist we’ve noticed that can get Yeojin up and dancing. I’m sure she would’ve loved to dance with you,” tears begin to fall from your eyes.

The soft sprinkles of the rain surprisingly soothe you.

“God, I’m such a crybaby,” you mumble, remembering how Jin would tease you for your sensitivity to things, “It’s just so hard, you know? Sometimes it still feels like you’ll walk through the door with a VHS movie you just rented in your hand, talking about how excited you are to see it after hearing reviews,” you laugh, “or that you’ll come in the room to tell me to fix your hair after cutting it crookedly.”

You place your hand on his headstone, softly grazing your palm against its rough surface, “You know scientist theorize that there’s possibly billions to an infinite number of parallel universes out there,” you chuckle, “I learned about it in my introductory course to Physics my first year in college, I don’t know if you remember me babbling about it,” you continue, “But it means that there are cosmic patches which are exactly like ours where everything has happened exactly like this one, meaning somewhere out there there’s someone exactly like us, except they have the possibility to do things different. And so... I wonder in which universe did we get our happy ending?” you solemnly ask, “I—”

“Y-Y/N?” a familiar voice says your name from behind, and immediately you turn to face the person.

“Mr-Mr.Kim?” you say in disbelief, as you hadn’t seen the man in years. Not since the final year you were still with Jin.

You scan his appearance, wrinkles and gray hairs now more prevalent on him, but yet he still looked like the spitting image of his son. He just looked more … tired.

He places the flowers in his hands next to yours, silently taking a seat next to you. You were still staring at him in shock as he was the last person you would’ve expected to see today.

“It’s—It’s been a while,” he says, and originally you were unsure if he was saying it to you or his son, that was until he turned his attention towards you.

Silently, you nod, unsure of what to say, “Yeah,” you mumble.

“Do you often come here?” he asks.

Ashamed, you nod your head no, “This is actually my first time since the funeral,” you confess.

He hums a response, not in a place to judge, “Nothing to be ashamed about little girl, we all have our own ways of grieving and coping with a loss,” and you’re surprised to hear such comforting words from him. In the years you’d known him, you couldn’t recall a time where you had an actual genuine conversation with him. It was depressing that it had to be now.

“Do—” you hesitate, “Do you?” you gulp, “Do you often come here?” you repeat his question.

Coughing first, he then responds, “Every Friday since his funeral,” his fingers tremble, and you were unsure if was because of his age or because of the topic he was currently talking about, “I do it to catch up with my boy, keep him up to date with the things you young people are doing,” he explains, eyes now glistening, “it’s the least I could do for him,” he mumbles.

A silence follows after.

Feeling bold, you ask him something you’d been curious about for a long time, “Why didn’t you come to the funeral?”

He stares at the headstone, “I—” he sighs, “He was my first born, my first son, my—” he hardens his jaw to prevent himself from crying, “The night it happened he called the house, asking me to go pick him up. I had been tired from work that night, so I went to sleep early,” you feel your heart twist, “If I hadn’t overworked myself that day, I could have picked up that phone call and told him to stay where he was, that I’d be there in no time because at the end of the day he was my son who I loved like no other, even if we had a rocky relationship. He still called his dad for help, and I—” he takes a deep breath in, feeling himself lose control, “I let him down,” he ultimately says, “And so I let the guilt eat me alive, to the point where I felt like I didn’t deserve to go to my son’s funeral.”

You stare at him in silence, understanding exactly what he felt. For you had felt that same guilt all these years.

“I quit my job following his death, and fell into a deep depression like no other. Yerin and I were even close to getting a divorce, the loss of our son adding a strain to our marriage,” he explains, “She had managed to accept and let go of her pain, but for me it was just too much. I couldn’t accept that he was gone,” he pauses, “I just couldn’t let go.”

A single tear falls from his eye.

“I was breathing , but no longer was I living,” he continues, “And so I needed to learn how to live for myself. I needed to accept that he was gone. I needed to say goodbye, even if it hurt to do so,” he smiles solemnly to himself, “because once I finally did, it was liberating.”

“And it was in that moment while talking with Mr. Kim that I’d come to realize that in order to start living for myself, that it was time to let go, that it was time to say goodbye.”

Getting up from the grass, you stare at Seokjin’s grave for one final time, for it was time to accept the cruel fate that had been given in this awful tale. One day you’d be back, that you were sure, but for now all that was left for you to say was....

“Goodbye Seokjin,” you whisper, ready to begin again.

Jimin and Jia stare at you in silence, both having dried tears and disbelief written on their faces. This couldn’t be how the story ended, right?

But it was.

“So you really have nothing to remember him by?” Jia asks, and you point to your forehead.

“Sadly all ll I have is this,” you say, “but for me that’s more than enough.”

You turn your attention towards Jimin, “And so here I am, having told you this story in order to teach you that you shouldn’t let your fears get in the way of allowing yourself to be happy, ” you say, “Because then you’ll live a life of nothing but regret,” and immediately he gets up from his seat.

“Where the hell are you—” Jia’s about to ask him something until you raise a finger, signaling to her to let him be.

“I’m-” he stutters, “I’m going to get my girlfriend back,” he breathes out, squeezing past Jia, “T-Thank you Ms. y/l/n. I mean it,” he says, and you only smile in return.

“I should be the one thanking you,” you whisper to yourself, watching as he hurriedly leaves the diner.

Placing money on the table, Jia smiles at you, “Come on Grandma, let’s go home,” she hugs you once you get up, making a new vow to herself to appreciate those around her and never take anything for granted. Just like Jimin had learned, she had to live for herself.

“Finally! I know I told you that you could stay out as long as you wanted but I didn’t think—” Yeojin is interrupted by the embrace of her daughter arm’s. Confused by the sudden act of affection, she narrows her eyes, “If this is some trick into getting your phone little—”

“Shhh,” Jia complains, “I can’t hug my mom?”

Allowing her skepticism to pass, Yeojin returns the hug, “Movie night?” she asks her daughter and immediately she nods.

You smile at the sight, making your way up the stairs and into your room.

Slowly, you crouch under the bed, pulling out a worn out box from under your bed, grabbing a small flash drive out of it in the process. Placing the now vintage item into the plug-in of your TV, your mind flashes back to that last conversation you had with Mr. Kim.

“Wait,” Mr. Kim stops you from leaving, pulling something out of his suit’s breast pocket, in what seemed to be a flash drive?

Handing you the small item, you look at him confused, “I found it in his room when we moved, not too long after his passing, I’m guessing he must’ve converted it before breaking that old camera of his and well I always carried it around just in case—” he pauses, “Just in case I ever bumped into you.”

You furrow your brows, why was he telling you this now? Why didn’t he look for you instead?

As if reading your mind he says, “Because you’ve finally said your goodbye,” he smiles, “watch this when you’re finally allowed to look back. "

Pressing play, you stare at the screen in front of you.

“Seokjin!” the person behind the camera sighs, “Seokjin!” Mrs. Kim yells again, and the camera begins to shake, presumably because the person was now going down the stairs.

The camera soon pans to the twins, both of them giggling at the cameraman's antics, “Say hiiii,” he cooes. And soon the door he’s recording opens and the camera pans to a 17 year old you, an awkward expression being worn on your face.

“Woah,” he whispers, zooming in on your face.

Your eyes begin to water as you watch the recorded memory.

“Seokjin, but you can call me Jin for short,” he introduces himself, the camera now recording the wall beside him, probably because of how he was carrying it in that moment.

The scene then changes.

“Come on, you know you wanna smileeee,” Jin sings, he closes the camera to your face, ultimately making you smile.

“Well cheers to a new friendship,” Taehyung announces and Jin records you all lifting your hands in the air.

The scene changes again.

“This is her first time eating kongguksu everyone,” Jin announces.

“Who are you even talking to?” you roll your eyes, grabbing the noodles with your chopsticks.

“To the people of the future!”

And you recall how Jin had winked at you that time, causing your crush on him to begin to grow more intense.

Your face gets red as he continues to record you. Taking a slurp of the noodles, you try to cover your face.

“Well what do you think?” he asks.

Your face twists, “Mmmm I don’t know,” you mumble, the taste not exactly being your favorite.

“Boooo!”

You flash him the middle finger.

The scene changes.

“Y/N” the camera begins to move around, and your giggles begin to get louder, “Hand that back to me!” the camera begins to move in an up and down motion, probably because whoever was holding it was running.

Soon the person gets tackled, but not before panning the camera onto Seokjin’s face.

“And the recorder finally gets recorded,” you laugh, and Jin attempts to cover his face, but you’re quick to remove his hands. He awkwardly avoids eye contact, allowing you to record his face.

You feel your breath hitch. It was Jin… the Jin you knew, the Jin you fell in love with. Right there in front of you.

Looking at the camera he quickly makes a kissy face, making you shriek in excitement. “There you have it folks,” you tease him, “Kim Seokjin being the model he is…”

He rolls his eyes, now attempting to reach for the camera.

“Okay okay, that’s enough,” he groans as you relent.

“Smileeee!”

The scene changes for a final time, and you see Jin sitting in his room, facing the camera you presumed he had set up.

“Hello!” he awkwardly waves to the camera, “If you’re watching this it means one, you’ve been snooping around in this room or two, you’re Y/N.”

You feel your heart skip a beat, and your body going numb.

“Ah I don’t know how to start this,” he chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, “When I first met you, I thought you were really pretty,” he begins, “and I knew I wanted to be your friend! What I didn’t think was going to happen was that I’d end up really really realllyyyy liking you,” he laughs, “I’ve been trying to tell you for some time now,” his voice cracks, and immediately he begins to cough, trying to make himself sound as manly as possible, “So I thought why not tell you the best way I knew how … through film! That way I’ll let this video do all the work for me,” he smiles.

You laugh at how endearing he was.

“Hopefully you like me too because if not then I feel really bad for the future Jin who’s probably attentively watching your reaction and crossing his fingers. I made this collage of memories using the shitty editing programs we have at the school library so sorry if it’s not exactly the best, but …. I hope this is something you can look back on in the future and be glad I recorded, even if you complained all the time.”

Look at him, predicting the future.

“So… I’ll leave it to the future Jin to handle the rest,” he laughs, “Byeeee!” he waves to the camera. His final goodbye.

5 years later.

“Mom, slow down!” Yeojin instructs, worried about how fast you were trying to walk.

“If you can’t keep up with me, an 80 year old lady, then that should be a concern for you, not for me!” you continue with your daily walk, enjoying the spring weather.

“If you’re not careful you cou—” Yeojin suddenly stops speaking, now having caught up to you. “Mom?” Yeojin asks, concerned as to what you two were staring at with such a shocked expression on your face. Following your gaze, she notices a man staring at you a little girl tugging at his shirt.

“Daddy! I wanna play on the swings!” she pouts at the lack of attention her father was giving her. Immediately you recognize the woman sitting on the bench behind them, remembering her once crying face which was now replaced with a grin as she carried a second (younger) child in her arms.

Slowly the man raises his hand, waving at you with a warm smile on his face.

A single tear falls from your eye as you wave back, your heart swelling at the sight.

And as quick as the moment was, it ended just as fast. As slowly, you began to walk away, while he went on to play with this young daughter. Two strangers crossing paths for a final time.

“Do you know that man?” Yeojin cluelessly asks, confused about the exchange that just happened in front of her.

You nod your head, a smile still on your face, “No,” you chuckle, “No I don’t,” you ultimately say, continuing with your walk.

a/n: whew ! & that’s the end ! if you’ve made it this far then i want to personally thank you! i don’t really expect this story to get many notes well because it’s sad and well ik i personally don’t normally click on major character death fics haha. if you enjoyed this fic then (if you can) please please please leave a comment/review/like/reblog (whichever works best for you) and you can always hop in my ask box for any questions or comments :) im thinking of making an alternative ending for this one day, maybe after i finish the whole tun series, but we’ll see haha. ill see yall next time ! <3

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girlactionfigure · 4 years ago

Photo

Only when he got older he realized just how fortunate he and his family were to be alive.

“The extermination of most of his relatives and millions of other Jews by the Nazis; the intrusive, unemployed immigrants who survived and crowded his parents’ small apartment; his sickly childhood; his mother’s dark moods; his own ever-present depression” - all of this, he survived, according to Patricia Cohen of The New York Times.

He was born in Brooklyn to Polish-Jewish immigrant parents on June 10, 1928.

One of his earliest photographs (attached to this story) shows him as an infant - “a plump, round-faced, slanting-eyed, droopy-lidded, arching-browed creature” held by his mother, with his older siblings, according to writer Margalit Fox.

Growing up, Murray as he was then known “harbored ongoing fear of the perils that might lurk outside of his home and neighborhood” and remembered how he celebrated his bar mitzvah, according to writer Stephen Whitfield.

That's when his father discovered that much of his extended family had died in concentration camps. The young boy thought he had "done something very bad, that I had made him suffer more than he had to."

“The death of members of his extended family during the Holocaust . . . exposed him at a young age to the concept of mortality,” according to NPR.

“As he got older, he was constantly aware of his marginality and difference,” wrote Whitfield.

He seemed to be always sick, but when he was well, he could be naughty. He remembered his mother often called him “vilde chaya”, which in Yiddish meant "wild animal".

“His view of the outside world was often limited. . . and the little that he could see from his window,” according to PBS. “It was during this time that he began to draw and to allow his imagination to run free.”

He made a name for himself as an illustrator. When he received an opportunity to write his first book, he used the title "Where the Wild Horses Are" - unfortunately, he realized he couldn't draw horses, so he told his editor. His editor would respond, "Well, what can you draw?"

He would answer "Things."

He would become “the most important children’s book artist of the 20th century, who wrenched the picture book out of the safe, sanitized world of the nursery and plunged it into the dark, terrifying and hauntingly beautiful recesses of the human psyche,” according to the New York Times.

He remembers receiving a letter from one fan:

In an interview with NPR, he is quoted as saying, “A little boy sent me a charming card with a little drawing on it. I loved it. I answer all my children's letters – sometimes very hastily – but this one I lingered over . . . I wrote, 'Dear Jim: I loved your card.' Then I got a letter back from his mother and she said: 'Jim loved your card so much he ate it.' That to me was one of the highest compliments I've ever received . . . He saw it, he loved it, he ate it.”

~~~~~

“Maurice Sendak has been one of the most consistently inventive and challenging voices in children’s literature,” according to PBS. “His books and productions are among the best-loved imaginative works of their time. Like the Grimm brothers before him, Sendak has created a body of work both entertaining and educational, which will continue to be popular for generations.”

“Roundly praised, intermittently censored and occasionally eaten, Mr. Sendak’s books were essential ingredients of childhood for the generation born after 1960 or thereabouts, and in turn for their children,” wrote Fox. “He was known in particular for more than a dozen picture books he wrote and illustrated himself, most famously ‘Where the Wild Things Are,’ which was simultaneously genre-breaking and career-making when it was published by Harper & Row in 1963.”

He brought “to life a world of fantasy and imagination,” according to PBS. “His unique vision is loved around the globe by both young and old.”

When he died in 2012, the Washington Post wrote:

“They say that a creative adult is simply a child who has survived. Sendak survived a great deal, losing relatives in the Holocaust and struggling through a childhood that he remembered as “a very passionate, upsetting, silly, comic business.”

“And his books captured this — never talking down, yet always reassuring.

“The best writers are the ones who trust their audiences. Sendak did. And we trusted him right back.

“Sendak did not lie to children. He did not attempt to say that the world was more or less difficult than it was.”

~~~~~

In 2008 in the New York Times, Sendak revealed that he was gay and had lived with his partner, psychoanalyst Eugene Glynn (February 25, 1926 – May 15, 2007), for 50 years before Glynn's death in May 2007.

In that article, Sendak said he never told his parents: "All I wanted was to be straight so my parents could be happy," he recalled. "They never, never, never knew."

In a 2011 interview with NPR host Terry Gross, Mr. Sendak said "finding out that I was gay when I was older was a shock and a disappointment. I did not want to be gay. It meant a whole different thing to me — which is really hard to recover now because that's many years ago. I always objected to it because there is a part of me that is solid Brooklyn and solid conventional and I know that. I can't escape that. It's my genetic makeup. It's who I am."

Elisabeth Hoffman of the Baltimore Sun wrote, “Why do we pass laws that isolate, demean and shame people for something so utterly personal? It's no surprise that gay teens are bullied. No surprise that Maurice Sendak had to hide part of his identity from his parents — and from his readers.”

“In that often emotional NPR interview, Sendak also said: "I have nothing now but praise for my life. I'm not unhappy. I cry a lot because I miss people. They die and I can't stop them. They leave me and I love them more. What I dread is the isolation. There are so many beautiful things in the world which I will have to leave when I die. But I'm ready, I'm ready, I'm ready."

~~~~~

“His work . . . did not seek to forget the emotional threats that scarred his life,” wrote Whitfield. “Sendak’s recollections of dread and danger instead became the source of a painstaking creativity that [Golan Y.] Moskowitz [author of “Wild Visionary: Maurice Sendak in Queer Jewish Context”] readily calls illustrations of “genius.” Sendak believed that his fantasies must instill truths, rather than confirm the conventions of innocence, and this thinking revolutionized the way that young people were understood and addressed.”

In that last interview with NPR, “the beloved children’s writer and illustrator was 83 years old and in declining health. He was feeling the loss of people close to him who had died in recent years. Inevitably, the discussion turned to issues of mortality … By the time it was over there were teary-eyed people in cars all across North America. One listener, Brent Eades, left a message on the NPR Web site: “I happened to be listening to this extraordinary interview while on the early-morning commute from my small Ontario town to Ottawa. I was entirely absorbed in it; and the final couple of minutes left me with tears streaming down my face, which I’m sure nonplussed my fellow commuters.”

~~~~~

In “Where the Wild Things Are”, Sendak wrote:

“ . . . the wild things cried, “Oh please don’t go we’ll eat you up-we love you so!”

And Max said, “No!”

The wild things roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth

and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws

but Max stepped into his private boat and waved good-bye

and sailed back over a year

and in and out of weeks

and through a day

and into the night of his very own room

where he found his supper waiting for him.”

~ jsr

The Jon S. Randal Peace Page

21 notes · View notes

puckyeahobx · 5 years ago

Text

they tried to sweep us into the cracks in the wall

not my gif

a/n: i really hope you guys aren’t getting tired of my rafe apologist behavior because it’s just gonna keep coming. this one is a little long but i really like how it turned out! i just hope rafe gets some form of redemption arc or SOMETHING because he truly is just a product of his toxic, abusive environment and i know he’s good at heart. (it helps that drew is my dream man tho) *title inspired by chapstick by hippo campus*

summary: there’s a huge storm in the obx one night and y/n is stuck at the diner she works tirelessly at. little does she know that her beloved diner is about to become refuge for the last person she’d ever dream of feeling empathy for.

warnings: none! fluff overload

word count: 7.6k (meep)

You had been working at this cafe by the beach for a couple of years now, ever since you had turned 16. You needed the money to save for college and get the hell out of your house and, one day, the Outer Banks. It’s not that you didn’t love it there, because of course you did. It was home after all but you just knew that you were meant for more. But, it had been almost four years at this cafe, two at the closest community college, and things weren’t looking good on the whole “meant for more” front. Lost as ever, you just kind of took every day as it came and tried to keep a smile on your face as you did so. It wasn’t a particularly hard life, nor was it ridiculously painful, but you couldn’t help but think of what sixteen year old Y/N would have thought of you four years older in the same shitty apron and clunky work shoes.

Much like your life hadn’t changed much in the last four years, the cafe hadn’t changed since before you were born. The same old people came in on the same days at the same times, which was good because it meant you got to know them really well, usually meaning bigger tips for you, but it was kind of a slap in the face with the whole complacency thing. You were the youngest people ever in that building, besides Mildred’s granddaughter Celia who came in for brunch every Sunday at 10:45 (right after mass), and since this is where you spent pretty much all your time, your dating life was also suffering. This obviously wasn’t the most pressing variable in the situation, but it was a variable all the same and it wasn’t like you could pretend like you didn’t notice. Because you did. Every time a love song from the 60’s came on the cafe playlist you noticed. Whenever Ester and Charles came in for their Monday morning coffees and Thursday evening dinners, you noticed. Sometimes you’d be doing nothing at all and you’d notice. It was kind of impossible to ignore. You weren’t one to obsess over boys because, frankly, there weren’t any you were interested in. This was a small island, you knew your options and you were far from impressed. Sure some of them were attractive, but that usually also meant they had rocks for brains and that was just not something you were willing to indulge just because you were desperate for a warm body. This was your life for right now and you were just going to have to be ok with it. And you were. For the most part.

The good thing is that you didn’t hate your job. Food service wasn’t glamorous but the cafe was sort of like a second home to you, and since you had been there for so long the owners really trusted you. The couple that owned the place weren’t as young as they were when they opened it 25 years ago so any chance they got to hand the keys over to you for the night, they took gladly. Tonight was one of those nights. It was pouring outside as you started the closing duties. Sweeping, wiping down the tables, polishing the glassware, typical restaurant stuff. It was actually kind of relaxing.

You were on your fourth set of mugs when you were startled by the bell above the front door jingled delightfully. It was only 9 PM so you didn’t technically close for another hour, but your usual crowd tapped out at around 7:30. But, then you realized that this customer was a part of your usual crowd. Oh no, this 6’4” twenty something in board shorts and a half-buttoned shirt was far from that. He was soaked from head to toe, his horrific Sperry’s squelching as he made his way toward the counter, looking around. He couldn’t see you from your spot hidden around the corner to the kitchen back by the dishwasher, but you could see him bright and clear.

“Hello? Is there anyone here?” His tall body and broad shoulders did not match the apprehensive tone of his voice, and it certainly was a far cry from the way you had heard him speak before.

You stepped out from around the corner wordlessly, your towel and mug still in hand. He jumped in surprise before you could say anything.

“Jesus Christ!”

You jumped back at his mini outburst, “You’re the one that asked if anyone was here!”

He rest his hands on the counter and huffed out a laugh, “Uh, yeah. Sorry,” he looked up, his hair (as well as the rest of him) completely soaking wet and dripping all over your freshly mopped floors, and his eyes closed in on you, “Do I know you?”

“We, uh, we went to school together. Class of 2018. You’re uh Rafe Cameron, right?” You tried to be casual, but you knew exactly who he was. Rafe Cameron: public deviant and resident party boy of Figure Eight. Needless to say you never ran in the same circle, but it was impossible not to know who he was. Some may have called in infamy.

Straightening up he smacked a hand to his forehead and then started pointing at you, snapping. “Yes duh! And you’re-” more snapping, “God it’s been so long….Something with an ‘M’?”

You knew he had never known your name, but you kind of liked that he was pretending. “It’s Y/F/N Y/L/N. I think we had geometry together sophomore year.”

“That must be why I don’t remember you, I never went to that class. Mrs. Reynolds was a bitch.”

Normally you would have scoffed and rolled your eyes at a man calling a woman a bitch but in this instance he was absolutely correct. “She was the worst,” you laughed nervously.

There was a beat of awkward silence when you remembered what you were being paid for, “Oh so did you, um, did you want something to eat?”

He looked at you like you were speaking a foreign language until he also seemed to remember what your job was, “What? Oh, uh, no. Not really.”

“Ok...do you want coffee or anything?” You asked, confused.

“I actually only came in because this was the only place within like ten miles that had its lights on. You do know there’s a tropical storm coming, right?”

You did not know there was a tropical storm coming. At around 7 you turned the radio off and took aux, simultaneously cutting off any and all emergency weather reports. You could tell that the storm was rough, but it was rare for a tropical storm this time of year.

“Is that why you’re soaking wet? You got that bad just from walking inside here?”

He started to rub the back of his neck and looked down at the ground, “No, actually, I got this bad from riding my bike for the last hour.”

Wanting to avoid another awkward pause you blurted out the first thing that came to mind, “Well that’s pretty stupid.” You immediately covered your mouth with your free hand, a hot, crimson blush creeping up your neck and taking refuge all across your cheeks. The awkward pause would have been favorable.

However, instead of flipping you off and calling you a dumb slut like he and his friends had been known to do in high school, he looked back up at you and laughed. You hoped it was with you instead of at you, so you forced a laugh back. It was hard not to, his face completely changed when he laughed. It was as if all of his features shifted into something softer, rounder, open. You had gone to school with Rafe Cameron your whole life and never before would you have ever dared to describe him as warm, but that’s exactly what the person laughing on the other side of the counter was. It was almost off-putting.

“Yeah, it was pretty fucking stupid. But, in my defense, it wasn’t raining when I got on my bike. And I didn’t have much of a choice.” The last sentence fell off his tongue a little harder, a little darker.

“What happened?” You weren’t sure why tonight was the night you had decided to speak on impulse, but you were really starting to question why lobotomies were frowned upon. It seemed like you could use one.

He clearly didn’t want to answer, with the way he sighed and focused his attention on the cup of coffee stirrers on the counter in front of him, but he did anyway. “You know how parents are. The old man was just sick of looking at me tonight, I guess.” His tone was casual, but his gaze on the coffee stirrers was anything but. Happy people don’t look at inanimate objects like that.

You let his omission sit in the air for a moment, making sure you didn’t say anything stupid again before settling on the one thing you knew to be a sure fire antidote. “I think you should drink some hot cocoa.”

He looked up at you and tried to wave the suggestion off, “Nah it’s ok. This storm will be over any minute now and then I’ll head out. Besides, you’re cleaning and I’m interrupting you.” He went to turn around and sit in some of the chairs but you had already turned on the machine.

“Don’t be stupid, this storm is going to stick around for awhile. You might as well get comfortable.” The hot cocoa finished and you topped it off with whipped cream and brought it to his spot at the table closest to the counter.

He looked from the mug to you and back again, doing that thing with his neck again. “This is really nice, Y/N, but, uh, I don’t have any money.”

You scoffed and walked away, “Yeah, ok, Mr. Tannyhill.”

He got a little quieter, “No, uh, I’m serious. My dad cut me off. None of my cards work.” You turned around and saw him looking down at his shoes. His broad frame slouching over onto itself, making him look almost small.

“Don’t worry about it. I was never going to make you pay for it anyway. Just promise I can have a sip, yeah?” You tried to keep the conversation light so he didn’t freak about the amount of honesty he was sharing with you. Why was he being so honest? Why was he talking to you at all? You suppose it would have been awkward if he had just walked in, not ordered anything, and sat down without a word, but that still didn’t explain the brutal honesty about his homelife.

He smiled at you and laughed, “Yeah, I promise. You can have as many sips as you want.”

You returned a soft smile back and pointed to the kitchen, “I, uh, I have some other stuff in the back I need to finish up real quick. Make yourself at home, I guess.” And you turned around quickly, hoping he couldn’t see the heat rising to your cheeks, and made your way back into the safety of the dishroom.

Back in the safety of the dishroom you had time to actually process what was happening for the first time all night. There you were, desperate for something in your life to start, and then all of a sudden something jolted you awake. Maybe you were being dramatic for the sake of entertainment, but as a big believer in the universe and the purposeful things it sends our way, you were not about to take this for granted. He was being so kind - so very the opposite of the Rafe you had heard the stories about for years and years. But there was more to it, the kindness didn’t even seem like an active choice. He just was. From the way he tentatively looked around for another soul in the storm, to the guilty look on his face when he couldn’t pay for the drink you had made for him (it was true, by the way. You really were never going to make him pay for it. His surprise made you wonder when was the last time he had been shown a random act of kindness like that. You felt your heart hurting for him), he was just kind and scared and considerate. Although, you might have just been romanticizing the one interaction you had had with a guy in God knows how long. It didn’t help that his shirt was almost all the way unbuttoned and completely soaked through. You weren’t even letting yourself think about the way his hair was stuck to his forehead and in his eyes, because if you thought about it you were afraid you might offer up your hand in marriage.

All this not thinking about his hair had really distracted you from your cleaning, so you were even further behind. You still had four racks of mugs to wash and dry as well as three containers of silverware to sort. Normally, you would have been by now. But normally, there wasn’t a soaking wet boy in your cafe.

Just when you were almost done not thinking about him, you heard his voice coming from somewhere much closer than the table by the window. “Um, do you need any help?” He asked from the doorway.

You jumped, almost dropping the mug in your hand.

“We should probably stop sneaking up on each other, you might end up breaking a mug,” He chuckled as he walked towards you, tugging a dry towel off the rack by the door. “So, where do we start?”

You stared blankly back at him, not trusting your brain to come up with something intelligent to say.

He chuckled offhandedly at your agape mouth, taking the wet mug from your hands and drying it before setting it on the rack with the rest, “Take a picture, it’ll last longer. And, even better, it might just restore my image,” He paused and held his hands out in front of him with a grand gesture, “‘Outer Banks Playboy and Coke Addict Rafe Cameron Attempts Manual Labor’ That’ll be a hit for sure. Do you have any more washed mugs or should I do that too?”

Snapping out of your trance, you cleared your throat and pulled out a rack of freshly washed mugs and set them in front of you both. He was standing so close to you that you could practically feel the heat radiating off of him through his soaked shirt.

“You know, we have extra uniform shirts in the back. I could get you one,” you said, trying to sound casual.

“A job offer, huh? I’m impressing you that much already?”

You felt yourself start to blush again, “No, uh, I just meant because you’re probably cold. It’s not good to stay in wet clothes. If you don’t want one that’s fine I just thought-”

He stopped your train of thought when he rested a hand on top of the one you had been using to scrub the same spot on the mug you had been scrubbing since you started talking, “I’d really appreciate that, Y/N. Now, set the poor mug down. It never did anything to you,” it could have been teasing, but it honestly didn’t sound like anything other than him trying to ease the tension you were so obviously feeling.

You nervously laughed and walked out of the kitchen to get the shirt, trying to avoid eye contact. Returning with what you hoped was the right size, you stepped into the kitchen still not looking at him, “I didn’t know what size you would want, but it was between this and a XS and that just seemed unrealistic.”

When you finally looked up you fully almost passed out. There was Rafe Cameron, in your cafe dish room, topless. He was standing over the drain on the ground, wringing out his other shirt. His biceps tensed with each twist of his arms and you swear you heard yourself gulp. He looked up at you as you finished talking, straightening up and giving you a full view of him. While you had run in different circles in high school, you weren’t blind. And you definitely weren’t stupid. Rafe had always been good-looking. This wasn’t a shock. It was completely a context thing. But that didn’t change the fact that suddenly your mouth had gone dry as you tried to somehow drink in the image of his entire body without coming off as some freak with zero social skills.

“Just toss it here, thanks,” he caught it with one hand (sexy) and slipped it over his head, doing that thing where boys shake out their hair after putting a shirt on, and smoothing it out over his chest and stomach. “Fits like a damn glove.” He shot back another one of those uncharacteristically enthused smiles before setting his wet shirt on top of the washing machine and getting back to work on the mugs. “Are you just gonna stand there, Y/L/N or are you gonna help me?”

You slowly made your way back over to him, too nervous to make any sudden movements. What if you just blinked for too long and suddenly he was gone? Finally getting back to work, you stood further away from him this time

“I don’t bite,” he whispered to you as he leaned in close to your ear.

Laughing nervously you scooted to the side a little closer, “Sorry. I’m just, surprised, that’s all.”

“Not everyday someone so good looking turns up at your door and offers you free labor?”

“I was more so thinking about it being you specifically, the ‘Outer Banks Playboy’ and all. This doesn’t really seem your speed,” you shrugged as you placed another dry mug on the rack.

He sighed, “Yeah, well, the outer banks playboy hasn’t really done me any favors recently. I think I’d much rather move at this speed.”

You scoffed, “I hate to break it to ya buddy but the speed you’re referring to might as well be a standstill. Nothing about this place has changed in the last 25 years and that includes the customers. I’d take Playboy over Groundhogs day any time. Much more glamorous.”

“I’m not so sure about glamorous, Y/N...you did hear me say that I’m completely broke, right? Doesn’t really scream luxury.”

You faltered, surprised that he brought this up again on his own accord. “I hope you don’t mind me asking,” You started after a pause, “But what happened that was so bad that your dad kicked you out in the middle of a tropical storm?”

Stopping his motions completely, he set the halfway dried mug down and sighed, closing his eyes, “To be honest, this happens like every week. Nothing really happens, it's just like, he remembers I exist and picks something to be mad about. This week it was because I didn’t go to college, one of his personal favorites,” He laughed in spite of himself and shook his head, focusing back on the mug, “The one thing that changed was that I couldn’t take it anymore. I just got on my bike and left. I’ve been staying at Top’s since but then his parents kicked me out after Ward told some lies about how useless I was and how they shouldn’t enable me...maybe they weren’t lies, but it’s still fucked.”

You had long since forgotten the mug you were supposed to be drying, too focused on looking up at him to make sure he wasn’t going to crack at any moment. He didn’t seem emotional about all this but that just made you even more nervous. You reached out to set your hand on top of his gently, a sign of camaraderie. “Rafe, that- that is so fucked up. I’m so sorry. I had heard stories about Ward but that...wow…”

“Pretty fucking unbelievable, huh?” He scoffed, “What a stand up guy. I haven’t even done anything to piss him off in months. He didn’t even notice that I stopped doing blow…”

You tried not to show any visible signs of that news shaking you to your core - you thought the coke addict thing had been a joke.

He shook his head and started working on the mug again, finishing off the last in your guys’ stock. “I don’t really know why I’m telling you all of this. I’d be super fucking weirded out if I were you...sorry about that.”

“I don’t mind,” You said sweetly, tossing your used towel in the hamper. “I don’t get a lot of company around here, so I take what I can get. Daddy issues be damned.”

He let out another one of those honest-to-God laughs again which you were relieved by. It was amazing how easy being with him was considering everything you had thought you had known about him. Some people really do change after high school, huh.

“You’re funny,” he remarked as he finished up laughing, swinging his towel over his shoulder and running his hands through his hair, “So...what’s next boss?”

“I still have some silverware to bag up but you really don’t have to help me, I’m a big girl I can handle it myself. Besides, you’ve had a long day of being homeless.” You joked, grabbing the silverware and setting up to sort them. He made no sign of moving. You rolled your eyes, “Rafe, I’m serious. I can get this done in like twenty minutes,” and turned away from him to focus on the task at hand.

Almost as soon as you were done talking though, he was already right beside you, “But if I help we can be done in ten. What kind of asshole would I be to let the beautiful girl I burdened with my presence work while I sat and did nothing?” And, with that, he pulled out another tray of silverware and got to sorting. All you could do was smile to yourself and try not to look at him. If you did you were sure you’d embarrass yourself with the blush and giant smile stretched across your face. This truly seemed like a dream. Too good to be true. It was no passionate affair, but it was more than enough for you. As you finished the silverware (he was right, it did take ten minutes), you found yourself hoping that the storm was raging even harder than before, with no signs of stopping.

Once you finished the last chore of the night, it was time to face the fact that it was too unsafe to travel anywhere for the time being. It was creeping further into the night and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t tired, but you would seriously be damned if you did anything to miss out on the absolute miracle unfolding before you. So, you tried to plow through it regardless of how completely exhausted you were.

Rafe was in the middle of trying to build a pyramid out of the menu cards from the tables while you sat opposite of him, rotating through the same three apps on your phone like you had been for the last 45 minutes when you let out the most dramatic yawn of your life.

The pyramid toppled over and Rafe sighed, “This is stupid. We need to talk about a game plan.”

“What-what do you mean?” You struggled to ask through your second yawn.

“You’re clearly exhausted so we should probably decide who is sleeping where since I doubt there’s going to be any chance I’m getting back on that bike any time within the next eight hours,” He paused to survey the small cafe, clearly trying to come up with a solution. “There’s a booth over in that corner that looks like it might work, and the stools at the counter have some cushions we could remove for pillows….I’m sure my shirt is probably dry by now for you to use as a blanket…”

“First of all, you can keep your shirt. Really, I’ll be fine,” You pretended to be annoyed but truthfully, the thought of curling up with something of his made you want to sob. “Second, I can just sleep on the floor. I’m the one that cleans it so I don’t really mind.”

He was already up and gathering the cushions off the stool, “Just shut up and let me be a gentleman. It’s handled.” And, before you could say no, he was arranging a couple of cushions on the booth, fluffing them for dramatics. “It’s beautiful.” Truthfully, it was a 25 year old glorified couch cushion with two paper thin cushions resting on top of it. But sure, beautiful would work.

“Well this is very sweet but I can’t let my guest sleep on the floor…”

“Guests are usually invited, I don’t think I count. Now! Into bed you go. You’ve had a long day.” He gestures towards the booth.

“Where are you going to sleep?” You asked tentatively, hoping he’d say right next you.

He shifted his weight back and forth between the heels and balls of his feet, “Erm, probably in that corner with the rug. Don’t worry, I saved a stool cushion for myself though.”

“This is so stupid-”

He put a finger on your lips and shushed you, your eyes surely popping out of your skull. Once he was sure you were done talking, he rested both of his hands on your shoulders, easing you down onto the booth. Convinced he had cast some sort of spell, you didn’t put up a resistance and sat down, still looking up at him with a stunned expression.

“What’s stupid is you refusing kindness from Rafe Cameron. People aren’t going to believe you when you tell them so you might as well milk it for all its worth, sweetheart,” His voice was a little breathier than before and your mouth seemingly had gone dry because of it.

Sweetheart. Shit.

When you didn’t say anything, he squeezed one of your shoulders and laughed to himself, “I’m trying this new thing where I put good in because I heard that’s how you get good out. How am I doing so far?”

You tried to speak but nothing came out at first which made you want to crawl in hole and die of embarrassment, but then you cleared your throat and nodded, “Um...yeah! So far so good.”

He smiled and straightened up (you already missed the feeling of his hands on your shoulders, on you period), “That’s what I like to hear. Well...I’m gonna turn off the lights and head over to my corner.” He paused for a second before turning around and then again before he got to the lights, this time turning back towards you, “Thank you, uh, again, for being so cool. Sorry for ruining your night.”

He turned the lights off.

You heard yourself halfway whispering “This has been one of the best nights of my life” before your eyes started to close on their own accord.

“Mine too,” you heard from an even quieter voice as something linen was draped gently across your back and shoulders.

And then it was quiet, and you fell asleep praying to God you wouldn’t wake up in your bed in the morning.

--------------

When you woke up suddenly, jolting straight up in bed - well, booth - after a particularly loud thunder clap you truly had no idea where you were or whose shirt was draped over your shoulder. It wasn’t until you heard a voice from a disembodied lump in the other corner that the memories of the previous four-ish hours hit you like a truck.

“You snore.”

It was pitch dark but you knew you were red as a beet. Death seemed preferable.

“Don’t worry, it’s the cute kind. Like the little ones, not the chainsaw ones.” There was a tenderness in his voice that would have made you fall over if you weren’t already sitting down.

“Is that why you’re still up? Because I was being loud? I’m so sorry-”

You heard him shift and groan, his body adjusting against the stone floors, “No, no. I wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway. Too much going on up here, ya know,” he paused, “I’m uh pointing at my head...it’s dark.”

You let out a laugh and laid back against the cushion, “I kinda figured.”

“Yeah that was stupid I don’t know why I felt the need to clarify,” he laughed back.

A comfortable silence fell over you two for a moment once the laughter died out.

Before you could stop yourself, you whispered “Do you want to talk about it?”

He sighed and shifted again, “I’ve already kind of talked your ear off I think.”

“I don’t mind.”

When he didn’t respond immediately you started to get nervous that you had overstepped. You were just about to tell him to forget it, that he didn’t owe you any sort of explanation, when you heard what sounded like a sniffle. Rafe Cameron was fucking crying.

“It’s just uh,” you could tell he was trying to keep his voice even and your heart shattered, “I’m just tired of being the bad guy, I guess. I just wish I could do the right thing, ya know?” He paused, “Do you ever just- just you know, wish you could change everything about yourself?”

You turned on the booth towards the direction of his voice and sighed, “Every day of my life.”

He let out a wet, pathetic laugh, “Yeah. It sucks.”

Another pause, this time not so quiet as you heard him try to catch his breath.

“Rafe?”

“Yeah?” He sounded nervous.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a bad guy.” The fondness you had discovered that you had for him was seemingly filling you up completely. Every corner of your body was full of it. You hoped he could hear it. You hoped he believed you.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he said through another wet laugh, “But you might be the only one.”

This time, you didn’t say anything. Instead, you grabbed his shirt and the cushions he had used to make your bed and walked to where his voice was. The light from the security lamp on the corner of the building filtered through just barely so you can see the outline of his trembling body. There was a broken boy at your feet and you set the cushions down beside him, draping the shirt over him like he had for you and laid down next to him. It was intimate, your front pressed against his back as you held him through the cries he still was hoping you couldn’t hear, but that was it. You didn’t need or want anything besides him being able to feel the tenderness coming from you.

After a few moments he gave, turning to face you as he rested his head on your chest and let out a real sob. He grabbed onto you as if you could get up and go at any moment and your fingers threaded through his hair gently, doing anything you could think of to soothe him. He kept mumbling apologies to you but you just shushed him and held on tighter, trying not to let your own tears fall.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he sobbed into your chest, your work shirt becoming soaked.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing at all.”

------------

You don’t remember falling asleep, but when you woke up the events of the night before immediately popped in your head. Partly because they were arguably the most exciting things to happen to you in years, but also because it was sort of hard to forget with there was a sleeping boy on top of you.

His arms were wrapped around you and half on your side, half on your back, and fully uncomfortable. The stone had not been kind to your back, and the weight of 6’4” Rafe Cameron didn’t really help, but hell would freeze over before you dared move and disturb the peace before you. His eyelashes were so long they rested on the top of his cheek as he snored just the littlest bit, his bottom lip pouting out as he did so. The storm had caused his hair to get soaking wet just for it to dry chaotically around his forehead. It wasn’t his normal slicked back look, but rather unkempt and surfer-like. It was falling on his forehead perfectly and every time you breathed it shifted just the tiniest bit.

By some miracle it was a Sunday which meant you didn’t open until 10 am and judging by the way the sun was barely creeping above the ocean, you guessed it was probably somewhere between 7 and 8. You knew that eventually you both would have to move, but not yet. Please, God. Not yet. Because if he moved, that meant he would leave, and you weren’t prepared to cope with that kind of loss so early in the morning. Or ever, possibly.

It was almost embarrassing how much you cared about this boy that you were almost certain was a sociopath twenty four hours ago. But now it was as if everything had ever known had changed. Everything seemed brand new: The sun, the stone beneath your spine, the shape of his lips. This might have been some fluke that he would pretend never happened, but you knew in your heart that nothing could ever be the same for you after this. What a crushing blow to know that your life was able to change without your permission.

Before you could get too philosophical before noon, your worst fear was confirmed as you felt him shift. It was endearing to see him be so human in those first few moments of awake-ness. He removed himself from your skin, resting up on one of his elbows, as he wiped his eyes and tried to piece together exactly what had happened to make him end up in this very position. After he had looked around and decided he was in no mortal danger, his tired eyes fixed on you. They were still a little puffy from all of the crying, but they hadn’t lost the softness you caught yourself getting lost in.

“Good morning,” His voice was gravel in the morning and you jotted that down as a fun fact to bury deep in your memory in case you never got to hear it again.

“Good morning,” You couldn’t even bother to be embarrassed by how small your voice sounded. He was goddamn breathtaking this early in the morning.

He looked around again, shaking his head slightly as if to shake off the exhaustion, “What time even is it?”

“I’m not sure, my phone is dead, but I’m going to guess sometime before 8.”

To your surprise, his elbow dropped and he rested himself right back against you, nuzzling slightly, “Too early. Need sleep.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle as you apprehensively threaded your fingers through his hair, “I can’t argue with that logic, but the cafe does open in two hours and I think my smell might offend some of the customers.”

He put his face against your chest and sniffed slightly before resting his cheek again, “You smell great. Screw the customers.”

You wanted to stay there all day but there was just no way. If it wasn’t Fran and Neil banging on the door at 10 AM sharp like they do every Sunday, it was going to be your parents sending out a search party. You may be 20, but you still lived under their roof and they never let you forget it. “Rafe…”

Rolling over onto his back he sighed, “I know, I know. I should probably go.” He started to get up when you grabbed his shoulder and pushed him back down.

“No! No that’s, uh, that’s not what I meant. I mean, you don’t have to go anywhere. You can hang out here all day if you want for all I care. It’s a free country!” You were rambling. “I just need to get some clean clothes and shower before this six hour shift, that’s all.”

“Y/N, I’m not going to stay here while you go home. I think I’ve overstayed my welcome.” He started to get up again and this time you didn’t stop him, conceding to defeat. You were already burying this whole night deep in the recesses of your mind where the memories of it couldn’t hurt you when he held his hand out, “Need help up? That stone is a bitch.”

Once he had helped you up you both just sort of stopped and stared at each other for a moment before he cleared his throat and started to look around, “Besides, I uh have some things I need to take care of anyway.”

You nodded and crossed your over your chest, “Yeah, yeah I get it. Good luck, with everything.”

He nodded awkwardly back at you, “Thanks, I’ll, uh, need it,” He tried to laugh but it sounded so forced it just made you even sadder.

You were about to respond when he leant down and gave you the quickest kiss on the cheek known to man. Another awkward nod and he was turning on his heels towards the door. “I’ll see you around?” He asked as he swung the door open.

“You know where to find me.”

And with that, he was out the door and one his bike. You didn’t know where he was going, but it was away, and that was just enough to break your heart.

----------------

The rest of the day was torture. Your usual Sunday morning customers were not as charming as they usually were, the sun wasn’t bouncing off the coastline as it usually did, and the mundaneness of your life wasn’t as easy to ignore as it once was. After he had left you set the cushions back where they belonged and got into your car and headed home. Before you left though, you saw his shirt laying on the floor where your two bodies had shared sleep and you took it with you as you left. You knew it was best to forget that this had ever happened, but you’d do that after the smell of him mixed with the rain faded from the cotton. Upon returning home you were lectured by your parents for not telling them where you were, and during the middle of a storm, for crying out loud! But nothing they said had any meaning. You hated yourself for how melodramatic you felt, but you couldn’t help it. What were you supposed to do after a night like that? Move on? Seemed unrealistic, in all honesty.

You got ready for work and managed to trudge through the work day until close again. The cafe closed early on Sundays, thank God, so by 6:30 you were locking the doors and were back in the kitchen sorting silverware drying mugs (both of which made you want to cry whether you wanted to admit it or not) when you heard a bang on the glass doors out front. Scared out of your mind, you grabbed a dirty knife and slowly turned the corner. But when you saw the person on the other side of the door, the knife was forgotten as you dropped it and hurtled toward the lock.

As soon as Rafe saw you his face broke open, his smile just amplified by the sunsetting behind him. He was in different clothes now, but his hair looked the same and he looked so much happier than the last time you saw him. You fumbled with the lock until you finally got it, swinging the door open and letting in a giant current of ocean spray, wildflowers and him, him, him.

You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face but you tried to come off as casual anyway, “Back so soon? We’re closed you know...This time it actually is an imposition. If this is just your master plan to get free hot chocolate you are sorely mistaken sir.”

He waited for you to stop rambling to ask politely, that smile still all over his face, “Can I come in?”

You wordlessly moved out of the way as he stepped in and turned back to you.

“So what do I owe to this great pleasure? Did you forget something-”

But before you could get the whole sarcastic remark out, your lips were being crushed by something soft and desperate. His hands cupped either side of your face as he kissed you wildly. Your hands immediately found the nape of his neck and you leaned in even closer to him, trying to make it clear that he could wield you any way he wanted.

He pulled a part far too soon, his breath completely uneven in a way that made you feel like you were dreaming, “Uh yeah, actually. That. I forgot that.”

His hands were still on your face, yours still in his hair, “Well what took you so long then?” You laughed, just as breathless as him.

“I was too busy trying to convince my dad that I was a good person. It took a couple of hours, but I don’t think he hates me anymore. He reopened all of my cards and is letting me live in the guest house-”

“That’s great Rafe!”

“On one condition...” He sounded nervous, but the faintest trace of a smile still danced across his lips.

Your voice lowered, “I’m nervous.”

“I have to get a job…” He paused waiting for you to catch on, but you just stared blankly back at him. You were still reeling from that kiss. “And I guess I was hoping that this very cafe might be hiring?”

Your smile got even wider and your whole body felt like it was glowing, “You know what I think we are,” You all but giggled.

His hands fell to your hips where he squeezed slightly, laughter bubbling off his tongue, “Perfect! When can I interview?”

“Right now!” You enthusiastically pushed him into the chair behind him and he fell back less than gracefully. “Who is the best employee at this cafe?”

“Hmmmmm I don’t know, Y/N, you did give away free hot chocolate...That doesn’t seem very business conscious.”

“Do you want the job or not?” Your eyebrows raised at him as a warning.

He laughed again and looked up at you again and grabbed your hands, pulling you between his legs, “I think you are not only the best employee at this cafe, but the best looking employee at any cafe that has ever been built.”

You scoffed and threw one of his hands off yours, pushing his shoulder.

“So did I get the job?”

You looked down at him and smiled, unable to even pretend to be annoyed, “Well, Mr. Cameron, I have reviewed the facts and it looks like you’ll be the perfect fit. Luckily for you, flattery will get you everywhere.”

He smirked at you and pulled you into his lap, “Oh yeah? I like the sound of that.” His voice was slightly teasing but there was no mistaking his hot breath against your neck.

“Get your mind out of the gutter! I was strictly speaking professionally.” The blush was creeping all over your body when he pulled away.

“So was I, boss. What do you take me for?” He feigned hurt and you saw right through it.

Deciding to tease him right back, you raised an eyebrow and asked, “Do you seriously want me to answer that?”

With that he scoffed and rolled your eyes at you, giving up on your games. You laughed in his face and wrapped your arms back around his neck, assuring him you were just teasing. It didn’t take much convincing because soon he had forgiven you, his lips back on yours in an instant.

You went to sleep that night thanking your lucky stars for that worn down cafe and the tropical storm that brought him to you, still not being able to believe your luck. Sleep came for you as images of his smile fluttered past your eyelids, a smile permanently tattooed on your lips.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #obx #outer banks #rafemaybank wrote this #rafe cameron fluff

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