#I've never lost anyone - least of all a parent - but I think about how I would cope with something so devastating all the time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

itwasntimethatdidit40 · 17 days ago

Text

Merry Christmas, baby.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader Rating: just a little tiny bit of smut so still +18 but it’s mostly a huge pile of angst and fluff soooo Words Count: 10669 😵‍💫 Tags: POV second person, reader wears dresses, skirts, blouses and heels, she uses make up, she’s a journalist and a writer, no physical description of her is given besides having hair, angst, fluff, friends to lovers, slow burn, loss of a parent, infidelity, divorce, mention of food, alcohol consumption, both reader and Pike are bad at feelings, swearing, slurs, dirty talk, quarrels, reconciliations, funeral, sharing a bed, kissing, sad thoughts, casual encounters, mention of coffee, mention of spring break activities, geography probably a bit random (but I looked at the maps, don't jump down my throat, I did research and I've actually been to Boston many years ago, I tried my best lol), brief mention of Teresa. I hope I haven't forgotten anything, if so I'll add it immediately. A/N: Written for @pedrostories Secret Santa event, hello @letsgobarbs, I’m your Secret Santa! 🤶 Happy Christmas Eve, I hope you'll have a wonderful holiday season! 🎄 I hope you enjoy this story and I hope you find the angst, yearning and pining you wanted. Among the characters you had indicated as favorites there was Pike and I liked the idea of trying to write him for the first time, he is so sweet and cute and he deserves to be happy, I hope I gave him an ending worthy of him 🥹 I apologize if you find any mistakes, English is not my first language and I don't have a beta so I did it all with just one pair of stupid and tired eyes 😵‍💫

A huge thanks goes to all the lovely people who supported me through the process while I was having a full crisis about everything in this fic 😂 @baronessvonglitter @almostempty @arcanefox207 @joelmillerisapunk I love you all, happy holidays 🥰

1990

“So what do you think?”

“Um...you're good” You've just heard the ugliest Take on Me cover ever, but you can't tell the guy standing in front of you and looking at you with hopeful eyes.

Marcus is your best friend, you've known him for a couple of years, since both of you were two dorky freshmen at your new school. You were looking for the literature room and wandering lost in the hallways when Marcus asked if you needed help. You bonded right away because you didn't know anyone else, you had just moved to Sacramento because of your father's job and he was from Texas, so it had seemed natural to lean on each other.

Over time you had become such good friends that he had met your parents, he would often stay for dinner, and your dad would let him use your garage to rehearse with his band.

Marcus had put up flyers at school and enlisted two other boys, Timmy and Dave, who became the guitarist and keyboardist of Rocket Baby Doll. The name of the band was terrible, they were terrible, but you had never had the courage to tear them down in the face of Marcus's enthusiasm, he was sure that by continuing to rehearse they would make great progress.

With his smooth talk, Marcus had managed to convince the committee to let them play at the freshmen's Christmas dance.

“You'll see that one day we'll be on the cover of Rolling Stone,” Marcus joked. Or at least you hoped he was joking because otherwise you wouldn't know how to talk him out of it.

Marcus was a dreamer and he liked to do it big. He wanted to be a musician, or maybe an FBI agent, he told you. Two careers that had nothing to do with each other, but you knew that if anyone could afford to have ambitions it was him. Marcus was tenacious, persistent, dedicated, and never afraid to work hard to get what he wanted. He certainly wasn't going to end up on the cover of Rolling Stone, but in your heart you were certain he was going to accomplish something important.

He was the kind of boy mothers liked, in fact yours loved him. When you needed math tutoring, he would come to your house totally for free and explain whatever you didn’t understand.

When Molly Preston wanted to exclude you from the winter dance because her ex-boyfriend, Ryder, had asked you out, he had been the one to give her a speech.

When you had a bad day Marcus would take you to get your favorite ice cream, you would talk for hours, and in the end he was the only one who could cheer you up.

Whatever problems you had, Marcus was there for you landing an helping hand.

You knew your mother not too secretly hoped you would get together but it never happened, Marcus was your friend, just a great friend.

“Come on, my mom made cookies for everyone,” you told him as he continued to fantasize about what you might do. You would be their manager and you would both become rich and famous. He just couldn't keep his feet on the ground, even though he was a very good student and even had better grades than you.

You were 17 years old, your whole lives ahead of you, and you hoped that you will remain friends for many years to come.

_____________________________________________

1993

“What do you mean there is only one room available! We had booked two!”

Marcus had yelled at the front desk of a motel where you stopped for the night.

The owner, a rather creepy guy with a long scar on his right cheek, slumps in his shoulders, heedless “If you want number 12 is free, otherwise you can take your asses somewhere else for all I care.”

Marcus was fuming.

It was spring break, any hotel was totally booked, and the possibilities were already significantly reduced given your pockets.

You didn't even want to come; you had just broken up with Derek, your college boyfriend, and were back at your parents' house with the intention of spending your vacation there healing your wounds. Vegetating on the couch, reading books, watching movies, just relaxing. That was what you wanted to do. But Marcus had insisted, “Erik, Alice, Kate and Robert are in San Diego, let's join them!”

You had shaken your head and declined “No way, I've seen enough wild college parties and besides, I'm not really in the mood.”

“Oh come on, you don't want to spend Spring Break crying over that jerk,” he had said, shrugging and looking at you with his big brown puppy-dog eyes.

“Marcus, I really don't feel like it.”

“Come on, please do it for me! You'll see we'll have fun, they're nice!” Surrounding yourself with drunk and stoned 20-year-olds was the least of your desires.

But on the other hand you felt you couldn't say no to him, it had been months since you had seen each other, your relationships had been reduced to long letters and phone calls telling each other about each other's schools.

You had chosen different colleges, Marcus had been accepted at Berkeley in California and you were at Boston University. You had changed coast, climate, everything. You were content but adjusting the first months had not been easy, you felt homesick and you missed your best friend. You were happy for him, you had known since your senior year that you were going to separate but that hadn't made it easy for you.

You had only seen each other in person at Thanksgiving.

He had been forced to go to his relatives in Nevada for Christmas.

So you got dragged down to San Diego, because deep down Marcus was right, brooding all vacation about the relationship with Derek would not be good for you. You had had other guys before him but Derek had been special, until you found out he was cheating on you. You cried for hours on the phone with Marcus and he listened to you the whole time so maybe you owed him a little too.

After insisting on getting at least a room refund, Marcus had turned to you displeased “apparently we have no other choice.”

“We'll adjust” you had smiled, but you couldn't deny that you were a little nervous.

Once in the room he, too, seemed self-conscious.

There was a double bed with a hideous floral bedspread in the middle of the room, brownish carpeting on the floor, dingy pictures hanging on the walls, and an old dresser on the opposite side of the bed with a rickety TV on it.

A smell of cheap deodorant with a musty undertone wafted around. It was the worst room you had ever set foot in, but at this point there was nothing you could do but make it okay. Sleeping in the car didn't seem so appealing.

You had set your bags down and looked at each other awkwardly “This room is awful,” Marcus had whispered, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand “I'm sorry, it didn't look that bad from the brochure.”

“It's not your fault, I bet those pictures were taken at least 20 years ago” you had laughed ”it will do for one night”

You had retrieved your pajamas from the suitcase and went to the bathroom. The light blue tiles made it look like a hospital, there was an old plastic curtain in the shower and the sink looked like it had been through a war but at least it looked clean. There was a strong smell of disinfectant that made you a little nauseous. You had changed quickly and returned to your room to Marcus who was sitting on the bed intent on calling his parents “Yes mom, everything is fine, we will be back tomorrow. Yes, sure, don't worry I'll definitely say hello to her, she's in her room now” You had noticed that he had not said anything about your misadventure, you had sat down smiling on the opposite side of the bed trying to be silent.

Marcus had rolled his eyes closing the call “she is so old-fashioned.”

You had laughed “I find her lovely”

Marcus had chuckled “we'd better sleep, we have a lot of driving tomorrow. Are you okay with that side?”

“Yes, it’s fine” you had nodded ”however I'd rather get this bedspread out of the way, it gives me nightmares even when awake”

Marcus had observed it agreeing that yes, it was rather eerie.

You had taken it off and laid it on the dresser before slipping under cold, scratchy and wrinkled sheets.

You looked at each other and burst out laughing, the situation was comical to say the least. “God, I think I won't forget this bed for a long time,” Marcus had said.

“It feels like being in a burlap sack.” You had laughed.

“Could you not squirm like that?”

“Sorry, I'm just looking for ways to be comfortable,” you had said, ”Mattress is lumpy.”

You had laid on your side with your back to him and closed your eyes, trying to sleep.

“So, did you have a good time?” you had heard Marcus whisper.

“Yes” you had replied “thank you” And it was true, his friends were really nice. You had bonded with the girls and exchanged addresses and phone numbers “you were right, I needed a vacation”

“I know, I'm always right” he had sentenced from the other end of the bed.

You had turned to look at him "oh sure, like the other night when we ended up at that beach party and you said it was allowed and then we had to run away because the police were coming?”

“It was just a little misjudgment!” He retorted.

You had burst out laughing again “come on, sleep, Mr I know everything”

Marcus had turned off the lamp on the bedside table, next to the phone with which he had just called his mother “Hey...I need to tell you something” you had heard him say.

“What?” the tone had suddenly changed and you felt confused, you looked over your shoulder at him in the dark.

“I kissed Alice the other night” he seemed awkward in telling you and you didn't understand why.

“Oh. Well, good for you. She's a lovely girl” he was your friend, you were happy for him.

If it weren't for the fact that you secretly hoped he would kiss you. You'd been thinking about it for a few days, ever since you'd seen him come out of the water while you were at the beach.

It had seemed to you that everything had started moving in slow motion, your eyes glued to his tanned skin, to his broad shoulders, to the way the water slid over his chest in little droplets that died on the waistband of his swimsuit. It was a feeling you had never experienced before in five years of knowing him. You had never seen Marcus as anything more than a friend, but in that moment, with his hair disheveled, his skin wet, a smile plastered on his face as he told you and the others that ocean was great, he had seemed like a vision, and you had felt your cheeks heat up.

Where on earth that attraction came from you didn't know, but it had hit you hard and clear, like a bump on the head that had suddenly awakened you. You had convinced yourself that your brain was doing this to protect you from painful memories with Derek, lingering on your closest friend who had never let you down. Your trust in men was at its lowest, and Marcus had always reassured you, kept you out of trouble, and he was most reliable guy you had ever known.

He said he would do something and he always, unfailingly did it. You could not say the same about Derek or any other guy you had ever been with.

You had tried to chase that feeling away, burying it in the corner of your mind for all the following days; you didn't want to ruin the friendship between you, and you were pretty sure he didn't feel the same way about you.

Sure, you thought you kissed him on your 18s birthday while you were drunk, but the next morning you were so ashamed that you hadn't even told him about it, pretended you didn't remember anything and that it had never happened. Marcus had done the same, and everything had ended there. Two years had passed since that night, you had gone to college, you had both had more or less long relationships.

That one kiss was now so far away that you had listed it among “once-in-a-lifetime mistakes.”

"I wanted to tell you, that's it. Friends tell each other everything, right?"

“Yes, of course, you can tell me anything, I’m happy for you” you replied

You had listened to Marcus talk about the girls he liked dozens of times and you had never cared, you would have certainly forgotten it, it was just a passing crush, you told yourself. That annoyance you felt, that bitter taste in your throat, would disappear after a night's sleep. Your friendship was more important, you wouldn't have ruined it just because your brain had thought it interesting to make it something more.

Yet when you had tried to sleep all you had seen was Marcus kissing Alice. You had not seen them, fortunately, but it was not a hard scene to imagine, and unfortunately it was now implanted in your brain. His strong arms holding her, his soft lips resting on hers, her surrounding his neck with her arms, her pelvis rubbing against his. Suddenly you couldn't stand it. You had narrowed your eyes, cursing your creative mind, grunting in frustration.

“Hey, is everything okay?” had asked Marcus from the other side of the bed.

You had lied, of course, but you had kept brooding until you fell asleep exhausted by the workings of your brain.

In the morning you had woken up confused, not at all rested, and in his arms.

Your face was resting on his chest next to your hand. How had you ended up there like that? You didn't know. You felt like you didn't know anything anymore.

He was blissfully asleep. He seemed unaware of anything as your throat was dry, your head ached, and your pussy throbbed. Yes, throbbing, desperately. The warmth of his body, the scent of his skin, that knowledge you felt inside that this was exactly what you wanted and you couldn't even quantify how long you had wanted it.

And the panic that had seized you immediately afterward. You were convinced it was a mistake, the most terrible mistake you could make. So why did it feel so right? Why did his body feel like it was made for you? Oh no, no you couldn't allow that. Certainly he had no idea whatsoever about the situation, there was no way he was aware and let you do it, it was all your fault.

You were going to ruin everything, your friendship, your relationship with the one man who really seemed to understand and support you. And for what? To fuck him once? It wasn't going to work between you romantically. You were going to have to spend two more years away seeing each other only during the holidays to begin with, and then you were both stubborn, too proud...no, it was wrong, you didn't care what your body told you, you had to let your brain prevail.

You slowly slipped away, back to your side of the bed, practically holding your breath, cursing yourself and your heart that wouldn't stop hammering in the middle of your chest.

He had woken up shortly after, acted as usual, getting up, stretching in his T-shirt and basketball shorts, mumbled good morning to you and locked himself in the bathroom.

Your eyes had slid lasciviously over his body, stealing glances of his exposed skin between his T-shirt and shorts, of his broad shoulders stretching the fabric, of his thighs...

All while you wanted to sink into a black hole and disappear forever. You sank your face into the pillow to keep yourself from screaming.

And what was worse was that you had to carry the burden of what you felt alone because the person you would normally talk to about it was the one you were longing for. Wonderful, a wonderful situation.

When he had come out of the bathroom, with his beautiful smile and that rough voice that he always had early in the morning you almost lost control. You were about to beg him to join you in bed. Ugh, your 20s, uncontrollable, stupid, senseless hormones.

“What are you waiting for? Come on, go get dressed, we have to leave,” he had told you, in the same friendly and vaguely mocking tone as always.

“Oh. yes, thank you, I promise I will be quick.” You had stammered.

You got up, grabbed some random clothes from your suitcase, your beauty case and went to the bathroom to shower and change. He would be ready in 10 minutes at most so he would always let you go to the bathroom first, to give you time to do your makeup and fix your hair. Marcus knew that about you, too, and he was okay with that.

You closed the door behind you, feeling the tears stinging your eyes. You had managed to hold them back until that moment, but in the shower, covered by his of the water, they had flowed copiously and salty down your cheeks.

____________________________________________

2000

“Hey! How are you! My goodness, long time no see!”

You had met him at the supermarket, as you were going around the shelves intent on shopping for your mother.

You were back at your parents' house for Thanksgiving with your husband, John.

The last person you thought you would see was him.

“Marcus!” you had squeaked.

“I am fine! How are you? And Danielle?”

Your mother had taken it upon herself to inform you that he had also married, had no children, and had become a detective.

“Danielle is just fine, she is right there down the aisle picking potatoes according to my mother's exact instructions,” he had rolled his eyes, chuckling.

Damn, you had thought, he's breathtakingly handsome.

You hoped that in all the years you had lost touch with each other he would have lost at least some of his hair like his father, but apparently he had not inherited that gene. His hair was thick and healthy as usual, he wore a gray T-shirt under a black leather jacket and a pair of dark blue jeans. You hated the way he could put on two random things and look so damn perfect while you felt like you had spent your whole life in front of your closet wondering what to wear. And even more you hated his smile, so friendly and sweet, that it hadn't changed at all.

He seemed genuinely glad to see you.

You had lost touch with each other after graduation, despite the advent of cell phones, computers, and email. Your friendship had survived handwritten letters, postcards, prepaid phone cards but still crumbled eventually. You were on the opposite coast, intent on your master's degree, dreaming of becoming a writer; he was hooked on a career in law enforcement.

The letters had become fewer and fewer, as had the phone calls, and eventually what was there had simply slipped away as the months passed, the commitments increased, and each of you tried to become the adult you had dreamed of being.

You had thought it was much better this way, you had stifled your feelings for him for another four years before accepting that nothing would ever happen. You had dated other guys in the meantime, but Marcus had always remained in your mind as the perfect guy you could never have. It was only when you had met John that you had allowed yourself to think that maybe it could work with someone who was not your old friend. He was understanding, sweet, supportive, present and caring with you. John was a really good guy and so you had finally decided to marry him. He had asked you one spring day at the Public Garden, while you were eating a lobster sandwich under a tree in front of the pond, watching the swans. Your offices were close by, so you tried to spend your lunch break together as often as you could. You had gotten a job at the Boston Globe, were in charge of the wedding column, and wrote romance novels in your spare time, sending manuscripts left and right in the hope that some editor would notice them. John was a stockbroker, pragmatic, punctual and very thorough in his work as much as he was sweet and attentive with you.

“How about we get married?” he simply had said to you, with his mouth full. You had laughed, thought he was joking, until you noticed his serious and hopeful look and exclaimed “oh my God, yes!” throwing your sandwich in the air and wrapping your arms around his neck. That was all you wished for. You had moved in together in a beautiful house downtown, not very big but lovely, you had fallen in love with it as soon as you saw it. It was bright and warm, the right place to start your life with John.

You had, of course, sent an invitation to Marcus as well, but he had declined, saying he was very busy with work. You had kind of tied it on your finger and so you had decided that he might as well get out of your life after all. Times change, people change, all I can do is move on and try to forget how I feel about him by devoting myself to my relationship with John, you thought.

Now that you had him in front of you again though, he looked the same as he always did, only grown. And your heart had skipped a beat the instant you recognized his voice greeting you.

“How long do you plan to stay?” you had asked out of pure courtesy.

“About a week, we were able to take a few days to relax a bit. We're always working like crazy, you know, we both needed to get away for a while. How about you?”

“Yes, us too, by the way if you remember Sunday is my father's birthday and my mother really wanted us to be there.”

“I guess. By the way, I'm sorry. My mother told me when we arrived.”

Your father had been ill for several months and unfortunately there was little left to do at that point. He was slowly fading away and it would probably be the last Thanksgiving you would spend together.

“I thank you. Oh here's John. John this is Marcus, an old friend of mine. Marcus, this is John, my husband.”

“Nice to meet you, Marcus,” John had said, shaking his hand.

“Honey, I'm done, shall we go?” had chirped Danielle's voice as she approached you.

“Yes love, but first let me introduce you to an old friend of mine and her husband” Marcus had told her softly.

“Oh it's you! Marcus has told me several times about you! It's nice to finally meet you in person.”

Danielle was beautiful, dark hair, blue eyes and delicate features, a little nose that looked as if it had been drawn by an artist, full lips, high cheekbones and a well-proportioned chin. Her voice was melodious and sweet and she looked at you with an excited and surprised expression, " He didn't tell me you were so pretty!"

“Oh, thank you, you are too,” you had said, slightly embarrassed by such kindness. At that point John had held you proudly, as if you were his greatest prize. His arm had wrapped around your waist, and his eyes looked at you lovingly "didn't she? I'm lucky that she married me."

Danielle had laughed graciously and shook his hand introducing herself, while you and Marcus looked at each other almost studying each other, as if you were both trying to figure out how happy you actually were in your marriages.

That habit of worrying about each other had not gone away; after all, you had been close friends for quite a few years, and your friendship had faded not because of a quarrel, but because of distance and becoming busy adults. And because you had to get over the crush you had on him, of course, but you had never told him that.

“Well, we have to go now, anyway come and see us if you can. My mother would love to see you again,” Marcus had said before offering to push the cart full of food that his wife had left beside you and start toward the checkouts.

“We'll try, thank you,” you had nodded. You definitely should have helped your mother, tried to soothe her at least a little from the strain of caring for your father 24/7; you didn't know how much more time would be left for other things.

You had watched them walk off together from behind, down the canned food aisle where you had retrieved the ready-made cranberry sauce you would never have time to prepare.

They were a good-looking couple, really, attractive, well-dressed, Danielle looking impeccable in a pair of jeans that bandaged her while highlighting her curves, a red blouse that matched her complexion, and a pair of vertiginous heels on which you didn't even know how to walk. She seemed to do it without any problem.

“We should go too, honey” John's voice had brought you back down to earth.

_________________________________________

Once home John had announced to your mother that you had met your old friend at the supermarket, and of course she was thrilled, “Oh, he's such a nice guy, I saw him and his wife the other day walking downtown, they are such a nice couple, aren't they?”

John had agreed, taking a beer from the fridge “really”

“Well, like you, of course” your mother had added, looking at you softly.

And it was true, you were fine with John, he was a good person, a hard worker, he treated you like a princess. What more could you want?

Yet since you had seen him again, Marcus's face had made room in your mind. The intrigued way he had looked at you, as if trying to understand everything that had happened to you in the years you had not been in touch, the way his arms were reaching out to embrace you when John had arrived, a barely imperceptible movement that only you had noticed because you knew him better than the palm of your hand, the dimple that had popped up on his cheek as he smiled at you, the usual one you had grown to love so much.

You had pinched the bridge of your nose as you tried to drive it from your mind “Are you okay love?” had asked John immediately.

“Yes, I just have a little headache, I'll get something later,” you had lied, hurrying to put away the rest of the groceries.

What annoyed you the most was that it seemed like not a single day had passed since you were in your twenties and you had woken up hugging him in the bed of that dingy motel. It was absurd. You had worked so hard to move on and now it felt like you were back where you started.

You couldn't let that happen, you wouldn't let your marriage be disrupted by a casual 10-minute meeting with him.

You would not have gone to his house, no matter how much you would have liked to see his mother who had always been so kind to you.

You had other things to think about anyway; your father was stuck in a hospital bed that you had managed to get him to be more comfortable. He had been put in the guest room on the ground floor, next to the bathroom, he couldn't do the stairs, and it was also easier for your mother to accompany him. The strong and generous man he had been was wearing out before your eyes, and it was a terribly painful image. You knew he had little time left, and you didn't want to waste it chasing the ghosts of the past when you had a husband who was helping you and hugging you every night trying to lessen your pain.

Your Thanksgiving dinner had been unique to say the least, each of you shuttling from the dining room to your father's to spend some time with him, making sure he had everything he needed, helping him eat and drink. You had marveled at how gentle and patient John was with your dad, the big man you had married, one with two shoulders like a football player, feeding your father fruit jelly almost more gracefully than you.

You knew how fond he was of your dad, they had hit it off right away, but you didn't know how much he was willing to sacrifice for him. You were moved.

___________________________________________

Your father was gone four days later. You and John were supposed to leave for Boston the next morning instead you had to call in to work, cancel your flight, call your trusty neighbor Marge to ask her to look at your house, pick up your mail, and water your plants.

You were crushed and at the same time overwhelmed with bureaucracy so you couldn't stop. You had forgotten to eat breakfast that morning, got dressed in a hurry to go to the funeral home to deliver the suit with which you had decided to bury your father, then went to do some paperwork with the insurance company and finally to the church to arrange with the pastor the time of the service and the proceedings. When you left the church you felt an emptiness in your stomach, your head was spinning, you had eaten barely a sandwich in the last two days.

You knew you were about to collapse, saw a café across the street from the church, and went inside to get a croissant and cappuccino to go.

When you came out you found yourself in front of Danielle. She was so sorry, of course your mother had informed Marcus's mother and they would be attending the funeral. Danielle hugged you as if you were her sister, telling you that she understood you because she too had lost her father a few years earlier and even though you didn't know each other well you could have called her if you needed anything.

You had thanked her and headed for the car, locked yourself in and took a couple of minutes to chug your croissant and drink your cappuccino. At least partially regenerated from the late breakfast you had headed back home, where John and your mother were waiting for you.

In the car you had been thinking about how kind Danielle had been and how lucky Marcus was to be with her.

The next day you had put on a sober black suit that you used for the office and probably wouldn't be able to wear again after that day, put on just enough makeup, helped John put on his tie, and headed for church with him and your mom.

All three of you were exhausted, grieving, trying to hold the pieces together as best you could with each other's help but your dad's absence was hard to bear. You wished you could have woken up and found it had been just a nightmare, you wished you could have hugged him and talked to him and he, as he had always done, would have found the words you needed most.

There was only one other person who could soothe your worries in the same way your dad could, and that person was Marcus.

John had been able to be there for you anyway, with actions more than words, taking tasks to take away from you, relieving you of burdens you could not carry alone, and for that you were infinitely grateful. He was a good husband.

After the service, under his arm, you left the church behind your mother. You had lost count of the number of people who had come to hug you, faces you had never seen, work colleagues of your father's whom you had never met, old childhood friends, the church was full of people who had come to remember him fondly. This pleased you, but it was strange to you at the same time. You wished you had some time to yourself, alone, to try to catch your breath and rationalize at least some of what had happened, that blender of emotions that had shaken and sucked you in.

You had made your way to the cemetery, walking along the path that led to the family grave where your grandparents were buried you had felt like you were in a muffled bubble where everything moved in slow motion, barely sensing John's presence beside you.

When you had arrived, you had looked up for only a moment and before you had seen Marcus's. You had not noticed his presence in the church, busy as you were with hugging and greeting, you had seen only his mother but he had remained in the background, respecting your grief. Just as you wished others had done. There was nothing more to be said, he always knew what you needed, no matter how many years had passed, he could still read you like an open book just like when at 18 he had realized that your highest aspiration was to become a writer without even the need to make it explicit in words.

His eyes were swollen and reddened; it was obvious that he was moved. Beside him was Danielle with a pair of dark glasses covering her face, clutching his arm elegantly and dignifiedly.

You had smiled weakly at him, thanking him with your eyes, and he had smiled back, looking at you with the sweetest, sorriest eyes I had seen that day.

___________________________________________

You had stayed behind to watch the final burial operations, while John had driven your mother back to the car, who had burst into convulsive tears, crushed by the realization that she had lost forever the man she had loved most in the world.

You had felt a hand barely graze your shoulder, you had turned around and saw Marcus standing there on the grass “hey” As soon as you had seen him the impulse to hug him had come to you spontaneously, he had welcomed you into his arms, stroking your head, wrapping you against his chest, trying to comfort you.

Being close to him still felt like home, his warmth immediately made you feel calmer, less alone, and not that John couldn't do that but with Marcus it was different. He had always been different in a way that was impossible to explain but that you felt hammering hard in your heart.

“Thank you,” you had whispered, with the tears you had finally allowed yourself to shed wetting your cheeks and his shirt.

“Don't mention it,” he had whispered, continuing to hold you close.

You had lingered a little longer in his embrace before pulling away and asking where Danielle was.

"She went home with my mom. I stayed in case you needed anything.”

“It's okay, thank you, there was no need,” you stammered lyingly. Yes you needed him, now more than ever, and he knew it well.

“Your mother and John?”

“Aunt Maggie drove them home, they left my mom's car with me.”

“Do you want me to drive?” she had asked and all you could do was nod ”please. But then how are you going to get back?”

“I'll call Danielle, don't worry” he had encircled your waist with an arm as he walked you to the car. He had opened the door and helped you get in, even buckled your seat belt no matter how hard you had tried to insist you could do it yourself.

Marcus did not spare himself when it came to caring for others.

He had climbed up on the driver's side and in a rush had hugged you back, there, inside the car, whispering, “You don't know how sorry I am, baby. Your father was a great man.”

You had looked at him gratefully, amid tears that had begun to flow profusely again "thank you"

He had kissed you, right after that. And the instant his lips had rested on yours, you had felt that you could not help yourself no matter how hard you had tried to bury your feelings all those years. There was something inexplicable that united you, a way of understanding each other that needed no words, as if you were made to recognize each other, to see inside each other's souls. You had read in his eyes that day in the supermarket how much he had missed you, and he had read the same in yours, and just before that you had felt the same need to have him near, in spite of John, Danielle, and anything else that told you it was wrong. Deep inside you had always known it was right, you had felt it from the moment you first met him. You had been crowing for years about people talking about soul mates, meetings of destiny, and things like that. But now you knew you had felt it. His soft lips on yours were like honey to your soul, you wished you could sink into that feeling, drown in that sea and never rise again.

You couldn't leave John though. Not after you had built a life together in Boston, not after he had supported and cared for you all those days. Not after all he had done for you.

As much as it hurt to do so, you pulled away from his lips. “I’ve always thought about you, all these years,” he said. “I’m sorry, you know, I didn’t realize it before, that maybe we could be something more. I never told you, but I remembered that kiss we shared when we were 18 very well.” Marcus was a torrent of words and was saying everything you’d always wanted to hear. “And I remember the night in that motel, too, how you held me in your sleep. I…” You knew he was about to say something like “I love you” “I’ve always loved you,” and so you cut him off. “Marcus.” He paused, his mouth half open as he looked at you in shock. “It’s too late. We can’t. Maybe there was a chance a few years ago, but now? We’re both married, we have responsibilities, we have to be realistic. It’s not fair to Danielle and John. And I have a job and a life in Boston, I can’t just leave everything all of a sudden.”

“But I…” and you knew he was about to say those words again. “Please don’t say that. Don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

Marcus had fallen silent, looking down at his hands draped over his lap, and then said sadly, “I understand.”

You had just lost your father and now you were losing him too. It wasn’t fair, but it was the only thing to do. “Take me home, please.” He would have started the car without saying anything, driving to your house without looking at you again, perhaps afraid that he wouldn’t be able to let you go if he ever laid eyes on you again.

You got out of the car just saying thank you, without hugging him because you knew it would have hurt even more.

____________________________________

2008

When John had told you that you should move to Washington DC, you had not taken it well. You did not want to leave Boston, the bright home where you had begun to build your new life, that city that had welcomed you. Starting all over again somewhere else, in a city you had never been to, seemed too much.

In the end, however, you had accepted it; leaving John seemed even worse. And he had continued to be a good husband, so you saw no reason to part with him.

After all, he had received a good promotion, he had rented a house where you had found a familiar light again, it had big windows, high ceilings, big rooms. John made good money and had tried to accommodate you in everything.

He had made it worth it all the way.

You had been struggling a bit to fit into the editorial staff of the new newspaper you had found work for. You were aiming for the Washington Post, but they had totally bounced you, which had been no small disappointment to digest.

However, after all, your life had regained some meaning.

It was now six months since you had moved, you hadn't heard from Marcus in eight years. And this time it was not because of distance, but because it had really hurt you to find out that he felt something too but it never seemed to be the right time for you. It would have been in 1993 perhaps, if you had had courage, if you had taken the risk of exploring your feelings together. He hadn't had the guts to tell you anything, you were too afraid, and when you had found common ground it had immediately collapsed.

John had noticed that something was wrong, even he knew you well enough to know that it pained you not to hear from your friend again, and at times he had even urged you to call him. You had told him that he had said something unpleasant about Danielle while you were in the car and you had felt sorry for her, from there you had started to argue. It was a really boorish excuse and you were pretty sure John hadn't bought it but had played it off for the sake of quiet life.

“Can you stop by the bank to deposit this check this morning?” he had told you that morning before leaving the house. You were sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and enjoying your day off.

“Sure,” you had answered him, ”I'll go there before I go to the laundry to pick up my dress for tonight.”

“Mmm the burgundy dress with that dizzying neckline?” he had told you as he leaned over to give you a kiss

“Just that one” you had smiled as you returned the kiss and caressed his cheek ”you like it huh?”

“I'm looking forward to tonight” he had chuckled before leaving the house with his briefcase ”I'll be home at 7 o'clock okay?”

“Perfect, I'll be ready” you had thrown him a kiss and then curled up in your chair, finishing your coffee and admiring the view of the waking city outside.

It was your anniversary, and he was going to take you to dinner at a French restaurant you had heard about in enthusiastic tones from your discerning colleague who was a food and wine critic.

You had dressed quietly, gone out to do your chores, had a manicure appointment, then gone to pick up your dress at the dry cleaners and finally to the bank.

As soon as you had left the bank you had bumped into a guy.

You had looked up and been stunned.

Marcus.

How was that possible?

“Oh shit,” he had exclaimed.

His hair was slightly longer, he had grown a mustache and a beard but it was him, there was no doubt about it, you would have recognized him in a thousand.

"What are you doing here?" you had asked him, widening your eyes, without a hello or how are you or anything else, you were too shocked.

He was the last person you expected to see on your anniversary.

Marcus had brushed his hand behind his neck, the gesture he always made when he was embarrassed “I got a big promotion” in a tone as if to apologize for existing in the same state as you, in the same city as you, for coexisting in the same environment as you.

“Whatever...I have to go, anyway, have a nice life,” you had tried to say quickly, to disengage yourself from that surreal situation.

You had already turned your back on him when you heard him say “no wait...please...would you like to have a cup of coffee?”

You had turned silently to look at him. He couldn't have been serious. Yet he was.

And looking into those big brown pleading eyes, for some reason you had not been able to say no.

“All right,” you had replied with a shrug, ”I'll give you half an hour, then I'll have to go home.”

You went to sit in a café around the corner and ordered a cappuccino.

"So how are you?" you asked absentmindedly.

“Danielle and I broke up last spring.”

“Oh. I'm sorry.” It was like a blade through the chest to hear his voice again, to hear him say that he was single again and that his marriage was over. Somehow it made you feel guilty even though after eight years it was unlikely that the main reason for their breakup was you.

“Yeah...she wanted children and for a while we tried but...”

“Marcus please, I don't care, it's your business because it's over,” you cut off.

You didn't have to get involved again. When you had thought back to your father's death and how he had confessed right afterwards you had been angry with him. Why had he done it at that time when you were so particularly vulnerable? It wasn't fair.

"Sorry I-" he had babbled.

“Never mind, never mind,” you had interrupted him again with a hand gesture. “Look, let's talk straight once and for all” you didn't know where all that aggression was coming from but it was growing inside you inexorably, like an infection ”why the hell are we here?”

He had lowered his gaze to his cappuccino, then brought it back to you and stared at you in a way that made you feel naked and helpless. He still had an effect on you, and it pissed you off. “I miss you,” he had admitted under his breath, ”I miss talking to you and I miss having you around. I miss everything about you. When I saw you I couldn't believe it. But I know I can't let you leave without clearing things up.”

“There's nothing left to clear up. It's over Marcus, can't you see that? There was never a right time for us.”

“That's not true, I-”

“Stop it! Look, I'm trying to live my life, you do it too,” you had screeched

“But-”

“No 'buts'... Marcus, I'm tired. I'm tired of this running into each other and don't tell me it's fate because it's just pure randomness. John was transferred for work, now we live here, end of story. I'm still with him, okay? And I'm happy, so please leave me alone.”

You could see his clenched fist on the coffee table, his eyes glazed with tears, his Adam's apple jumping as you mentioned John. He looked devastated. It was no longer your business anyway, so you had gotten up and made to leave, leaving a bill on the coffee table. “Don't look for me anymore.”

Marcus had jumped up, his chair had fallen back crashing onto the pavement, and he didn't even seem to notice as he tried to stop you.

“Please” he had grabbed you by the sleeve of his jacket ”please.”

You had turned back to him and looking into his eyes you had seen the little boy who asked you if he would ever be famous, the one who helped you with your homework, the 20-year-old who had involved you in the craziest vacation of your life, and then the adult who had broken your heart.

“No.” you had whispered, ”no fucking way.”

Marcus' face was a grimace of pain, as if in physical pain from your rejection, his shoulders hunched and his hand not letting go of you. He was pathetic and sweet at the same time.

His eyes were fixed in yours as he told you loud and clear, “I love you.”

I love you.

You had longed to hear it come from his lips for so long that now it was like a lash that burned against your skin. You had stopped feeling like you were glued to the sidewalk, unable to take a step forward “What the hell! Did you have to tell me that? Was it necessary after I told you that I am still with my husband? Fuck, your timing is the worst thing ever. Do you know what day it is today? My wedding anniversary.” you had thrown up words at him angrily, feeling a knot in your stomach that nauseated you.

“I don't want anything from you,” he had replied, his voice trembling, ”I just wanted you to know.”

“And now that I know according to you what have we solved? What have we gained? I'll tell you, absolutely nothing Marcus.”

You had turned around and left, yelling at him, “I'll tell you again, don't ever look for me.”

You had come home and taken a long hot bath, cried your last tears for him, and then decided it was John you had to think about, your special day. Marcus wasn't going to ruin it for you. You had prepared yourself carefully, put on the dress he liked so much, your favorite perfume, and waited for John. When he had come home you had driven out to a restaurant, had had a delicious dinner, sex as soon as you got home, and fallen asleep in his arms feeling that it was right.

___________________________________

2010

“Love don't wait up for me, I'll be back late. I am so sorry, I love you.”

It was already the fourth time in a week that he sent you such a message, by now John spent more time in the office than anywhere else. He had been given another promotion and was now mainly in charge of foreign exchanges, so he went to the office at impossible hours, came back later and later, and you barely saw him in the morning getting out of bed to jump in the shower. You hadn't had sex for at least a month, in those days you had talked more often with the mailman than with your husband.

Finally a publishing house had noticed you and they had published your book, you had gotten a chance to continue working for the newspaper by writing your articles from home so you could work on your second novel.

You had huffed, looking at the screen, by now you were going to your friends' dinners alone, in those two years you had bonded with some couples in your neighborhood, and with a colleague from the newspaper and her husband. Every time you had been invited in the last three months John had declined, saying he had to work.

You were beginning to feel really alone in your marriage, but you knew you had to try something. You still cared about John; you didn't want everything you had built together to be ruined. Sure, since he was earning more money he was showering you with unexpected and expensive gifts that certainly didn't make up for his absence, though. You had never been a materialistic person, no matter how beautiful the diamond bracelets and pearl necklaces and expensive shoes were, you missed falling asleep cuddled with your husband, feeling his caresses, having breakfast with him in the morning, spending a weekend together on the couch watching TV cuddling, simply spending time with him. For the past few weeks you had failed to write a word, you had hastily completed articles for the newspaper just to meet deadlines but your novel had stalled. You were busy cleaning to take your mind off things, you had joined the gym to force yourself to leave the house but then you would go back and find yourself spending entire evenings lounging around, not knowing what else to do.

You had decided that night that you had to take matters into your own hands, put on a pretty dress, fixed your hair and make-up thoroughly, and then went out with the intention of surprising him. You were going to bring him his favorite dishes from your favorite Chinese restaurant to the office.

When you had arrived at his workplace, you had looked up from the car window and seen the light on in his office.

You had come down loaded with Chinese noodles and dumplings, and as you walked toward the entrance you had noticed his car parked not far away.

You had taken the elevator with your heart in your throat, looking forward to seeing his happy face as he enjoyed a hot meal. The elevator had opened on the floor and you had started down the hallway leading to his office. There was no one there, everything was quiet and still, but the closer you got to his office the more you heard strange noises. Bellowing, hushed voices.

The door was pulled over, you had pushed it slightly, and the scene that unfolded before your eyes was unsettling.

Veronica, a married colleague of him whom you had met at the firm's Christmas party a few months earlier, was bent over John's desk, her skirt up, her panties down, her long legs covered by black hold-ups, her stilettos sinking into the Persian carpet under John's desk. And your husband holding her hips and sinking into her from behind.

His shirt was hanging off his shoulders, his hair was disheveled, his neck tense and sweaty, as he stood there with his cool wool pants down, fucking his colleague.

He grunted some words that you had never heard him say when you were having sex “Yeah, bitch, you like that huh? You like getting pounded by my cock huh? You're such a dirty slut, do you feel how wet you are for me?"

You couldn't believe your eyes. Your sweet husband, the one who had stood by you so devotedly…where had that man gone?

You dropped the bag with the Chinese dinner on the floor, the boxes had opened, and the noodles had spread all over the hardwood floor. “What the fuck?!”

John had turned around shocked, still with his cock inside his coworker “Oh shit. No, wait, honey I-” he had stepped out of her and tried to pull up his pants awkwardly ”please-fuck-I can explain.”

“There's nothing to explain, you piece of shit!” you had yelled at him as he approached trying to stammer out some stupid excuse and had slapped him open-handed across the face as soon as he got in front of you ‘don't bother coming home’ you had added contemptuously.

“But love I-” he had pranced rubbing his cheek ”please-”

“NO!” You had yelled “No, I don't want to hear your bullshit excuses, I don't want anything more to do with you, you disgust me!”

Veronica was standing in the corner buttoning her blouse and pulling down her skirt without meeting your gaze, her face hot and guilty.

Everything that you had sacrificed for that relationship, how you had followed him and reinvented your life for him, adapting to his needs, trying to build a happy nest for the two of you in Washington, all had been swept away. He had stomped on your marriage, your trust, your heart.

You had driven home crying, risking missing a red light, had nailed down at the last moment with your heart bouncing inside your chest like a jackhammer. You had walked into the house throwing your purse and coat on the floor, throwing your shoes in the middle of the hallway and throwing yourself on the bed, hiding your face in the pillow with your head bursting, a sense of helplessness and defeat enveloping your temples, your chest, your stomach.

It was over.

John had never come home, you had learned through his lawyer that he had rented an apartment near his office, and a week later he sent three big guys from a moving company to pick up his things.

You couldn't stay in that house anymore. Everything reminded you of him, the lies he had been telling you for months and what was even worse, all the happy moments you had lived in there in spite of yourself.

You were dragging yourself from room to room without strength, you hadn't written anything anymore, you had told the editor of the newspaper that you were sick to have an excuse to delay the deadlines for your articles.

You were tired, you were angry, you lacked the will to do anything, after three days without seeing you leave the house your friend Denise, who lived across the street had called you alarmed to see if you were all right, and hearing your dejected, fading voice had decided to use the keys you had given her in case of an emergency to come and check on you in person.

You had not been able to lie to her; you had burst into tears and told her everything as soon as she asked you where John was.

From that day she had been by every day bringing you dinner, making sure you ate, forcing you to shower, tidying up. You didn't know what you had done to deserve Denise in your life but you were incredibly grateful that she was there.

Gradually you had forced yourself to take charge of your life again, started going out again pushed by your friends and even moved house, encouraged by them. You couldn't turn over a new leaf without getting out of there.

And you had especially realized that you could walk with your head held high; you were not the one who had to be ashamed.

And looking back on it, you had really overcome a lot in the last few years. The loss of your father, Marcus, your husband. All the men who had meant something to you in your life.

You could have been proud that you did your best to stay on your feet.

________________________________________________________

2011

It had been a year since you had discovered John screwing his colleague.

You had tried dating men, without success, but things were going very well professionally. You had finally managed to finish your second book, and the publisher had been extremely pleased, so much so that he had arranged a series of meetings for you at bookstores around the country. You had just returned from Ohio when you got a call from your mother inviting you for Christmas.

You had no desire to return to Sacramento, but how could you say no to your mom? She was left alone and it had not been easy for her. Your aunt and uncle lived nearby and took care of her but she had said she missed you a lot.

And she was so proud of you, she had asked you for copies of your books to give to all her friends, she was your biggest fan. You were happy to see her and spend time with her.

And so, there you were at the airport, with a big suitcase, ready to get on yet another plane and fly across the country.

You had just gotten an upgrade to business class and were in the private lounge of the area airline ordering yourself a martini when you heard a familiar voice behind you calling your name.

Marcus. Again.

“I swear I'm not following you,” he had raised his hands in surrender.

“I know. I haven't seen you in three years, and we live in the same town.”

You had smiled; it wasn't bad to see his face again after all.

“Martini?” He had asked pointing to your glass

“Yeah. Can you please make another one?” You had said turning toward the bartender.

You had sat at a small table with your cocktails “Are you going to see your mother?”

You had nodded, “You too?”

“Yes, my parents were very insistent. Where is John?”

“I have no idea,” you had squeezed into your shoulders taking a sip of your martini.

“Oh, did you break up? I'm sorry, he seemed like a good man,” he had said.

“Apparently he wasn't since he was cheating on me with one of his colleagues.”

“You should have better judgment anyway, aren't you a detective?” you had asked, raising an eyebrow and looking at him wryly

Marcus had burst out laughing, “You're right, I should.”

And he had told you about the time he had fallen in love with someone named Teresa, a colleague of his, and had been left like a poor idiot the previous year, without realizing that she was in love with someone else.

“It wasn't your fault, you know,” you told him sweetly, ”I know how you get when you have a crush.”

“How do I become?” he had asked you with a sigh.

And you had replied with a smirk “Well, if you must know...naive, head in the clouds, like you live in a world of unicorns and fairies”

“Really? A ridiculous clown? Is that what I become?” he had chuckled and then turned serious again ”Not with you, I hope”

You had laughed, you could have laughed at that point. Or maybe it was just the martini clouding your mind.

“Whatever,” you had rolled your eyes.

“Well, I'm sorry,” he had muttered.

“It's okay” you had smiled ”Really.”

At that moment they had announced boarding for your flight, so you had hurried to the gate together.

You were both in business, so eventually you had sat next to each other and continued chatting.

And it was nice, really nice. You were both single, more aware, you had reached an age where you could be honest with yourselves and you could joke about your dramas.

“So you had noticed that I had hugged you that night huh?”

“Sure. You pounced on me in my sleep and woke me up. I didn't want to embarrass you so I played it cool” she had smiled ”I thought you were sleepwalking and dreaming of hugging Keanu Reeves or whatever.”

You had burst out in the loudest laugh you had had in years and then covered your mouth embarrassed that you had disturbed the other passengers. Fortunately those in your vicinity all had headphones on and were watching a movie.

“Oh, come on” you had tapped his shoulder and then taken by you don't know what courage-probably the second martini you were downing-you had said ”the only one I dreamed of hugging was you.”

“I didn't realize this until later...Now is there anyone you would like to hug by any chance?” he had whispered in your ear.

“Actually...yes”

And there, in that plane, you kissed. For the first time without hindrance, without remorse, without drama, without fear. “I love you” he had whispered on your lips, and you had responded, finally free to say it ”I love you too.”

“So we'll try this time?” he had caressed your cheek, sliding his hand down your neck.

“Yes” You had said ”definitely yes.”

“Your mother will be delighted” he had smiled, kissing you again “it's going to be a great Christmas.”

“Well, Merry Christman then” you whispered as your mouth moved down his neck.

“Merry Christmas, baby”

#pedrostories #pedrostoriesgift24 #marcus pike #Marcus Pike x f!reader #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike fic #ppcu fics #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction

132 notes · View notes

shhhsecretsideblog · 5 months ago

Note

It's happening way too soon. My parents were always strict about not having a baby born before getting married. My sibling's have all done it. Each time earning a forceful reprimand that lasted years. The disappointment on their faces when we told them we were expecting nine months before pushed us to keep the wedding on the same day.

As we stand before our families, I can feel your body's tension through the grip you have on my hands. I've seen your bump enough times to know it's never looked so low or uneven. Sweat is beading of your brow and your expression flinches with increasing frequency. Your eyes are distinctly unfocused, and your breathing is starting to become a slight moan. Through this you keep resetting a smile.

But I can tell instinct is starting to hit you. You're clearly sinking into a slight squat. Your eyes tell me everything as the officiant drone on. I need to push

Don't push. Not now, please not now! I think as I stare into your eyes.

You seem to read my thoughts and straighten as best you can. But it won't last.

I need you to make it through another twenty minutes...please...

I was pretty sure at this point I’d been in labour for at least 10 hours; the contractions had started during the night and my water broke just before I put on my dress. But I couldn’t tell anyone, if I did the wedding would be cancelled as instead they’d rush me to the hospital. I knew how important it was to you, and your family, that this baby wasn’t born out of wedlock. So I gritted my teeth and carried on with the day, ignoring the increasing frequency and intensity of the contractions.

Standing in front of you, holding your hand, and I’m so glad I persevered. I couldn’t wait to marry you. But it seemed our baby was impatiently keen to join in on the union.

I grasp your hands tight as another contraction strikes and I’m sure my newly painted nails are digging into your palm. But it’s the only thing I can do against the onslaught of pain and pressure. I swayed my hips secretly underneath the full layers of petticoats, satin and tulle that was my wedding dress. The tightening of my belly paired with the pain in my pelvis made my eyes water. Anyone catching the glint of tears in my eyes would just think I was an emotional bride, but I knew you knew what was happening.

The baby’s head was way beyond my cervix, I could feel it filling my birth canal and bulging against the white lace of my underwear. I couldn’t help but widen my stance as it sank lower and lower, desperate to be born.

I wanted to push, my body needed to push. The baby was right there. Yet I panted as quietly as I could through the urges as the officiant started to recite the vows.

My hand trembled when you slipped the ring on my finger. I felt lost and unstable without your hands to grip, feeling like I would just collapse to my knees and push uncontrollably without having the strength of your touch.

We made it through the vows and the exchanging of rings, but I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep the baby inside of me. The burning between my legs told me the head was starting to come out, even without my active pushing. The weight was pressing and stretching me open, the crown getting bigger and bigger in my underwear. I couldn’t handle the fullness, it was too much, I had to find some relief. Little pushes, I told myself, just give little pushes to ease the pressure. I grunted, quietly under my breath, but you’d obviously heard from the whites that flashed around your panicked eyes.

I can’t help it… I have to push, I tried to say to you. My knees squatted slightly under my dress, my legs wide apart with the baby’s head bulging obscenely between them. It was almost certainly approaching a full crown.

“I now pronounce you - married.” The officiant said loudly.

You cupped my face and brought me in for a kiss and I grunted deeply into your mouth as my body pushed again. The head was so big, I was stretched to my limits, my knees sank again with a bounce as I gave in fully to the instinctual need to push. You pulled away from the kiss and hugged me tightly, your breath tickled my ear as you whispered “You did it; we’re married. Let’s go have our baby.”

I whispered back “The head’s already out.”

[THIS!!!! More asks like this please! It’s perfect, glorious and oh the wonderful birth denial. Thank you thank you anon!!!]

#answered asks #my writing #birth prompts #birth denial #clothing birth #inconvenient birth #birth kink #public birth #birth rp #birth roleplay #panty birth

194 notes · View notes

sweetinsaniiity · 7 months ago

Text

Another Life

► 𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 - photographer!wooyoung x fem!reader!Y/N x OT8Teez! (𝒶𝓈 𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹𝓈) ◄ ► 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜/𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 - fluff, friendship, unrequited love, slice of life, angst, plot twist, slow burn, friends to-strangers to-friends , moving on , happy ending (or is it?) ◄ ► 𝚃𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 - depression, anxiety ◄ ► 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 - 23.4K ◄ ► 𝚂𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 - someone who was afraid of getting out of their comfort zone and someone who was afraid of committing to anything and anyone is never a good combination. Would Wooyoung remain in your life if you confessed? If he left, what would you do? ◄

► 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜 - Hello! This is my first fanfic, at least here on Tumblr! Cut me some slack I suppose lmao and let me know if I should continue. If so, let me know if you want to be added to my future taglist! Title from Motionless In White. ◄

I'm not God, but they're trying to kill me. This all-knowing desperation I've been feeling for quite sometime now, I mean.

I don't remember the last time I've felt this lonely. There were times where my emotions felt a little too much to handle, but not to the point that rendered me unable to want to feel alive. Today, the sadness drained through me rather than lingering outside my skin, traveling through every nerve, but to my surprise, it rather electrified me to want to do something.

That's good, right? And so I did.

"I'll be back at noon," I told my kind mother, passing through her to try and get to the door before I changed my mind.

"I'm glad you've been going out lately, honey. Let me know when you need anything, okay?" she beamed, quite pleased that I was trying to do something with my life rather than mope around in my room all day.

Oh, how clueless she was. The truth was, I didn't want to let her know about the consuming melancholy that my heart had been feeling.

Ever since I had decided to quit my job, nothing but bad luck has been coming my way. I know it was stupid, to just up and go just because I was unsatisfied with what I was doing, but truth be told, I was not happy anymore. I could never go on doing something I truly wasn't happy with.

But I was bored out of my mind, and most of all, I felt utterly useless and hopeless. It was dangerous - the path my thoughts were taking me. It's the road that led to my burnout, and the impatience this world had always given me.

"No point in trying to convince myself that things would be different," I mumbled to myself, sitting on the park bench nearby.

Click, click

I was so lost in thought that I didn't even notice that my feet took me to the park I always went to when I just wanted to be alone in my thoughts and think of my next move. I suppose I was always so discontented with my life that my body had subconsciously learned what to do on its own.

Click, click

No matter, I thought, I was the master of pushing it through. My path had been very foggy lately, anyway. I just have to be patient if the world can't do it for me so I can wait for it to clear up and show me the next adventure that lay ahead of me.

Click, click

I frowned, what in the hell is that clicking sound I keep hearing?

I pulled my cardigan close, as if doing so would stop the exposure I suddenly felt from being out in the open. I looked around, but there was nothing. There were parents with their children, dogs with their owners, coaches with their students, and ducks with their ponds.

"Miss? You dropped this---"

"Oh my God!" I squealed like cattle about to be slaughtered as I turned around to find the source of the sudden voice. I had always been jittery, you see.

I turned around, and the most handsome man I have ever seen in my life was behind me holding what seems to be my phone. I didn't even realize that I'd dropped it while I was busy spacing out in my thoughts.

His eyes were widened, directed at me. I guess I'm not the only jittery one here.

He had average length hair that swayed with the oncoming wind, but what set it apart was its bright red tone that was as vivid as the flowers that surrounded both of us. His lips were plump and raised into a charming smile and his steps had a bounce to them.

Oh God, be still, my beating heart. I blushed, the red tinge on my cheeks vibrant in contrast to my pale skin. I hope he can't hear how loud my heart is beating.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to shout at you," I was meeker than I usually was.

He saw the surprise register on my face before I could hide it. His smile becomes wider, I guess he gets this a lot, and the heat on my face gets warmer. If he wasn't good-looking before, he definitely was now.

"Don't worry about it, I didn't mean to scare you," he laughed, handing me my phone. I slowly took it, praying that my hands didn't shake too much.

I swallowed. Even his voice was pretty. It reminded me of soft marshmallows, so pillowy and comforting, so sweet and yet so rich at the same time. I mentally slap myself, I haven't gone out in days and the first thing I do is openly check out a guy who was nice enough to give me my phone back instead of running away with it?

My voluntary isolation sure did its number on me.

But then I saw it. There was something slinging across his shoulder - a bag. It donned a big camera that I knew for a fact was quite expensive. So that was the clicking sound I heard earlier, he was a photographer.

"Ah," he began, scratching the back of his head. "I was snapping pictures of you earlier with this." He gently pats the bag. "Would you like to see?"

"S-Sure," I agreed, hesitant.

"I'm not a creep, I promise," he panicked, animatedly defending himself by making a point to wave his hands in front of me. I giggled a little. He was cute. "I do this for a living, street photography I mean."

"I see. I, uh, sorry to disappoint you, Mr..?"

"Oh. I'm Wooyoung. And why are you sorry? I'm the one who took photos of you randomly," he tilted his head in confusion.

"It's not that," I paused, biting my lip, not knowing how to proceed. I don't miss the way his eyes follow the movement. "I haven't been myself lately, so I probably look unfit for your photography concept..."

I wasn't trying to fish for any sort of compliment. It was true, I did look and feel like shit, to put it simply. I haven't been taking care of myself lately - my clothes were wrinkly, my hair was a bird's nest, my eyes had no life in them, and my face has been splotchy with my dark circles and zit marks.

Unlike him. He was casual, but there was coordination with his outfits, and they looked impeccably new.

"On the contrary, Miss...?"

I laughed a bit. He was cute, and very playful at the same time. What a dangerous combination. His mouth curls into a good-natured smirk. "Y/N. Drop the 'miss', it makes me feel old."

It was his turn to laugh a bit. "On the contrary, Y/N, yours was the best photo I have taken this week."

My blush deepens immensely, more than I thought I was able to. I matched it with a small, shy smile as my eyes shone in a way that only genuine happiness and appreciation can bring.

I've always been like that. I wish I didn't get so flustered easily. In a flash, my cheeks are rosy and anyone can peek inside my emotions as I had pried my insides open so they watch for themselves.

"Somehow I don't believe that," I chuckled, mentally rolling my eyes.

"No, I'm serious, here," Wooyoung zips his bag open, brings out the expensive looking camera, and presses a button that brings it back to life. "I'll show you."

Wooyoung scoots closer to me, bringing the equipment near my face so I can see the screen. I was so embarrassed at how much I had the urge to sniff him.

He smelled so good - very musky, leathery but very clean at the same time. It gives me the image of a pure sophistication behind a light curtain that envelops you in warmth.

I let out a light gasp, complete surprise taking over the shyness I felt earlier.

There I was, staring out nowhere in particular at the bench I was brooding my bad mood off on. But it wasn't me that stole both of our attention, there was a beautiful wisteria tree I hadn't noticed before behind me.

It was beautiful. The way they cascaded into this marvelous tendrils of purple beauty blended with how forlorn my expression was; the longing, regret, and despondence clearly evident, like the slow descent of its lilac petals, way down they go.

To the naked eye, it looked like a depressed girl with a pretty tree in the background, but to me and Wooyoung, it was so much deeper than that. The photo held so much depth, because at the same time, there was relief in my features. The sadness was exquisite.

"You," I paused, swallowing to force the words out of my mouth. "You made me look human."

"What makes you think I didn't capture you because you were the most human looking in here?"

His smile was the prettiest thing I've seen in a while, prettier than the wisteria, and I can tell it was genuine. I could have melted in a puddle right there. His eyes sparkle like the night sky as he browses at each photo he had taken. He had the passion I lacked.

"Do you want copies of it?" Wooyoung inquired.

Did I want copies of it? Did I want to stare at myself and get reminded every time about how lonely my life currently was? I don't know, I wasn't the sentimental type. He senses my hesitation and frowns a bit.

He grabs a small piece of card and hands it to me. "Here's my card," he points at it. "That's the address, come swing by whenever you have the chance and I will give it to you, okay?"

I bit my lip apprehensively with a nod, pocketing the card in my cardigan. "Alright, I will think about it."

"I hope you do," he clicks his tongue, swiping it across his bottom lip. I stopped breathing for a second. "I wouldn't want to waste such a pretty photo."

I swallowed. "A-Ah, do I have to pay for it?"

"I guess you're going to have to find out, hmm?" he smirked, gently tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. "There, much better."

I froze, not really knowing what to do. I sighed softly, I have been so deprived of touch because I poured all of my time on work. Well, at least what used to be my work.

Wooyoung juts his hand out, waiting for me to shake it. I grabbed his hand halfheartedly. "I hope we see each other again," he said.

After we said our goodbyes - him being bubbly to the very end as he walked away and me just nodding as I watched him go - I treaded my way home.

I took out the card he gave me earlier, which turned out to be a business card, I realized, and not just a personal card. Of course, Y/N, he just met you, why would he give you his personal details? As I inspected the card further, it brought me slight joy to know that his work place wasn't far from my house, just a couple of blocks away.

I was hesitant, truth be told, it was probably a one time encounter, most likely a business tactic to get someone to go into their studio and do business with them. I felt bad because Wooyoung seemed like a genuine person, but there was no way I was adding any sort of change in my current life right now, my mind was a mess as is.

With that, I crumpled up the card and threw it in the nearest bin.

I paused at the doorway, hesitating before anyone - Wooyoung - knew I was here. I knew I had to go in, and by God, I was nervous as hell. I just needed a few minutes to compose myself.

The curiosity had been eating away at me. It had been 2 weeks before deciding I would stop prancing around at it and just get it over with.

To hell with it, I thought, hastily putting on the most mediocre outfit I can get away with today. It wasn't meant to impress, a simple white tee paired with jeans and sneakers was enough to look decent and be comfortable at the same time.

Deep inside, maybe I just wanted to see the striking photographer again and hear his voice; to see his sparkling eyes that quickly held me in like a moth to a flame.

I stepped in and was immediately greeted by a myriad of photographs that were just placed where they were, the closest thing we get to a time capsule. I was immediately amazed by how versatile the photos were - all of them had their own stories to tell.

A photograph of an old, vintage clock caught my attention. I'm not very knowledgeable, but it was an antique, I was sure of it. It was made out of wood that probably looked sleek during its era.

Unconsciously, I touched the frame, like it would come back to life if I did. Then, I saw something at the bottom right of the frame. Taking a closer look, it was a series of small letters stamped on it.

J. WY/Budapest, Hungary/2023/Paradigm

I traced the embossed letters lightly with my fingertips. It was obvious that this one was Wooyoung's piece. He had a very particular style in his art, he tended to focus on the subjects and the corresponding backgrounds were something to compliment the subject, and not to supply added detail. It was very interesting.

"I can hear the gears in your head turning from where I am."

I was a deer in headlights once more with him. "You got a thing for sneaking up on me?" I teased.

There he was in his handsome glory leaning by the door with his arms crossed. "Maybe," he smirked coyly.

My heart went up to my throat when I realized that today, his hair slicked back today. I was able to see his face clearly, his beauty was insane. Heaven knows I would look like a wet chicken. He walks steadily towards me and stares fondly at the vintage watch photo.

"I went to Budapest with all of my friends, we all work in this studio together, for a vacation," he chuckled, reminiscing. "But I couldn't resist not taking the scenery for work. God, that place was beautiful..."

Just like you.

I cringed internally, turning my head a bit away from him so he couldn't see the grimace on my face. It wasn't a lie, he was beautiful, but I wasn't going to admit that to him, or anybody for that matter.

"I like them," I thoughtfully mumbled.

Wooyoung turns to look at me, and I tried very hard not to look at him back by pretending that I was inspecting the photo furthermore. There was not a lick of knowledge in my head about photography, I hope he doesn't notice that.

He stares for what seemed like forever, not blinking nor breathing, the effect was a slow burn waiting to incinerate the thin thread that bound us both. Although I wasn't looking straight at him, it was his lips that gave away that he knew that I knew what he was doing; he wasn't smiling, there was just a slight tilt on one corner.

"Do you, now?" he wondered, now full-on smirking.

"Yes," I affirmed. Was that rhetoric? Was I supposed to say no?

He audibly sighed, and I frowned. I know that sound, it was the sound of negative memories suddenly surging our minds, crashing in like a tidal wave, and my, once you start? They become very addicting, slowly consuming your thoughts until they become no more.

"You know, I never used to look at the photos I snap after I take 'em?" Wooyoung's smile was tinged with hurt, but more so of reminisce. "I just snap, snap, and then keep snapping and hope for the best outcome when San develops them in the back for me."

"Is that what you did when you stole those moments of mine a couple of weeks back?" I swallowed nervously, my body was already anxious and my brain is trying to catch up on it any moment now.

"No," he firmly articulated, so firmly my heart leapt to my throat and tightened it further.

Wooyoung gently grabs my chin, turning it towards himself so I can make eye contact with him. "Because I knew you wouldn't come back to me until a few days after. I saw it in your eyes."

To him? This was the second time he stole something from me. Instead of a photo, now it was the breath from my lungs. I am on fire, my skin was burning from his touch.

"Frankly, I wasn't expecting two weeks, that was longer than I anticipated," he chuckled lowly, his thumb caressing my cheek tenderly, and I let him. I was too frozen to protest.

"You knew all that even before you approached me that day? From that far?" I raised a brow. I was hesitant, but I was willing to play his game even though I knew he was probably bullshitting me.

"I'm a photographer, Y/N. It's my job to look through the windows of people's souls---"

"What do you want from me?"

Wooyoung lets go of my face, hands now in his pockets. He doesn't look a bit surprised, just a little concerned. "What do you mean?" he frowned, tilting his head to the side in wonder.

The paranoia in me had always been borderline terrified of not only trying new things, but also meeting new people in association. The underlying fear of deception from years and years of let down between family and friends has rendered me closed off of opening allowances to let myself experience new things and let people in.

"You act like we're friends, and we are not," I bit my lip, exasperated. "I don't like that."

"Are you saying that there are certain prerequisites to being friends with other people?" Wooyoung tuts, frowning deeper. "Everyone has to start from somewhere, no?"

He was right, I can admit that. I began to see how my self-deprecating thoughts had kept me all alone, and frankly, I was none the wiser on what it's like on the side.

"I'll tell you what, Y/N, how about I give you your photo and you can tell me what you're thinking over coffee, perhaps? I make a mean cup of coffee," Wooyoung suggested kindly, his eyes shining in anticipation for my response.

I frowned, shuffling my feet in anxiety. "What if people come inside your studio? And your friends?"

"Don't worry about that," he smiled, already taking a step towards the other room where he came from. "We actually don't open on the weekends. I just always came in because I was worried you would come looking for me when I wasn't here."

It was such a simple gesture, but it blew both my heart and my mind. My heart is so full right it could burst in any minute.

Wooyoung flashes me his million dollar smile, the one that made me want to see him again, and holds his hand out for me to grab. "Why are you hesitating?"

"I hesitate because I need to be sure because for the first time in a while, there are things that I do want, and the consequences of my errors would forever haunt me," I blurted uncontrollably, babbling before I could stop my mouth from speaking.

My mind began to work overload with anxiety but before I could act out on them, Wooyoung laughed out loud. His eyes crinkle upwards into the cutest crescents, and his beautiful lips stretched out with mirth.

His laughter reminded me of a fox, loud and boisterous, and I couldn't help but join in with him as he warmed my soul and made my day. "You're fine, come on," he urged me in between laughter.

More photos, albeit with unfinished frames, greeted me when I followed Wooyoung into what I can only assume was the kitchen. It was small, but it was nice and actually very functional. I sat into one of the sleek, modern stools and leaned towards the small kitchen island while Wooyoung went to town and made both of us coffee.

"Sugar?" he absentmindedly asked.

"H-Huh?" I was a deer in sudden headlights.

Wooyoung seemed to be confused too as we both looked at each other in bewilderment. Without warning, his face contorts into a laughing mess again, making me blush.

"I was asking if you wanted sugar in your coffee," he chuckled. "Although if you want me to call you sugar, that could be arranged too."

I blushed even deeper, awkwardly covering my face in embarrassment. I felt the tips of my ears heat up and I must have looked so stupid in front of him. "Stop," I groaned, my voice muffled by my hands.

And being the gentleman he was, he did actually stop teasing me.

But it was mainly because he had two steaming mugs of coffee carefully balanced with his two hands as he walked towards me. I mumbled a 'thanks' when I received mine.

"Now we can talk about why you're very sad," Wooyoung took a sip from his mug without breaking eye contact with me. I gulped.

My brows shot upwards in surprise and my eyes widened in apprehension at the same time. "How did you know I was sad?" I inquired, not sure on how to react.

Wooyoung smiled mischievously. "I just do," he winked.

Having no choice, and frankly having no one to talk to in general, I told him everything. I told him how I had quit my previous job because I was beginning to feel very unhappy with the toxicity that surrounded me and how suffocating it was to stay in a place where you weren't even wanted.

I told him how I was trying to look for another job, but the fear of trying a new one and not being sure if it was a good suit for me was a little daunting, so to speak.

He listened attentively to each word I said, not once interjecting to put his two cents in before I was done finishing, and only asking me some small questions for the sake of clarification.

It almost makes me want to cry at how attentive he was to me, even though this was only the second time we're meeting. The way his eyes bore into me while I poured my heart out, the way he would nod and acknowledge the things I would say, he was such a good listener.

I can't say I've had too many good friends in my life, though there have been a few close ones, they were not enough for me to say that they were good to me. Wooyoung seemed to be a rare gem, one that I would love to keep for myself.

"What if I told you I know a place where you can start working?"

"You do?" I was hopeful.

Wooyoung nodded. "But are you sure you're going to be okay going to work so soon again?"

My chest warms up with his words. "I have to do it," I sighed deeply. "Y-You were right, if I don't start now, then I won't start at all."

He smiles broadly. "That's a good outlook, I like that..."

He proceeded to tell me about the boutique down the street a couple of blocks away from his studio and they were looking for someone to keep tabs of sale and returned products. As it turned out, the owner was Wooyoung's very close friend and the boutique was where they get their clothes and props whenever they had a photoshoot going on.

"He's a nice guy and I'm positive he'll like you, just let me call him so I can pitch in a word for you, hmm?" Wooyoung pulled his phone out and was about to dial the number, but I interjected before he could do it.

"W-Wait, don't do it," I squeaked, holding my hands out to him to stop him from doing so.

"What's the matter?" Wooyoung's eyes softened at my panicked state and I almost felt bad. I barely knew this man and he probably thinks I'm so pathetic already. It was disheartening.

"You've helped me so much already, I'd feel bad if you did this for me," I admitted.

"And what exactly have I done for you?"

"Listening to me rant was a big thing for me, and you do make a mean coffee," I giggled, he smiles shyly. "And you gave me justice on the photo you took of me."

"Speaking of that," Wooyoung stood up from his stool. "Wait here."

He left to go back to the front entrance of the studio, and he came back immediately. "Here."

He nudged a square-shaped packaging in front of me. I took it and from touch, I knew it was a picture frame that he had wrapped so carefully and perfectly, there were no creases on the wrap. My heart was beating so fast and my fingers were shaking ever so slightly.

"Open it when you get home," he instructed. "And I'm going to call him, my friend I mean. If I'm helping you anyway, I might as well go all out on it."

"It's not a big deal," Wooyoung continued when I didn't respond, playfully flicking my forehead. "What are friends for?"

An explosive sensation boomed its way into my head all the way down to my chest, leaving a searing type of numbness in its trail. "Okay," I mumbled.

Unfortunately, I had to say goodbye to him because I told my mother I was only picking the picture frame up, I was not expecting to stay this long, so she was probably worried. Fortunately, Wooyoung understood and walked me out. We couldn't properly converse afterwards anyway because a client of his suddenly called out of the blue after he had dropped the call with his boutique owner friend.

We said our goodbyes and I speed walk all the way to my house with the carefully wrapped picture frame in my hands. There was an explosion in my brain - the good kind - and a surge of excitement that electrified my whole being. I could feel it in my bones.

This is the very time I have ever been excited with a mystery. I hated surprises growing up because I was scared I wouldn't like the surprise.

With no time to waste, I quickly locked myself in my room, taking all of my clothes off in a haste and replacing them with something more comfortable and nap worthy. I unwrapped the gift like an animal tearing its prey apart to find their treasure inside.

Tears found their way in my eyes. I had no words, the photo itself was beautiful, I had seen it before, but Wooyoung had left a small note taped on the frame for me to read when I opened it.

You're worth more than you think. Wanna hang out tomorrow, beautiful? I also make mean brownies ;)

I completely broke down, hysterically crying not from sadness, but from the joy of the events that have been happening to me. Maybe being his friend wasn't so bad after all.

"So you must be Y/N, correct?"

Having a direct connection like Wooyoung did wonders from my interview process and I was called exactly a week after he made the call.

"Y-Yes, I am," I did a deep 90 degree bow immediately, but not before the man's eyes widened a bit. "L/N Y/N, Sir. I'm very h-honoured to be chosen for this role."

Needless to say, I am a nervous wreck. Wooyoung conveniently forgot to tell me that this was no ordinary boutique. It's a very well known fashion brand that had the catchy 'started from the bottom, now we're here' origin story.

I opened my eyes, I didn't notice they were tightly shut before, when I felt hands nudging me to stand up straight. "It's okay," he laughed. "I don't bite, please stand up..."

This one was handsome as well. He had an edgier style to him that was unique to him and him only. Think bold, defiant, and unconventional. His blue hair added to that grunge aesthetic.

He cleared his throat before speaking. "Kim Hongjoong, owner, and your future boss," he grinned.

My face pales a bit. The Kim Hongjoong? The great mind behind the boutique NO1LIKEME? The one Wooyoung had casually called and got me in? What has my life become in a month?

"Scaring the new girl already, Joong?"

I turned around, and a taller man with dark hair and almond shaped eyes smiled lightly at me with his thick lips. I almost rolled my eyes, either I'm losing my mind, or Wooyoung, himself, and all of his friends are all damn attractive.

"Oh, this is her?" he pointed at me, to which Hongjoong nodded. "I see. Song Mingi, thank you for considering us."

Thank me? I scoffed internally, the co-founder of NO1LIKEME is thanking me for working with them? I suppose that was why they were successful.

Mingi excused himself to man the business while Hongjoong had toured me around the shop. It was a lot bigger on the inside than I had initially thought.

I couldn't help but become very excited as Hongjoong showed me how he personally designs most of their pieces without trying to mass produce the majority of their products, which was very respectable on his end because mass producing can downgrade their quality.

The brand that I only reached in my dreams is now my workplace. I have to thank Wooyoung personally when I see him again.

They needed someone to do inventory checks and match them with the accountancy department. Hongjoong has a big project coming soon to collaborate with an international brand and Mingi has to take over for now while he's abroad. Fair enough.

As we were about to go into his office to sit down and discuss further, I stopped in my tracks. The most gorgeous black, flared dress was hanging in one of the posts. It's very simple, but very versatile, not too long as it stopped above the knee, and the sheer bodice elevated it.

"You like it?" Hongjoong asked before I had the chance to feel the fabric.

"I love it, actually. I've never seen anything like it," I admitted.

He chuckled, plucking the dress from its hanger and handed it to me gently after he folded it in half. "Make sure it's well-loved, then, because it's yours now."

"W-What?" I spluttered, eyes wide open. "No, I was just admiring it, I can't possibly take it. C-Can I pay for it, at least?"

"Think of it as your first day perk," he shrugged. "And no offense, giving away one dress isn't going to make a dent in my business."

I blushed, embarrassed to the highest degree. I was just about to thank him profusely when Mingi suddenly popped his head by the door.

"They're here," was all he said before Hongjoong and I walked back into the main part of the shop.

And there he was - Wooyoung. He was in an engrossed conversation with Mingi along with another - surprise, surprise - handsome man. He had a manlier aura to him compared to the other three, which was an interesting mix to his feline features.

Wooyoung, as if sensing I was present, turned to my direction and the look in his eyes made my insides churn in excitement. His friends were all pretty, but none of them had an effect on him like he did.

"Hey Joong," Wooyoung greeted after approaching me and Hongjoong from across the boutique. He smiled even brighter as he ruffled my hair lightheartedly. "Are you taking care of my Y/N?"

I blushed beet red, lowering my gaze with a nervous laugh to avoid any sort of eye contact. He can't just say these things and not expect me to react! The cat-looking man Wooyoung was with smirks at me, clearly amused.

But maybe, it was just me putting more to it than I should. Wooyoung has been nothing but kind to me and I can't reciprocate that with anything other than gratefulness.

"Get the hell out of here," Hongjoong chided, rolling his eyes, but teasingly because his eyes were full of the same mischief, but they were gone when he turned to me. "My assistant, Jongho, will call you sometime this week so you can get started officially."

I stopped the urge to bow deeply again at him as he turned around to go back behind the shop and instead repeated multiple 'thank yous' at him to express my gratitude.

"Y/N, this is San, my long time friend and co-worker in the studio," Wooyoung introduced me to the other guy he was with when there were just the three of us left.

San smiles and his deep dimples pop out along with it. He nods in acknowledgement. "Very nice to meet you, Y/N, I personally loved that one photo of yours that Wooyoung took."

"He is a good taker," I shyly replied, blushing at the compliment, although I knew it wasn't directly referenced to me.

San snorted. "Yeah, that's the only thing he's good at."

"Hey!"

Wooyoung playfully swatted San's bulky arms in defense. We all had a small laugh before they both noticed the bag I was holding with the dress inside of it. I simply told both of them that Hongjoong had just given it to me after I admired it.

Behind the strict demeanor of being a boss, was the very generous and giving nature of Hongjoong, apparently. He had meant to give me something anyway simply because I was now friends with them, and also because Wooyoung spoke highly of me. I slightly felt bad because really, I would have been fine without it.

I should have thanked him more before he left.

"I would love to stay with you both and hang out," San glances at his phone to check the time. "But I have business to attend to. Where's Mingi?"

I pointed at some random door where I saw the latter enter earlier. I was about to leave since technically today wasn't my first day, just an introduction to the shop, and was about to basically run back to my house, when Wooyoung follows me out the door and slings his arms across my shoulders.

"Oh, you're leaving San?" I halted on my tracks, blushing profusely like some hormonal teenager that's never been touched by the opposite sex before.

"He was never meant to come," he chuckled. "I was about to fetch you and he decided he was going to come with me since he has to pick up some props from this gig we have next week."

My heart was pounding against my chest like a bird wanting to be out of its cage. He was so close to me, so close I could smell his breath, his body heat seeping into my subliminal thoughts.

This was an invasion, an unwanted intimacy. How have I lived without it for so long?

"Are you tired?" Wooyoung suddenly asked, breaking my thoughts apart and scattering them with the wind.

"N-No, not really. Why?"

He pulls me closer, my body plush against his. I wanted to melt. "Good," he grinned. "Let's go."

He starts to walk, but I plant my feet firmly on the ground. "Woah, wait, where are we going?"

"Would you say yes if I said I already reserved a spot to this brunch spot?"

I blinked owlishly at him. "No, I can't, I already ate before I called Mingi..."

The truth was, I was slightly ashamed to go. The last thing I wanted was to be treated like some sort of charity case.

Also the reason being, no matter how hard I try, I will think of this as a date.

Wooyoung pouts, his hold on me loosening a bit. "Pretty please? What, are you sick of me already because we hang out everyday now?"

My breath hitched, and I was this close to giving in, but I must prevail and resist those big, beautiful eyes that were holding me captive like a tight vice.

"Maybe next time---" I sheepishly began to say, but a prominent growl made both me and Wooyoung freeze.

I cursed under my breath in shame. My stomach had growled, begging to be fed, and had basically called me out on my lie.

"Yeah, you ate alright," Wooyoung sarcastically remarked.

The next thing I knew, Wooyoung had pretty much dragged me to this retro looking place. It was the opposite of intimate and warm, rather, it was very bright and lively, filled with colorful tables, a snack bar, and the entire wall was made to be a canvas for purposeful graffiti.

Immediately, we sat at the very end of all of the available tables and no time was wasted when we ordered something quick, yet filling for the both of us; a clubhouse sandwich for me and a cheeseburger for Wooyoung.

"This place is so nice, where'd you find it?" I was still mesmerized by the whole setup.

"Picked it out with you in mind," he smirked.

Instead of blushing like I usually do, I let out a genuine laugh. "Seriously," I shook my head playfully.

"I am serious," he expressed with a slight frown.

"Are you like this with all the people you meet?" I mused, curious on what he has to say.

"Like what?"

"You know, you are a very touchy-feely person, certainly very outgoing as well. Do you usually hang out with everyone like this?"

He paused, staring at me with a blank expression. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly drying up, my breath slowing down.

"Yes, I am," he articulated after a while. "I was born this way I suppose, I swear I don't purposely flirt with everybody I meet."

"Oh," I murmured.

My heart sank, it felt like concrete weighing it down. The high of being out with Wooyoung in one moment was cut down the next. Is this what heartbreak felt like?

A hand on top of mine fully enveloped it with warmth. "But you," Wooyoung's thumbs caressed my knuckles with a small smile. "You're different. I can't explain it, Y/N, I've been trying to reason with myself."

"What do you mean?" It was my turn to ask.

His hand squeezed mine, but I felt like my heart got squeezed instead. "Meeting you was unexpected, but I'm so sure it was written. You're very easy to talk to, and I feel like I'm someone and more. It's either you or I'm alone, do you understand what I'm getting at?"

Of course I do. There has not been a day where we haven't seen each other ever since I stepped foot in that studio.

"I do," I nodded my head, smiling purely at him. "I felt good with you in a way I haven't before with other people, Woo. Thank you for approaching me that day, I'm glad to be your...friend."

His eyes widen a bit and he freezes. "What?" I nervously asked. He giggled like a child with no worry, he was just happy.

"You called me 'Woo', I like it."

I nervously laughed, mumbling a little yeah. I didn't even notice.

Luckily for me, our food came in and swooped me out of an incoming awkward conversation, at least on my end.

I couldn't help but let out an endearing smile as I watched Wooyoung thank the waiter kindly and then drool at his cheeseburger. Everything about him was so captivating; he felt like a warm, cozy home.

For now, the glue keeping my heart together is strong. He deserved a good friend, and I will be that for him.

Wooyoung opened his mouth midair when he caught me staring at him. "Dig in, your food will get cold," he mused with concern.

I nod my head at him with a smile. I think he and I are going to be fine.

Approximately seven months have passed by since that fateful day. Passing each time with Wooyoung, in the most obscure of situations, made my heart yonder and sing in tunes I never knew were so melodious.

"You know what I've been thinking lately?" Wooyoung mumbled all of a sudden.

He was currently laying on my lap while I played with his hair with one hand and held a book near to my face with the other. "What were you thinking, Woo?"

Safe to say, we've gotten so close with each other, soaking into moments enveloped in warmth, and the happiness was the contentment I never knew I'd ever feel in this lifetime.

Chasing time next to him was my salvation; my heaven on earth.

"Do you have a goal in this life?"

I raised a brow at the sudden question, peeking at him from where I was. He was already staring at me from below, and my blushing cheeks never really got better.

"Too deep of a question this morning," I chuckled. "But what do you mean? Everyone has a goal in life, whether they know it or not."

"True, but what I meant to say is, have you ever had a list of things you wanted to do? Regardless of how weird they are or how unattainable, do you know what I'm trying to say?" Wooyoung, and he did, he was always so dramatic about it.

I gave him a hum before responding. "Are you having an existential crisis?"

"Maybe," he laughed in that contagious, fox-like laugh of his. "So do you?"

"I-I have this small bucket list from when I was like 10," I admitted, lifting my book to hide my face.

Suddenly, it was yanked from me and thrown across the room. My mouth hung in shock. "Wooyoung!"

"Pay attention to me," he pouted.

"What the hell are you? A baby?" I rolled my eyes so far back up my head I was surprised they didn't get stuck behind my head.

"Only if it's yours--ow!" I yanked his hair in warning before I exploded from all the constant flirting. Some things never change.

"Anyway," I paused a bit to think, but decided to just say what was on my mind in the end. "I want to go to Mars."

I held my breath, expecting to hear an obnoxious cackle from Wooyoung, but there was nothing. When I glanced down, there he was - waiting expectantly for me to continue.

"I've always wanted to see a rainbow at nighttime, and no, the Aurora Borealis doesn't count."

"Interesting," he whispered. "Keep going."

The way Wooyoung was looking at me with a soft expression, and I must have looked dumb - my eyes were dilated a bit, dazed, like my brain was having a short circuit.

"Last, I gulped. "I want to hold my breath for a minute straight."

He raised his brows in amusement. "I'm not good at doing it," I defended myself, slightly embarrassed. "The most I've done was 15 seconds."

Wooyoung didn't say anything, he just stared at me intently in the eye as if he was counting all the eyelashes I had attached. He sighed deeply, closing his eyes. I frowned.

"What about you?" I softly asked. "Anything you'd like to do?"

It takes a solid minute for him to reply. "No, nothing in particular," he mumbled, his voice strained. "I don't like committing to something for a long time, you know that."

Indeed, I do. Once again, the shattering reality of how temporary all this was for the both of us was tearing me in two.

"There's just so much out there, you know?" Wooyoung continued. "So much to see, so much to feel, how can I just stay in one place?"

Wooyoung loved photography above anything else and was willing to spread his wings and venture out to find the perfect piece. He disliked committing his all in one place in case he had to leave one day.

I remember the exact night we talked about it, a rainy day in July where we got too sentimental. I felt like choking, but there was nothing I could do, for this man was not mine to begin with.

"You know I will support you in whatever you want to do," I forced a smile on my face even though my mouth was on fire and my tongue hurt from the lies.

Wooyoung, again, stared at me intently. I blushed deep red, it looked like he was gazing through my skin and peeking through the darkest, deepest parts of my soul. The heat from his hooded eyelids emanated conflicted emotions, and then I saw it die as quick as it came.

"I know."

His sudden playful smirk painting his beautiful face throws me for a whiplash. Whatever that was, never happened.

He whips his phone out and starts tinkering with it with a concentration that looks too good on him - his stupidly attractive arms get veinier when he's concentrating and his brows furrowed together.

"Mars, huh?" he muttered, smirking, still not looking up from his phone.

"Yes? Don't make fun of me," I frowned.

"I'm not," he retorted. I looked at him in disdain. "I'm really not, I swear!"

I chose not to reply. Typical Woyooung, but that's what makes him so damn loveable; he was just being himself.

A couple of minutes later, Wooyoung pockets his phone, stands up dramatically, and hovers over me. "Get dressed," he said. "We're going somewhere."

I blinked repeatedly at him, and some more. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"What's wrong with my outfit right now?" I gestured to my oversized shirt and leggings.

He snorted comically. "Trust me, you're gonna need more than that."

Wooyoung saw the hesitation in my eyes. He hated committing as much as I hated trying new things. He extends his hand in front of me.

"I've never led you astray, you know that," he whispered.

I nodded, taking his hand in mine. Even before he had asked, I was doomed anyway. How could I ever say no to him?

Turns out he was right - I did need the extra layers.

It was, indeed, very cold right now. Wooyoung and I were currently in line, a line so long that it reached the outside of the establishment, and it was where we currently were.

"Woo, are you sure about this?" I asked through gritted teeth. "It's too windy, I think my fingers will fall off soon."

As if on cue, he pulls me closer to him. "It shouldn't take too long," he mumbled. "You okay?"

I nodded, humming a reply back at him. As long as I'm with you, everything will be alright...

"I must say," I began. "I didn't take you to be the museum type of guy."

Yes, we were currently in line to get inside this museum I have never ever seen before even though I've lived in this city my whole life. Wooyoung got both of us last minute tickets. The place was currently jam packed, the line was endless from behind us.

"I'm not," he shrugged. "I want to show you something."

My mind went into overdrive when Wooyoung quickly glanced at me before he looked back at the pamphlet he was holding. It was only a split second, but it was enough for me to infer the anticipation he had for this.

It was contagious and the dread I felt ebbed away.

"History and geology are both at the far right, art is by your left, cartography is unfortunately out of service indefinitely, and science is just straight ahead..."

The monotonous, robotic voice from the speaker all over when we got inside could have instructed better, but it was definitely better than getting lost. This place was massive.

"Let's go," Wooyoung enthusiastically grabbed my hand as we explored all the things we passed by.

"Oh Woo, look at that!" I giggled uncontrollably and hastily pointed out what I saw.

It was a life sized wood carving of a wisteria tree - the most beautiful thing I have ever seen as of late. Wooyoung squeezed my hand as we both approached it, reveling at the detail of whoever was its creator.

"Reminds you of something, doesn't it?" he smirked.

"How can I forget how we met?" I playfully rolled my eyes.

He laughed out loud, causing some people to look our way, but we couldn't care less. "As much as I want to stay, there's somewhere else we have to be," he winked.

He led me to the direction he, then, wanted to go. The way he pulled me with him made my heart swell. At the very moment, I blocked all the sounds, the chatter, from the background and I could only see him.

Just when I felt like leading my heart somewhere else, he pulled it back towards him; a magnet I had no choice but to get attached to.

"W-Wooyoung?"

My eyes widened in disbelief when we stopped at something in particular. "I-Is this w-what I think it is?" I stuttered uncontrollably, gripping his hand tighter and tighter until he put his other hand on top of mine to stop me from shaking.

"Relax," he cooed. "And yes, it most certainly is."

Wooyoung had led me to the science section of the museum where there was a small room we could go inside - a planetarium. Today they just so happened to be exhibiting the planet Mars.

Wooyoung took me to Mars.

"Shall we go in?" Wooyoung gently guided me inside. My legs were weighted with lead, I couldn't do this on my own.

My breath came out in short intervals, my feelings overwhelming my sense of excitement muddled into a plate full of shock, confusion, and joy as I looked around the place with Wooyoung still holding my hand in his as if he knew I'd fall without him.

The whole room had a blue haze to it, the ceiling itself was a cool shade of midnight blue with little specks of white dots that were presumably the stars in the night sky.

They covered the whole blue like snowflakes, and they would twinkle, or rather, blink at us, watching what we would do next.

I turned to look at Wooyoung, and my tears started to fall on their own. There was panic in his eyes, but he pulled me into a quick hug, and I hugged him back just as tight.

We didn't say a word, just basking in our body heat together with the stars as our witness.

He kissed my forehead tenderly before pointing out to a distance. "Look."

I gasped rather dramatically - it was Mars itself!

Or at least, a really big ball that was probably made out of styrofoam and dyed into the shade of rust red that mimicked the real deal.

"Before we go there, wipe your tears, jelly bean. I want you to be happy today..."

But he wiped my own tears for me anyway. Oh Wooyoung, I thought with dread. How do you expect me to not selfishly wish for you to stay instead of finding your own dreams?

Instead of a repeating robot telling everybody Mars' information, luckily it was an actual person making a presentation, like that of a tour guide but this one instead explained the planet with so much depth and detail.

Wooyoung makes an exaggerated "ah!" sound when the lecturer explains that the reason why Mars was red was because of the oxidation happening in regolith, the soil on the said planet, and thus making it appear red.

"Does anybody know how many moons the planet Mars has?" the lecturer had questioned with a pleasant smile.

"Two!" a teenager from the crowd had answered.

"Correct! Does anybody know what they're called?"

The crowd made confused noises and everyone seemed to be stumped for answers. I looked around and nobody seemed to know what they were, and even Wooyoung mutters something about not knowing that even moons had names. I sighed, mentally preparing myself so I don't get nervous.

"Phobos and Deimos," I had managed to answer without stuttering.

The lecturer looked surprised, but happy nonetheless that at least someone in the crowd knew. "That is correct!"

"Nerd," Wooyoung snickered. I elbowed him, too happy to let his jokes get to me.

When it got too crowded, we both decided to leave the museum as a whole. One thing we both had in common was that after a while, the air got stuffy when there was too much going on in one place.

The bus ride home was silent, but comfortable, and in reality, we were both too tired to talk anyway. With an adrenaline of short-lived bravery, I leaned my head against Wooyoung's shoulder. I sighed in relief when he didn't push me away.

"Did you have fun?" he asked with genuine curiosity when we both reached my front door.

"Did you?" I asked back with an equal amount of curiosity.

He nodded enthusiastically. "Of course I did, why wouldn't I?"

"You really didn't have to do this---"

He put his finger against my lip, effectively shutting me up and shutting my brain off as well. "Why can't you just enjoy the things I do for you?"

Because I am slowly getting more and more delusional with every single second I spend more with you and I keep imagining of what we would be like a few months from now- am I going to be alone again or will you remain in my life---

I shook my head to rid myself of the nastiest thoughts that keep coming through my psyche, but along with those was another burst of blood rushing to my brain that makes me do the unthinkable.

"Woah, woah," Wooyoung voice out, amused that I was initiating skin contact first.

"Just shut up and let me hug you," I voiced out, but it came out muffled because my face was currently buried in his chest. "Thank you, Wooyoung, thank you very much, you have no idea what this means to me."

Wooyoung rocked me back and forth, healing my inner child. "I think I do," he whispered so softly I almost didn't hear him. "Just let it out..."

It was the first time he ever saw me cry willingly. The hands that patted my back provided me the solace I currently needed. They were gentle, soothing even. He had always been so patient with me, and those hands...

Of all the things my hands have held, the best by far was his.

I felt selfish, so damn selfish, for feeling this way. But it's okay, none of it matters at this moment.

Hey, ladybug. I don't think I'm able to make it in time today, or at all. Client is being finicky and all, I'm about to charge them extra for this. I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you soon, hmm?

- J. WY

I heaved a loud, disappointed sigh as I locked my phone before pocketing it. My frown deepens and my brows knit in today's unexpected turn of events.

"That Wooyoung?"

"Yeah, says he can't make it today. Something about a shitty client," I shrugged.

I had invited Wooyoung last week to my family's dinner reunion. My whole family had taken a liking to Wooyoung - who wouldn't? - and my brother had suggested I invite him. This year, we were at our Uncle Yeonjun's place.

"It's not the end of the world," my brother teased.

I snorted loudly. "That obvious, Yeo? You look more crestfallen than I do."

Yeosang laughs heartily, taking a sip at whatever concoction our mother made. "I mean, I've only known him longer than you," he joked.

It turned out that Woyooung was part of my brother's friend group, talk about coincidence. "Besides, you gotta cheer up before anyone notices," he added.

"Why?"

"Because you look like a lovesick puppy that got abandoned by its owner," he clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "No offense to our cousins, but they can be do damn nosy, especially Soobin and Kai."

I knew that Yeosang was just trying to distract me from whatever I was feeling. As per his advice, I faked a smile just so nobody questions why I'm feeling so down.

Wooyoung was currently out of town and had been so busy with his job so we haven't really seen each other for a couple of days now, however we do call each other every night.

My train of thoughts were squashed when Yeosang elbows me gently. "Hey," he said with a soft smile. "You want to get us food so I take you home?"

If I were to write on a piece of paper of how much my older brother has done for me, the trees would cease to exist from all the paper and wood for all the pencils.

The night wasn't all that bad, Yeosang did everything in his power to distract me and even brought our cousins into it, not that they knew what was up. We took the party to the backyard, just singing, dancing, and fooling around like the young adults we were.

The little reunion was family, music, and food. It was simple, memorable, and destined to make me forget for a little.

The night had to end, and that meant I had to go home alone to my thoughts. My parents will stay overnight and Yeosang did not live with us anymore.

The jingle of the front door's keys only solidified the loneliness that awaited for me from behind it.

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay? I can just drive early in the morning," Yeosang suggested as we both walked in the house and closed the door behind him.

"Yeo, I'm not a child anymore," I chuckled. "I appreciate it, but you should go, you have work tomorrow, yes?"

"Well, yes, but---"

"Then get your ass out of here."

Yeosang rolled his eyes at my teasing tone, but ended up laughing anyway. He pulled me in for a quick hug and pecked cheek. "Call me if you need anything."

He was gone within a minute, and once again, I was left alone with my despair. And what better way to shower these thoughts out?

But that made it worse. The involuntary shower thoughts were poison to my already weak mind.

I've conquered the art of being alone, and now that I had Wooyoung with me, it never really made things easier. My endless days filled with cold fire were quickly replaced with warm companionship...

I felt like an empty box without him. It was ridiculous, really, I knew this was wrong; a mistake I knew I wasn't supposed to feel.

I missed him.

Ding, ding, ding

I had just finished dressing up when I heard the doorbell ring. Confused, I slowly treaded my way downstairs. My parents weren't supposed to be home and Yeosang would have called beforehand if he forgot something.

The doorbell rings again, more hurriedly the second time. Screw it, I thought apprehensively. Yeosang is in charge of my obituary if I unfortunately pass away tonight...

With a deep breath, I swung the door open, my eyes tightly shut. Yeah, I know, serial killers would love me.

Silence. I knew somebody was in front of me, but they weren't saying anything. My mind caught up with the stupidity of my actions and I froze. Is this how I die?

"A-Are you okay?"

That squeaky voice, that sounds so familiar. I wanted to smack my head, I missed him so much, I was hearing him.

"Nice tits, Y/N."

My eyes shot open so fast that the light came in a bit faster than I expected to and I became a little dizzy. My brain buffers while my thoughts try to catch up. After I realized what I just heard, I took a closer look in front of me.

I let out a little gasp. "W-Woo?" I whimpered pathetically.

There he was, standing at my doorway, 9 o'clock in the evening. My heart lurched at the sight of him - so ethereal.

There was nothing specific to him that made him so stunning to me, maybe it was his iconic red hair, or maybe the way he looked at me right now would be close. They were intense, yet gentle. Polite, but not noble.

I blushed, wanting to cover up, but his eyes held me hostage. They trailed from my face, slowly down my neck, to my exposed cleavage, before bringing them back up again to look at me, the unmistakable hunger in those orbs very much present.

"Y/N," Wooyoung drawled out without breaking eye contact, sticking his tongue out to lick his bottom lip excruciatingly slow for my sanity. "Let me in."

A sudden wave of nausea hits me, rendering me weak in his mercy as I finally feel my brain melt in my head. What the hell.

His kissable lips pulled up slowly to a smirk, mischievous, and we were both released from that little cage of sin we almost trapped ourselves in.

Woooyoung laughs out loud. "You should have seen your face," he wiped an imaginary tear from his eye.

My face reddens both in embarrassment and mild anger. Against my better judgment, I move to slam the door to his face. "You!" I hissed menacingly.

"Wait, wait!" he panicked, quickly stopping the door from completely closing by putting his boots in between. "I'm sorry! You just looked so far away, I couldn't help but tease you--"

"Not helping your case, Woo--"

"I traveled here in two hours from a place that would have taken three," he whined, grabbing my hand from the outside. "Please?"

I let out a very loud exaggerated sigh before I let go of the door. Besides, he might not look like it, but Wooyoung was built. He could have pushed the door forcefully if he really wanted to.

"Sorry," he giggled, hugging me from behind with his head resting on top of my head. "Turn around for me?"

I'm so ashamed of how weak I had become with him, but what can I say?

I buried my head on his chest, inhaling the scent that I missed so much - warm and clean - and everything hit me all at once.

He really was here with me. I was so happy that I almost felt sick and anxious. It comes off as a raging storm in my heart that was almost painful. The unbelievable sorrow I've gone through the last few days melted away in Wooyoung's blissful embrace.

"Did you drink tonight? How'd you get home?" he inquired after we pulled away.

"I did, and Yeosang took me home."

"Oh? Is he here? I didn't see his car outside."

I explained that Yeosang had to go back to his apartment because he had to work in the morning. He nodded intently, humming to himself.

"I have a surprise for you," he smiled, lifting the duffel bag he had bought with him. "How about you nap a bit while I prepare this?"

The next thing I knew, Wooyoung was already building a makeshift bed out of the couches we had in the living room so I could lay on them real quick.

The light pitter-patter of raindrops hitting the windows were the ones that woke me up. They have been falling steadily without fail before I opened my eyes.

I would have been content staying in the warmth of the blankets, to grab a mug of tea and feel the soothing coldness of the breeze hit my nose as I inhaled deeply.

But I had to find Wooyoung. It wouldn't be too difficult, I knew exactly where he was. He loved the rain, you see.

A tender smile creeped up on his face when he noticed me sitting beside him on one of the stools on our roofed backyard. "You're awake," was all he said.

"How long was I out?" I groggily asked, swallowing the aspirin tablets he handed out. "Thanks."

"Not too long," he handed me a tall glass of water. "Close to an hour and a half, maybe."

"You were working while I was napping?" I gestured to the setup he had in front of us. Various strips of undeveloped films were strewn all over along with a camera I did not recognize, and...a glass pyramid?

"Nice paperweight," I pointed at it, a little hurt that even though he came for me, his focus was still on his work.

Wooyoung chuckled lightly. "No work, not necessarily," he shook his head. "That's not a paperweight. Why don't you be a doll and pick it up for me?"

I could feel the tips of my ears warm up but I picked up the pyramid anyway. It was a lot lighter than I initially thought it would be.

I looked at Wooyoung in confusion when he suddenly pointed out to the moon. "See the small beam of light coming down?"

I nodded. Indeed, the moon seemed brighter today. It looked more beautiful than the stars that surrounded it. "That," he gestured to the triangular glass I was holding. "That is a prism, and I want you to put it where the moonlight is."

I frowned. "What?"

"If you're worried about the rain, you don't have to put it directly under it, just a small light would do," he bargained, chuckling at my confused face.

I did what he said, apprehensively stretching my hand out to put the so-called prism under the moonlight. I smiled a bit, I will admit, the combination of the rain and light hitting its surface made it look extremely breathtaking.

I tilted it slightly to catch the different angles since I realized each angle made it glow in different shades of lights. One flick of my wrist shone a colourful beam of light that landed on the ground.

"Wow," I breathed out. "That's beautiful, Wooyoung."

He smiled back. "Keep tilting."

Suddenly, an arc formed from the prism to the ground beneath me. I was in awe, this one had different colours to it. From red to yellow to purple, it shone clearly against the rain. I giggled, it reminded me of rainbows. If only it was daytime...

I gasped, dropping the prism on the ground with a loud clunk. My face was drained of blood as I turned sharply to Wooyoung with wide eyes. But he wasn't worried about my pale state. His smile shone brighter than any prism out there. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to take a photo of his charming smile.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he grinned, picking up the prism and tilting it himself against the rain and the light.

I've always wanted to see a rainbow at nighttime, and no, the Aurora Borealis doesn't count."

"Interesting," he whispered. "Keep going."

"You remembered, oh my God, you remembered..." I sniffled, burying my face in my hands.

"Why wouldn't I?" he smiled, pulling me in for a hug.

Wooyoung kissed my forehead delicately with great care and the look he gave me was something I will never forget.

We spent the next hour or so playing with different shapes of prisms that Wooyoung bought from where he went. The client he had earlier owned a glass manufacturing company and Wooyoung requested for these to be made as a form of payment.

This rainy day soaked all the memories we had made for both of us, providing us the soundtrack we deserved, and it was unlike any other. I laughed like I never laughed before at this crazy little daydream, wishing it would last forever.

And soon, I learned to love the rain like Wooyoung. There will never be a rainy day where I never not think of him ever again.

"You better make me look good or I won't give you pictures," he threatened playfully.

When the rain had stopped, we opted to take pictures as proof of this core memory. The unfamiliar camera I saw earlier turned out to be a self-developing one, the modern cameras that instantly printed out tiny polaroid pictures in less than fifteen seconds.

"You literally took the shittiest photos of me, you hypocrite," I rolled my eyes at him, trying my best to cover my eyes with the camera so he wouldn't see the tears that were threatening to fall from my eyes.

"They're mine to keep," Wooyoung stuck his tongue out at me. What a brat.

But he was my brat. The tears that were once the symbol of the everlasting happiness that Wooyoung had been willingly giving me, were now drowning me in the bottomless sorrow that embraced me in a sea of ice cold water.

I loved him.

If I ever cross my heart, if I ever lie or deny the heart that beated for him, then I'd hope to die.

I loved him when we both stared at that park's wisteria, I loved him when he laid in my arms until he fell asleep, I loved him when he told me he'd always be there for me, I loved him then, and I love him now.

"Do you want me to put the movie on?" I asked after we've both settled down, shivering a bit. I never realized how cold it was outside until both me and Wooyoung came back inside.

Wooyoung mumbled a soft hum of affirmation while he was busy in the kitchen reheating some food I had bought with Yeosang earlier. He wasn't even doing anything groundbreaking but he was still so devastatingly loveable in my eyes.

The movie was boring, or rather, my attention just wasn't geared towards it. All I could focus on was the intense, burning passion I had for my best friend. I shut my eyes closely, as if doing so will get rid of the plaguing thoughts.

I let out a small gasp when Wooyoung pulled me to him, his arms wrapped around my waist. "What's going on in that pretty little head?" he sluggishly asked, nudging his head in the crook of my neck.

I am about to explode. He has always been the cuddly kind, but now that I have finally admitted to myself how much I truly loved him, his touch burned me on the inside, electrifying every cell in my body in response to his tender touch.

"Nothing," I shrugged nonchalantly.

He chuckled, gripping my jaw lightly and turning my head towards his. I stopped breathing when I realized that he was closer than I thought. If I lean even an centimeter more, our lips would touch.

Wooyoung searches my face intently. "Don't lie to me."

I stare at him in the eye, not really knowing what to say. His hand was still on my jaw, but that was the last of my worries right now. I really want to tell him, I want to shout how much I loved him; how much he made me feel like I was everything when in reality I was nothing.

My mouth opens to say something, but immediately closes. In a moment of realization, Wooyoung's eyes widened a bit before his hand dropped from my jaw. There was a storm brewing in those beautiful eyes, and at this moment, I knew I was about to lose him.

"W-Wooyoung," I blurted out, full on panicking at this point.

"Don't look at me like that," he whispered, his voice breaking in the middle.

"What do you mean?" I sniffled, wanting to reach out and touch him, but stopped myself.

"You know what I mean."

A bitter sensation rose like bile up my throat. My heart isn't just broken, it was now a shadow of what it once was that was slowly fading away little by little.

He knows. Him knowing me like the back of his hand was a curse to a blessing, and not that blessing was a curse. He knows that I am in love with him, the last thing I ever wanted him to know.

"Let's finish the movie," I giggled, though it probably sounded fake.

I frowned when Wooyoung shut the TV off as a whole. "Y/N," he sounded stern. I stayed silent, not even looking him in the eye.

He sighed deeply. "I can give you anything, but not that," he stated, his arms still around my waist tightening a bit. "You're my best friend, I cannot lose you. Not like this."

My fear of loss was proof of my love for him. I loved him so much, I was willing to let him go.

I rolled my eyes playfully, forcing myself to look at him and grin widely, even though my tongue burned. "What are you saying? We'll be friends until the end of time," I laughed, lightheartedly elbowing him.

There was a passing look of hurt in his features, but it left as soon as it came. "Are you sure you're fine with this?" he squinted his eyes suspiciously at me.

"Of course," I snorted. "Maybe I'm just confused, but you know me Youngie, I'm tough."

He was still suspicious, but he laughed along with me anyway. "I know you are," he chortled, pinching my cheek really, really hard.

"Ow! You imp!" I grab his cheek to pinch it back just as hard, playing along with him.

We decided not to finish the movie and just rest for the night. As I lay back down on the makeshift bed Wooyoung made for me earlier, with him cuddling me from behind and pretty much spooning me, I let it all out.

Silent tears flowed down from my eyes and I had to put my knuckles in my mouth to prevent myself from making any sound. I can feel Woyooung's chest rising up and down against my back and that's how I knew he was sleeping, but I didn't want to risk waking him up.

My heart hurt so much, because I knew my love will never be reciprocated. Wooyoung loved his dreams too much to choose us, I knew that. I tried so damn hard to stop my growing feelings but to no avail. The voice that came out from me so naturally to tell him that I was fine, that what I felt for him was just a silly little crush, sounded so far away; it didn't even sound like me.

The attraction between us became an intangible broken thread and there was no way to reattach the fragments, though I know that I was the only one scattered and lost.

I knew we weren't going to last forever, but I wasn't expecting the beginning of the end to happen so soon.

A knock from my left snaps me out of my thoughts. It was Mingi tapping on my desk, his brow raised.

"Sorry," I sheepishly mumbled, trying to focus on the task at hand. Hongjoong already left for New York so it was just me and Mingi in the shop.

I couldn't concentrate, I kept glancing at my phone hoping Wooyoung would reply to my messages. Something was wrong, and I was very close to having a mental breakdown.

Woo? Are you busy? Wanna hang out at the new place later after work?

I kept telling myself that it was fine, he's busy, he's been in-demand lately because he truly was a talented photographer with a particular set of skills that were a rarity in such a condensed industry, but I couldn't help but feel like he's been very distant lately.

Wooyoung has been avoiding me and I don't know what to do.

To keep my insecurities in check, I've been going in the deepest pits of my mind to tolerate my thoughts and letting these negative feelings pass - so I can react appropriately and not go crazy over the things I had no control over.

Wooyoung? Is everything okay? You aren't responding...

Truth be told, I felt pathetic. I got so attached to Wooyoung that I forgot how I was before I met him - alone. It wasn't his fault, he doesn't owe me anything, it was me who let my heart chase a person who never even wanted to be found in the first place.

Another knock made me jump from my thoughts.

"Y/N," Mingi sighed, taking his glasses off and setting them down on his own desk. "Can I talk to you really quick?"

I bit my lip, nodding. Mingi had always been the type of boss that drew a line with everyone, except Hongjoong. He was strict, very intimidating, but it suited him, so I'm a bit nervous that he was calling me out.

"I'll be straight with you, yeah? Is it Wooyoung?" he asked out of genuine curiosity, his sharp eyes piercing through me.

I didn't respond, I couldn't, so I kept my head low. I heard Mingi sigh again. "Hey," he says softly. "This is off the record, okay? I won't tell Hongjoong, although I suspect he already knows anyway."

I looked up, frowning. "What do you mean?"

Mingi crossed his arms, leaning back against his chair a bit more relaxed. "I can't speak for him, but for me personally? I know Wooyoung more than you think I do. You just haven't seen us together because I've been so busy lately."

He was right. Mingi continued. "Look, it's a shame to see you like this. We really like you, you're hardworking, critical, smart, and whatnot..."

"T-Thank you, Mr. Song," I blurted out.

"Just Mingi," he brushed off. "What I'm trying to say is, save yourself for a man that isn't him. He won't choose you."

I already knew that, but hearing it didn't make it hurt less. Tears started to pool in the corners of my eyes. Mingi curses under his breath.

"Go home," he gestured out the door. "Take the day off."

"B-But we still have work left," I stuttered.

He gives me a small smile. "I'll manage. Go before I change my mind."

I suppose I was thankful about being sent home, it did help my nerves a bit. I've gotten home, showered, ate dinner, and did the most mundane things I could ever do, but Wooyoung never replied.

I woke up the next day, clutching my phone, muttering a little prayer in my head as if I would miraculously see his name pop up in my notifications, telling me good morning like he used to every single day.

The tears I've been holding off since yesterday ran down like waterfalls from my eyes. I missed him so much, and I've got nobody to blame but myself. I wished I kept it in, how much I loved him I mean. Maybe we would have been hanging out by now, laughing obnoxiously at nothing in particular.

Before I could stop myself, I dialed Wooyoung's number. The beating of my heart pounded along with the ringing tone against my ear. I was about to hang up, when I heard the familiar click of answer.

Hello?

I covered my mouth with my hand to prevent me from choking up. Oh, how I missed this voice.

"H-Hey, Woo, how are you doing?" I apprehensively asked.

I can't really talk right now, little dove, what do you want?

I was confused, my frown getting deeper. There was tension on the line, a tension so brittle it could snap in a moment, and if it doesn't, I might. He sounds like his normal self, but he sounds so rigid, his voice clipped.

"Nothing, I-I just wanted to hear your voice," I was so anxious at this point, especially when Wooyoung didn't say anything back for a moment.

I can feel the fear spreading throughout my chest. I let out a slow, controlled breath and attempted to loosen my body.

What? You called me for that? I have my own things to do, Y/N, you can't just call me for something so stupid.

I felt my heart bleed, twisting, turning, and rendering my insides tight. I don't respond, wide eyed, my heart in my throat. I needed him to tell me everything was going to be alright, to soothe me but instead he continued.

I'll call you when I have time, okay?

"B-But you said I can call you whenever I needed you," I whispered in the smallest voice I could muster.

I know what I said.

The tone of his voice, so cold and so upset, brought shivers down my spine. "I'm sorry," I whimpered. "I'm so lonely, I miss you. C-Can you come for a bit? O-Or I'll come if you cannot..."

I'll see.

And then he hung up, not bothering to wait for my response. Hot tears, ones he will never witness, were falling even faster than before and soaking my pillows. I felt the wetness of my skin and each drop killed my soul little by little.

What is happening? That wasn't the man I know, that wasn't the Wooyoung I have come to love over the past year.

Sharp knives dig into my heart even deeper, bringing more pain, making me cry out in the most desperate of as it keeps slicing over and over again. I was so lost at the torment my mind was putting me through.

When I was at my lowest, when others took what I could not afford to give, Wooyoung saved my life. The voice that once kept me alive was now the one that was slowly sucking every little bit of hope in my soul.

The first day was fine, I was able to rationalize with myself and not think of Wooyoung every second of the day.

The first week was a bit difficult, but I was still able to manage and get by day by day even though I can feel myself slowly slipping away.

The first month, I couldn't take it anymore. My parents noticed that I wasn't being myself lately, but they chose not to comment anything out of respect, but when I completely stopped eating and going out was when they began to worry significantly.

I understand that my best friend might never be able to give back all the love I have from him, but there is something much, much worse than hate or ignorance.

It was indifference. The night I had unintentionally confessed to him was the night everything between us started to blur.. He was cold, I wasn't expecting him to love me back, but abandoning me and acting like I don't exist or matter at all was turning all my loneliness into desperation.

Screw it. If he's not going to see me, then I'll go see him.

It wasn't too difficult to borrow the family car with the pretense of going out to enjoy myself. They didn't know Wooyoung was the source of my melancholy. I haven't had the heart to tell them because they really liked him.

"Woo?" I knocked on his apartment door, the door that used to excite me, now terrified me.

No response. I knew for a fact that he was inside and was ignoring the hell out of me because his lights were on - he always turned them off whenever he was going somewhere all the time. I was getting extremely annoyed at this point, and my anger had nowhere to dissipate.

"Jung Wooyoung, I know you're in there," I knocked frantically. "Open the freaking door."

When I still got no reply, I had no choice but to get the spare key he hid under his doormat. I could've done it earlier, I wasn't in the mood to be disrespected right now.

The moment I swung his door open, I saw him. He was just there, sitting on a chair with his arms crossed, staring me directly in the eye. I stood by his doorway, frozen, staring back at him.

"Woo--"

"Close the damn door and sit down," he sighed exasperatedly. The cold indifference in his eyes was killing me.

The atmosphere was completely tense, I didn't even know where to start. I used to love being in his apartment, but now I was itching to get out.

Then I saw it - the same duffle bag he bought the glass prism to give me a lunar rainbow now filled with all of his clothes.

"What the hell is this?" I gritted, not being able to hold back the anger I was feeling at the moment.

"What does it look like?" he glared, his jaw taut and clenched tight.

"Is this why you weren't talking to me?" I asked, my voice full of hurt. "How can you do this, Wooyoung? How could you do this to us?"

He scoffed. "There is no us, my princess," he mocked. It stung, I didn't know this Wooyoung, or was this his true nature all along?

"Then why am I still your princess, then?"

There was a second where his eyes morphed back into the man I loved, but before it even lasted, it went to this hostile stranger than got off on the hurt he was giving me. He avoided eye contact, opting to look down and stare at the floor tiles.

"Say something," I begged.

"I heard you," he snapped, as if I meant absolutely nothing to him.

Clearly, he wasn't expecting me to even confront him at all, and intended to push me far, far away as long as he possibly could.

That refusal to smile, to show me any warmth was his way of being antagonistic towards me.

His eyes stopped at mine, and the moment it laid on me, I knew that there was nothing left for me to salvage. This is really the end.

Tears flowed nonstop from my eyes and before I knew it, I was in front of him, aggressively hitting his chest using my fist with all my might, hoping he could feel all the pain he gave me.

"Stop it, Y/N," he hissed, trying to avoid my hits. But I didn't. All the anger and sadness were so intertwined that I didn't know which one prevailed.

"I said stop it!", he shouted. He grabbed my wrists painfully and held them against his chest. "You better stop, or so God help me, I will make you stop, and trust me, you do not want that."

Something akin to fear crept into my chest. I have never, ever heard him raise his voice before.

"Had I known that you were going to be the bane of my existence, I would have ignored you at the park back then!" I screeched at him, trying very hard to get my hands back by thrashing around.

"Had I known you were going to be like this, I wouldn't have taken a photo of you!" Wooyoung's grip got so tight that I literally felt no blood circulating towards my hand.

"You good for nothing ass, you're hurting me! Let me go!" I growled, but it came out as a whine.

"Not until you calm down!"

We went back and forth like that, arguing like little children. The fight between us was a destruction in the making, tearing us instead of bounding us together.

I swallowed the anger that threatened to spill out of me, and it grew in my chest as the person I loved did absolutely nothing to wipe the tears from my eyes. At least he was a bit surprised when I screamed a scream from deep within, and it terrified the both of us because it didn't even sound like me.

"How am I supposed to look at anyone else?" I cried, my head leaning on his chest out of exhaustion. "I don't want anyone else anymore because I will be afraid to trust."

"I'm sorry," was all he said. He didn't even want to wrap his arms around me and just let me hang in there.

"No, you're not," I cried even harder.

"Y/N, please, you're making this difficult for me," his voice breaks in the middle. I feel the intensity in his voice, a massive amount of emotion behind every word he spoke.

"And how do you think I feel, Wooyoung?"

"I understand, but--"

"This is how you are, full of excuses, full of shit!"

"Let me talk--"

"Why are you leaving me? Why are you--"

"Because I love you!"

I must've looked so shocked, so devastated, and so scared that Wooyoung, himself, started breaking down. We held each other as if it was our last, and at that moment, it was just the two of us against everything in this world.

Wooyoung held my face with his shaking hands, tears flowing down from his own eyes as he leaned his forehead against mine. That somehow made me cry harder. "I love you so much, goddamn it," he choked.

"But you're not going to stay," I whimpered against his criminal hold.

Though he felt so warm right now, I knew it wasn't going to last. I could get lost in his eyes right now because they felt like home as we both cried in each other's arms. After all the countless nights I wished he felt the same, this felt foreign.

He was an oasis in a barren desert and the best thing I could do was stare.

"You appearing in my life was never planned," he whispered. "I never expected to fall as deeply as I did with you, Y/N."

"If you feel the same, then why can't you stay with me?" I asked pitifully.

"I can't, baby, this wasn't supposed to happen," he took a deep breath. "I can't love you."

"You can't, or you won't?"

He didn't respond. That got him. I sighed.

"Woo, look at me?" I tilted his chin up very gently until he did. "Don't do this to us," I pleaded. "You're looking at me with clouded eyes right now, you know I see through your lies..."

Wooyoung doesn't reply, choosing to walk away from me to pace across the room in a fret. I watched him collect his mind apprehensively.

"If I can't have me, then no one can," he finally said.

I stared at him as my heart started slowly breaking once again. This incomprehensible pain was consuming me bit by bit, my heart was bleeding.

"I would regret it for the rest of my life if I don't chase the longest dream I've ever had," his eyes were laced in pain. "The photography world is waiting for me..."

"Is this why you didn't want anything or anyone tying you down to this place, Woo? You didn't want to commit because you might never want to leave?"

That was it. The way he looked at me told me everything I needed to know. I had lost him before I even had him, and I can only weep and let myself come to terms with the one that got away. So I cried, I cried as Wooyoung held me in his arms, rocking me back and forth like he used to when we spent time together.

"Hush now," he started crying with me. "I hate that it seems you were never enough." He hugged me tighter. "Because you are, you were more than enough."

"But I'm the one that should mean something! So help me understand," I sobbed harder in his arms, afraid to let him go because he might disappear if I do.

He wipes my tears away with his thumbs. "If one day we see each other again," he croaked. "However long that will take, we will try again for each other, okay?"

I shook my head like a crazed maniac, muttering no, no, no repeatedly. "Wooyoung," I wailed, holding onto his arms tightly. "P-Please don't leave me..."

I begged him over and over again like my life depended on it, and to be fair, I felt like I was going to die if he left me entirely. At this point I didn't care if I was going to be his second choice as long as he stayed.

"Y/N, please don't make this harder than it is," Wooyoung denied. "Go home, please I'm begging you. You're going to make me do something we'll both regret, please."

He was about to leave, but I held him back from behind, holding onto him as tight as I possibly could. "Stop it," he pleaded, trying to pry my arms off of him, but I held tighter, wailing harder.

"P-Please, please don't go," I bawled. "I'll do anything, I'll--"

"Stop it!"

His booming voice made me gasp, or maybe that was the sudden hold he had on my shoulders. The way his eyes darkened wasn't something I missed as his nails dug into my shoulders.

"Do not say that," he hissed, his dark eyes boring into me. "We are both in my room, alone. You know what that means, right?"

"So take me, Wooyoung."

Something changed in the air, and between the two of us right at this moment. Wooyoung's eyes widened a bit, his hold on my shoulders tightening , before he grimaced. "You don't know what you're saying," he laughed dryly.

I knew it was wrong, but right now I wanted nothing but to feel all of him. I will throw all the dignity I have right now, I don't care. The moment I begged him to stay, I'd lost it all, anyway.

"The notion of sin has never sat too well with me," Wooyoung gulped, his voice thick with lust.

"And leaving me does?" I blurted, my own eyes hazy with want.

Wooyoung shook his head fervently and sweat was beginning to form at his hairline. "Y/N, I am only a man, please don't make me do it..."

He buried his head in the crook of my neck, his breathing was so laboured and every time he took a breath, I felt everything on my skin. I mewled when I felt him pause, then lick the most sensitive part of my neck.

"Fuck, you smell and taste so good," Wooyoung growled.

Everything happened so fast. In a split second, his touch electrified every nerve in my body, the intoxication was instantaneous. He hurriedly grabbed my face and immediately put his lips on mine, like I was his air and he needed me to live.

His arms wrap around my back, and in one motion, our bodies collide. His hand was pulling and tugging my hair, muttering how soft they were in between kisses. I kiss him back with equal fervent, quickly opening my mouth so his tongue can explore. Our bodies fit together like we were made to do this.

He pulls away and we lock eyes for a moment, just enough to see that we were far too gone to stop, before we were back at it again, this time on his bed. The kiss we shared was of raw intensity, the groans he made behind his throat made every hair on my body stand up in attention.

"Baby," he groaned, his voice muffled because he was back to attacking my neck.

"Hmm?" was I could reply with, especially with how rough he was kneading my breasts from under my shirt.

"You held your breath for a minute straight while my tongue was in your throat."

I blushed deep. We were almost about to have sex and he still remembered that? I never thought his mouth would be this dirty.

We caressed each other's skin through the night, not getting enough of each other as we became one. His touches were exhilarating, whenever he laid his fingers on my skin tingles. Both of us move in sync, not taking our eyes off of each other.

There were no thoughts, and no focus - only lust and desire.

My back arches in anticipation from his light hands as he watches my reaction, feeling how my hands shook, watching my body tremble every time he used his fingers.

Whatever Wooyoung was doing, there was no stopping. Just his scent from above me was enough to incapacitate me. Every thrust he did was enough for me to fall deeper, and deeper for him and he never stopped until we were warm and snuggled after we were finished.

But nothing lasts forever - even guilty pleasures.

"Wooyoung?" I asked nobody in particular the moment I woke up, my voice sore from all the screaming the night prior.

I sat up, covering my body with the blanket that smelled so much like him, looking around to see if he was somewhere since he wasn't lying down beside me on his own bed, but no.

I didn't think much of it, maybe he just went to the bathroom to freshen up, but deep down my heart, I knew he had left.

There was something on the spot where Wooyoung was supposed to be - a piece of paper. I hesitantly picked up, realized it was a letter addressed to me, and opened its contents. Little dots of wetness dropped down the paper from every tear as I read on.

'To the one I'm letting go,

I'm sorry, Y/N. I am so, so sorry for everything I will put you through starting now. By the time you're reading this, I would have been long gone.

You will always be the most important person of my life, whether you believe it or not. You have absolutely no idea how wonderful and colourful you have made my life into for the past year and I always smile knowing that you'd be there to share my achievements with.

I knew I would develop feelings for you the moment I saw you in that park. God, you looked so beautiful. The fates were funny like that, because I wasn't even supposed to be at the park that day. My usual spot was unavailable that day.

Please be happy, do not forget your meals, study well so you can go into that college you've always wanted to, don't eat too many sweets because they make you hyper, be mindful of nuts in every food since you are allergic to them since I can't be there to check them for you anymore.

The gift of friendship as great as yours is something I will forever cherish in my heart, Y/N. Our little moments where we laughed and cried together still makes me happy to this day. You may have come into my life unexpectedly for what felt like a minute, but the mark you left will last us forever.

You're going to have to move on for me, and I will do the same, even if it hurts both of us, okay? I have to leave, it's either you or my dreams, and I know you have dreams of your own. This love will always hold us back.

However, if I see you again one day, I cannot guarantee that I will hold back because I am going to take you whether you like it or not and make you mine.

But for now? I cannot hate you, but I cannot love you either.

Yours, J. WY'

I hyperventilated, my hands shaking violently as I held the letter that might as well have been my death certificate.

I knew one way or another, this was going to happen and I was prepared for it so I wouldn't get hurt in the near future, but it hasn't fully hit me until now.

Long ago, I had forgotten how to scream because they were either ignored or criticized with cruelty, but the way I screamed my soul out broke my own heart. My grief came in waves, ebbing gradually at the ocean that needed to bleed from my eyes.

"Oh, Wooyoung," I cried his name out pitifully, holding the letter close to my heart. I knew I loved him, but the loss of him really solidified how strong it was. How was I supposed to survive the feeling of something so dear that got forcefully ripped away from me?

I must've wallowed in my despair and self-pity a little too much, that I forgot that there were clutters and footsteps outside of the room. They were the reason I woke up. Could it be..?

I half heartedly rubbed my tear-stained face with my hands to make the swelling go away before I dressed up decent enough to step out.

The footsteps stopped when I apprehensively opened the door, the creak of it echoing across the otherwise barren room.

My eyes widened and landed on two men who were both staring at me also wide-eyed the moment I opened my door, as if they were listening in on me suffering.

"Who the hell are you?!" I had meant for that to be threatening, but it came out as a pathetic squeak.

They both stepped back, surprised at the spunk I had even though it was clearly very early in the morning.

"We mean no harm, we promise," one of them said calmly. He reminded me of a bear, and the relaxed fit of his jeans that tucked his black tee made his form even bigger. "I'm Jongho, your brother and the two workaholics sent me..."

I raised my brow, he must be Hongjoong's assistant, the other workaholic was Mingi. Yeosang did also mention a best friend in passing. I raised a brow on the other one expecting him to talk.

He was tall, definitely taller than Mingi, and they kind of looked like each other, though this one reminded me of an overgrown puppy. He was very good-looking as well. He was lean, though there's definitely some bulk on him too.

He waves a set of keys in front of him. "I'm Yunho, San gave me the keys," he worriedly explained. "I was hoping you could explain. I made breakfast..."

The food was very good, but I didn't have the heart to tell Yunho that Wooyoung's cooking was the one I craved for. I gave them the letter Wooyoung had written for me as I filled them in on some details about what happened. They were Wooyoung's really close friends, so I didn't have to fill in too much details since they pretty much knew the majority of it.

"He never told you it was love at first sight," Yunho shook his head as he passed the letter for Jongho to read. "That bastard, I told him to stay away from you if he was just going to leave."

"We tried very hard to change his mind, believe me," Jongho sighed, taking a sip of the coffee I made him earlier. Both of his eyes shot up as he stared at me. "Though I suppose this is one of the reasons why he couldn't stay away."

That one struck a nerve. Wooyoung was the one who taught me how to make good coffee.

Yunho cleared his throat. "San doesn't know Wooyoung has left yet. If he found out, he would beat the shit out of him. San liked you a lot, he convinced Wooyoung the most to stay."

"And Hongjoong?"

"Hongjoong is, well, he is who he is. He just knows everything. He probably told Yeosang because he didn't have the heart to tell you."

Yunho's phone started ringing, it gave me a slight migraine because that thing was loud as hell. Yunho mutters a sheepish apology. "Hello?"

"Alright, which one of you soul-sucking bastards stole my keys?! What the hell is even happening?!"

That actually made me giggle. Now I know why these two were sent to check up on me - Yunho was very easy to get along with and Jongho was the rational one to balance things.

"Who is that?"

Yunho and Jongho took turns to fill San in on everything that went down, and I felt bad for him because that also meant that San lost a friend. His heartbroken questions were making tears in my eyes.

"Sannie," Jongho sighed. "This is why we took the keys, we didn't want you to find out this way."

"Where is he, then?" San's voice was tight.

"You don't know either?" Yunho asked in surprise.

"N-No, Y/N? Is she okay?"

That completely broke me. It was ironic that Wooyoung's friends, people I wasn't even that familiar with in the first place, were the ones more concerned about me. I bitterly let my tears out, with Jongho patting my back to comfort me.

I cried, and cried, and cried, and cried until I felt my voice grow weary with excessive use, not caring that these two strangers and a man on the phone heard me break down pitifully.

Forget about me, Wooyoung had also left the people who loved him as well - his friends. In that regard, he was extremely selfish because he knew that hurt he would give to everyone, but he chose to do what he did anyway.

And just like that, he was gone.

I lost track of time, I don't even remember the last time I actually cared to check.

Depression is a silly thing, something that I used to think never ended, but it does actually; you're going to feel it when you hit rock bottom.

"Have a good day everyone," I waved from the doorway of Mingi's office.

The whole gang was here, except for my brother because he lived far away. Still, Yeosang has made it his life's mission to be there for me whenever I gave him a hint that I needed him the most. I felt bad, but I had nobody to turn to.

"Y/N, wait."

I was about to leave, to ignore that call, but I couldn't. Yes?"

Hongjoong stared at me for a full minute without saying anything, before sighing. "Take care of yourself."

I forced a smile on my face. I was happy that everyone was looking out for me even though I just can't outwardly express it. I actually appreciate that none of them were treating me like a wounded puppy.

Hongjoong might not look like he cared too much, but I notice his sharp eyes watching me when he thinks I wasn't looking. Wooyoung was the opposite.

Yunho was very sweet, he would often bake me pastries since I mentioned in passing that I loved them and they brought me joy. Wooyoung used to do that a lot.

Mingi was another nonchalant one. He would often offer me a vacation alone somewhere with all expenses paid. I denied. Being alone will make me think of Wooyoung more.

San was the one that accompanied me the most when I didn't want to move at all. He would bring me food at least four times a week to make sure I was eating. Wooyoung used to feed me, himself, if I wasn't in the mood.

Jongho, being the mature one, made me realize that there were more reasons to live this life. Perhaps it was my parents, maybe my pet dog, or maybe just to find out what happens tomorrow. Wooyoung had a very similar outlook in life.

I was aimlessly walking around and I didn't even notice that I ended up on the bench I sat on, the same bench that had that beautiful wisteria tree. Only this time, there was no Wooyoung to take a candid photo of me.

"I guess I'm not the only one falling apart," I sighed, lightly touching the wilting petals of the once purple tree, now it was just a faded whitish lilac colour.

It was difficult to find happiness in the things that I used to like. I missed the way he hugged me, the sound of his voice, the tenderness in his actions. I missed the way he would whisper the corniest jokes against my ear and make me laugh, but most of all, I missed the way we used to be.

He was my first thought of the day, the light at the end of my tunnel. How must I separate these fantasies from reality? Would things be different if I didn't confess? Would he still be here?

The reality was that he has not had these fantasies, we did not build our dream together, so I have to let it go.

Even though he had left after the momentarily love we shared for one night, I can tell myself that at least I knew that he genuinely loved me at one point. My mind will be at peace because I wouldn't have to go manic wondering for the rest of my life if it was only me - I know now that we did truly mean something to each other.

We're so distracted by how things end, we usually forget how beautiful the beginning was.

It was a quote I heard somewhere. My love was a myth, but Wooyoung never believed in myths, and so that was both the start and end of our story. Some things are only real if you believe that they are.

A lone tear slipped away as I remembered how beautiful the wisteria was when we had first met. His absence will be the best part of me, I decided, so hopefully for the last time after a while, I weep again.

I will wait for him, no matter how long it took.

3.5 YEARS LATER

I sat in front of the vanity table in my hotel room, staring at myself from the big mirror wearing my white satin robe, it made my complexion pop into a champagne rose hue.

I made eye contact with the person looming behind me through the mirror. "Would you like me to tell them to adjust the makeup and your hair?" he asked me tenderly, putting a hand on my shoulder. "I figured you'd love a natural look so I made it happen."

"No, it's perfect, you always know what's best for me," I smiled widely, putting my hand on top of his gently. It was the truth, it managed to bring out me feminine side, and therefore, my self-confidence as well.

I was the happiest I've ever been today, especially because I was finally with the love of my life. He frowned a bit when I pulled him a bit closer to fix his slightly rumpled collar and hair.

"I like the blonde, my love," I ran my hand on it in a trickling motion so I wouldn't mess it up.

He smirks, grabbing my hand to kiss it. "Yeah? That's good, I was feeling tired of the red, plus I don't think it would be appropriate for today."

I chuckled a bit. I have always loved his style, it was so masculine but also so chic and sophisticated at the same time. He was already wearing the suit and tie I had chosen for him today.

I will miss the red hair though, I still remember feeling uneasy when I saw his red hair for the first time, but I have come to love it over time. This blonde was making me feel some type of way.

I took a glance at my wedding dress that was placed at the far corner of the room. The lace upon lace design was very cozy and snug against my curves and it made me feel like the most beautiful bride in the entire world.

"So what's the schedule, darling? Your photography session here alone or with your bridesmaids for now?" he glanced at his wristwatch.

"Alone for now," I hummed. "I want Joongie, Sannie, and Yeo in here right now. You should go check with Yuyu and Mangi if you need alterations, and oh, check with Jongbear if he's all set with the wedding songs later?"

Over the years, I have gotten so close with the gang and they've all become my bestest of friends. The journey wasn't easy, but at least I've gained seven other lifetime friends.

He chuckled, clicking his tongue in amusement. "Alright, but calm down," he plants a quick kiss on my lips. "As much as I love when you're in your thinking mode, I want you to relax for today."

"I can't help it, Seonghwa, I've never done this before," I pouted.

Seonghwa squeezed my hand lovingly. "I know, me neither, but I'll be with you through everything, okay? And don't worry about those three knuckleheads, they're on their way."

"I love you, Hwa."

"I love you more, darling."

As if on cue, there was a knock on the door and indeed, the three people I was expecting made their merry way towards me and Seonghwa.

"Well, well, well," Yeosang strutted towards me. "If it isn't my favourite sister."

"I'm your only sister," I rolled my eyes, making everybody laugh.

"Oh, Y/N, oh my goodness," Yeosang hugged me tightly. "Goddamn it, I shouldn't have gone here, you're going to make me cry."

"Shut up, Yeo, you're going to make me cry too," I choked, holding my tears back so I don't ruin my makeup. "I could barely hold myself when I saw Mom and Dad bawl their eyes out earlier."

It was like we were back in our childhood again where we supported each other whenever we got an achievement. We don't see each other much but our closeness never got less.

"I'm proud of you, you deserve this happiness," Yeosang smiled. "I'll see you out there, my back is hurting from Seonghwa glaring at my back for taking your time."

"I was not!"

"Some brother-in-law you are, Park Seonghwa!" Yeosang retorted.

We all laughed again, there's nothing better than having friends to celebrate your day with you. Yeosang left shortly and now I was with San and Hongjoong to check up on some things.

"The guests are coming in gradually," San lowered his glasses while he tapped away on his tablet. San was the one who arranged the beautiful venue of the outdoor garden where me and Seonghwa will marry as well as the food and invitations.

San moved away from photography a couple of years ago and started a business on coordinating events. "I reckon they'll all be here within two hours," he continued, but paused hesitantly. "There might be one seat vacant, I'm not sure he'll come..."

The air was a bit tense. I knew who he was talking about. "It's okay, Sannie, we have back up photographers in case he doesn't want to do it..."

Hongjoong cleared his throat loudly. "Congratulations," he grinned from the other side of the room.

"Thanks, Joongie, you're the best," I grinned back, thanking him for more than what I was referring to.

Hongjoong was the one who designed my wedding dress from scratch, and Mingi designed Seonghwa's. It was their first wedding haute couture and definitely not their last.

"Any adjustments you want me to make? I would ask you to try it on, but that's bad luck. " he joked. I shook my head no. "Alright. But I'm sure you'll look good. We're very happy for you, Y/N, we really are."

It felt great to hear it in general, especially on my wedding day, but it meant a lot coming from Hongjoong. All of them were brothers to me, but he was the eldest one.

"Seonghwa, if you think of hurting her," San cracked his knuckles. "You know what will happen."

"Yeah, yeah, sure San, you're scared shitless of killing bugs, let alone beat me up," Seonghwa rolled his eyes, making us all laugh our heads off because it was so true.

Mingi, Yunho, and Jongho also popped in after a while to say their congratulations. Yunho was in charge of hosting the reception, which came naturally for him since he has such an engaging personality.

"I'm so nervous, what if I stutter?" Yunho groaned. "Though I'm sure Jongho here is more nervous."

"A little," Jongho admitted. We were all surprised, he usually does very well on literally everything.

"Jjong, you're literally the best singer I've ever heard," I cheered him on.

"It's not that, this is different. This is your wedding we're talking about."

"That's true and all," Mingi chided in. "But I'm pretty sure Seonghwa is the most nervous out of everybody. Y/N, you gotta tell his ass to calm down, I couldn't even properly adjust his suit, for God's sake!"

We all turned our heads when the sound of another knock resounded through the room. We all looked at each other in confusion, Yeosang was the only one not in here and he would never knock before entering.

Yunho took the initiative to open the door, although apprehensively. He opened the door in an angle where we couldn't see who was outside, but he did, and when he did, he gasped loudly.

"What the fuck!" he shut the door loudly and leaned against it, pale white.

The room was silent, Yunho wasn't the type to curse in general. We all looked at him with very wide eyes and he stared back with his mouth agape.

"Yun, what the hell was that?" Mingi broke the silence, as calm as the ocean.

"I-I, uhm, I-I don't th-think," he stuttered.

"Oh, what the hell," Jongho rolled his eyes, walking towards Yunho and pushing him out rather roughly so he could open the door himself.

Jongho muttered a curse under his breath, before closing the door a bit gently this time, but he also had the same shocked expression on his face. This time I was freaking out, wedding jitters and all.

"Yah!" someone on the other side shouted, banging on the door.

"Open the damn door!" Seonghwa seethed, but quickly muttered a 'sorry' when I glared at him.

Both Yunho and Jongho opened the double doors at the same time, and the person entered. My mind had a small explosion, my heart beating twice the speed it should have, and the hairs all over my body stood up in the collective gasps we all had when we saw him.

He was someone I never thought I'd ever see again, someone I dearly missed even though we ended on a sour note, someone I couldn't wait for anymore even though I told myself I would.

"Wooyoung," I whispered, a bit teary eyed.

"Wooyoung," Seonghwa confirmed, but I could see how nervous he became.

"Wooyoung?" Mingi asked in surprise.

"Wooyoung!" Hongjoong laughed in disbelief. "Wooyoung," San growled, gritting his teeth.

"Oh hello there, Wooyoung," Yeosang suddenly entered the room. I can tell he was upset, especially because he patted Wooyoung's back in a "friendly" manner.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Wooyoung screamed his signature loud screech, but it was too late.

His squawks get louder as everyone, except me and Seonghwa, swarmed him aggressively, like a mob that threatened to end his existence. There were laughter mixed with complaints but overall, everybody seemed happy.

"You crazy son of a bitch, you have us worried, you never even called or texted!"

"Wow, you're uglier than before---ow!"

"Don't ever think of leaving again!"

"Come here, you monkey!"

I felt Seonghwa tense from behind me. I patted his arm, causing him to look at me. I frowned a bit, his eyes held anxiety and inferiority. I understood, the man I used to love was here.

"Alright, alright! Get off me, you airheaded buffoons!" Wooyoung shouted, trying to push everyone off, but ended up laughing hysterically with Mingi and Jongho.

Hongjoong only shook his head and rolled his eyes but I can tell he was happy. San grabbed his collar harshly and for a moment, we thought he was angry, but he ended up pulling Wooyoung into a bone crushing hug and Yunho had to pull him away to give him a hug of his own.

Yunho had always carried the burden of guilt for the past year, he kept saying that he could have stopped Wooyoung back then. Yeosang ruffled Wooyoung's hair roughly, something he did when he's overwhelmed on how to express his feelings.

"Have you guys seen, uhm--oh," Wooyoung began, but faltered when his eyes met mine., his smile dropping in slow motion. He didn't know I'd be here.

The air became tense all of a sudden. A sudden heartache filled my mind with dread, flashbacks of what happened years ago reminding me of the bond we made only for it to break. But even though it hurt, I was genuinely happy he was here, so I put a smile on my face.

He was shocked, his eyes going back to the same twinkle he had back then, but it quickly disappeared when Seonghwa cleared his throat, then I saw it disappear permanently.

"We, uh, we should leave you guys to talk," Seonghwa murmured.

"A-Are you sure, Hwa?" I hesitated, holding onto his arm to stop him from moving.

I wasn't the only one surprised when Seonghwa nodded lightheartedly. "Mhhm," he hummed. "Plus," he glanced at Wooyoung. "This is a long overdue conversation."

With that, everyone left the room, but not before Seonghwa shook Wooyoung's hand. My heart was filled with pride. "Nice to see you again, old friend," Seonghwa patted Wooyoung's shoulder gently. This is why I loved him, he trusted me wholeheartedly.

Seonghwa knew everything, from how Wooyoung met me, to how grateful I was for everything he's done for me, all the way to him leaving me. Seonghwa and Wooyoung and pretty much everyone used to be good friends but he had to move away when they were younger because of his parents' work. He cried for me, he cried for everything I've been through, and cried for how far I've become.

Wooyoung stood awkwardly from where he was after Seonghwa had left, and I didn't even know what to do either. I wasn't even sure if he was the same person he was before he left, three years was a long time. We were strangers to each other at this point because I definitely have changed.

"S-Sit, Wooyoung, please," I blurted, not looking him in the eye as I pointed at the sofa across from where I was.

I stared at him as he awkwardly did as he was told. The years have been bittersweet to him - he had become unbelievably handsome, but his eyes had lost that youth and spark to it.

He had more muscle to him, and his face had matured into this angular and chiseled appearance - his brows were more prominent, his cheekbones higher, and his jaws stronger. His hair was longer too, instead of the bright red I knew him for, he had this black and blonde layered on top of each other like an Oreo cookie.

"How are you doing, Y/N?" he softly asked. Even his voice got deeper, more booming, but it was still as calming as I remembered it to be.

"I'm good, I feel really happy," I genuinely replied. "I'm glad you're able to come despite your schedule."

"Of course," he sighed. "I'm surprised you still invited me."

"Why wouldn't I?" I whispered, all the hurt threatening to spill out from me. "B-But how have you been? Did you get what you wanted?"

I knew the answer to that question. Of course he did, Wooyoung was now a well-known photographer who was in-demand all over South Korea. He was basically a celebrity, but I still wanted to hear it come from his mouth.

Wooyoung smiled tightly. "Yes and no," he said cryptically.

"W-Why?"

Wooyoung stared at me for a minute, his eyes not giving away what he was feeling. My heart almost burst out of my ribcage. He tried so hard, but he was fiddling with his pants, a sign he was nervous.

We might be two different people now, but I still knew him like the back of my hand.

"So," he cleared his throat, finally looking away. "Seonghwa, huh?"

I hummed, letting him get away with the fact that he was changing the topic. "Yeah, we just clicked," I smiled shyly. "A couple of months after you left, Joong introduced us together..."

He nodded, choosing not to reply. It got awkward again after that, the silence filling the room in an uncomfortable manner. He was only a couple of feet away from me, but he felt like miles back. My heart cracked a little, maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

"I-I'm happy for you, Y/N, I really am," his voice cracked towards the end. "Congratulations on y-your...wedding."

I swallowed a huge lump on my throat when I saw Wooyoung look down, his hands on either side of his head, cradling it as I heard him sniffle. It felt like thunder to my ears, but I chose not to comment on it so as to not embarrass him.

"It was nice the first year, I felt like I was on top of the world with nothing tying or holding me back," he laughed bitterly. "But afterwards, I felt like shit. I had no family, no friends, no you. Letting you go was the biggest mistake of my life."

I stayed silent, afraid that if I opened my mouth, I would cry too. "I'm afraid now, little dove, I'm so afraid of doing things now because that one, single mistake cost me my whole life..."

I bit my lip hard, my heart breaking a little bit more for him. Oh, how the tables have turned, I used to be the one that always got scared of trying something, and it took me a while to fully commit to Seonghwa.

"I am so, so sorry, Y/N..."

I let Wooyoung pour his heart out, letting him sob silently on the sofa. I gripped my robe tightly, wanting to go to him like the old times, but I couldn't, not because I didn't want to, but because Wooyoung needed his moment. He wasn't only crying for the both of us, but for the suffering, the loneliness of being alone, and everything he went through to get the success he longed to have.

"I'm proud of you, Wooyoung, you did well. You did what you had to do back then, I can't fault you for that," I told him. "Yes, I was mad at you, I'm not going to deny that, but I forgave you a long time ago."

I finally let out all the things I've always wanted to tell him. "One day you were just gone, you couldn't even explain why. We were best friends, soulmates, or so I thought."

"What killed me the most was I felt like our journey together had just begun, and you had left too soon," my breath hitched. "You came, then you left, and you took parts of me I didn't know existed, as well as yours because I never had the chance to explore you."

He stayed silent, listening to me like he once did years ago. "To this day I still ask myself what happened, Wooyoung, what would life have been if you had stayed? What would it be like if we did things differently? For the longest time, I blamed you for leaving, and then myself for letting you go so willingly."

Wooyoung shook his head. "It's not your fault," he gulped. "I blamed myself for your cries that I pretended not to hear, for the anger that consumed me, I blame myself for not holding your hand tighter, for the tears I did not wipe away, and I blame myself for the loss of you."

He stares at me with his tear-stained eyes, not bothering to cover all the emotions he tried to hide earlier. He grinned bitterly at me, I knew how much it meant for anyone to tell him how proud they were of him.

He puts his palm over his chest, eyes closed. "If only you can feel how hard this heart beats for you," he whispered. "It's all for you, but would you be mad if I told you it's not as strong as it once was?"

I wanted to hold his hand once more like we used to do when we were still together, not as lovers, but as good friends, but I was frozen on my chair.

"Why would I be?" I tilted my head curiously, tutting at him lightheartedly to lift the mood in the room. "You underestimate me."

Finally, he smiled genuinely. "I can't help it," he chuckled. "The intensity is less, I can't repair all the hurt I gave you."

He paused, hesitating if he should say what he wanted to say, but he opened his mouth anyway. "You were my dream after all," he whispered begrudgingly. "I was blind not to see it."

That did it. The dread and burden I've been feeling was finally lifted off of me and I finally feel lighter than a feather.

The wounds he gave me were still there and they will heal slowly, but I can't deny my own heart right at this moment.

"Woo?" I smiled tightly. He looked at me expectantly, and it made my insides mushy. "My heart that beated for you will never stop either, so don't beat yourself up. I can never get rid of it."

He stared at me like I held the stars from the sky and offered it to him. In hindsight, I might as well have done it. He scoffed lightly. The insinuation was there, but that's all there is - that I still held him in my heart but it stops here.

"Don't be afraid to try new things, weren't you the one who always told me that? You miss the shots you don't take. If you don't want to make the same mistakes as you did with me, grab them while they're still there," I shrugged.

It was like nothing happened, as if we weren't separated for so long because of our circumstances. We finally caught up, laughed, giggled, gossiped like we used to before things got bad between us. I missed him so much, the way he would laugh like a dying fox, the way his eyes crinkled up, all of it.

We talked, we cried, the whole nine yards. The missing piece I didn't know was missing until now finally completed me. How have I lived that long without him?

"You got your wish now," Wooyoung jokes. "You finally have Mars once you marry Seonghwa."

Ah yes, Seonghwa helped me all throughout my journey. If it wasn't for him, I would have been a goner.

I scoffed, the nostalgia hitting me like a ton of bricks. "I can't believe you still remember that," I laughed. "I do have Hwa now, yes, but the planetarium will always be my first Mars."

Wooyoung smirked playfully. "It had better be. I hated it."

"What?" I threw a pillow at him jokingly. "Why did you take me then?"

"I guess you're going to have to find out, hmm?" he snickered.

He was about to throw a pillow at me too, but when he saw my solemn expression, he stopped.

This time the nostalgia hit us both. That was exactly what he said when I asked if I had to pay for the very first photo he took of me.

Instead of being sad, one look at each other and we burst out laughing, giggling, and guffawing like hyenas in the wild, not caring if anybody heard us and thought we were crazy.

"Y/N?" Wooyoung uttered endearingly. I hummed in response. "Can I hold your hand for the last time?"

I held my hands for him, and he grabbed it so gently I wanted to cry. They were warm, and he held on yet simultaneously set me free.

He brought my hands to his chest, looking like he wanted to kiss them, but he held back out of respect for Seonghwa. Instead of his lips, tears fell onto them.

"If there is another life," he whispered. "I hope I can meet you again and if not, I will find you until I cease to breathe."

His heartbeat was so steady, and I felt my body shake, and once more, my eyes filled with unshed tears and I cried for the both of us this time. He releases one of my hands and wipes my tears delicately.

"Please don't cry, not for me again," he croaked, trying his very best to stop his own tears. "I don't want you to ruin your makeup."

"It's okay, Seonghwa and his team did my makeup anyway," I sniffled. "I hope in the next life you're not going to hate that you need me."

"Never," he objected. "Even if we don't remember, my heart will know."

I swatted his arm playfully. I never meant to giggle a little at that, he had always been so poetic and so cheesy. I guess some things never change.

"Stay for the wedding and reception, please?" I fretted. "I want my best friend there. Mingi tailored a suit for you in case you came."

I was nervous, afraid that he would reject my plea because he might feel out of place. I sighed a breath of relief when I saw him beam.

"I'll be there," Wooyoung mused. "I owe you this at least, Y/N, and I am going to give you and Seonghwa the best photos you both will ever see."

I cheered internally, but my excitement tipped over the top and I couldn't help but outwardly show it. Wooyoung laughed and we finally pulled ourselves in a hug to seal the deal. It was enough to make up for all the years we spent apart because one touch entwined our souls.

I realized that the electric spark that once tickled my skin whenever Wooyoung touched me was still there, and it was as strong as I knew it to be, but they no longer burned.

More tears made their way on Wooyoung's shirt when I recognized that I had healed a long time ago. I had mourned my loss and woke up anew, and the passing time did wonders too.

"Did you feel that?" Wooyoung mumbled, and I knew he referred to that spark.

"Yes," I squeaked. "Yes, I did. But why did you lie?"

Wooyoung paused from rubbing soothing circles on my back. "What do you mean?"

"I can feel your heart. The intensity never lessened, Wooyoung, you lied."

He pulled away from me, his lips pursed as he held my face with his hands. "I have to," he admitted. "I can't ruin the happiness you have found for yourself."

There were no words that needed to be spoken. We had finally found the closure we both needed.

The rest of Ateez entered the room one by one and gave both of us a knowing look. Wooyoung and I both grinned at them and gave them a thumbs up, to which they cheered loudly.

"You good, darling?" Seonghwa kissed my forehead as the others whisked Wooyoung away with teasing tones so he could change his outfit.

"Thank you, Hwa, thank you so much," I gushed, melting at his solemn embrace.

Seonghwa had always been there for me, he was so loving and patient towards me, and most of all, Seonghwa had chosen me, and I chose him.

He had his work too, he was a makeup artist, and that required traveling a lot, but instead of leaving me like Wooyoung did, Seonghwa did everything in his power to take me with him so we could be together. He didn't give up on the love we shared.

Wooyoung and I still loved each other dearly, but we had chosen our paths a long, long time ago - he chose to leave, and I chose to move on with my life. Seonghwa had made me realize that if you really loved somebody, nothing will stop you.

I kissed my future husband tenderly on the lips, to which he returned with urgency. The love I felt for him was different from the love I had for Wooyoung, but it burned just as brighter, if not stronger.

It was the true love I had longed to have.

Seonghwa and I finally tied the knot. Our wedding was a celebration of our love and those who came to celebrate it with us. It was simple, pure and all I ever wanted.

"I, Park Seonghwa, promise to love you, L/N Y/N, and cherish you until my last breath, and even then, you have to make sure I'm dead because I will always come back to you," he vowed, making a couple of people laugh. "You came in at the right time of my life, and I promise that for as long as I am here, I will make you the happiest woman on Earth. I love you so, so much, my darling."

I couldn't even get the words out, tearing up profusely especially with how Seonghwa looked at me with such love. At this point I wasn't the only one sniffling.

"I, L/N Y/N, promise to love you, Park Seonghwa, and cherish you until--- wait, if you go, then I'll be lonely, so please don't go," I giggled along with our friends and family. "You are the reason I'm alive, and I cannot believe I am marrying the love of my life. I will be yours as you want me to, Hwa."

The moment the priest announced that Seonghwa can kiss the bride, everybody whooped and cheered loudly and I couldn't help but laugh in between my now husband's kiss. I could've sworn I saw Hongjoong shed a tear or two but San was too busy teasing the elder by cooing at him mockingly.

Yeosang almost protested when Seonghwa's kiss lasted a little too long, but Wooyoung had quickly covered his mouth and pulled him away while he flailed his arms comically.

The wedding reception was a beautiful garden party that oversaw the lake. We were all surrounded by the fragrant petals that amplified the romantic sunset that gave the sky a pretty tinge of pink and purple.

Yunho was a wonderful host despite the initial nervousness he held and there was never a dull moment, especially when Mingi had caught the flower bouquet I had thrown over my shoulder. The gentle giant's reddened face was definitely the highlight of the night.

Jongho's voice filled the entire reception, to which me and Seonghwa encouraged everybody to dance to the rhythm whether Jongho sang a passionate song for us or an upbeat jazzy tune that made all of us dance the night away. Of course in between, me and my now husband would kiss and everyone would hoot.

Just as our wedding and love were elegant and sweet, so was our wedding cake. Everybody dwindled down to eat and drink to their heart's content. My feet were killing me anyway so I chose to sit down at my spot at the front with Seonghwa.

"You really went all out with this, huh?" I teased him.

He laughed, his deep sending delicious shivers up my spine. "Heck yeah," he snorted. "This is a once in a lifetime thing, baby."

As we watched everyone enjoy the night with their friends and family, I saw Wooyoung bowing to this old man, a friend of my father's, with a huge smile on his face after giving him his calling card.

I was happy for him, it looks like he finally followed his heart and scored another deal after being scared of doing another one. I watched him take his phone out and call somebody giddily, and when he dropped the call, I laughed as I saw him punch the air in excitement.

It was as if he knew someone was watching him. Wooyoung looked back and we made eye contact for the last time as old lovers. There were no words between us, but a million things in our eyes as we finally let go of all the hurt.

He smiled at me, nodding once, and I did the same, smiling back at him softly, before he turned around and left the venue.

And just like that, he was gone.

218 notes · View notes

am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year ago

Note

AITA for entertaining a friendship with a child?

okay so this might be a weird one or even a controversial one i honestly have zero clue how other people will receive this, apologies in advance if i ramble!

to begin, i (23ftm) and this kid (15f) first met about a year ago. one of my best friends (23m) is a pretty big model and tiktoker and she was a fan of his, and she was pretty recognized online for making cool edits and stuff of him and coming to meetups etcetera, so he knew of her from there, and over time with always seeing each other at meet ups and her being in his discord server (where i mod) she kind of became pretty well known to us.

an important thing to note is that she's SUPER neurodivergent and she's had a really tough life. she lost her older brother a few years back and she's (i'm not sure of the correct way to put it, her family is originally from the netherlands and their english is kind of in the works so this is how they put it) developmentally behind a few years - her parents describe this as her being "mentally more 13 than 15" but her behaviour to me is even younger than that. she's very very innocent and trusting, very overemotional and sensitive to criticism etc, loves stuffed animals and pink and cartoons and all of that. she's told me she feels like a little kid sometimes and will talk/act like one so maybe there's an element of trauma-rooted age regression there, i'm not super sure - i'm not gonna get into detail but she's talked to me about her life a lot and she's had some pretty fucked up shit happen to her.

from the beginning she pretty much imprinted on me - she's told me before i remind her of the big brother she lost, and ever since then she's called me her "big brother" and "family" etc. at first i was more just playing along with it to make her happy but over time she really has become something like a little sister to me, i feel super protective of her. i want to become a teacher after college (not to mention eventually a parent with my fiancee) so i think at least part of it is that taking a kid 'under my wing' so to speak is giving me experience with it all. i've always been kinda paternal/protective over kids in general but i was the youngest sibling in my family so i never really had anyone to utilise that on before

she does rely super heavily on me emotionally, especially because after i found out she was being bullied pretty badly at school i started dropping by to keep her company during breaks/lunch and making sure shit was okay (which her still-living brother used to do, but he's a famous?? - unsure How famous, i don't know sports at all - footballer/soccer player who's often in another country and can't see her often anymore), and i've been working with her to curb that. i'm actually currently working with her parents to find her a good therapist and support system. she's no longer in the tiktok friend's discord just because it was getting a little all-consuming for her and we encouraged her to take a break, but she's done a TON of work on herself and maturing since then and she does plan to rejoin at some point soon.

however, i find it really really hard to gauge whether being so close with a child is... like normal? or not. i honestly can't tell if it's kind of the internet caution about adults talking to minors kind of warping my brain and making me overly wary of what people will think or if i'm doing something wrong or if it's genuinely like a weird situation, so i guess i'm looking for outside perspectives.

the things that make me question it is that like i said she's very 'mentally young', she's very sheltered, and there definitely seems to be an element of her kind of replacing the older brother figure she lost with me. on top of that, we met through her being a fan of my friend, and though she's now separate from that i worry there could still be an element of power there because i'm close with the guy she calls her idol. her family knows me and seem totally chill with everything, but they've told me she tells people at her school that i'm literally her brother and basically 100% talks about me as if i'm her biological family, which i find super sweet but at the same time wonder if it's healthy.

she obviously needs therapy and hopefully soon we can get her it, but: AITA for entertaining a sort of found family dynamic / friendship at all with someone very vulnerable and young or is this genuinely helpful for her?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

441 notes · View notes

lostbetweenvampiresandmusic · 23 days ago

Note

Would it possible if you can write a Lost boys(poly if your comfy with it) with a Carrie!Reader (2013 ver) who like, is bullied severely at school, crappy parents and discovers they have telekinesis. they run into the lost boys on the boardwalk, hangs out with them and stuff? But they don’t tell them the bullying or anything about their home life because reasons(make some up if you want lol) or their powers until they run into their bullies in a empty part of the beach and they terrorize them and they snap? And the boys watch and fall in love and kick their feet and twirl their hair? David wants them to turn now even more (falling in love aside) because ✨Power✨ Dwayne wants them because ✨Safety✨ Paul wants them to turn because ✨Sexy✨ and Marko because ✨Crazy✨. Basically their dream girl who is as soft as silk but a lil fucked up?🥺🥺🥺

Also how’s your day been? How you living? You drink water today?

Hi! Yes, this would absolutely be possible! First off, I have to say, I am so sorry for the incredibly long wait. I was busy with work (multiple jobs and only 7 days a week aren't an easy thing to combine with free time), and I prioritised finishing Changes. But now that Changes is finished and all the chapters are written, I finally have time for this request because I've read this several times now and I just think it is so much fun! Anyway, I hope you'll forgive me for not writing this sooner and that you like what I've written! Have a nice day/night/holidays!💜

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

The alley was silent. Three bodies laid on the ground, blood splattered everywhere from the ground to the walls on both sides. One body, a female no older than twenty, came without a head. Or at least, it used to have a head, but what was left of it was barely recognisable as such. There were two male bodies, one twisted and turned as if it were moulded in clay, the other drained as if all liquid inside the body spontaneously decided to evaporate.

Needless to say, it was a mess.

I stood between those three bodies, not knowing what to do. In all honesty, I was still not entirely sure about what happened. One second, they began to call me names - again, like they always did - and the second I felt my anger flare up and poof - there they were gone. Dead. I shook my head as I stared at the blood, unable to keep a single tear from falling down my face.

I blinked, a small frown on my forehead. I was terrified. Not of what scene laid before me, but because of what had happened. I had done this, and I didn't know how. I had killed them, somehow.

"That's quite a mess."

I jumped, turning around. My heart was beating in my throat as I saw David, Marko, Paul, and Dwayne standing behind me. I frowned slightly. It was the closed off side of the alley, so if they'd walked past me, I would have noticed it, right?

"We flew," was Dwaynes answer to my questioning look. I nodded, remembering how they'd told me what they were a while ago.

I had known the boys for quite some time now, running into them once while they were in the videostore. Marko had just grabbed the tape I wanted, talking - well, there's no other way to put it - shit about it. When I had asked for the tape, he had refused to give it to me, instead opting to give me a better alternative. He had been right. Where I had initially wanted to see a B movie called Zombies from Mars, he had given me Return of the Living Dead. It was awesome. The next night, I searched for them on the boardwalk to thank him for the suggestion, and they invited me to hang out with them. Ever since I did so, every night, whenever I could. I told them everything, I was closer to them than anyone else I knew. Well, everything - i couldn't help but chew the inside of my cheek. I had never told them about being bullied. It felt silly when I hung out with them. It was silly when I could deal with it. It was calling names, being pushed into the showers, locked inside rooms, and losing my lunch sometimes - it could have been worse. Some other kids in school were bullied worse, and they didn't complain, so why would I?

"What happened here?" Paul asked as he looked at the bodies.

"I don't know," I said quietly, my voice weaker than I'd liked, "I got angry and then they were just like that."

"They bothered you?" Marko gave me a pointed look, and I knew that I had no choice but to be truthful now.

"They bullied me."

"Bullied? Why did you never say anything?"

"I don't know," I shrugged, not looking at Marko, "it felt silly, and I could handle it."

"Yeah, that much is obvious," David answered, a sly grin on his face. "Has this ever happened before?"

I shook my head. "It scares me. I just killed three people and didn't even notice it."

"Just a regular night for us, am I right?" Paul chuckled, earning himself some glares. "Sure, it's a shock that it happened, but honestly, Babe," he grinned, "it is kind of hot."

"I killed someone, Paul."

"So? We do too."

"And you're certain you've never done anything like this before?" Marko asked, and once again, I shook my head.

"If you can do this without practice..."

"Practice? This was an accident, I don't even know how it happened or -"

I stopped when I felt myself panic, and slowly but surely, I saw the droplets of blood rising from the ground, floating in the air. I stared at it with wide eyes. "Am I doing this?"

"Yeah," Dwayne appeared behind me, taking my hand in his. "Calm down, alright? You're fine, and you're going to stay fine."

"I don't understand..."

"You're telekinetic," Marko grinned, "you could burn this whole town to the ground if you wanted without lifting a single finger."

"I- I don't think I want that?"

"But you could!"

I couldn't help but smile a watery smile at that. "Why are you four not freaked out?"

"Vampire." Was all David said as he looked at me. "Which you could still become, the offers still up."

"I don't know..."

"As a vampire it would be easier to control your powers."

"And we'd be able to keep you safer if they get out of control."

I sighed, looking between David and Dwayne, not knowing what to do.

"But what if I loose control and hurt you? Any of you?"

"You won't," Marko answered, "besides, I never shied away from a bit of pain."

I blushed, shaking my head. "You're incorrigible."

"You know it," he grinned. "You should go home, well clean this up for you."

"I- i can't really go back home, my parents, they are eh-"

"I meant the cave."

"What?" I frowned, looking at Marko and then at Paul and the others.

"You'll live with us," Paul said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"You're one of us," David said, his voice holding more kindness than I'd heard before, "so come with us."

I smiled softly, nodding as I let David and Dwayne lead me away from the crime scene. Paul and Marko stayed behind, cleaning up the bodies and the blood, neither of them minding the sight of it.

"Pretty damn cool, this power of theirs," Marko grinned, as he swept some brain matter off the wall.

"Definitely. Makes you wonder what else they could do with this gift," he chuckled with a smirk, causing Marko to roll his eyes.

#the lost boys #tlb #marko #the lost boys 1987 #david #paul #dwayne #tlb 1987 #star #the lost boys x reader

61 notes · View notes

warning-heckboop · 4 months ago

Note

I really love your changeling dev au 🤌✨️, i was thinking does this make dev the youngest in fairy world ? then that means there is a fairy who accidently had a baby but beacuse of da rules, it cause them to give it to dale as a gift? Im sorry don't know how the gifting works 😅

Okay, first off. Apologies for the late reply. Writing the fic on top of work and other plans took a lot out of me.

On to the actual question! To be honest, I hadn't actually thought too much about Dev's origins regarding who his actual fairy parent(s) would be. So let's brainstorm now, shall we? I'll be putting this under read more, because it got kind of long :')

Full disclosure, I never watched the entirety of the original FOP, especially after Poof/Peri was born, so I don't have a full grasp on the canon lore. I know before Peri, fairy babies were against the rules for thousands and thousands of years, but I guess I kind of assumed that after the dam was broken, they just kind of let fairies have babies whenever they wanted again--especially considering there's a "fairy shortage" in the later episodes (that's my understanding, at least, from what I've read. Again, I've never watched the later episodes, especially not the really later ones with Chloe). Even if this wasn't necessarily canon, I consider it canon in my head, especially since I like seeing people's OCs who are younger fairies born after Peri! Just gives more possibility for world building, I guess.

Regardless of the above, however, I think I'm leaning towards going more the route of Dev being an especially unique case. As I mentioned in my previous posts, Dev was given to Dale as a sort of compensation for Dale's lost childhood, where a fairy could have intervened and helped him escape Vicky's wrath, but he was just somehow overlooked. As I mentioned as well, I see this as a sort of cover-up that would have been handled very high-up in the fairy hierarchy, possibly by the Fairy Counsel themselves. Not only is giving a human a Changeling Baby an outdated and frowned upon practice that they want to limit the number of fairies knowing about, but I also think they'd just want to hide the fact that they so largely failed Dale (and the other children who worked with him) to begin with. They can't let the populous know that their all-powerful and all-knowing leaders screwed up like that, so instead they'd rather just pay off those affected in secret, and pretend like it never happened.

(Does this imply that there might be more changeling kiddos out there that were given to the other kids who suffered under Vicky alongside Dale? Maybe. I'm probably not going to ever expand upon that myself, but if that piques anyone's interest, feel free to build on it yourself!)

Based on this line of thought, I don't see this as a scenario where Dev was born first and then they decided to give him to Dale afterwards. I think Dev would have been created specifically for Dale. We've seen that fairies can reproduce like humans do through birth, obviously, but since they are magical creatures, who's to say there aren't other methods of creating more of their kind?

A fairy's human form appearance isn't completely detached from their natural form appearance (based on my own headcanons which are based on those created by @bunnieswithknives, who originated the 'natural form' concept I'm using in this au, for context), so in this case, in order to create a child that the world and probably even Dale would truly believe is his own flesh and blood, they'd have to create a fairy who would have traits that resemble Dale's. Maybe it was even a process of using magic combined with something of Dale's, like a lock of hair or something like that, to create a fairy child that to some extent really is related to Dale, although less in a "biological child" sort of way and more in a "slightly-modified-by-magic clone" sort of way.

I guess that's all just a really long-winded way to say: I don't think Dev has fairy parents! He's just a product of magic, and the closest thing he'll ever really have to a technical parent would, in fact, be Dale. I hope that's not a disappointing answer, haha.

#fop #fopanw #fop a new wish #fop dev #fop dale #dev dimmadome #dale dimmadome #gifted au #fairly oddparents #failry oddparents a new wish #a new wish #asks #Always open to consider ideas if anyone has their own thoughts!

78 notes · View notes

starry-bi-sky · 1 year ago

Text

Clone^2 Damian

If you really think about, Damian's situation in the clone^2 au is... kinda tragic? Especially in the early months of his arrival. Like,,, think about it. Damian has always known he was a clone of Damian Wayne, that he was a copy of the blood son. There was nothing 'original' about him, not even his name (of which at least Danny has that). He was just... a replacement. A disposable one, to boot.

And he knew that, to an extent, by the time he was six years old. he might not have been actively acknowledging it -- he's six years old -- but deep down he knew. And like, he's six years old. Every small child craves the love and affection of an adult, especially their parents, and even though he knew he was clone, I imagine he still considered - and still does consider, somewhat - Talia and Bruce as his mother and father. And I really doubt he was... getting it?

Now, I know Talia loves Damian, her son. At least in some interpretations she does, and in this au she does. But... a clone of her son? I'm not so certain if she would have the same affection for baby Dames as she would for Damian. I don't think she would treat him badly, but I don't think Talia would treat him warmly either. Kinda just, distant. Colder than she would have been with OG Damian.

And, I know I've mentioned Damian's arrival from Danny's point of view, and its kind of comical kind of insane from his perspective -- a little boy clone of Damian Wayne falls through a portal and immediately attacks him. That sounds like a bad joke.

But, if you think of this from Damian's point of view? It's like he just got dropped into a scary movie. Like, think about it. You're six years old, and suddenly a portal, as green and as swirling as your grandfather's pools, opens up beneath your feet and sucks you through.

After an intense bout of vertigo, you end up in a massive, urban city -- completely different from the rural mountain palace that you lived in for the last six years of your life, and in this city, you don't know any of the language. You don't know what anyone is saying, you can't read any of the signs - you are completely stranded, away from home.

And then, to make things worse, you're facing a figure with a terrifying mask and eyes as burning green as the portal you fell through. Of course Damian's first instinct, six years old, is to attack. He's terrified.

And this figure, he's not a good fighter, but he's fast, and he dodges you quickly. He grabs your sword with his hands, and tries to restrain you, saying something in a language you don't know. Naturally, Damian is just scared. He's six! He'd just be learning how to read if he was normal child going to school.

This figure halfway through the fight yanks off his mask -- he realizes you're scared -- and looking at you now, is a youthful version of your father. This is a clone of your dad, someone you have never met but, six years old, still wants to. Damian gets defensive. This is an imposter.

But this imposter eventually gets you home with him - and he's using his little box, his phone, to communicate with you through a mechanical voice speaking in arabic. and it's frustrating. The boy, the imposter, can say whatever to you just fine, but trying to talk back is a hassle and a half. He's six, he doesn't have that much patience.

He wants to go home.

And so he keeps trying to run away. He keeps trying to find out of this hellish concrete jungle, and he keeps getting lost. It's loud, and busy, and there are people talking to you and you don't understand them, and there are rules and signs you don't understand - Damian tries to cross the street and nearly gets hit by a car. He doesn't know how the road signs work, he was never taught. They didn't get to that.

And he gets lost. And it gets dark, and Damian is brave, but he is six, and this is the worst stress he's been under in all his six years of life. He wants, desperately more than anything, to go home. Why wouldn't he? The only stable... semi-stable environment he was in just got ripped out from under his feet, literally! He wants his mother.

And it's not happening.

But there's something good to be said, at least. The imposter that looks like his father always comes and finds him, no matter what. He could have left that morning, and he will find Damian at midnight, frazzled and worried, and carrying an extra jacket with him because it is cold in Amity Park and Damian is six years old.

And sometimes Damian attacks him - he's scared and stressed and he doesn't want to be here. And every time he catches the sword. Even though Damian can see it cut into his hand and pearls of blood well up and stains his fingers. Even though Damian can see him wince in pain and bite his lip, he still catches it.

But with that little box, he coaxes Damian to come back with him. It's cold, it's dark, Amity Park is unsafe at night. They can figure something out tomorrow, please. And every time, he agrees, reluctantly. And the imposter takes the extra jacket he brought with -- a flannel, a hoodie, a jacket -- and he wraps it around him. It's warm, Damian's clothes are not that thick, and even though he thinks he might hate this imposter, he still sticks close to his legs as he leads him down the street.

And sometimes the imposter carries him, because Damian's shoes are not that thick, and he cuts his foot on broken glass while they're walking home. The imposter sits in the bathroom with him and carefully cleans the cut out, and makes sure it doesn't get infected.

There's hope you know, he still has it. His mother will be looking for him. She'll be worried. He's important to them. Damian may not be the original, but he is still a blood son. He is still her son. She will come find him. This nightmare will end soon. He can go home.

And then weeks pass, and nothing. Then months, and nothing. His family is not coming for him, and it hurts. Hurts more than anything. And yet while that happens, the boy he's attacked, and hurt, teaches himself arabic in order to speak to him. He takes Damian out of the house one afternoon and buys him new clothes, or tries to. And then he keeps buying him new clothes. He gives him blankets and gives up his bed to him until they can get him one himself, and steadily he teaches Damian english.

This boy is kind. Kinder than Damian's ever experienced, and he doesn't know what to do with it. He's devastated by the fact that he is not as important to his family as his family is to him. What do you do when you're six years old and you learn something like that? When a random stranger who looks like your father is kinder to you, and cares more about you than your family did?

And then Damian tells him he's a clone. He's Damian Wayne's clone, and he tells him his purpose - that their grandfather made him to kill him. And the boy, the imposter, Damian thinks he probably already knows that he's a clone. But he doesn't say that. He just nods, and asks him if he wants to tell his original about him.

Damian says no. He doesn't want to. He's tired of living in the shadow of his original. He wants to keep this to himself. This is his. For once, all of this is his.

And to his surprise, the imposter doesn't try and convince him otherwise. He just nods, and says okay. And when Damian asks why, the imposter - his brother - looks at him and says.

"I don't care about Damian Wayne. I care about you." And in Damian's gobsmacked silence, his brother continues. He tells him that if Damian doesn't want to tell his original that he exists, then they don't need to. They don't need to worry about the LoA going after him, because clearly if his 'grandfather' needs to make a clone of Damian in order to take him out, then whatever it was that Damian Wayne was doing to keep himself safe, was working.

"Wayne already has people in his corner, he's got Gotham's army of vigilantes to keep himself safe." his brother says with his eyes as blue as moonlight. "You, however. Do not." And he continues, and says that if Damian Wayne has the same training as Damian does, then he will be fine. He doesn't need to be aware of his clone. Because if DW doesn't know about Damian, then the LoA doesn't either.

And here's the thing. Damian would not have survived in the LoA for long. Not as a clone. No matter what, he was going to die no matter what he did, and sooner rather than later. The sword of Damocles was always hanging above his head in the League of Assassins.

That portal, and meeting Danny, saved his life. There's no way around it. And to an extent Damian knows this even at six years old. He may not be aware that he would've died, but he knows that meeting Danny was the best thing to happen to him.

It's no wonder after that, that Damian is as clingy to Danny as he is. Danny is the first person he's met to offer him unconditional love, with no strings attached, only pure affection.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpdc #dpxdc crossover #clone^2 #like god can you imagine how scared he must've been? how afraid? he just wants his mom - only to realize he doesnt even matter to her #dpxdc au #danny fenton is not the ghost king #this poor kid man. no wonder he latched onto danny the moment he gave up on the league like a leech. he's a six year old kid man and #it doesnt matter how smart he is or how mature he acts. he still is six years old. he still needs that validation and affection from adults #or from people older than him. and his emotional needs were just not being met in the league.#cue the song “two” from sleeping at last - some of their songs are very clone^2 honestly.#'sweetheart you look a little tired. when did you last eat? come in and make yourself right at home. stay as long as you need.'#'tell me is something wrong? if something's wrong you can count on me'#'its okay if you can't find the words. let me take your coat and this weight off of your shoulders'#'like a force to be reckoned with. am i the ocean or a gentle kiss. i will love you with every single thing i have'#'like a tidal wave i'll make a mess. or calm waters if that serves you best'#'i will love you without any strings attached'#like just. just *imagine* being in damian's shoes during all of this. he's *six* you guys. i've worked with six year olds and they're #pretty independent but they're still six. they get excited when they see their parents and they get upset when an adult is angry with them.#they're still developing their motor skills. they're still developing everything else!

367 notes · View notes

sunllghtt · 1 month ago

Text

Hi are you up for a messy scene analysis thing

Ofc it's this scene who do you think I am

I've been wanting to do this for God knows how long but I never had the balls and neither the words to (still don't) but I wanna try to properly talk about this scene. My primal instinct is to sit here and tell you how much this 30 second scene changed the trajectory of these characters in the next movies, how it made their friendship grow and develop and how much of a storytelling lesson it is (oh the so so deep understanding you need to have of your characters to have them say things so vaguely and still express exactly what they mean). I could also go down the emotional and subjective road and ramble about how much it means to me and how I resonate with it, but I've done that at least 837382 times and I think everyone knows it by now 😭 so!!! Let's get to the real thing

(I'm trying to keep it as analytical and straightforward as possible but please note that this is my favorite scene that's ever existed so neutrality is not really a possibility)

Rocket is a brat. He's restless, he's loud, he's always puffing up his chest and yelling at someone and picking fights with the wind cuz it was blowing in a way he didn't like and he's just an overall bastard. In this scene, though, we see him inside out. His head is low, his shoulders are slumped, he has his tail between his knees and he looks tired. He speaks quietly (curiously like he doesn't want anybody else to hear him), he's not deliberately insulting anyone and he's just..... defeated??

Up until that point I don't think we ever got to see Rocket like that. From what the movies have shown us he'd never had to. But in the past few days that led to this, Rocket had stolen batteries for no apparent reason (which we'll later learn why💀), ruined their ship, got literally kidnapped by Ravagers, blew up a creepy planet-guy-thing and oh my god attended his friend's dad's funeral. At least half of these things were directly or indirectly his fault and he knows it.

I don't think he ever doubted it was (we see it earlier in the movie when the Guardians leave to "The Chain" by Fleetwood Mac and Rocket scowls and winces like he either stepped in a pile of shit or got hit in the face by regret), but he still argued with Peter even knowing he was in the wrong just to keep up apparences or hold on to a little thread of pride when he was already feeling ashamed for being caught red-handed stealing shit he didn't need AND destroying their ship etc etc, and he just kinda fucked up big time. And I think that's (besides the general exhaustion of parenting a tree and fighting a planet and Yondu's death) is what got him so devastated in that scene.

Ofc Yondu played an extremely important role in that. He was the one to open Rocket's eyes, to give him some sort of reality check and show him the only thing isolation is ever gonna bring him is regret and bitterness (or, in other words, Yondu). Rocket is most of all hopeless and tired and just sad like that because he knows he hurt his friends. He knows he's chasing them away, that he yells at them, that he's always mean and that he steals batteries he doesn't need. He knows he's not awesome to put up with and seeing what happened to Yondu and his former friends probably made him terrified it'd happen to him and the Guardians too. He's stuck in this cycle of pushing them away with everything he can (and we could get into all his trauma regarding betrayal and death and literally endless other things but it's all very clear at this point) and he knows patience doesn't last forever. He's just scared, he feels bad and he's tired.

Now on the other hand we have Quill. He's also destroyed, he lost two fathers (3 if you count what Ego could've been, what he wanted him to be), basically relived his mother's death and had to watch literally every single one of them die. He's also scared and tired, yes, but all he has left is this unstable family of weird idiots who are learning how to show care and he's... pretty much fine with it. He wants it.

And when what Rocket's saying clicks, when he realizes who he's talking about, Quill, who's usually all smirks and teasing and bickering and name-calling, looks at his best friend like this,

because

(From vol 2 script!! Won't even try to comment on that last part before Quill's last line but I also really like that Peter just "shakes his head" over and over like he's just barely listening until he realizes what Rocket really means cuz it also shows a lot about his character. He's naturally a little slow and downright stupid when it comes to this kind of hidden emotional thing and he's also exhausted and depressed from everything that happened and STILL he stops and just. Sees Rocket, and sees Yondu.)

He's not doing well. He's probably sore and hurt and sad and miserable and yet he takes his sweet time to look down at Rocket, let go of his resentment from before and see right through him. In order to understand this scene it's important to remember he most likely doesn't know what Yondu told Rocket at all, he doesn't know anything they said to each other and how Yondu showed him they're mirrors. He doesn't know any of that. He just knows his best friend and his father and how much they resemble each other. He puts up with Rocket's bullshit because he knows how to deal with Yondu.

He could've just ignored him or pretended he didn't know what he was talking about. He could've made Rocket swallow his pride and "teach him a lesson" by making him say what he means without hiding behind metaphors and vague self-deprecation, because Rocket was probably vulnerable and defeated enough to be honest in that moment. And yet, he just looks at his friend, who's usually a loud and mean and restless brat, and is now staring at the floor with his ears droopy and his tail between his knees, and just says, as a form of reassurance and tenderness that's just as subtle and shy as Rocket's insecurities, "Well, of course not."

(The kind and soft and sweet DETERMINATION on his face tho like no!!! No we're not ditching you even though you suck I'm!!! Serious!!!!)

#this is #this is about a 28 second scene #and it has eight p EIGHT PAGES???!!!!???#people dont say “i like this thing” anymore no they write 8 page essays abt it #also i love Quill's not just like “oh nah man”#its a full on OF COURSE not. like undoubtedly and unquestionably youre NOT chasing us away and we dont hate you #normal behavior of a normal person (who is me because i am very normal)#gotg #rocket raccoon #peter quill #yondu udonta #guardians of the galaxy #rocky and pete #BATTERIES!!!

60 notes · View notes

ponderingmoonlight · 10 months ago

Text

Reader going from being Gojo's lover to being his worst enemy part l

Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader; Geto x fem!reder (18+)

Word Count: 2,6k

Synopsis: You were always the perfect girlfriend for Satoru Gojo: innocent, quiet and weak. Until something inside you snapped. Until you decided you don't want to be weak anymore. Until you realized that Satoru Gojo isn't your lover, but your enemy...

Warnings: big ass tw for anyone who isn't into dark reader, smut in Geto's part (you will be warned in the fic), reader going absolutely crazy, cheating, language, violence, Gojo is a bit of a jerk in this, couldn't bring myself to proofread so excuse spelling mistakes

Notes: I know you guys wanted this in one part but honestly, I've been so depressed these last weeks that I simply wasn't able to write that much. I thought one part is better than nothing though and I hope I'll be able to post part ll within the next days 🤍 If you don't mind, let me know what you think, your support means so much!

“(y/n), are you alright?”

“There’s absolutely no reason to go this hard on her, jerk.”

You stare into the blue sky above, hating yourself for the way your eyes start to sting in tears, for how weak you are. No, not again. Don’t cry in front of all of them because of something so minor. But no, this isn’t something minor.

He beat you again.

“If you want to get better than rank 4, you have to try harder, babe”, your boyfriend jeers at you.

How many times did he say that already? You lost count a long time ago. It’s a miracle that you’re still alive, given the fact that Gojo Satoru seems to lose his patience with you more and more.

No wonder. After all, you are his girlfriend. How is it even possible for the strongest jujutsu sorcerer of this time to have a girl of rank 4? You’ve been stuck with your poor abilities since joining jujutsu high, only able to sneak into training because your parents are friends of the Gojo clan.

It shouldn’t surprise you. Your life has always been like this: useless and puny. No matter how hard you try, no matter how much you train, you’ll never be as good as Satoru, Suguru and Shoko. You are nothing more than their shadow, doomed to watch them from the side-lines.

“Hey, are you alright, (y/n)? That looked pretty rough”, Suguru interferes gently while helping you to get up on your wobbly legs.

“You can at least say sorry, y’know? There was absolutely no reason to beat her this hard when she’s already down”, Shoko barks towards your boyfriend.

“Oh don’t worry babe, there isn’t enough space for two legends in this relationship anyway”, Satoru jokes while wrapping his arm around your clearly bruised shoulder tightly.

Even though all you want to do is cry and hide, you force a smile onto your lips. Yes, this is what you always do. Staying by his side, looking pretty and innocent while smiling kindly. Maybe this is your purpose in life, maybe this is everything you could ask for. Many girls are getting blue over the fact that Satoru is your boyfriend. You aren’t in the position to ask for more power, for the strength to stand up for yourself. So many people would kill for a life like yours.

You should be thankful.

Right?

…Right?

-the mission-

“I’m here to save you again, (y/n)! Hey, are you cryin’?”

You hate the way hot tears stream down your face, body too weak to fight against the debris that buried you.

“If I was crying, would you console me? I’d definitely like that”, you hear Mei Mei purr from the other side

“Oh you wouldn’t cry Mei. You’re strong.”

“Hey, how dare you to talk about (y/n) like that!?”, Utahime cries out.

Your mind goes blank, body sinking into the dirt.

“Oh, you wouldn’t cry Mei. You’re strong.”

Those words. Those oh so cruel words repeat themselves over and over in your mind. He surely didn’t mean it like that, didn’t wanted to hurt you. After all, Satoru just wants to look out for you, he’s always there to help you out. His words shouldn’t hit you with full force, you shouldn’t feel this burning inside your chest, your hands shouldn’t start trembling.

You let out the shaky breath you didn’t know you were holding, eyes staring into distance. But they do and force a stinging feeling up from deep within along with one single thought.

You have enough.

Enough of smiling kindly all the time. Enough of letting others push you around and pick on you. Enough of even Satoru making fun of you. Enough of being nothing but his innocent girlfriend to the world. Enough of all the fighting, all the hiding.

For the first time in forever, you don’t force a smile onto your lips but furrow your eyebrows instead. You are…more than that.

“Don’t listen to that guy…”, you hear Utahime mumble next to you while she frees your body.

As if in trance, you follow her back up, the new feeling you just discovered tickling underneath your skin.

“She knows I didn’t mean it like that. Right baby?”

But instead of hearing the usual low “yes” coming from your lips immediately, you just stand there and stare at him before turning on your heels and leaving.

Satoru’s eyes widen. You. Leaving him standing in the rain?

“Did you hear me say something to you, babe?”, he shouts after you.

You don’t even hear him anymore, blood rushing through your ears. No more excuses, no more playing the victim, the lover. Your hands are still clenched into tight fist while you leave without turning your head.

That’s enough.

“I’m…more than that”, you mumble to yourself while staring at your naked reflection in the bathroom mirror.

You just need to work even harder, train yourself even better, change your mindset. No, you aren’t only Satoru Gojo’s girlfriend. You are powerful as well, you can feel it tickling in your fingertips.

So you worked your ass off in silence. Trained when nobody was watching, read countless books, started to introduce you to yourself.

“Beat you again!”, Satoru announces proudly while you let him throw your body into the air.

But something inside you stops you from letting all that progress show on the surface. You force the usual small smile onto your lips, let your boyfriend treat you like the dirt underneath his shoes. Over and over, without anybody noticing that something has changed.

No, you aren’t the little (y/n) they all know anymore. You are so much better than that, so much stronger than what they see in you.

Your fingers dig into the sides of the sink until it bursts under your lilac touch. Fuck this whole jujutsu high, fuck the way they all smile down at you. Fuck the way Satoru sees you as nothing but his personal toy. A maniac grin creeps up your face, violent laughter shaking your body in the middle of the night while you stare into your own stone-cold eyes.

This ends right here and now. And you will show them when the time is right.

-next week-

Will surprise Suguru this evening for his birthday. Try not to get killed while I’m gone. Love ya <3

You huff to yourself, the arrogance dripping from your boyfriend’s text message almost unleash your powers in the middle of your dorm.

No, you need to get a hold of yourself at least a little longer. After all, a few more hours won’t hurt over the fact that you went through this for over 4 years by now.

But today, you will make Satoru Gojo pay for the countless times he made fun of you. Today, you will wipe that cheeky grin off his face. Oh, how much you long for the moment when reality hits him with full force, when he finds out what your capable of.

How will he react when he finds out that you, a grade 4 sorcerer, are able to use hollow purple before he does? How will he react when he finds out his girlfriend fucked his best friend before disappearing into thin air and becoming his worst enemy? You worked on this plan for so long, replayed it over and over in your head. But now it’s time. Today, you will make the whole jujutsu world pay for all the things they did to you.

With a satisfied grin, you pull the exquisite pair of stockings you just bought for this exact moment up your legs, looking at yourself in the mirror. Oh, those black dessous definitely suit you well. Perfect for seducing the best friend of your boyfriend.

You put a simple dress on and get going. Well, is it necessary to fuck with Suguru? Absolutely not. You could just disappear right here and now and continue your plan. But where would be the fun of it? Just the thought of seeing that look of horror on Satoru’s eyes when he realizes you aren’t the girl he knows anymore, him not only losing his girlfriend, but his best friend as well. He deserves a little pain for all the things he said to you, for the countless times he made you feel worthless.

Exactly 30 minutes left until Satoru will arrive at Suguru’s doorstep as well. 30 minutes to seduce your boyfriend’s best friend, 30 minutes that will change your life forever. Are you ready to let go of the sweet and innocent girl you were, the easy life you had in the eyes of others as Satoru’s girlfriend without any power?

“Hell yes”, you mumble to yourself, heart almost beating out of your chest while you knock against his door.

Geto was always a true sweetheart, the one who always stood up for you even against Satoru. His oh so charming smile, his inviting hands, his character made of pure gold. He really doesn’t deserve what comes next.

But power demands sacrifice and pain. Maybe he’ll understand.

As soon as he opens the door, you crumble in front of him and cry. Crocodile tears stream down your face in rivers, shaky hands covering your face.

“(y/n), what’s wrong? Did someone hurt you? Come on, get in!”

His hand is placed on your back and pushes you softy into the middle of the room. Instead of saying another word, he simply wraps his inviting arms around you.

“Satoru…”, you mumble.

You can clearly see the way his jaw tenses. It’s nothing new to Suguru to see you cry because of his best friend. Geto told him over and over to treat you better, to not be so rough, to look after you in a caring way. And even though he always admired how well you kept your composure, moments like this one happened once in a while.

Nothing noticeable, right?

You burry your head against his chest, arms wrapped around his neck. Oh, you never noticed how tight his muscles are, how trained he is underneath that wide uniform.

Time to take it off.

“I can’t take it anymore, Suguru”, you cry it.

Well, at least this isn’t a lie. Before he’s able to stop you, you press your lips against his. Suguru feels so different, tastes sweeter than Satoru with a hint of mint. Your hands cramp around his neck, force him to stay in place while he looks at you with his eyes widen.

“(y/n)…Please stop”, he breathes out.

Stopping? Why does he press his body against yours, then? Why do his lips start to move against yours in sync, his eyes slowly but surely fluttering shut? Suguru always held a special place for you in his heart.

And you’ll use this spark of weakness against him.

“I can’t”, you mutter against his lips while pushing him towards his bed.

He grabs your hips when you force him to sit down on his bed, dark eyes gazing up at you like in trance.

“We can’t…(y/n), this is wrong in so many ways, Satoru is my best friend-“

“I am your friend too”, you interrupt him, hand gliding up and down his chest.

“I heard it when you said that Satoru doesn’t deserve me.”

He lets out his breath, whole body tensed up like stone underneath your merciless touch. You let yourself glide onto his lap, let yourself fall onto his already rock-hard erection. No, there’s absolutely no doubt in the fact that Suguru wants you.

And that your plan will work.

“I always wanted you more. You were always so good to me, Suguru. Now let me be good to you”, you hush oh so innocent.

His eyes roll into his skull, a pained expression painted on his face while he fights for what seems like dear life underneath your merciless touch. Your words do things to him he’d never dare to speak out. Damn, Satoru is his best friend, you’ve been his girlfriend for over 4 years and right now, you’re sitting on his lap. Right now, he can’t help but imagine you underneath him while groaning his name into his ear with your sweet voice.

“Fuck”, he hisses through gritted teeth, arms pushing you harder against his pants.

Your hips start to move on their own, sensitive spot rubbing over and over against him until your wetness covers his clothes delicately, a low groan escaping his lips before he can stop himself.

Enough of that. Without thinking twice, you unzip his pants and push them down his muscular legs, heat radiating through your whole body. This is absolutely hot, so exciting that you almost come from the sheer thought of fucking Suguru. But what excites you even more is that Satoru might walk through this door every given minute in order to surprise his best friend…

“Suguru”, you moan into the thick air as soon as his fingertips brush over your clit.

“(y/n)”, he growls against your ear, head hidden against your neck.

“(y/n)…”

Your heart skips a beat, fingers digging deeper into Suguru’s skin. Yes, this is it. The moment you’ve been waiting for, the moment you’ve begged for. As if in slow motion, you turn your head around.

There he stands, bright blue orbs widen in horror while he stares at you and Suguru.

“Didn’t expect you here”, you lie, a satisfied grin plastered on your face.

Elegantly, you get up from Suguru’s lap and put your panties up.

“(y/n)…you….you fucked my best friend”, the white-haired boy breathes out.

“I need to make an announcement.”

His numb eyes dart towards you. You, the girl he loved for over four years. You, the cute and innocent (y/n) he was always proud of, the girlfriend literally any guy could ask for. You…you aren’t capable of something like that. You can’t even stand up for yourself and now…Now you’re fucking his best friend?

“See this as my first act of revenge for all those years you pushed me around like the dirt underneath your shoes, Gojo.”

The way you spit his last name at him almost sweeps him off his feet.

“What the hell are you talking about? I was always good to you and you…you just fucked my best friend”, he shouts, the numb undertone in his eyes changing into pure rage.

“Good to me? You treated me like a hamster, like your weak little pet. But let me tell you, I’m not that weak girl you taught me to be anymore.”

Roughly, you grab his wrist, light the whole room purple.

“(y/n)…”, you hear Suguru breathe out behind you.

“This can’t be true.”

Satoru’s free hand yanks towards your body, aims for control all over again. It has always been like this. Gojo, who thinks the world belongs exclusively to him. Gojo, who thinks he can treat you like a price. Gojo, who thinks you can’t live without him.

“Don’t you dare to touch me ever again”, you purr at him, escaping his grasp with ease while pushing him so hard that he stumbles backwards.

“You aren’t my boyfriend anymore. From now on, you are my enemy. And I’ll never let you forget about that, Gojo Satoru.”

Tags:

@arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain @risuola @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo @luwumii @tachiharazsstuff @kentocalls @cheesemachine44 @ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299@busyreader17 @4pgletter @okay-it-is-ivy @iluvtoru

244 notes · View notes

minustwofingers · 2 years ago

Text

exoplanet p.3

pairing: ellie williams x fem! reader (ur a girly girl in this one!!) (she/her pronouns)

summary: you’ve won the life lottery as one of the few people on earth with parents who gained admittance to the most prestigous safezone in the world after the outbreak. but after a lab accident sends you out to jackson, wyoming, real life hits you fast. it’s a good thing that a hot lesbian finds u. (lol). mean ellie at first, slowburn, enemies to friends to lovers, fem reader asf

warnings: (PLEASE READ!) explicit language, violence, description of a medical procedure sans anesthesia, recreational drug use (idk how else to put it ellie gets absolutely zonked in the beginning), reader overthinks asf and is a little neurotic but that's why we love her x

a/n: hey guys! thank you so much for the wait! it's been genuinely insane how sweet and incredible all of you are. i've never felt so appreciated for my writing!! also, some notes: this chapter is heavily inspired by my last relationship. sorry if it's not as immersive bc of it! and also i don't have ANY medical knowledge so...cast a blind eye when u get to that scene

part 1

part 2

tags: @prettyplant0 @666findgod @sawaagyapong @rystarkov @buzzybuzzsposts @addisonnie @galacticstxrdust @parkersmyth @pinkazelma

wc: 6.6k

enjoy x

“One more time.”

You gave Ellie a withering look from where you were sitting at the end of her bed.

“Please,” she said, drawing out the s. “Just once more. I promise.”

“Fine.” You rolled your eyes—a habit of hers that you were quickly picking up—and took in a deep breath. “Fuck.”

Ellie lost it, peals of laughter bouncing off the walls. “Another one. Say something else.”

“I don’t understand why you think this is so funny,” you said.

“You say it so weird.”

“I enunciate,” you clarified. “I don’t ‘sound weird’. It’s called pronouncing every letter in the word and not having a lazy mouth.”

“Please,” she gasped. “At least say bitch. You haven’t said that one yet.”

You looked her dead in the eye. “Bitch.”

If you weren’t already certain that Ellie was high out of her mind by the smell of her room and the general haze in the air, the way she howled with laughter and fell back on her bed would’ve made you entirely positive.

This was new. You’d begun to hang out with her in her room after dinner—that was normal—but when she’d knocked on your door smelling heavily of weed once you’d said goodnight to Joel, you were nothing less than shocked. Of course, she had none left for you. Which was probably good, because only a sober mind could navigate a night sitting on Ellie’s bed without doing something really, really stupid.

“I can’t believe you call me weird,” you said, tucking your feet under her and giving her a pointed look.

“You’re so lucky you didn’t grow up where I did,” Ellie said, wiping a tear away from her cheek as she tried (unsuccessfully) to rein in her giggles. “You would’ve been eaten alive, good lord.”

“What were you like as a kid?” you asked, resting your chin on your knees.

She considered for a moment, growing more somber. “Um…I don’t know if you would’ve liked me very much.”

“What do you mean? Of course I would’ve liked you.”

“No,” she said, swiping at her face so she pushed a strand of hair away. “I don’t think you would have.”

“Why not?”

“I was…” She paused, picking at her cuticles. “Back then I didn’t have anyone. I was an orphan, you know. My parents were never in the picture, so I was the only one I could count on. I was really rough around the edges and could be nasty. But I probably would’ve ignored you like I did everyone else. “

“Everyone? You didn’t have anyone? No friends at all?”

Ellie blinked, and her gaze remained fixed on her hands. “Basically, yeah. I mean, there was one girl, but that’s…I don’t want to talk about that right now, actually.”

“That’s okay,” you said, reaching forward to touch her knee. She flinched at the contact but didn’t brush you away. The image of a young, scared Ellie living somewhere alone made your chest ache. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“What were you like?” she asked, tilting her head and meeting your eyes.

“Hmmm…” Mirth crept into your tone. “What do you think?”

“What do I think?” Ellie echoed, her eyes cloudy as she thought. Then a small smirk formed on her face. “Oh god, were you one of those spoiled brats? Were you a mean girl?”

“God, no,” you said, raising your eyebrows. “Not mean.”

“Then what?”

You paused. “I was really shy, I guess. And quiet, too. I didn’t do much but read for a good 10 years of my life. I used to have awful pronunciation because I would spend more time reading than talking to anyone. But I think I would’ve liked you.”

Ellie shook her head.

“Yes,” you said. “Maybe I would’ve been a little scared of you. I probably would’ve never had the courage to talk to you. But I would’ve liked you, I think.”

“Scared of me?”

“Yeah.”

“Why? I was a kid.”

“I was mostly going off of how I felt when I actually first met you,” you said, shrugging.

She gasped theatrically. “You’re scared of me?”

“No!” you said, smacking her knee. “That’s not what I mean. You’re just really intimidating.”

“Intimidating?” She looked at you incredulously.

“You’re so tough,” you explained, feeling heat grow in your cheeks. “You seem just—I don’t know, just so capable. There’s nothing you’re too afraid to face, nothing you’re too afraid to say.”

“That’s not true,” she said lightly.

“Well, of course I’m sure there are things that you’re afraid of,” you amended. “But you hide it so well. You just seem so…fearless.”

“Hm,” Ellie said, letting her head rest against the headboard. “I think you would’ve made me a nervous wreck. If we’d met when we were kids, I mean.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you before. You’re just so untouched.” She winced. “God, no. That sounds gross. I just mean…I dunno. I wouldn’t have known how to act around you. You haven’t had to harden up like everyone else I know.”

“Are you saying I should develop trust issues or something?” you asked, your voice a teasing lilt.

“You know,” she said, nodding seriously, “That is part of it. It was really off-putting how quickly you trusted me. But I guess that’s just a product of where you grew up.”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “I wonder how I would’ve turned out if I’d grown up like you.”

“Can I be honest?” Ellie asked.

“Sure.”

“I don’t think you’d still be here if you were me,” she said, her eyes crinkling. “No offense. You just have zero survival skills. I swear that shit has to be genetic. I’ve never met someone more averse to violence in my life.”

You sighed, pressed your hands deep into Ellie’s comforter as a thought hit you. “I think if you’d been born in my position, you would’ve been greater than anything either of us could ever dream of. Much greater than me.”

“Definitely not,” said Ellie. “There’s no fucking way I’m studying the way you apparently do. I honestly think I’d take being an orphan over the study schedule I saw in your bag.”

She was of course referencing the time table you’d roughly sketched up the morning before you’d ended up in Jackson. It was blocked to the minute, citing the study content and the location of said study session. She’d been beyond horrified to see it.

You laughed, nudging her socked food with yours.

“Is there music? In Terranova?”

“Oh,” you said, startled at the abrupt change of subject. “Uh, yeah. Of course. I listened to it all the time.”

“I used to have a Walkman,” she said, leaning back as she reminisced. She was lying flat on her back now. “It ended up breaking a while ago, but it was like my child.”

“Have you ever seen a movie before?” you asked, sitting up rigid straight as the thought occurred to you.

“Duh,” she said, giving you a weird look. “Do you think I live under a rock?”

“How many?”

“Hm.” Ellie began counting, ending on her second hand. “I think 6?”

“You’ve seen a total of 6 movies in your life?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to see more?”

She shrugged. “I mean, I guess. It’s just tough to find CDs that are still functional after so long.”

“Hold that thought,” you said, holding a finger in her direction as you stood up.

“Hey!” she called as you bolted out the door. “Where are you going?”

You came bounding back to her room in a matter of seconds, your laptop in your hands.

“What the fuck?” she said. “Isn’t that your homework thing?”

“Yes,” you said, feeling around for an outlet, “But I also have a ridiculous amount of movies downloaded on this. Our dorm wi-fi is shit and I have way too much storage on this thing, so I just download, like, every movie I’ve ever wanted to watch.”

“Your dorm what?”

You waved your hand. The last thing you wanted to do was explain to her how the 802.11 standard allowed wireless connections a few years after the outbreak. “Not important. Here, come look at this.”

Your laptop roared to light with the help of your charging cord. Quickly, you typed your password in and opened your downloads. Ellie hovered over your shoulder, squinting at the screen with confusion.

“Here,” you said, opening up the album that had everything you had seen for your entire university career and passing the laptop to Ellie. “Use the touchpad—there, yeah—to navigate. Press to click. These are all movie files that I’ve seen. We can watch them on my laptop. Some of them were filmed in Terranova, too, so they’re post-apocalypse.”

She perused the selection you had for quite some time, the glow of the screen lighting up her face against the dim room. “Okay. This one.”

And thus began a tradition. Each night after you’d finished showering and Joel retired to his room, Ellie would come knock on your door and ask if you wanted to come over. You’d talk for a while, then open your laptop and pick something out to watch. Ellie was never high after the first time, which was unsurprising considering that there definitely wasn’t a way to get any in Jackson. Where she found any the first time was still a mystery to you.

A week or so after your first patrol with Ellie, Joel had taken it upon himself to teach you how to shoot. You were surprisingly not as bad as you’d expected, but the rebound was tough to get used to, and you were still hung up over the whole “killing living things” part.

Your first patrol—first real one—came quickly, and before you knew it, Ellie was handing you the same gun you’d dropped the first time with a suspicious look.

“Don’t kill one of us with that thing,” she warned. “Be smart, okay?”

“Sure thing, boss,” you said to her, mock saluting as best you could while you were leading Japan to the mounting block.

She rolled her eyes. “Please act normal or I’ll make you carry around that glorified pocket knife instead again.”

The patrol began as usual, Ellie leading you down the same path you went last time. It was a beautiful day out, with the early spring sun filtering through the evergreen trees that populated the woods and birdsong filling the air.

Though conversations with Ellie were getting easier (given that it actually seemed like she wanted to talk to you now), you were still starstruck. Nothing that you did and nothing that you thought could get you to stop seeing her the way you did. You were routinely distracted by everything about her. It was a wonder that you could even function as a normal person around her, much less handle a weapon and a horse.

You two had nearly made the full rotation when your surroundings exploded in action.

“Fuck,” Ellie hissed as someone behind you two fired a shot that narrowly missed Shimmer.

You whipped around, gun in hand, to see two men—two normal men who weren’t infected. One held a bow, the other a gun.

The one who had fired the first shot never even stood a chance. He was down on the ground seconds after you’d seen him, Ellie’s aim taking him out before you could even ready your gun.

The second man notched an arrow and managed to draw it back and release into the air right as Ellie’s bullet struck him, sending him falling back.

“I don’t think there’s any more,” said Ellie, slightly breathless as she scanned the forest. “Sometimes outsiders pull this shit—try to kill us for our supplies. I’ve never seen them this close to the wall, though. I’ll have to tell Maria and Tommy.”

Normally, you would’ve felt up to making some sort of sarcastic comment about how that was a really unconcerning thing for her to tell you and that you actually felt so much more comfortable going on patrol knowing that there were also just run-of-the-mill people trying to kill you, but a twinge in your lower body distracted you.

Slowly, nervously, you looked down. Air immediately left your lungs.

“At least we’re done,” Ellie was saying, wiping her hands off on her thighs and slinging the gun over her shoulder. “What a crazy end for your first actual patrol, huh?”

When you didn’t answer, she turned to you and saw the arrow sticking out of your side,

“Shit,” said Ellie, jumping off Shimmer and reaching you in seconds. “Shit, shit, shit. Oh god.”

“Am I going to die?” you asked, staring starstruck at the blood escaping the outline of the arrowhead. You couldn’t feel anything anymore. Were you in shock?

“No,” said Ellie firmly. “Absolutely not. Do you need help getting off?”

Before you could answer, she was already helping you down, carefully avoiding the protruding arrow.

“Listen,” she said, back to being her unwavering self, “We’re right by the wall. I’m going to help you walk in, and then I’ll grab some supplies, okay? Don’t try to pull the arrow out. You hear me? Don’t.”

Swallowing hard, you nodded. She helped you walk the few steps to be carefully concealed by the wall, then grabbed the two horses and darted past you, making a break for Maria and Tommy’s cabin.

In a haze of confusion, you could see Maria running out, holding a box out to Ellie in exchange for the reins of the horses. Ellie said something that made Maria point towards you. She nodded, then ran back to you.

By the time that she’d reached you, the shock had begun to wear off, replaced by the stinging pain from the object that had impaled you. It was worse than anything you’d ever felt before in your life, and it took all you had not to keel over.

“Hey,” she said, reaching out to grab your face so you had to look at her. “Don’t be afraid. I’ve done this before, okay? I’m, like, the master. It’s going to be alright.”

“Done what before?” you managed to grind out.

Ellie let go of your face to dig through the box Maria had given her, producing a needle, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and what looked like a spool of thin thread.

Horror slowly trickled through you as you realized what was about to happen.

“It doesn’t look all that deep,” Ellie was saying as she examined the arrow. “So I don’t think it’s hit anything. It’s just going to be a nasty hole. I’m going to pull it out now, okay?”

You let out a strangled scream as she grasped the arrow’s end and yanked it out without warning.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Ellie repeated. She threw the arrow over her shoulder and knelt so she was hovering over you. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you gasped. You were most certainly not. You couldn’t quite get your eyes to focus, and your heart was beating out of your chest.

“Alright,” she said firmly, grasping your shoulders and pulling you up so you were slumped against the wall. “Sit up straight, alright? Also, this is going to hurt.”

At first there were just snipping sounds as she cut part of your shirt away—then something cool and wet pressed to your wound. You cried out again as a fresh white hot pain bloomed in your middle.

“I know, I know.” Ellie’s voice was consoling as she reached up to brush away the sweaty strands of hair stuck to your forehead. “Just a few more seconds.”

“Fuck—off—” you gritted out from your teeth.

Ellie’s eyebrows shot up. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. Just this once.”

She released the alcohol-saturated cotton pad, throwing it aside and fussing with the thread and needle until she was satisfied.

By the time her fingers were ghosting over your abdomen again, you couldn’t pull your eyes away from the puncture wound and the needle she was wielding.

“Don’t look,” said Ellie. “Pick something else. You don’t need to watch.”

“I hate needles,” you whispered, choosing the air over her shoulder to be your focal point.

There was a prodding at the top of your wound, and you hissed.

“I can’t say I’m a fan myself.”

Something pierced through your skin, and your midriff exploded in pain.

The edges of your sight went fuzzy, stars forming in the corners of your vision. Someone that sounded suspiciously like you cried out. Your cheek rammed up against something solid and warm.

Once the initial sting had faded, you realized that you’d slumped into Ellie, your face buried into her neck. She didn’t make any move to push you off, instead just taking one hand to brush up and down your arm with a feather light touch.

“You're fine," she said firmly. "Everything's going to be fine."

Your fingers curled around the hem of her shirt as the needle exited through the other end of your wound, pulling another whine from your throat. It was easier to not feel like you were about to pass out when you were crushed into Ellie, clinging onto her and just focusing on the way she felt against you.

“Hang on, I'm almost there,” she muttered a few stitches later. You’d quieted down, only letting out the occasional gasp as she pulled the thread through. “You're doing so well. Just one more.”

Now that you were more conscious, you had no idea how she was managing to stitch your side while you were nearly on her lap, but she continued to weave her needle through your skin, pulling it taut.

“And done,” said Ellie. You felt her take another cotton square to swipe against your skin.

You laid against her for a few more moments, panting as the shock slowly began to fade. She shifted, and for a moment you were sure that she was going to shove you away, but then the hand she’d lifted hesitantly rested on your head, her fingers parting to card through your hair.

“How did you learn how to do that?” you asked, your voice muffled from where you were pressed against her.

“Trial and error.”

Her joke was enough for you to finally let go, sitting back against the wall. Her hand slithered out of your hair, resting back in her lap.

“Shut up,” you said. “That’s awful.”

Ellie shrugged.

“I’m sorry,” you said, feeling the bumpiness of the stony wall press into your back. “I have a really low pain tolerance.”

“So I’ve noticed,” said Ellie, the side of her mouth quirking.

“I’ve never been hurt before,” you heard yourself saying. “Like, beyond the occasional splinter or bee sting or accidental scrape or ankle sprain. It’s just not something that happens.”

“Must be nice.”

You smiled sadly. “Yeah. It’s not nice being weak, though.”

Ellie looked away from you then, silent as she packed up the first-aid kit. Then: “I don’t think that’s true.”

She’d said it lightly, like it was meant to be an offhand comment, a throwaway addition that wouldn’t be remembered by either of you. But the sentiment still struck you, twisting your heart.

You were less capable because your survival had never required anything more. You were weak because you could be.

Her voice from the night she’d been high floated back to you. You haven't had to harden up like everyone else I know.

Out here, weakness was a luxury few could afford.

“Not so untouched anymore, huh?” you said, since you didn’t know how else to respond.

“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t,” quipped Ellie. “But if I were you, I wouldn’t lose sleep over it. I still consider needing to be held to get 4 stitches as being soft. You haven’t changed a bit. No offense.”

Your cheeks burned bright red. “I—”

“I’m teasing,” she said before you could defend yourself. “Arrow wounds suck. I get it.”

“Right.” You turned away, keeping your gaze fixed firmly on the ground beside you. With feeling more yourself came the inevitable shame at what you’d just done. What had you been thinking, touching her like that? Grabbing onto her like that?

This was going to haunt you for the rest of your life.

“Don’t make that face,” said Ellie. “I’m sorry for saying that. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. It really is fine.”

It was not fine. It would never be fine. You wanted the thugs to come back to life and finish you off, and then have the earth open up and swallow you for good measure.

Ellie probably thought of you as an overgrown child. You doubted that there was ever a point where she could see you as anything equal. If she ever knew how often she appeared in your imagination, she’d probably be disgusted.

She called you pretty a contrarian voice in your head reminded you. Don't you remember?

But maybe she hadn’t meant it. She hadn’t said it explicitly: “Y/N, I think you’re pretty.” She just hadn’t argued when you’d pointed it out. Maybe because she was being nice, or maybe because she was actually being sarcastic.

“You were really brave, okay?” said Ellie. “Your first armed confrontation and you did well.”

“I didn’t shoot anyone.”

“It could have gone worse,” said Ellie. “You could’ve accidentally shot me. Or died. And neither of those things happened, so that’s successful in my book.”

“That’s very glass half-full of you.”

“That’s me. Ever the optimist.”

You snorted.

That night, Ellie knocked on your door and asked you if you were up for another movie. You found yourself sitting on her comforter, plugging in your computer and booting it up minutes later.

Physically speaking, it had always been a little awkward to fit two people on her twin bed if they weren’t right next to each other, given that your laptop screen was a very unimpressive size. When you’d first started watching with her, Ellie would rest against the headboard, her legs stretched out in front of you while you would sit with your legs crossed, positioned sideways so you weren’t accidentally pushing her legs off.

But after the day you had had, your back was sore and your whole body ached. Sitting on something soft without any back support as you angled yourself to look at the screen was quickly proving unsustainable.

“Pause,” said Ellie about ten minutes in. You’d been watching an older sci-fi flick—Ellie’s choice.

You complied, leaning forward and pressing the spacebar. “What’s up?”

“Are you even comfortable sitting like that?”

“Yeah,” you said.

“Liar,” accused Ellie, crossing her arms over her chest. “Don’t think I don’t see you ‘discreetly’ cracking your back every 2 minutes. It’s ruining the movie.”

“Sorry,” you said, shaking your head and smiling in exasperation. “It’s from all the years I spent hunched over a textbook.”

“You know, you can sit up here,” she said, patting the space beside her. “I don’t bite.”

“Jury’s still out on that,” you said, though by the time Ellie let out a laugh you were already unfolding your legs and moving so you were next to her.

She leaned forward, grabbing the bottom half of the laptop and lifting it. “Hey, do you want a blanket?”

“Sure.”

Ellie’s other hand grabbed the edge of her comforter and held it up.

Hesitantly, you slid your legs under and watched as Ellie did the same, awkwardly holding the laptop in the air before you were both settled enough to rest it on your covered right thigh and her left. “Better?”

When you nodded, she reached her tattooed arm out and pressed play. The audio picked back up, but you couldn’t for the life of you focus on the movie.

When Ellie had asked if you’d wanted a blanket, you were expecting her to toss the throw blanket that would really only fit one person at you, not invite you to get under the blankets with her. That was significantly more intimate.

You two were sitting close enough that your sides were touching, from shoulder to thigh. You could feel her chest lift with each breath, feel the heat coming off of her.

After a while, Ellie properly laid down, taking the laptop and hoisting it up so it rested on her lower abdomen as she settled into her pillow.

You gulped, your eyes flickering between her face and the screen. Ellie’s gaze was fixed intently on the screen, her eyes half lidded with exhaustion.

You could be tired too. You weren’t, of course—your heart was racing a thousand miles an hour. But she didn’t know that. It was normal to lay down next to her, right? You’d done that with Irena more times than you could count, and it was never weird. Yeah, you could do that.

Also, if you were totally horizontal, you would stop getting distracted by the sliver of her skin that her crooked shirt showed of her chest.

In a moment of blind courage, you scooted down so your head was lying right next to Ellie’s. She didn’t seem to react, just extending her hand from under the covers to steady the laptop as it wobbled from the movement.

Her sheets smelled like the soap that you used to wash your hair—a cottony freshness that had the slightest hint of lavender.

“Are you going to fall asleep on me?” asked Ellie after a while, her voice nothing more than a whisper.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you responded, equally quiet. Then, because you hadn’t made enough rash decisions for the night, you angled your head so it rested in the space right above her shoulder.

She inhaled sharply but didn’t move. On her next exhale a piece of her auburn hair tickled your forehead.

“How’re your stitches?” she asked suddenly, like she'd just remembered.

“They’re okay. I think. As stitches go.”

“After this is over, I’ll check on them,” she said. “Don’t let me forget, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered, suddenly feeling shy. It was one thing for her to cut off your shirt and see your skin when she was trying to save your life while you were mentally gone. It was another thing altogether to pull up your shirt without adrenaline coursing through you.

You didn’t pay any attention to the rest of the movie, instead hyperfocused on the rhythm of Ellie’s breathing and the fact that if you moved just a little your chin would be on her shoulder.

Her mention of the stitches wasn’t helping at all, either. Now all you could think about was the embarrassing way you’d basically tried to crawl under her skin, burying your face into her and clutching at her clothes like you were a child.

A part of you was disappointed that you hadn’t been more lucid at the time. If you had, you would’ve been able to clearly remember the softness of her skin against yours. You would’ve been able to enjoy it for what it was—the only time you’d be able to touch her like that.

Because you couldn’t go around just grabbing onto her shirt and getting into her lap. That was a one-off, the only time that the rules were waived. You couldn’t touch her like that now, now that you didn’t have any excuse. It wasn’t allowed.

But sometimes you wanted to so badly that it hurt.

The movie ended abruptly, wrenching you out of your thoughts.

“Hey,” whispered Ellie. “Sit up so I can see.”

Reluctantly, you pressed yourself up from your back and began rolling up the hem of your shirt. Ellie twisted to face backwards, her thin top riding up and showing part of her back as she reached for the lamp.

Once golden light returned to the room, Ellie turned back and bumped your hands away. She bent over, tilting her head so that she was looking at the stitches straight on.

They didn’t look bad, you had to admit. Though you wouldn’t consider the actual experience of getting the stitches a 5-star experience, Ellie had clearly known what she was doing. The surrounding flesh didn’t look angry or irritated, and she’d pulled the stitches just tight enough without it puckering.

She prodded at the side, then gave a satisfied nod. “Looks good. What did I tell you? I’m really good at this sort of stuff.”

“I think you would’ve made a really good doctor,” you said once she’d sat up straight again. “Under different circumstances.”

“Is this you telling me that you don’t think I’m a good doctor now?” she teased.

“Your bedside manner could use some work,” you offered.

Ellie laughed then, shaking her head and crossing her arms over her chest. “Yeah, yeah. You lived. You'll get over it.”

“Did you go to school?” you found yourself asking, hung up on the thought of Ellie as a potential medical student. If she’d been in one of your intro biology classes, you never would’ve been able to pay attention. That was a fantasy you could shelve away for later.

“Sort of,” said Ellie, looking down at her arms. “I went to a military prep school run by FEDRA. I didn’t graduate though—obviously. I was long gone by then.”

“Right,” you said, remembering that she’d mentioned that she’d been 14 when she’d left Boston. “And what was it like?”

She paused, opening her mouth before closing it. “It was—unkind. Joel's told me about schools before the outbreak. It was nothing like that. There were some normal classes, but most of it was meant to prepare us to be soldiers.”

“Is that where you learned how to do sutures?”

“Among other things.”

Terranova had no military academies, given that there was hardly any military presence. The founder of Terranova had bodyguards and there was a police force that controlled the borders, but it was nothing like Ellie described. With invisible borders and a social order that valued peace and tranquility over all else, there was no real danger posed to any of the citizens.

But from what you had learned from movies and books and comments from older people, you had gathered a very dim picture of what a military academy looked like—harsh, strict, and cruel.

“I’m sorry you had to grow up like that,” you said.

“It’s okay.”

“Is there anything you would want to study? If you could?”

Ellie’s eyes closed. “Yeah. There are a couple things.”

She did not elaborate.

It didn’t take long for you two to settle back into your routine of meeting in her room each evening and watching one of your downloaded movies. Following the night after you’d gotten your stitches, you wouldn’t even have to ask—Ellie would pull up her comforter and let you slide in next to her without giving you a second glance.

You’d also gotten over the fear of touching her. Now, when you flopped back so your head was on her pillow, you’d adjust until you were nestled into the crook of her neck. She never once reacted to it, remaining perfectly still unless she was adjusting the laptop or messing with the sound.

Because it was normal, of course. You and Irena would rest your head on each other’s shoulders sometimes. That was something that friends did.

One night a week or so into April, you and Ellie made a harrowing discovery: there was only one movie left in your collection that you two hadn’t seen together.

“Damn,” said Ellie, furrowing her brow. “And there’s no way to get more on here?”

“I’m afraid not,” you said, frowning. “To download more or stream one, I’d need either an Ethernet cable or a wi-fi connection. Neither of which function out here anymore without cell towers and maintained cables.”

“Right,” said Ellie, though her face told you that she didn’t understand a word that had come out of your mouth. “So—this is it?”

“Yeah.” Your finger hovered over the play button. “Savor it, I guess.”

When you settled back and into her side, the heavy weight of dread settled into your stomach. Now that you’d finished showing her your entire collection, it’s not like she’d have a reason to invite you over every night. And there was especially no reason for you two to lie so closely together unless you were both trying to watch something on a small screen.

Once again, your excuse to touch her was gone.

You pressed closer to her as your mind raced. There was no way that Ellie didn’t see what you were doing as platonic, right? Was it possible that she was creeped out by how touchy you were but just tolerated it to be nice?

Maybe. You swallowed hard, keeping your eyes fixed on the screen. Ellie didn’t see you like…like that. She spoke to you like you were an obligation, a burden. Because you always had been. You’d been a responsibility thrust on her by a father figure who felt like he was indebted to you from that stupid bag of coffee you were lucky enough to bring.

Oh, god. Had Joel told her to befriend you? Had he asked for Ellie to pretend like she enjoyed spending time with you and to put up with your privileged, soft-hearted nonsense?

The knowledge that you were spiraling wasn’t enough to stop you. You did the best that you could—tried to remind yourself that it’d been a while since she’d looked disgusted with you, recall that she was outspoken enough to tell you to fuck off if you did something she didn’t like—but it was to no avail.

Ellie reached forward and hit pause on the movie, thrusting you both into silence.

“Is everything okay?” she asked after a moment.

“Yeah, why?”

“I can feel your heart going, like, crazy fast.”

You froze. “Oh. Uh, yeah. I was just thinking.”

Ellie pushed the laptop off of her, sitting up to give you an odd look. “About a near death experience or something? You running a marathon up there? That shit’s not normal.”

You laughed nervously. “It’s really nothing. Just an, uh, suspenseful movie.”

Which was actually really stupid of you to say, because you were watching some obscure Tarkovsky film that did nothing but pan over burning buildings and pensive men. For the past 5 minutes, there had been nothing on screen but the back of a car driving through traffic with minimal sound. Also, it was in Russian, and the English subtitles made zero sense.

There was a reason why this was the last movie you chose.

“This is the most boring fucking movie I’ve ever watched in my life, so you’re a dirty fucking liar,” said Ellie. Then her face pinched in worry. “Wait. Have you taken a look at your stitches lately?”

Before you could answer, she was grabbing a flashlight off her nightstand and yanking the comforter off you. She was pulling your shirt up when you finally found your voice.

“Wait!” you said, grabbing the bottom of your shirt and yanking it back in place. “It’s not—I don’t have an infection, okay? There’s nothing wrong with me. I really was just thinking, okay?”

“About what?” She reached back to place her flashlight back on the stand without taking her eyes off you.

“It’s nothing important.”

“If you say so.”

She picked the laptop up and placed it back on her thighs, lying back down. You followed suit, but this time you didn’t touch her, opting to keep as much distance as you could so she wouldn’t hear the stuttering of your heart.

Not even 5 minutes had passed before Ellie sat up to pause the video again.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“No. Why?”

“You’re acting weird,” she accused, but there wasn’t much conviction behind her voice.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you’re acting weird,” she repeated, shutting your laptop off and moving it to the bottom of her bed, despite the protests that left your lips.

“I don’t understand,” you said. “I’m just watching the movie. I’m not doing anything. “

“You’re not watching the movie,” she said. “You weren’t even looking at the screen. What’s got you so bothered? Did I do something?”

“Of course not.” You pulled your legs under you so your legs were crossed and your back was against the wall. “You don’t need to worry. It’s honestly fine. I’m sorry if I’ve done something to imply otherwise.”

Ellie rubbed the bridge of her nose, sighing. “You stress me out. You can just tell me, you know? No need to be so cagey. I promise I’ve heard worse.”

“Don’t be so quick to say that.”

“Okay, now you have to tell me,” she said. “I’m never going to know peace again with a hook like that.”

You were about to open your mouth to tell her that it was stupid and that it didn’t matter, but something stopped you.

That was the coward’s way out. That’s what you’d always done—hid your feelings and concealed your emotions. That’s how you’d been raised. That’s how you thought everyone was. But now that you’d spent 2 months in Jackson, you’d realized that some people actually just said what they thought. And that, in the grand scheme of things, it was a better system than the Terranovian culture of superficiality.

Just because the you 2 months ago would have shook her head and changed the subject didn’t mean the you now had to.

Maybe this you could be different. Maybe, for once, this you could be brave.

“I really—” You stopped yourself. Saying I really like you didn’t even begin to encompass what you felt for the girl sitting across from you. To distill the sheer magnitude of your feelings down to four words felt criminal. The swell in your chest that never went away whenever you were near her could never and would never be adequately represented in the puny offerings of the Latin alphabet and the English language, and if you were going to do this, you were going to do it right.

You dared to look up at her for a moment. She was completely still, her green eyes reflecting the dim moonlight from outside. Once you met her gaze, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull it away.

“I’m really sorry that I’m putting you in an uncomfortable position for saying this,” you began (because old habits ran deep, and you would rather die than be impolite), “And I totally understand if you don’t want to talk to me after this. And I’m sorry for not telling you earlier.”

“As much as I’m sure that this is some sort of cultural cornerstone for you, please spare me the 6 foot long disclaimer script,” Ellie drawled.

“Right.” You gulped. “Anyway. As I was saying.”

“Any day now.”

At that moment, she had never looked more perfect. Your eyes had adjusted to the dark lighting, so the weak moonlight that spilled in from the window above her created a halo around her head.

“It’s you.” Your voice came out tiny. “You’re all that I can think about, and I don’t know what to do.”

There. It was off your chest.

For a moment, it was as if you’d suspended time, stopping Earth on its axis as you both held your breaths. There was nothing but silence and the occasional wooden creak of the old house’s foundation in the wind.

Ellie’s face betrayed nothing, save for something in her eyes and the disappearance of the smirk that had been on her lips moments before.

Then she spoke, her response whispered.

“Come here, then.”

final a/n: NOW HOLD ON before you show up outside my dorm with pitchforks and torches 🗣️🗣️🗣️ i'm so sorry but this was a necessary evil as this was going to a massive scene without the chapter break. also a disproportionately massive chapter compared to the other ones coming out. i write very quickly and should get the following part out in a timeframe similar to the first 3 parts. thank u for reading ! tell me what you think abt this chapter while you wait x

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams self insert #ellie williams x oc #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams imagine

1K notes · View notes