#LOVE YOURSELF in NAGOYA

[namchyoon]

day 284/547 until joon returns cr. namuspromised

[yumartist]

Good morning. ☁️

1st album "Yuma" 🩵

Re-released. 🕊

Contains uplifting songs. ✩.*˚

[bts-boys]

190112 BTS V at Love Yourself World Tour in Nagoya Day 1 © nuna v do not edit, crop, or remove the watermark

[keravnous]

bathroom b!tch; tangerine/fem!reader (smut; 18+)

part two | part three | part four

playlist: train quickie with tangerine

Tangerine meets you in one of the bathrooms on the bullet train. He just wants to clean up after his tussle with Ladybug and get rid of the blood, but he could use you to blow off some steam as well. You know: he has to take it if he sees it.

word count: 5,9k

warnings: mirror sex, bathroom sex, semi public, fingering, oral (female receiving), blood (it's tangerine's), squirting, dry humping, rather rough sex, unprotected sex, light choking, confined spaces, dirty talk, name calling, kinda a quickie?, tangerine's a little rude but surprisingly gentle too idk he's just like that, he just needs to fuck the adrenaline outta himself, i have very strong feelings about this angry man

title is from the song of the same name, bathroom bitch by holychild

also thank you v for a) helping me out with Japanese and b) by telling me what being a passenger on a bullet train feels like

You knew it was a bad idea.

Starring at yourself in the impressively clean mirror of the small bathroom, you try your best to hold back any fresh tears.

You knew that a long-distance relationship wouldn't work. You fucking knew it and yet you accepted your fiancés pleas to Just try it. Maybe, it indeed would've worked out if he wasn't fucking his bloody secretary.

You regret leaving London. You miss your home.

You're not even that heartbroken, you just feel exhausted, like you wasted an awful lot of time.

You take a long, good look at yourself. Bloodshot eyes and a sad hue resting over your pupils, turning the colour dark and deep. The dress, that you bought for your anniversary brunch – a surprise, quite as much as the one he gave you, when you walked in on him, balls deep in his secretary – now looks oddly strange, out of place on you. You feel overdressed and ashamed, foolish.

But there��s something else, too: the loneliness that followed suite after your screaming, after fighting with him - after breaking up with him. It's been there since you boarded the train to Nagoya but now it rolls over you like a wave of-

Thump, thump.

"What the fuck", you mutter, taking a ragged breath, before yelling out, "Occupied!"

You just want to be left at fucking peace, not being watched by other passengers as you're bawling your eyes out. All you want is to get off that train and burn some of that fucker’s money on a spontaneous vacation. All you want is for the remaining days in Japan to be good ones.

Another sharp knock follows. This one rattles the door.

It takes a moment for you to scramble for the right words, the ones you have picked up when visiting your fiancé before. "Shiyouchu!"

Another knock. And another.

Motherfucker.

You clench your teeth - saying goodbye to the precious moments of crying in silence for the year you've lost to the most useless relationship of all fucking mankind - and wipe away the wetness below your eyes to open the door. "I said-"

Oh.

Oh shit.

There's a very handsome man waiting outside the door. He is towering over you, impatience plastered on his face and seeping through his every movement, with the way he's leaning against the door frame.

He's hot.

Also, he's dripping in blood.

His light blue shirt, once crisp and clean, is now disshelved and just as stained as his expensive looking dark-blue vest.

"Jesus, fuck, are you alright?", you blurt out.

The man's raising an eyebrow. "Could be asking you the same, love. Now, would you please get the fuck outta there."

He's moving towards you, closing in the last few inches separating the two of you. Your gaze is focused on the nasty cut on his arm.

"You're bleeding", you say dumbly.

His eyes shoot up at you and for a split-second you feel like you are face to face with a predator. The anxiety, that the blood and his rude behaviour sparked in your chest, sends adrenaline pumping through your veins and has the muscles your legs preparing for fight or flight. He blinks.

"I know", he says and his lips curl up to something, that you're convinced is supposed to be a smile, "Now, if ya'd be so kind?"

He gestures behind you, towards the empty bathroom.

"No?", you say, voice shooting up a little, which immediately has him cautiously throwing a glance down the hall to his right, "No, I won't! You need help, how the fuck -- what the fuck happened?"

"You're starting to really get on my fuckin’ tits, pretty thing. Would y'just let me the fuck inside?", he growls, tilting his head towards you. His tone has the hairs on your arms rising, as he is starring you into the ground.

You back up, colliding unpleasantly with the doorframe, that nearly drills itself into your left shoulder.

"Thank you, Lady", he's squeezing past you and then turns around again, giving you a quick one-over. You are unable to move, mesmerized by the way he's looking at you.

The corners of his mouth tilt up again and one of his hands, a little sticky and red with his own blood, comes up to his face, straightening his moustache, as his gaze runs over your body once more. You should leave, you should run - clearly, something is awfully and so not right but you just can't, being glued to the spot by his eyes.

It shouldn't make your loins grow hot, but you can't help it. You feel your belly tingle, shooting sparks down down down between your legs. He is very attractive and the aura of pure fucking danger that wafts around him doesn’t do what it normally should do – instead, it pulls you in. Oh, aren’t you just fucked.

"What were y'saying about help, again?", the man murmurs, gaze locking with yours.

"Uuuh", it's a very stupid sound you make and his eyes spark up at that, lips giving room to flash some teeth, "I-I just said you look like you might need some help?"

"Well, maybe I do."

He licks his lower lip and you blink, gaze following the movement.

This is very stupid. This is risky, dangerous, and most likely something you are going to regret.

It's not only the situation, it's him, too. He seems dangerous. It's not only the blood, mind you. It’s the way he moves, how his eyes dart through the room, over your body. It’s the aggression in his voice that he’s trying to hide, cover up but ultimately fails, something that seeps through every pore of him.

But he's also just ridiculously hot, walking with his crotch first, heavy northern British accent swirling the words around his tongue and, fuck, it's mostly the way he's looking at you.

And you're just so fucking full of anger and grief and your life feels strangely directed and determined by your shitty-ass fiancé and there's so much rage and sadness -

You take a step into the bathroom and the door slides shut behind you.

"Good", he hums, "Because you do look, like you could also use some help."

The door locks behind you and take another step forward, approaching him. "You have no fucking idea", revenge sex is a very stupid concept but now, it seems very tempting. It's exciting and makes you feel oddly alive.

"Did'ya get dumped?", and you don't know why you trust him with that information but you can hear yourself say: "Cheated on. Fiancé of twelve months." There is a hand sneaking around your waist, pulling you in closer. You can smell him now, the blood on his skin and clothes, the heavy scent of his perfume – it’s warm and thick, vanilla and fruit, like an orange grove.

"Allow me the comment - that's one bloody stupid bastard."

You look up at him and blink. That man's insanely pretty and you swallow as he pulls you in even closer, your hand connecting with his chest. It is firm and warm and your fingers get a little sticky with the fresh blood on his shirt. They splay out, feeling the firm muscle flex beneath the expensive fabric.

"How much time d'we have, sugar?", he hums, runs his thumb across your lower lip.

"I have to get off in Nagoya."

"Gonna get you off alright now, sweetie", you roll your eyes at that and he chuckles, "Bit more than half'n hour I'd say. Think we can manage that?"

You nod while biting your lip, adrenaline thick and heavy in your veins, pumping your blood down south and making you wet wet wet, and he laughs at that, runs his tongue along his bright, bright teeth.

It's sheer excitement that has your belly tingle and you lock your eyes with his, the darkening blueish green pulling you in and then he leans down, locks his lips with yours.

They are soft and warm and his moustache tingles a little. You hum against his lips, one hand fisting his vest as the other sneaks up his muscular arm, runs over and through the blood, up up up next to the cut and comes a halt on his neck. The hand on your waist holds you close, fingers spread out delicately as he starts to feel you up.

His tongue darts out and licks over your lips and you gladly give him more room, parting your lips slightly. He's pushing in, licking into your mouth. You hum deep in your throat, pressing against him, tasting the cigarette smoke on his lips.

You can feel the bulge in his pants, his dick pressing hotly against your lower belly. It ignites your loins, pleasure shooting through your abdomen.

You moan into his mouth and he responds by pushing you back, heaving you up the small sink, deepening the kiss. Your back presses against the mirror as you clutch onto him, hand running up his neck and into his hair, slick with product and a little sticky with sweat. Your knees hit his hipbones and the man starts to roll his hips into yours, having his hard dick rubbing against your crotch and your eyelids flutter with the feeling. He's rock-hard and so so hot through his dress pants and you can't fucking wait to get to it.

He eventually breaks the kiss, breath ragged as his eyes roam over your face, hands feeling your thighs up. You decide that you need more of him and thus, your free hand roams over his chest, fingers making quick work of his vest. As soon as you pop the last button, he hastily tears it off of himself, throws it to the ground where it lands with a quiet thud.

"C'mon sweetheart, I know you clammin' to touch me", he says, voice deep and raspy and you do - like you're on fucking autopilot. Your hands dart out, roaming over his defined chest. He feels nice and firm and makes you want him more, want to feel all of him, all at once.

He hums quietly, as you open a few buttons of his shirt and run your hands over the sweaty, warm skin, through the dust of fine chest hair, making his chain rustle. He feels nice and it makes you want him.

The man looks up from your hands and you don't know what has come over you as your hand glides up further, cupping his neck, thumb on his jawline. "Fuck me", you breathe, "Fuck me 'til I can't walk."

He grins and leans in even closer, his clothed and hard dick pressing against your wet panties, as he's kissing a wet trail from your jaw to your ear. "Who would've thought - such a naugh'y lil'mouth on such a pretty woman."

You hook one leg around his waist, tugging lightly at the hair that's curling in his neck as he starts to suck on your neck. The slight pain ignites your lust, has arousal blooming and wetness pooling between your legs. You want to tell him to stop, before he marks you up for good as --

"Name's Tangerine", he suddenly rasps, as his tongue rubs over the spot he has been sucking on and you're pretty damn sure that he just gave you a hickey.

"Like the-"

"The fucking fruit, yeah. 'M gonna burst you more like something of a cherry, though", he rumbles, quietly laughing to himself with his fingers digging into your hips.

Your breath hitches in your throat as he presses himself flush against you - all firm muscles, perfume, and hot skin - tongue licking over your throat like the hot blade of a knife, dancing over your jaw.

It's most likely not his real name and that should really, really alert you. But it doesn't - instead you surrender yourself to him, letting your head fall back and parting your legs, inviting him in.

And the man -Tangerine - follows suite and shoves your dress up up up, runs his hands over your now exposed thighs. You lean forward a little, until your lips brush over his. "Name's Y/N", you whisper and his eyes glint a little at that, "Pleasure to meet you."

"Oh, you gon' be a fun one", he grins and you do too, before leaning in and kissing him again. He is less gentle now, keen on getting you hot, his kisses turn sloppy quickly, biting your lower lip and licking into your mouth until you lack air. The thumbs on your legs dive in deeper, until they connect with your crotch. And then, one of them gently runs over your soaked panties.

Tangerine breaks the kiss, wet lips brushing over the corner of your mouth, only to inhale sharply - keeps his cheeks puffed theatrically for a short moment, then exhales just as sharply, eyeing you up and down. "Jesus Christ, that pussy of yours s'fucking wet, innit?", he rumbles and two of his fingers run over the wet fabric once more, slowly starting to rub your clit.

You gasp, hips bucking a little and you watch the way his hand vanishes under the hem of your dress. "Fuck", you moan quietly as he quickly finds the spot that makes your thighs clench. He rubs you through your panties, soft lace turning wet wet wet and dampening his skin. Your mouth falls agape seeing his wrist twitching between your legs and the way he's looking down at it, a little mesmerized, makes your head swim. Then, he stops.

"Yeah, let's get those off", he mutters, more to himself than to you and then he's tugging at the straps of your panties, riiips the lace and tears them apart. "Oh-", you gasp unintelligently as he carelessly drops them to the ground and you really don't fucking mind at all.

It's the first time in a long time that you feel wanted, like someone's actually hungry, greedy for you. And it turns you on. A lot. It is like Tangerine has flipped a switch and you want him just as much as he seems to want you. And you want it now.

You blink at him through your lashes. "You gonna touch me now?"

"Easy, love", he chuckles, genuinely amused and then his fingers are slooowly creeping back over your legs, until his index finger finally touches your exposed cunt. The touch is cold, but not unpleasant and you suck in a sharp breath, one that hitches in your throat.

He watches you, as he runs it over your pussy, quickly joined by a second, digits running up and down, spreading your slick. You hum, pleasure building up in your abdomen and then, finally, his fingers return to your clit.

Slow, wide circles spread your lips apart, making you moan and throwing your head back in pleasure. His bracelet clinks as he quickly picks up a faster rhythm, keen on seeing you coming loose, circles growing smaller.

"Oh shit, yes that's fucking it", you can feel arousal building in your stomach, shooting through your body. Tangerine laughs under his breath and his lips are onto you again, licking and sucking over your straightened neck. You don't give a fuck anymore, the slight pain of him bruising your skin makes your hips buck and rolling against his digits.

"Such a good girl, ain't ya?, he groans against your neck and it sends shivers down your spine as you're moaning and gasping, nodding frantically.

Your body feels like it has been ignited, with the way his fingers rub your clit, teasing your pussy and then there's one finger circling your hole and fuck, you really fucking need it. You spread your legs farther and Tangerine puuushes in, sinks one rather cold finger in your hole, your hot hot skin meeting the cold gold of his ring.

Tangerine starts to fuck you slowly, finger pushing in and out of you, until you're loose enough to take a second one. His rings thrust against your hole every time he pushes them back inside and the sensation has you whining, his lips still glued to your neck, occasionally moving down down down to you cleavage, licking fat stripes over your warm, sweaty skin.

A flood of very good, very dangerous emotions has one of your hands abandoning the sink, instead running up his arm, splaying across his shoulder. You can feel the muscles working slightly beneath the light blue fabric, a little dampened by his sweat. "Fuck, you make me so hot, shit, that feels so good", you whimper quietly, gasping as his fingers push even deeper. It seems to kick Tangerine off, moustache grazing your skin as he’s picking up an even faster rhythm - rubbing, circling your clit faster, adding more pressure - obscene squelching sounds filling the air of the small bathroom. You moan as pleasure shoots up your spine, has you rocking on and against his fingers.

You can feel your walls clenching around his fingers, hole fluttering against the cold, golden rings and then --

He breaks from your throat and whistles lowly as fresh wetness pools around his fingers, your squirt dampening his golden bracelet and the cuff of his shirt.

Tangerine pulls his fingers out of you slowly, slick with your juices and looks at them for a few seconds, the way your wetness is glistening on his skin in the dim lights. He brings them up up up, gaze connecting with yours and then -

They go past his lips, as his tongue darts out and licks them clean. You blink - once, twice. "Fuck", you breathe, and he chuckles.

"You taste like a fuckin' dream, love", his hands push your legs further apart and before you know it, he sinks down to his knees. You blink at him, as he lifts the hem of your dress up, "Might wanna hold that f'me", and you do, pulling the fabric as high up as you can, exposing yourself to him further.

Tangerine tsks as he takes the sight in and you can feel your cheeks growing hot, burning red, as his fingers dance over your pussy.

"Don't ya just have the prettiest cunt?", he hums, running his fingers through your folds, "'M gonna fuck ya so good."

"Jesus, Tangerine", you huff out, legs shaking a little as his thumb carefully rubs over your clit.

Tangerine looks up at you, smirking a little and then he's leaning in, hands coming to rest on your thighs, forcing your legs apart. He's not breaking eye contact, keeps your gazes chained together, as he dives in and licks a long, fat stripe from your hole upwards to your clit.

You fucking mewl, as his moustache rubs over your sensitive skin, tongue circling your clit for a short moment. His eyes gleam up at you, watching your reaction as his tongue swipes down, over your folds to your hole, teasing it. It has your legs kicking a little and you grab the sink with both your hands, as your thighs give a quick shake.

You can hear him chuckle deep in his throat and it makes you hot hot hot all over, with the way his tongue crawls back up, lips grazing your cunt and then he's onto your clit once more, gently lapping at it, placing soft kisses on the sensitive skin.

A strangled noise escapes your throat as arousal rushes through your abdomen and up up up your whole body, has your chest heaving with a ragged breath and rolling your hips forward. It's so so good, but not enough - you just need more.

"Don't ya move, love", Tangerine rasps and one of his hands grabs your hips forcefully, dress sliding up to your navel as he's holding you in place. The other crawls up your lower leg and thigh, teasing your folds and then one finger presses against your hole, pushes in roughly.

You moan as he immediately starts to fuck you with it, pumping your wetness in and out of you with a rather merciless rhythm, keen on having you come for him, having you squirt once more.

His eyelids flutter, long and dark lashes against his pale skin as his tongue licks over your folds, tasting your wetness and taking your scent in. You're tasting so so sweet to him, like a fucking forbidden fruit that he's going to devour anyways, because he can and he will and because fuck the rules he had set himself for this job.

He closes his eyes as he pushes a second finger into you, pumping them in and out of you, while his tongue laps at your cunt, lips closing in around your folds, gently sucking. His fingers are fucking you fast now, pushing you further and further.

"Oh god", you gasp, one hand still holding your own weight, the other now fisting his hair, pulling it. It seems to spur him on, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder and placing wet, open-mouthed kisses on your cunt, gently nibbling at the soft skin as his finger pumps into you. It's even better than before, with his beard scratching you and his tongue and lips gliding over your cunt as if it were a riddle he's going to solve without his hands. The heel of your shoe digs into his back - desperate for any leverage, to just feel him - as you are nearing your release.

"Shit, fuck fuck fuck", your voice sounds strange in your ears, high-pitched and far far away, between the squelching sounds that his rapidly moving fingers pull out of your pussy, "I'm gonna-"

He hums and then, after a short moment, pulls his digits out of you and grabs your hips hard, holding you in place, not stopping his tongue from rubbing over your cunt hard.

It tips you over the edge, has you breaking loose. You gasp loudly, throwing your head back against the mirror, incoherent rambling leaving your lips as you come - riding your orgasm out on his face as he licks you through your orgasm, your hips bucking wildly with it.

As your orgasm rolls over you, you already know that this isn't over. Usually, you would be spent for now, calm and a little tired but right now - you're not at all, lust still rolling over you, fresh wetness pooling between your legs again. "Mhm, shit", you breathe, feet kicking a little as Tangerine's tongue continues to flick over your clit. You are still wet, already desperate for more, more of him.

All you can think about is his hard dick, that you've felt earlier pressing against your crotch and pure want tingles in your stomach. Tangerine's lips close in around your throbbing clit, overstimulation making your head swim.

"Please, fuck, please", your hip bucks against his iron grip that holds you steadily against the sink. Tangerine looks up at you again and let’s go of your clit with an obscene pop. His moustache is dampened by your wetness as he grins up at you. "Please please", he mocks your high-pitched whines and then smirks, "Wan'it that bad, love?"

"Need you - ah, fuck - inside me. Oh, shit", you whine, as your hole clenches around nothing, desperate for more than his fingers. You are so turned on by this stranger, lust crashing over your body like waves - you can feel its tingle in your chest, your legs, feeling your pussy desperate for another touch.

Tangerine blinks for a moment and you're sure, that you saw his eye twitch and then he, very dramatically, takes a deep breath, closes his eyes. "Shit, love, you make me feel all sorts o'things", he says quietly and then quickly gets up, wipes his lips with the back of his hand.

He leans in and his lips lock with yours again and you can taste yourself on his tongue, as he licks into your mouth, grinning against your lips, damp stache rubbing over your upper lip. He licks over it, groans deep in his throat, while his hands brush over your legs, before he commands, whispers against your lips: "Bend over the sink f'me.”

"What?", you blink, words not really reaching you through the lustful haze that has wrapped your brain in like cotton candy. All you can do is look at him, at this very handsome stranger with the very fake name and he has your head swimming, brain giving in and surrendering to lust once more.

You take the hand he offers you as he helps you down the sink, your legs a little wobbly. "Alright c'mon now, girl, don't keep me waitin'", Tangerine gives you a light pat on the cheek, rings barely connecting with your skin - a patronizing gesture that has your knees going ever weaker for a moment as you try to turn around, hands gripping the edges of the sink.

You watch him in the mirror, as he makes quick work of his belt and the fly of his trousers. As he pulls his dick out, your mouth waters. It's long and big and has just the right girth, a drop of precum glistening on its tip. You'd really like to suck that cock, like right motherfucking now.

Tangerine looks at you. "Got all hungry fo'it?", and you nod - breathing out Fuck yeah - arching your back for him, "Alright love, just a minute."

He spits in his hand and rubs the saliva over his dick, giving himself one, two strokes. You arch your back, keeping your eyes on him as he grabs your hips hard, lines himself up, head of his dick resting against your hole - all hot and hard - and then he finally, finally pushes himself in. The stretch is nice and has you squirming a little with the dull pain, excitement lighting your nerves up.

"Jesus Christ", his head falls forward a little, "You're so fuckin' tight."

He bottoms out, forcing himself in deep, holding still. You can feel his dick twitching inside of you, but he doesn't move and you can see his chest heaving, hear him grunt. His hand roams over your bare ass, shoving the dress even higher, until your back is partly exposed and his hand creeps around your body, over your stomach and under the dress, slips beneath your bra and cups one of your tits.

Tangerine squeezes it, feels you up and then pulls his dick back out only to quickly push himself back in. The sound that leaves your throat is nothing but desperate and your hand grips the sink harder, knuckles slowly turning white. His jaw is going a little slack as he rolls his hips into you, fucking you slowly.

"Ah shit", he groans, a deep and coarse sound, that makes you shiver, "Doesn't that just feel lovely?"

He watches the way his dick pumps into your pussy, eyebrows drawn together, lips slightly agape - until his gaze meets yours in the mirror once more and there it is - a shadow that dances over his eyes, turning the mesmerizing blue and green dark dark dark. One of his hands suddenly darts forward, rings glimmering in the dim light, only to roughly grab your chin, forcefully holding your head in place. It hurts a little, but the pain feels good, the way it stretches your back and intensifies the arch of it, forces you to look at him and yourself. Your mascara is pooling beneath your eyes, pupils blown wide and cheeks reddened.

"Would'ya just look at yourself", Tangerine groans, "Ya might be the hottest fucking thing I've seen in a long fuckin' time --" He groans again, thumb catching your lower lip and you moan as you watch his face coming a little loose with pleasure.

Tangerine picks up a faster rhythm, thrusting into you and you push your hips back, meeting him - desperate for more more more. He grins at you in the mirror and his hand creeps a little lower, until it rest riiight below your jawline and then -

Then he squeezes.

It has you gasping, choking a little at the sudden loss of air and the feeling of your windpipe being closed. Your hip bucks against his and he licks his lips.

The lack of air has adrenaline rushing through your veins once more, as his dick pushes against your spongy hot walls and you feel your body surrendering to him fully, the small voice in the back of your head remembering you that You are at his mercy has you growing even wetter.

The hand lets go off your throat, now gently holding your head in place and you suck in a few deep breaths, gasping, greedily sucking in the air, as --

There must be a bump on the rails, as the wagon suddenly lifts a little and has you thrown forward towards the mirror, shoves his dick deeper into you. You moan, instinctively catching his eyes in the mirror.

His lips are slightly parted, eyes darkened by lust and his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips. The train speeds up just as he leans forward, throws his chest against your back. His body is so so hot against yours and your walls flutter around his dick, as his scent wraps you in once more.

Tangerine lowers his head, until his forehead rests on your shoulder, cock twitching inside of you. "Ya have no bloody idea what'cha doin' to me, Lady", he says, voice coarse and dark and your eyelids flutter, "'M gonna ruin ya."

He lifts his head a little and your gazes connect in the mirror once more. A shiver runs down your spine - he means it.

And you feel it, too, as he thrusts into you once, knocks the air out of your lungs with the sheer force of it. The tip of his dick hits the spot perfectly and you nearly cry out in pleasure, hands gripping the sink tightly. There are small lines forming around his eyes as he's grinning against your shoulder, pulls out a little only to force himself back in, even deeper this time. The hand that was toying with your tit leaves, crawls back down and his arm wraps itself around your waist, holds you close.

Your legs shake as Tangerine picks up a faster rhythm, starts pounding in to you like a starved man, like an animal gone wild. It's in his eyes, hunger hunger hunger and you feel pleasure shooting through your body, pooling in your abdomen. You squirt against his dick, wetting the trimmed pubic hair as his balls slap against your wet skin.

You suck in a sharp breath, a strangled high pitched whiny moan escaping your lips, as he hits your walls again, tip of his dick brushing over your g-spot, having you seeing stars. Your eyelids flutter, gasps escaping your mouth with every one of his thrusts.  

"Be fuckin' loud, you lil'slut, I don't care - one - bit", he says through gritted teeth, each word one thrust, "If they come knockin'. I’ll kill’em."

It shouldn’t – really, it shouldn’t – but it has your head swimming, rocking back against him, obscene sounds filling the small bathroom and you moan loudly. His jewellery rustles and clinks as he ruts into you, huffing against your shoulder. The force of his thrusts has your body moving back and forth like a ragdoll, hipbones bouncing against the sink, one of your hands coming loose and pressing flat against the mirror, desperate for any sort of leverage.

You can feel yourself clenching around him, white hot pleasure building on the edges of your brain, until there's nothing left but him him him.

"Fuck", you cry out, "I'm gonna fucking cum, shit shit shit", lips falling agape with pure pleasure. It’s too much and you can feel your muscles tensing.  

The hand around your throat tightens a bit more and that’s all you need – has your eyes falling shut, your second orgasm rolling over you. It knocks the air straight out of your lungs, has you going limp, while the muscles in your thighs and abdomen clench, holding and squeezing his dick inside of you.

You can hear him moan deeply, sounding far far away and then his cum hits your walls, paints it as he buries himself deep deep inside of you. You gasp, desperate for air and he lets go off your throat.

You suck in a few breaths and feel him doing the same, chest heaving against your back. "Fuck", he says and slowly straightens back up, looking at you in the mirror.

"Y'good over there, love?"

"Uh-huh", you hum, unable to speak, and blink at him. His hair's a mess and his cheeks are a little reddened, glistening with sweat.

Tangerine fucking winks at you and then slooowly, very carefully pulls out of you. You inhale sharply as you feel some of his cum following suite, dripping down your legs. You want to straighten up, too, clean it up, but he's quicker, taking one of the disposable towels and gently sweeps along your cunt.

"'S good, I can do that too, y'know", you say and take it from him, cleaning yourself up. For a long moment, while you can hear him putting himself back in his pants, there's silence between the two of you. Only, as you carefully put your dress back in place, does he look at you again.

"Be careful tonight, sweetheart", he says nonchalantly while tugging his shirt back into his slacks. He says it like it's nothing but it has the hairs on your body standing up.

I’ll kill’em. I’ll kill’em. I’ll kill’em. You look on the slight stains that his blood left on your fingers, that soaked his shirt.

"Make you sure you get out of that train in Nagoya, y'hear me?", his gaze is soft as it lands upon you. Your brain goes numb with anxiety.

"Y-yeah, yeah sure. I'm meeting a friend there, wouldn't miss her for the world."

He smiles at that. A genuine, warm smile. It does something funny to your stomach. "Alright love, gotta dash", he's straightening his vest and giving himself a glance in the mirror, running his hands through his hair, "There's this chap I gotta get rid of. Gimme a call, when you're in London, would'ya?"

You just nod and take the slim, white card he hands you. The numbers on it are orange.

"Very fucking funny", you huff and he grins, leans down towards you, and places his lips on your cheek. The kiss is feather-light but it'll haunt you late at night in the weeks, months to come after the story of the crashed bullet train breaks the international news. But right now, it makes your chest tingle in all the right ways.

"Tis'a good girl, eh?", Tangerine whispers and then, throwing one last look at you, struts out of the door.

[neiptune]

ain't that the worst thing you ever heard? (part 2)

c/w: 22k wc, SUGGESTIVE, summer romance, strangers to fwb to lovers, eren can surf, this little story has kept me company for weeks now, it just kept stretching and stretching and demanding more so I tried to accomodate its needs. I hope you'll be able to perceive all the love & care I've put into it! thank you for having been part of this summer journey now I'll finally go lie down

PART 1

June melts away and July is as sweet as the ripe cherries that melt on your tongue.

You’ve always loved summer, both in the city and the countryside you grew up in. The summer season that belonged to your childhood came with watermelon slices consumed sitting on the engawa with your grandparents, a poor antidote against the oppressive humidity that glued hair and clothes to your skin. The only relief came from the small fan they kept on at all times, day and night, the low buzz a constant companion throughout the hours spent napping, going through your homework or demolishing the only thing your mother has ever been able to cook: teriyaki tofu.

You slept in the same room as your grandparents at night, two futons placed at careful distance to no avail as you couldn’t sleep anyway between the noise coming from the fan, the chirping of the cicadas from outside and your grandpa’s snoring. Those were the nights you’d spend observing the ceiling, fantasizing about growing up and becoming an adult that worked as hard as your parents who woke up at the crack of dawn and came home several hours after you had finished eating dinner. You’d daydream about the big cities they always told you about, Tokyo and Osaka and Yokohama and Nagoya, places where people didn’t have to break their backs slaving away in rice fields every day.

Places where people wore nice shirts and ties and jackets and carried little leather briefcases and worked in clean offices and never had to scrape the mortifying dirt stuck underneath their nails.

Summer in the city came with apartments with little to no insulation, boxes as humid and hot as the outside, with no air moving around inside. Still, you bought a little pink fan when you couldn’t afford an AC, made sure your fridge always had a consistent stock of watermelon and fruit popsicles. You’d lie belly-down on the tatami floors when afternoons got too hot to move, and took the Yokosuka line from the central station along with some friends whenever you could gift yourself the luxury of spending a day at the beach.

It wasn’t enjoyable. The drudgery that took to get there, sweat running down your back, crowded trains and a bus where you could barely breathe from how hot it was, sand crawling in between your belongings and sticking to your arms and legs. But the ocean? That was worth it. A body of water stretching as far as the eye could see, so boundless it felt like the city was miles and miles away, all your emotions magnified, salty breeze flooding your senses. You often wished to take your parents there, always daydreamed about how amazed your mother would feel and about your father’s calloused hands picking up a fishing rod instead of being busy ploughing, harrowing fields, harvesting grains.

You felt at ease in the water, gliding across it with bold strokes as your friends splashed around closer to the shore. You liked diving underneath the surface, eyes shut and ears filled with currents, waves and storms no one else could hear. A special sussurration made just for you, one you listened to until your lungs felt a moment away from exploding.

So far, summer on the island doesn’t come close to anything you’ve experienced before. Your vacation rental has an AC that you refuse to turn on and most nights on your first month there were so hot you could barely sleep. The sky is the kind of blue that is promising and has you excited for the day to unravel, clouds showing up and timidly crossing it fluffly and candid as snow. What was considered the glorious realm of the gods according to Mesopotamian mythology, the island holds as regular cedar forests, although so wonderful you can only guess it must’ve been blessed with a touch of divine nonetheless. You got to hike through more than one and paid homage to the ancient trees, some of Japan’s oldest living ones. Jean has been a sweet guide on your first time, carefully explaining to every member of the group he was leading both the history and ecology of the sights along the way.

Tropical storms are restless and unforgiving, you learn: wind shakes your windows, lighting tints rooms purple and the crack of thunder prompts the lighting up of your phone screen at any hour of the night, without exception.

Eren comes to know about your fear of thunderstorms on a late afternoon. He has taken the habit of showing up at your place with a little something for you from time to time: that day he had two plastic bags in his hands, a few groceries he had picked up on the way there “just in case you’re out of something”, kitchen counter slowly filling up with fresh milk, eggs, apricots, bread, one box of cereals, cheese and what were mostly his favorite snacks. And it’s never just an excuse to be there, he never expects you to reward him: Eren has his own way of putting away the groceries, his regular grumbling about how messy your cupboard is, an improved method of fixing the leaking of your sink and piling his book suggestions right next to your tv, so that you don’t forget to check them out. More often than not they’re not books he has read, just books he deems you’ll find interesting.

That afternoon Eren wasn’t there to sleep with you, he didn’t have any particular motive for spending a few hours sprawled on your couch watching some dumb cooking show, except that he enjoyed it. He enjoyed how invested you’d get and the way you’d lightly pinch his thigh when you’d have it with his boyish, teasing comments. Sometimes you’d just slot your mouth to his to shut him up, a more than welcome distraction from pretentious chefs who presented dishes he never would have dreamed to replace Sasha’s wraps with. And while your kisses didn’t always lead to anything (whatever it was that you had going on walking between blurred lines that comprised make out sessions, casual hang outs and Eren molding your body to accomodate his so perfectly you often found yourself questioning if you could ever even take anyone else and feel the same way), on that particular day you seemed more than willing to forget about the stupid cooking show. And then a loud crack his very much occupied mind could barely register, had you jolting away from him and covering your ears in a heated rush.

Eren makes sure to call or text you during storms but he’s way more subtle about it now than he was at the start. After your prideful “I’m fine, stop checking on me like I’m some damn child”, he developed a new, clever strategy to make sure you’re doing okay. Whether it’s by sending you a funny meme, the link to a tiktok video, some random update on Connie’s hectic dating life at 3 in the morning, he hopes the message gets across. And alhough most times you don’t reply until several hours later, out of that same stubborn pride that makes him roll his eyes multiple times a day, you can’t help but smile a little when the phone screen your eyes instinctively dart to at the beginning of every storm, lights up without fail.

Contrary to what you had anticipated, being friends with him is probably the easiest thing you've ever done. Eren gives a lot and takes very little, the only situations this selflessness doesn’t really apply to include discarded clothes and skirts pooled around your hips when he’s too impatient and the steamed up windows of his truck blurry your vision and your mind as the pads of his fingers dig into the fat of your thighs. Those are the moments Eren takes everything from you. He claims each breathless gasp, the twitching of your legs, the way your pretty features freeze in silent pleasure and he gets to whisper reassuring praises against the corner of your mouth. Whether he’s aware or not about just how much he ruins you each time, is beyond your understanding.

Eren talks about you with his friends when you’re not there to hang out with them, which happens often anyway. He’d casually mention something you did or said or once specified you enjoyed, an habit that’s increasingly prompting knowing glances exchanged between Connie and Jean. Armin’s stare just turns a little worried, especially when Eren reprimands everyone and cares to remind them to be careful and not get attached because your presence is temporary.

Sasha feels as if, between one beer and the other, he’s the one he’s truly trying to convince. It’s new Eren behavior, uncharted territory, and the odds of the whole thing ending in the shittiest way possible are incredibly high: which is why Armin decides to take it upon himself to test the waters and almost asks if you think it’s really best to keep going with the whole friends with benefits thing. He likes you and means well. Maybe it’d keep everyone’s feelings safe if you and Eren discarded the benefits part and stayed as nothing more than regular friends?

But right as he was about to voice his question, you had stopped by a street fruit vendor and turned to look at him with sparkles in your eyes.

“What if we get some pineapples? I could try and make that ice cream Eren never shuts up about”

Shit, he thought to himself. Maybe he had been way too optimistic.

Eren knows you’re not actually asleep. Not that he’s yet had the privilege of knowing what you look like when you’re sleeping: you never once stayed the night at his place, which was good enough of a reason never to spend the night at yours. He’s never had the chance to lend you one of his shirts or ask if the coffee he buys now is better than the one you tasted so many mornings ago. It’s not that he’s bothered by it, he just doesn’t understand what sort of thoughts prompt you to immediately get out of his bed (or off of his couch, or out of his shower, or down from the kitchen counter—), collect your clothes, flash him a smile and wave goodbye. He should be happy you do that, honestly. It’s always saved both of you from experiencing any unnecessary awkwardness. It’s convenient. It’s practical. But still, it certainly wouldn’t kill you to stay just once?

“Stop that” your nose scrunches, the light touch of his fingers tickling you.

“Be an active part of the excursion, then” an airy chuckle leaves him as his fingertips skim the bridge of your nose again. You weakly swat his hand away.

“M’tired” you puff out your cheeks, eyes still shut. Eren rolls his eyes.

“It was less than an hour long hike”

“You own a trained body, I own an exhausted one”

“So you don’t want any snacks?”

Finally, you open one eye to peer at him, suspicious. Amused, Eren gently bounces his leg, the one your head is resting on.

“It better be Sasha’s avocado hummus” you grumble while making the process of sitting up dramatic enough for him snort.

“It’s something better: fresh fruit” Eren meets your shocked expression with an innocent grin.

“You’re a deceitful, unreliable little man” you playfully narrow your gaze as he pulls out a plastic bag from his backpack. He huffs.

“Stop complaining, these are from Kukiko’s garden”

“Kukiko?”

“Jean’s grandma. She pretty much raised him and used to give us extra treats before we set off for school” a small smile stretches his lips as he takes some peaches and a small knife from the bag.

“My granny used to do the same” you smile too, the sweetness of the memories coming to mind causing a pleasant warmth to spread in your chest “she’d pack my lunch and then several others for my friends, just in case their parents forgot. As if that could’ve been possible”

Eren looks up from the fruit he’s carefully peeling. He’s doing it with such attentive care you can’t help but wish, for a single, fleeting second, that he’d still be there to peel tangerines for you in the winter.

There’s fondness in his gaze, one you wish you didn’t notice because it never fails to emerge whenever you share something personal, something belonging to a life he knows little to nothing about. He makes it painfully clear that he’d love for that door to be left half-opened for him.

“D’you visit her from time to time? I assume she still lives in the countryside”

If the pang of sadness that clutches your throat and digs deep into your stomatch could have a physical representation, it’d probably be an icicle. Cold, harsh, unforgiving.

“I’m sorry” Eren catches the change in your stare before you have the chance to say anything. With a small, bitter smile, you shrug.

“It’s okay. It’s been years. Doesn’t get any easier, though”

You’re sitting very close to each other, so he gently nudges your shoulder with his arm.

“Yeah. I’m sure she loved you a lot and that doesn’t just go away, you know”

“Jesus” you chuckle and lean your forehead against his shoulder to hide the embarrassing tears stinging the corners of your eyes “you just had to be good with words too, among everything else”

A silent laugh shakes him.

“What can I say, I’m gifted like that” he hands you one slice of the peach he’s still holding and you accept it with a scoff. The fruit is mellow, flavorful and tangy as it melts in the back of your throat. It almost makes you want to cry again.

The observatory was his idea, one of the very few remaining places he didn’t have the chance to take you to. Despite it having a large parking lot, restrooms and vending machines, it’s a sightseeing spot not many tourists come to know about, so it’s mostly empty. The view is stunning and, truth be told, you didn’t mind the hike either: despite the inescapable sun shining high in the sky, not a single cloud in sight, you enjoyed climbing the path dotted with many tropical plants. Hibiscus, adan trees, cycads, Eren indicating and naming each one along the way.

From where you’re sitting, you can see the white lighthouse you had visited a few days prior, Eren’s friends having planned a picnic nearby that soon gave them the perfect excuse to take you all the way to the top of the abandoned tower. Connie smiled upon seeing your expression morph into pure wonder as soon as Sasha removed her hands from your eyes: you don’t remember seeing an equally breathtaking view of the ocean sparkling beneath your feet, ever. If you squeeze your eyes really hard, you can almost discern the small bay you remember Armin helping you locate on the northernmost tip of the island.

You’re not sure why Eren bothers hanging out with you when his days are less busy, why he doesn’t mind spending his morning sharing fresh fruit underneath the July sun instead of being with his friends or riding a wave. Sure, you count as a watered-down version of a friend too at this point, and spending time with him feels so natural sometimes you wonder if you haven’t actually known him for a longer time.

But it also feels intimate, oddly more than the moments when he’s pushing inside you. It’s easier to kiss him than to hear him laugh at your jokes, especially when the sun hits the green of his eyes just right and you feel the sudden urge to tuck those stubborn strands behind his ears. It’s easier to have his arms around you, lips tracing your collarbone, because that means he won’t be looking at you in that infuriating way of his, genuine interest floating in such intense irises whenever he asks a question in patient anticipation of another piece of yourself you may or may not decide to unravel for him. 

Eren gently presses his thumb between your brows, to smooth out that little crease you get whenever you get lost in thoughts he isn’t allowed to access. His hand is still wet and sticky from the peach you’ve shared, so you pull back with a grimace and he laughs.

“So pensive today” he brings that same thumb to his mouth to clean all the fruit remnants “didn’t even ask me if I really didn’t bring anything else to eat”

“Did you?” your brows shoot up in interest and he rolls his eyes, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“I mean, you’re insufferable when you’re hungry”

And just like that, he pulls out some neatly packaged banh mi sandwiches, the ones you remember casually mentioning liking to Sasha at the picnic by the lighthouse while he was busy discussing something else with Jean. As you stare at the herbs and mayo sticking to the clear cellophane, it’s hard to blink back the surprise. Or to swallow the lump in your throat.

Oh, no.

“Eren” you mutter his name carefully and he tilts his head with a responsive little hum “I kinda want to kiss you right now”

Another mirthful laugh echoes through the calm, fragrant air. Thank god he hasn’t noticed the unusual hesitation laced into your tone because yes, this is a need, but also a test you’re not sure you want to know the output of.

He inches closer and gently tilts your head up with the softest grasp of your chin, lips pressing to yours in a chaste kiss that sends shock waves through your veins.

Oh, no.

Eren has to resort to quite the amount of self restraint not to chase your lips when you pull back, features impenetrable once again for god knows what thought now crossing your pretty little mind. He can feel his heart drumming in his ears, the scent of your hair and sunscreen mixing together well enough to almost, almost make him sigh. By now there’s a giant, neon sign hanging over your head that reads proceed with caution, presence temporary. It blinks at him, flashing at regular intervals. He doesn’t like it one bit.

“How come you’re not in a relationship?” the questions rolls off his tongue before he has the chance to decide if it’s even appropriate to ask something like that so bluntly. It’s clearly not, given how your lips purse. But even as he realizes your reaction indicates some discomfort, Eren doesn’t apologize nor does he take the question back. He wants to know something new and while anything will do, this is a topic he holds a particular interest for.

“I was, we broke up a couple weeks before I booked this trip” you clear your throat, attempting to come off as unbothered with a slight shrug of your shoulders.

“So I’m the tropical rebound?” he’s being playful but you catch the slight seriousness embedded in his words and shake your head.

“No. You’re nothing like him”

“Ouch?”

You huff, impatient.

“Last time I saw him, he was balls deep inside one of my friends. You’re nothing like him”

Eren pulls a face but there’s relief expanding the lungs in his chest cavity.

Not so ouch-worthy, after all.

“Well, that sucks”

“Right?” you smile “this would be a good time to list all the wonderful qualities he’s going to be missing out on”

The half-joking tone isn’t enough to prevent him from taking your request seriously.

“I can’t imagine scoring someone like you and then just fucking it up so royally” he scoffs “what an idiot”

“Once again, such a way with words” you hope your teasing is enough to hide the heat crawling up from your chest to the very roots of your hair. Eren starts to unwrap your sandwich a little too harshly.

“I mean it” and god help him, he really does “who’s gonna insult his coffee now, I wonder?”

You’d playfully smack his arm and feign annoyance if it wasn’t for the smile he gives you, the faint shadow of a dimple teasing his left cheek as his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“How come you’re not in a relationship?” you fire the question back as you accept the sandwich he hands you, the first bite already having you swallowing back a moan. The cilantro leaves really do it for you.

“No particular reason” he shrugs “we broke up a few months ago”

“Amicably?”

“Yeah. We were together for a little over a year, it just gradually faded. I know it sounds sad as shit but really, we were friends before and we still are now”

“Why is everyone in your life just so wonderful and mature?” your grumbling draws a chuckle. He appreciates that you refer to his friends as wonderful people.

“I mean, my previous girlfriend told me she fell out of love with me on my birthday and then I found out she’d been dating her coworker for two weeks”

“Hmm. Yeah, you totally just evened that out”

“I did my fair share of asshole moves over the years, it’s how life goes. But you grow and hope to become a better person” he pauses “not like your ex. Fuck that guy”

He mirrors your airy laugh and you both finish your early lunch in comfortable silence, the ocean glistening underneath the same sun pleasantly heating up your cheeks.

Eren likes that you’d kiss him over something as trivial as a homemade sandwich, he likes that it doesn’t feel weird either, given that you only really touch each other when his friends are not present. It would be strange to act any differently, it would feel odd and awkward and wrong. It would feel like a relationship.

When the breeze decreases in intensity and it gets too hot to stay at the observatory, he suggests taking off. However, before you hit the road once more, you draw out your phone and ask him if he’d take a picture of you. It’s a funny reminder that you’re still a tourist, renewed amazement dancing in your features every time you turn to look at the scenery. Of course Eren agrees and carefully snaps a few pictures from different angles, so many your smile becomes a giggle and you actually attempt to snatch your phone out of his hand when he refuses to stop.

“Take one with me” you propose unexpectedly “so I can look at it and miss summer once I’m back in Tokyo” and miss you, you mentally correct yourself.

Eren stares at you for a second, brows furrowed. It’s the first time you openly mention your future departure, a detail he’s been familiar with ever since meeting you. Still, hearing it out loud brings the detail to a new level of concreteness. The sudden reality of it tastes bitter on his tongue as he bends down ever so slightly when you complain about feeling too short with his arm around your chest, safely tucking you against his. He keeps it friendly, basks in the warm sound of your giggle when you take the phone from his hand and he has to rest his chin on your head to be included in the picture. He keeps it friendly, even as he wonders if you’d look cute together, perhaps in a shot that captures that tender look in your eyes while his lips press to your temple.

Maybe it’s that specific thought that prompts him to blurt out the question.

“Stop moving”

“But it tickles!”

“If you make me screw this up I’m gonna have to start from scratch!”

Sasha huffs and her breath is warm on your cheek as you inch closer, ring finger under her brow to lift her eye firmly. The gentle way you’re stretching her skin is enough to keep her eyelid smooth, which allows you to apply the eyeliner in short, light strokes from the inner corner to the outer corner of an eye she’s having such a hard time keeping shut. Regardless, the wing looks sharp enough, although you decide to fix both her eyes with just a tiny amount of concealer.

When Sasha casually asked you do her makeup for the evening, you felt equal parts flattered and terrified of failure. You wanted her to feel pretty exactly the way she wanted to, which is why you both spent an embarrassing amount of time going through her belongings and planning the process each step of the way, refusing to accept her bubbly do as you please, I trust you!

She looks beautiful but that’s not really something you’d count as your success. She always is.

“Are we done?” you can tell she’s excited to peer at the final result, which makes you smile.

“Almost. Just missing lipstick”

You pick up the shade she decided on, a nice nude with a pink undertone that goes well with her fair skin.

As you attempt to gently sketch the lip liner around her lips, she giggles again, only keeping still after meeting your glare. Because you’ve been warned that there’d be food involved, you decide on further securing your work of art: after applying lipstick on top of lined and filled lips, you also apply some setting powder over it and then blot her lips with a tissue paper.

“Now you’re ready to win over that new coworker of yours” you grin as you hand her the small mirror she keeps on her desk.

Sasha’s eyes widen.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about”

“Sure you don’t. Tall, blond, smile that could shake the earth…”

“Hey, I never said that!”

“So you do have an idea after all” you grin and promptly dodge the small, heart-shaped pillow she snatches from her bed to throw at you. She then focuses on her reflection for a few seconds, finger nervously twirling one of the loose strands escaping her low bun, eyes anxiously scanning her face from different angles.

“Sash, you look gorgeous” you gently take the mirror from her hands “how about you go get dressed? I’ll clean up here and then we can head out”

She sighs but gives you an appreciative, little smile in turn. Then, her brows knit.

“Wait, what are you going to do with your hair? And what are you going to wear? I didn’t see you bring anything”

“I mean, I already did my makeup. I wasn’t planning on changing anything else, I’m ready to go”

“Are you shitting me?”

The horrified look on her face suggests that perhaps the casual floral dress you have on wouldn’t be too appropriate for the star festival she’s been gushing over for two weeks.

You awkwardly shift your weight from one foot to the other.

“I didn’t really bring anything fancy” you’re mortified. How could you not think of checking a store or two? This night is clearly a bigger deal that you had anticipated.

With a huff, Sasha gets up from her desk chair and starts a frantic search in the depths of her gigantic (and quite overflowing) closet. Dresses, tops and skirts are violently snatched from their hangers and drop to the floor in colorful puddles until she finally finds whatever it is she’s looking for.

“Sasha, I really can’t” your lips are parted in surprise, mesmerized by the sheer beauty of the yukata she’s holding.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I won’t let you walk out in that”

“It’s too much, really, you should wear it!”

“I already have mine and it’s prettier” her grin is void of any actual malice “can I help you put it on?”

You swallow, so flattered that she trusts you enough to lend something so beautiful and certainly important to her. There’s a silly feeling squeezing your stomach and threatening to bring tears to your eyes, a gesture so simple that makes you feel not just welcome but accepted in a way that doesn’t feel temporary anymore.

Sasha comes closer, whatever emotion has your mind feeling all over the place must be clearly noticeable from the outside because she puts a hand on your shoulder with the softest smile, squeezing gently.  

“This is not the time to get emotional, we’ll get there but not tonight. C’mon, let me” she holds the yukata up and wiggles her brows, succeeding in drawing a giggle.

“Sorry. Yeah, okay, let’s do it”

You get undressed and like the expert she clearly is, Sasha waits for you to slip your arms into the sleeves before adjusting the hemline to cover your ankles while aligning the center back seam with your backbone. She brings the right-side overlap to the hip bone on the other side, then layers the left-side one over the former. A waist cord is tied around you right above the waistline, from the front to the back, crossed and then brought back to the front to be secured. Sasha makes sure to tuck away the loose ends between the wrapped cord and places he extra-folded overlap over it.

She checks you all around and hums, satisfied. The obi is white, it matches the beautiful flowers, leaves and branches ramifying across the baby blue fabric of the traditional piece of clothing. Sasha wraps the obi around your waist from the back to the front, layers it neatly to ensure that it will not become loose. She then carefully straightens it and places its end on the back. After some holding, pinching, wrapping and tucking, you can feel what you have no doubt is a perfect bow pressing into your back.

“Done!” she doesn’t give you the time to say a word, impatiently pushing you towards the full length mirror glued to one of her closer doors.

It’s… well, something. You have never worn an actual, traditional yukata before, the ones you own are pretty cheap and the fabric is nowhere as high in quality as the one you can feel against your skin now. Soft, airy, comfortable, you can’t help but smile and think it kinda suits you.

“I didn’t think I could pull off something so gorgeous” you check yourself from different angles, admiring the result of Sasha’s skilled ministrations. Her reflection smiles back at you.

“You’re stunning. Eren is going to flip out”

Your heart jumps in your throat at the mention of his name.

“He’s not” you chuckle nervously “he’s used to me by now”

Sasha giggles.

“Please, you don’t know how he gets with this stuff. He loves this festival more than any of us, seeing you dressed in traditional clothing, in his favorite color, will make him flip out”

“I’m not wearing it because I want him to flip out” you protest, sudden panic bubbling in your chest. His favorite color? Is that why she…?

“My god, you’re weird” Sasha cocks her head, seeming genuinely confused “let me fix your hair and then I’ll get dressed, we’re already late”

She could’ve told you so much more. That she finds it interesting and exhaustingly stubborn, that you wouldn’t like the man you’re dating to be all over you. She knows dating is not exactly what you two have been doing but Sasha also knows her friend well enough to guess when he’s falling for someone and boy, has he fallen for you. She could’ve told you that he’s spent two weeks going over the fact that he’d invited you to the festival multiple times, wrecking his mind (and theirs) with a vortex of thoughts inevitably spiraling out of his usually solid control.

I don’t know what came over me.

She’s gonna think it’s weird, isn’t she?

What if she hates it?

And when Connie flicked his forehead, urged him to get a fucking grip and reminded him that friends can hang out and go to festivals and enjoy some time together even outside of the disgusting sex dungeon he insists on calling home, Eren sighed and deflated in his seat, something about his features being so heartbreakingly conflicted even Jean didn’t feel like cracking any other jokes.

Sasha knows this night holds a special meaning to him, the festival he’s loved so dearly ever since he was a child, when he got to experience it hand in hand with his parents. The festival they always attended together, when their group was still far from falling apart and no one dreamed of leaving the island yet. The special occasion that rarely ever included girls or general outsiders, the one night he jealously kept to himself, his friends and his family.

Not all of them share his devotion for the star festival, Connie notoriously taking advantage of the sparkling setting to hit on every pretty girl within a 3-foot radius, but they understand it. The fact that he wants you there means more than what you can imagine and the whole thing would fill Sasha with joyful relief if it wasn’t for the fact that you are going to leave in less than two months and she knows the ashes they’re going to be left picking up are going to weigh heavy in their hands.

But she’s not mad at you because how could she be when you make her friend happy and he clearly makes you happy too? Eren’s not the only one who’s gonna get burned, the real tragedy is that you’re both still too blind to acknowledge it.

You head out shortly after, in the extra geta sandals Sasha has insisted on lending you. No one is there to pick you up but she lives fairly close to downtown, where you’ll meet the rest of the group.

“They’re usually easy to find, probably going to be glued to a yakitori stand” she’d said, making you smile. Sasha looks nothing less than dashing in her handmade crimson yukata and golden obi, you genuinely think that Niccolo guy would be an idiot not to shoot his shot the moment he sees her.

You come to learn that what you’re attending is the island’s own version of the tanabata festival, the only night deities Orihime and Hikoboshi are allowed to meet despite the milky way separating them. Back in Tokyo you and your friends would write wishes on small pieces of paper and hang them on trees. However, tonight people will entrust theirs to floating paper ships released into the ocean.

The celebrations had started in the afternoon so you have missed the parade but you’re well in time to enjoy everything else: the streets you have come to know by now, are filled with a crowd you couldn’t believe would fit in a space rendered narrower by dozens of colorful food stands and amusement booths. The air is fragrant, different smells mixing interestingly well together as vendors shout over each other to attract clients and tourists. Some of them wave back at Sasha and offer free samples for her to test out. You return their bows with a smile and then trot away with your friend to resist the temptation to pause at every single stand and get one of everything. At some point, she does stop to get a seafood okonomiyaki but you’re still trying to decide between a portion of takoyaki and some good ol’ yakisoba when Sasha lets out a squeal and excitedly waves at someone standing a few booths away.

You turn around just as the guys approach her, all smiles and giddy greetings. They look better than expected in their yukatas, the most eclectic one being Connie who is sporting a pattern of turquoise waves on a white background and a headband decorated with the rising sun motif and the kanji for “number one”.

As you take a tentative step forward, Sasha moves sideways just enough for you to unexpectedly meet Eren’s gaze, which has been focused on you from the very first squeal his friend let out. And yet, he finds himself so pathetically unprepared for the sight, for how rapidly his heartbeat increases in pace. He doesn’t even attempt to hide the wonder in his eyes as he smiles down at you and that unfiltered, pure astonishment in his gaze is more than enough for your pulse to spike. You’ve lost count of the oh nos at this point.

He opens his mouth to say something but Connie’s admired whistle comes faster.

“Yo, you look hot as shit!”

The spell doesn’t break even if you all melt in chuckles and you thank him with an exaggerated bow. Sasha clears her throat and takes him by the arm, Jean’s friendly thumbs up and the flash of Armin’s sweet smile the last things you see before the group starts moving forward and towards another stand.

“What he said” Eren’s voice comes out different, there’s no sign of his usual confidence and you can sense some weird nervousness laced into it. It makes you want to take his hand.

“You look really good yourself” you say, although good is a heavily simplistic way to depict what you’re actually looking at. The indigo yukata compliments his tan skin and further enhances (something you could not deem possible) the color of his eyes. It’s slightly open on the front, to reveal his smooth chest, and the hair he’s tied back leaves you no chance of escaping that intense stare of his. He’s perfect.

As Eren motions to the rest of the group with a graceful gesture of his hand and you walk side by side, you think you hear him mutter something very similar to a “not even close” under his breath.

“So” his eyes are back on you the second you speak “what should we eat?”

“Ah, you have to try Ryo’s takoyaki, he has a special recipe for his mayo” Eren smiles and, without a second thought, grabs your hand to drag you away from the stall where Jean and Armin are buying a grilled squid each.

“Wait, they’re still—”

“They’ll find us”

And just like that, the warmth of his fingers and the broadness of his back are the only things you can focus on as he guides you through the bustling crowd.

He introduces you to yet another acquaintance of his, Ryo smiling fondly at him and insisting for five entire minutes on the takoyaki being on the house. Eren scoffs at your attempt at paying, genuinely offended, and after a heated argument Ryo eventually gives in and accepts his money. However, he winks at you as he hands you your portion.

“I added two extra ones, don’t tell him” he whispers and you share a chuckle.

Shortly after, Eren laughs at your wide eyed stare as soon as you swallow the first bite.

“What the hell is this?” you mutter, shocked “why is everything just so much better here?”

A softer smile lingers on his lips as he watches you gush over a food he’s eaten a thousand times, bite after bite an endless stream of exclamations voicing marvel he finds adorable. When Eren stops in his tracks and you turn around, confused, he almost takes your face in his hands and kisses you right then and there, for everyone to witness. Instead, he carefully swipes his thumb across your bottom lip as an excuse to collect some mayo from the corner of your mouth and then brings that same thumb to his mouth, successfully erasing any thought from your mind and melting every bone in your body.

“Maybe you should stay, then”

He’s serious, so serious your breath hitches in your throat. Especially because your first instinct is to reply with a yeah, maybe I should you definitely can’t afford to pronounce out loud.

He keeps you locked in place with a stare that leaves you no place to hide, the pads of your fingers tingling with need. You want to kiss him, you want to stay. He wants you to. He’s waiting for you to say something.

Why?

Ask me to.

Tell me why.

Convince me.

I can’t.

But do I want to?

“Or, I could take Ryo to Tokyo with me” you swallow the ashes in your throat and attempt a smile. He purses his lips and it sucks that you can discern the disappointment flashing in his eyes. Just for a second, then it’s gone, pushed away, and Eren brings back his handsome smirk.

“I’m sure he’d love that”

He wasn’t planning on half-asking you to stay, not right now, not like that. He didn’t even realize he’s hoping for you to stay in the first place. What the hell, who does that? What is he doing, where are his friends?

You don’t understand why, or perhaps you do and choose to ignore rational explanations for the time being, but you take a step forward and gently give in to the urge of taking his hand. It’s big, rough but warm in yours.

“Is this weird?” the question is so soft he can barely hear it and yet his heart seems to miss a beat, perhaps even two.

“No” he carefully slides his fingers in between yours and takes a moment to get accustomed to the sensation only to discover that he doesn’t need it “it’s not weird”

“Good” you smile “show me around some more?”

It’s unbelievable, the amount of people Eren knows and stops to say hello to along the way. Nearly every vendor, almost every booth, he makes sure to at least wave and if someone holds him a little longer, he squeezes your hand as he asks them about their families, sons, business. You recognize some of the tourists eager to have a word with him too, lots of them part of the groups he teaches to. Most of your mornings are not spent watching his lessons anymore: you’re too busy either putting into practice his teachings firsthand, or hanging out at the cafe with Sasha. If Armin and Jean show up too, you quite literally drag them into the water because you’re eager to showcase everything you’ve learned so far. When he’s done, Eren always comes looking for you anyway.

Once he’s made sure you’ve tasted a little bit of everything, your taste buds jazzed and your stomach a second away from exploding, you decide it’s time for dessert. Your treat.

“But you don’t know what I’d like?” he teases, mischievous glint in his eyes.

You roll your eyes.

“I’m gonna take a guess. Wait here and don’t peek”

“Yes, ma’am” he stands up straight and salutes like a soldier.

You wander away but not before sending him one last glance from over your shoulder. It makes you laugh that he’s still standing in the same way, silly, boyish grin mirroring yours.

Apples covered in sugar syrup are a no, way too sweet, and you skip the colorful clouds of the cotton candy booth for the same reason. You just know Connie is going to make an inappropriate joke if you get chocolate covered bananas on a stick so you opt for two portions of kakigori, shaved ice flavored with condensed milk and syrup. The consistency is smoother, fluffier in comparison to the ones you’ve eaten in Tokyo throughout the years and endless other summer festivals, this one almost feels like fresh fallen snow. You pick strawberry as your flavor and pineapple as his, kindly asking the friendly woman working at the stall to reduce the amount of syrup of his cup.

You can feel the yukata sticking to your back as you swiftly return to where he’s waiting for you, the dessert you have picked the perfect weapon against the humid air of the evening.

“Hey” you greet “saw you standing here on your own and thought, wow, that guy’s cute. Maybe he’d give me a chance if I bribe him with food” as you hand him the colorful cup, your fingers graze his. It’s disgusting that you think you’d like to bottle up that airy laugh and keep it close, listen to it whenever you feel lonely. It’s probably one of the things you’re going to miss the most.

“Good strategy, I’m sold” even his fake wink is attractive “you look like a tourist, how’s the vacation going?” he plays along with a silliness that makes you smile as you shrug.

“Not too bad, the locals are very friendly”

“And yet no one’s had the heart to tell you that strawberry kakigori tastes like shit”

You lightly stomp on his foot, brows furrowed in a frown he finds comical and way too realistic.

“Just changed my mind, I don’t want that chance”

He displays a sorrowful grimace as he brings one hand to his chest, the fatal wound given by your sharp words almost making him curl in on himself.

“But baby” he coos, bringing that same hand to cradle your cheek, thumb delicately skimming over your cold lips “who said I was going to give you one?”

He’s already laughing when you swat his hand away, an asshole muttered under your breath even if you can’t bite back your own smile, heart pounding with the same frenzy of a hummingbird. Eren’s only ever called you that while in compromising positions and the pet name never failed to prompt immediate reactions from your body but now he’s just kidding, in the middle of the street, among a hundred other humans passing by. He makes it sound every bit as devastatingly alluring as he always does, you suppose it’s a problem that you’d like to hear him call you that again right away.

“Eren!” a voice you don’t recognize snaps you back to reality and away from your embarrassing fantasies. There’s a pretty brunette next to him, hugging him actually, hands lingering on his chest even after she pulls back. He politely says hello, takes a step back but she follows the movement, with no intention of interrupting the skin to skin contact.

“Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you all night, Sasha said you’d be around” she has gorgeous gray eyes and the purple yukata looks amazing on her.

“Yeah, m’just taking a stroll” his eyes dart to you but it doesn’t seem like he intends to introduce you at any point. You take a step back for good measure.

“Wanna join us? Porco’s here too!”

He smiles.

“Really? I’ll come say hi in a second”

She juts her bottom lip out.

“Don’t be long. I thought you’d at least call me, especially after last night. You know I miss you”

Perhaps he had a point when he said that strawberry kakigori tastes like shit because right not it feels like concrete in your mouth. You know you don’t have any right to be upset, he’s not your boyfriend and by no means you expected your little arrangement to be exclusive. But even that’s not enough of a reason to stay any longer and hear the continuation of a conversation you’re not meant to be a part of.

So you excuse yourself with a smile, her gray eyes acknowledging you for the first time and for no longer than a second, Eren’s hand almost snapping to grab your wrist to prevent you from leaving. But you’re quick and also stupid enough to give him a thumbs up from behind her back before swiftly turning around and letting go of the breath that had your lungs burning. Thank god you spot Sasha and everyone else not too far away, they’re all positioned in a semicircle around Jean and Connie.

“Isn’t this game supposed to be for kids?” you whisper to Sasha and she giggles.

“Yes but they insist on trying every year. They never win anyway”

The game consists in scooping goldfish with a small paper racket that torns almost right away when contacted with water.

“Son of a…” Connie grunts when a child next to him succeeds in catching not one but two fishes among the applause of everyone gathered around the booth to watch. His mom glares at him and you chuckle.

“Can I try?” you chime in and Connie is happy to switch places, scowl so deep you can barely bite back a laugh.

“We need a new strategy” Jean whispers angrily.

“Maybe you shouldn’t swirl the racket like that” you smile and accept the new one the booth owner lends you.

He huffs but stops his ministrations to focus on your movements, the fact that he’s damn near holding his breath is hilarious but you can’t afford any distractions: there’s a mission to accomplish.

It takes more than a few attempts and you can feel the warmth radiating from Connie’s chest practically pressed against your back in restless anticipation. When you catch one fish at last, there’s another applause drowned in his howling: you barely have the time to let the fish slip into the plastic bag filled with water the booth owner is offering before Connie’s arms close around you in a hug that lifts you off the ground.

“Beginner’s luck” Jean is not as happy: it’s quite clear who’s going to own the fish you captured.

You lift your cup with an apologetic smile.

“Want some?” there’s another spoon planted in the soft ice, he may as well be the one to use it.

“Strawberry?” he asks with a grin, accepting your offer nonetheless “we haven’t taught you enough”

“She’s going to tell all her friends we’re such snobs” Armin sighs and you chuckle.

“Ohmygod we should go try the target shooting booth! Like, right now” Sasha tugs at your sleeve and Jean catches your cup right as you lose your grip on it.

“Wait a second—”

“Please, can we go?”

“I guess we’re going target shooting” Armin concedes and Jean shrugs, now the happy owner of a dessert he didn’t have to pay for as Connie gushes over his new pet.

“What should we call them?” he asks as your little group moves towards yet another crowded stall. You turn around, Sasha still quite literally dragging you.

“Mmmh, what about Floater?”

“I think Miso would be cute” Armin chimes in but Connie snorts.

“I like Sea Beast. Yeah, that’s the one”

You all erupt in laughter, Jean knowingly putting an arm around his shoulders.

“Man, I have a feeling you’re never gonna get laid again”

“Joke’s on you, women are gonna find me adorable as shit. Right?” he raises his voice on the last word and both you and Sasha look at each other, amused.

“I guess” she concedes.

“Yeah, that’s gonna be a killer icebreaker” you agree.

Armin huffs.

“Just don’t ask women if they’d like to come over to meet your sea beast”

Horrified, Connie’s mouth hangs open as he stares at his friend like he’s grown a second head while the rest of you just contain another fit of laughter, Jean almost choking on his kakigori.

As soon as you find a small opening to stand in line by the shateki stall, you understand why Sasha was so eager to try target shooting all of a sudden. Niccolo is there with his friends, waiting for his turn, and as soon as he spots her his eyes just light up. You gently untangle her fingers from your sleeve and give her a little push as encouragement. 

“Where’s Eren?” Armin stands in line next to you, Connie and Jean excitedly having a chat with other acquaintances of theirs just behind.

“He met a friend, I wanted to leave them some space” your tone is neutral but he furrows his brows.

“A friend? Who?”

“Some girl” you casually take a look around but you’re still unable to discern the prizes lined up on the shelves. Someone’s just lost if the disappointed groans coming from the front of the queue are an indicator.

“Ah” Armin clears his throat “well, are you having fun?”

A grateful smile tugs at your lips, relief settling over you like a soft blanket. He is the most considerate person you’ve ever met. How did this group of extraordinary people got lucky enough to find each other? You can’t help but think it’s a little unfair. It’s more than luck, maybe it’s destiny for them. Another pang of jealousy sticks in your stomach like an invisible needle.

“I’m never going to forget it. Not just this night, the whole…” you stop, because it feels so unfairly minimizing to address the whole thing as just a holiday.

“Vacation?” he’s gentle with the word, makes it sound way less depressing than what you would have. You acknowledge his reply with a little nod.

“You know…” he trails off “you could stay”

Just like that. You could stay. And it sounds so real, so doable, it breaks your heart.

“I really can’t” you murmur, head hanging low to hide the embarrassing teary eyes. You hadn’t anticipated to feel so at home among strangers who welcomed you in a heartbeat, kind and unpretentious and affectionate in a way you’ve never experienced. Saying goodbye it’s probably going to be one of the hardest things you’ll ever have to do.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you” Armin gently grazes your shoulder and you just have to smile. You trust him enough to know he’s not going to mock the wetness of your eyes.

“No, don’t apologize. I guess I’m just going to miss you all”

“We really are the most unplanned part of the entire holiday, aren’t we?” he smiles too.

“Yeah, thank god you are”

Armin melts in a sweet laugh but doesn’t have the chance to say anything because suddenly, Connie’s arms are enveloping the both of you, squeezing so hard you let out a playful groan.

“Why’s he the only one who gets to hear it? I wanna hear you say how devastated you are about leaving us, too!”

“Connie!” Armin attempts to turn around, probably to flick his forehead, but he only laughs harder and, despite yourself, you do too.

“I’m devastated and I’ll miss you a lot!”

He squeezes even harder, Armin cursing under his breath.

“We’ll miss you too” and yet, Connie’s voice is gentle to the ear, in sharp contrast with the suffocating embrace he’s holding you in. If you had any space to move around, you’d squeeze him too.

When you finally manage to get to the front of the line and it’s your turn to pick up the popgun, Sasha is still deep in conversation with Niccolo and you seem to be suddenly presented with a fun way to simmer some of the frustration still boiling in your core. Perfect.

You’re quicker than Armin and casually snatch the little pot of cork from the man owning the stall. There isn’t a specific prize you’re after, although the Squirtle plushie looks quite appealing.

You quickly learn that your aim sucks and Connie’s snickering from behind you at every missed shot is not helping. You appreciate Sasha interrupting her relentless flirting to cheer you on, though. That is until something warm and solid and oddly familiar presses against your back, bigger hands enveloping yours right after you push another cork into the barrel.

“You have to get the barrel closer to the target” of course his breath is hot on your neck, cheek grazing the shell of your ear as he corrects the position of your arms.

You huff but maintain your composure.

“What are we aiming at?” he whispers and this time you know it’s deliberate, the way his lips brush against your skin. He’s such a…

“Squirtle” you challenge and Eren hums, certainly not one to shy away from a challenge.

And sure enough, after knocking over a packet of chewing gum and a rubik’s cube, with a well placed shot you actually manage to bring down your target. It’s infuriating.

He grins as he hands you your prize and you roll your eyes.

“Please know I find it extremely annoying, how good you are at everything”

“You’ve never seen him play soccer” Jean’s grumbling is a welcome distraction from Eren’s eyes boring into yours but it doesn’t last long enough, thanks to Armin who drags him away and towards another food booth. How they even have any space left for more food, is beyond your understanding.

“Took me some time to find you guys, it always gets more crowded ahead of the show” Eren briefly glances at Sasha and flashes her a smile before redirecting his attention to you.

“I catched a goldfish for Connie” you internally cringe at your pathetic attempt at changing the topic. But Eren smiles, genuinely incredulous.

“Are you kidding? He finally gets to have one?”

You shrug, mirroring his smile.

“Fuck, can’t believe I missed that”

“Can’t believe you missed that either!” Sasha’s sour reproach chimes in even if she’s standing a few steps back. You mentally thank her but Eren’s glare meets no further comments.

“Hey, listen…” he clears his throat but is soon interrupted. You turn around and then peer downward when you feel something, or someone, pulling at your yukata. A young boy holding what you can only guess is his mom’s hand stares right back at you, expression as stoic as it can be.

“Excuse me, miss” you have to bite back a chuckle as he bows “that’s my favorite pokemon, my brother tried to get it for me but couldn’t. I was wondering, if it’s not your favorite, can I have it?”

Your eyes flicker to his mom, who seems a little uncomfortable and directs you an awkward smile.

“I told him he could ask but there’s really no need…”

“What’s your name?”, you return her smile but look down at his serious little face again.

“Hiro, miss”

“Of course you can have him, Hiro” you hand him the plushie and the biggest smile splits across his face as he holds it flush against his chest “my favorite’s Lapras. Water types are just the best, aren’t they?”

“Lapras is cool” Hiro condescends “but Squirtle is cooler!”

You all laugh, his mom erupting in several thanks and him turning around to wave at you before disappearing among the crowd. It makes you a little bitter not to have a little memento from such a special evening but it only lasts a second. It’s nice to know that Squirtle is going to end up in a loving home.

“It’s almost time, we need to head to the beach!” Sasha’s excited chirp has you turning around once more, Eren’s warm smile stays in your peripheral vision as you meet her gaze.

“Time for what?” you ask, tilting your head to the side slightly.

“The firework show!” Niccolo worms his way into the conversation and flashes you a thrilled grin.

“Let’s go!” Armin and Connie, standing a little farther, signal for your little group to hurry.

“I’ll catch up” you feel Eren’s warm hand press onto your back, giving you a gentle push. You deem unnecessary to investigate further, maybe he wants to go look for the girl he couldn’t dedicate the necessary attention to and invite her to watch the show with him. Who are you to intrude, or worse, wonder? You give him a quick nod and catch up with Armin and Connie, Sasha and her new companion right behind as you all head to the beach. You think it’s sweet that Niccolo has decided to ditch his group to tag along with her and you genuinely hope that whatever may be blossoming between the two, ends up working out. She deserves it.

As expected, the beach is packed with people sitting on colorful towels or standing, some bent over little wooden tables or balancing small pieces of paper against their friends’ backs to write down wishes that will soon be entrusted to the sea. You all take turns to write yours and when Jean hands you the thin piece of paper, it takes a few seconds to wrap your mind around what you feel like asking for.

A path, maybe. Something to follow to get wherever it is you’re supposed to be going. Or maybe the strength to leave, not to close yourself off to the world again. Happiness for your new found friends, because they deserve every ounce of the genuine affection they so naturally spread around. Health for your parents. There’s a new found feeling pounding alongside your heart, you want to visit them soon and let them know that you miss them and that you’re so sorry for not having been able to see them more. You want to share that you’re going to look for a new job and that hopefully you’ll be okay soon. Hell, you even want to tell them about this entire holiday. Sit on the familiar, faded tatami floor, share a cup of caramelized almonds and just let it all out. Would they even believe you can more or less surf now? Ah, you wish they could’ve met everyone. You wish they could’ve met Eren.

He comes shortly after you’re all settled on the towels people are dispensing on the beach, you’re left pretty much alone as everyone else is sitting next to whoever they’re busy talking to. Armin has run into a pretty blonde girl on the way to the beach, they seemed to know each other so for the second time in one evening you took a few steps back and gave them some space, made sure they could sit next to each other. Sasha and Niccolo are sandwiched together between Jean and Connie, the former is speaking on the phone with his lips curled into the biggest smile while his friend is seemingly socializing with a girl you don’t know, part of a bigger group that also seems keen to have a chat with a few strangers. The general atmosphere is so warm and, all things considered, the night has been so enjoyable, you don’t find it in yourself to be frustrated or disappointed anymore.

Eren doesn’t have anyone with him as he plops down next to you with a telltale grin.

“What?” you ask, tossing him a smile back.

“Nothing. Just lookin’ at you” he shrugs and you don’t buy it for one second but play along, gently nudging his shoulder with yours.

“Yeah, that happens a lot” for a second you don’t believe he’s going to remember the silly exchange that took place on the late afternoon of your first surfing lesson, so many days ago. The way his smile grows, tells you otherwise.

“People lookin’ at you?”

“You looking at me”

“Ah” lips pursed, he nods as if to indicate an obvious, given fact “might be because you’re beautiful”

“Ahh…” you mock, a weak attempt at dissimulating your self-consciousness “you fell prey of the charming tourist!”

He nudges your shoulder with his this time, tongue in cheek.

“Guess I really did”

Your chuckles melt into one another and you realize it’s probably never going to be possible to associate the rolling of waves and the salt in the breeze that soothes your feverish skin to anything else but him.

There’s a bunch of people by the shore, bent down to fill shells with small pellets while the latecomers frantically attempt to scribble down their wishes to send off the last remaining paper ships.

“Nothing happened with her” Eren stares at his friends as he speaks, quieter and attentive with his choice of words “we ran into each other and shared a beer, that’s all”

A beat passes, one where it’s hard not to acknowledge the absurd, unjustified relief washing over you.

“It’s none of my business” you’re not looking at him either, in fact your head is turned the opposite way, eyes focused on the little paper ships being slowly released into the dark ocean waters.

“It’s not” he affirms “but I wanted you to know”

So considerate and way too respectful of a person that’s supposed to be nothing more than an easily accessible reliever. It does something funny to your stomach.

“I think she likes you” why are you insisting? You shouldn’t care at all, it’s not your life and it’s not your place. You’re just a comma in the story.

“Too bad” Eren clicks his tongue and wishes you wouldn’t be avoiding his gaze, maybe then you’d recognize something within it without him needing to say the word.

As the paper ships continue to sail, a pin-drop feeling of despair suddenly washes over him at the thought of the material easily dissolving into the water, hundreds of wishes being swallowed and erased so easily. And still, in some distorted way, they’ll keep existing. Is that what he’s going to become for you, is that what he is? Just some paper figure that will lose consistency as soon as you step on that plane? Yeah, it’s exactly what he is and he was fine with it. Until each day spent with you has given him the feeling of wanting to be more than a fleeting detail in your summer, more than a cute story you’re gonna recall with friends and lovers once you’re back to a life he doesn’t belong to.

Will they recognize the crease you get between your eyebrows whenever you frown, deep in thoughts you never share? Do they know how you like your coffee, have they ever witnessed the charming inclination of your flirting? Are they already familiar with your witty comebacks and the way you laugh at jokes you don’t find funny just so that the other person doesn’t feel bad?

Did they ever have to bite back amused grins each time you tried to contain and swallow your annoyance only to fail miserably and explode in the face of clients who were being rude to Sasha? It was only a matter of time before you decided to help her on the mornings she was short on staff, until Niccolo showed up and made it easier. And yet you still feel the same responsibility to look after her, the same way you do for everyone else.

When Jean mentioned having forgotten to get a refill of surfboard wax, you casually made a stop to the store on your way to the beach and threw the small box at him. If Connie laments the lack of inspiration for his sketches, certain he won’t be able to get the job done before the deadline the publishing house has given him, you have entire sessions in which you both sit down and exchange ideas for charactes and stories and concepts for plots inspired by your beloved books. When him and Armin are done with surfing lessons or tired enough to simply catch a break from riding waves, most times you’ll materialize by the shore with two glasses of frozen lemonade and a knowing grin.

Why shouldn’t he get to keep you? Why don’t you want to keep him, your affection apparently solid enough to take his hand but not to stay? Is his fate really to melt away and be shoved in a far corner of your mind as nothing more than a fun summer fling?

“I couldn’t find another plushie” he clears his throat a little and when you finally look at him again, suddenly everything feels right “but you probably wanted something to remember this night by, so” the small keychain dangles from his pointer finger, even in the dark you’re able to discern the small silhouette. It’s Lapras.

Your lips part in surprise as you carefully hook one finger in the metal ring to slide the keychain out of his grasp.

“I know it’s flat and everything but I couldn’t find anything better. If only someone didn’t feel like giving up the plushie I worked so hard to knock down…” the teasing is good-natured and it draws an incredulous smile as your fist closes around the silly gift.

The firework show starts right as you meet his playful gaze, dozens of shells launched simultaneously in a cascade of shimmering yellows, greens and reds all reflecting in starry eyes that get to be so bright despite the darkness. The hand that’s not squeezing the keychain hard enough for the metal to painfully dig into your palm fists the towel you’re sitting on, it’s too close to the edge and you can feel little grains of sand making their way underneath your nails. Eren inches closer the same as you do, any other noise fades in the background when all you can hear is the loud thumping of your heart in your chest and all you can feel is the warmth of his breath on your lips as your noses are close enough to touch. Even when out of focus, he’s beautiful enough to take your breath away.

There’s hesitation, a thick tension coating the bubble enveloping the two of you and the small space left between what’s been and what’s about to change everything. He swallows, barely forcing himself to wait, to let you have control for once. But right as an invisible wire snaps and he gives in to gravity, closing whatever is left of the ridiculous distance between your bodies, someone plops down heavily next to you and you jump, lips grazing his chin as you turn with wide eyes. Eren exhales deeply, shutting his for a second.

“Can’t enjoy shit with Connie’s loud babbling” Jean pauses for a second, examining both your faces “did I interrupt something?” cautiously, his eyes dart from the shy look on your face to the way his friend’s glaring daggers at him.

“No” you’re quick to say “also, let him have his moment. You’ve been blushing on the phone for half an hour”

He opens his mouth in an outraged frown but is cut off by Eren’s chuckle.

“How’s Mikasa?” his arm reaches from around your shoulders to poke at his cheek with a harsh finger. Jean swats his hand away, cheeks dusted in pink.

“Shut up” he grumbles and makes a show of turning his attention back to the fireworks once more. With a giggle, you brush your hands off of the sand sticking to your sweaty palms, keychain secured in your lap. Eren doesn’t remove his arm from your shoulders, the weight of it equal parts foreign and comforting. You could easily get used to it, that’s what you think as you lean into him and let your head rest on his shoulder.

When you stumble back into his house late that night, sandals clumsily kicked off at the door, you collapse onto his couch right away. Your legs ache and your limbs feel heavy but the giddiness still hasn’t worn off and happiness is still stubbornly vibrating in your chest as you free your hair from the tight bun Sasha has forced it into. Eren sits next to you with a light groan, his feet hurt and he’s tired but it’s certainly not enough of a reason to refrain from pulling your legs up to rest on his lap, the gesture met with your weary giggle.

“Did you have a good time?” he asks, head tilted back and half-lidded eyes focused on your smile.

“The best time” you think of the little keychain resting in the front pocket of your bag and smile a little more.

Eren hums, fingers lazily massaging your ankles as his gaze flickers to the ceiling. He wasn’t planning on asking you to come over, his kitchen’s a mess and bedroom’s even worse. But right as you were parting ways and hugging his friends—now your friends too—goodbye, he just found himself blurting the question out. And although you’ll most probably find it hard to believe, it’s not even the sex he’s after. He just wanted the time spent together to stretch a little longer, when’s he ever going to have the chance to look at you dressed like that again after all?

“M’gonna fall asleep here if you don’t stop that” with an airy giggle, you faintly kick one of his hands away from your ankle. Eyes back on you, his lips curl into a tentative smile.

“What if you actually do?”

You tilt your head against the couch pillows.

“Pass out on your couch?”

Eren huffs, lightly pinching your ankle.

“Sleep here”

“How do you still have enough energy left?” you mutter to yourself and carefully remove your legs from his lap, escaping his warm touch. With a yawn barely hidden behind your palm, you tiredly motion towards his bedroom “fine, but I hope you know you’re gonna have to do all the work”

He snorts out a light laugh.

“I meant sleep, sleep”

You stay still for a second, then furrow your brows.

“So you don’t… desire me?”

Eren’s face changes instantly, dropping in quiet shock.

“What? No, I mean yes, I didn’t mean…” you cut him off with a hearty laugh, thoroughly enjoying the tender blush that blossoms across his cheeks. It’s his turn to frown and you can barely catch the small pillow he throws at you, a worn out idiot muttered angrily that only has you laughing harder.

“Fine” it’s surprising how natural it feels to accept and trespass a limit you’ve always been so careful to set for your own sake “but all my clothes are at Sasha’s”

“Just wear one of my shirts” he grumbles as he gets up from the couch and you follow suit, giggling when he shoots you another glare. Even if still feigning annoyance, he grumpily apologizes for the mess as he digs into his closet and picks up a clean shirt for you. You recognize it as he hands it, it’s one of the ones he throws on at the beach, usually when taking breaks at the cafe in between lessons.

“I’ll leave you to it” he clears his throat but then suddenly stops, one foot outisde the room and hand resting on the door knob “would you want me to sleep on the couch?”

Confused, you return a perplexed look.

“Why would I want that?”

Eren lightly scratches the back of his neck, not really sure how to word something you probably wouldn’t even guess he’s been paying attention to. You’ve never stayed, you have never spent an entire night in his bed. He never got to wake up next to you and has no idea if you’re a kicker or a bed hogger but that isn’t to say he hasn’t been dying to find out.

He doesn’t know how to properly say it so he simply resorts to the first true thing that comes to mind.

“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable”

“You never make me uncomfortable”

The reply catches him by surprise, not because he finds it hard to believe but because you’re rarely ever this direct, gaze not faltering for a second while locked to his. With a small, almost shy nod, he shuts the door behind him to give you some privacy while you get changed.

He plans on keeping himself busy by tidying up the kitchen, frowning at his morning self who thought it’d be a good idea to leave a plate of unfinished eggs by the sink, leftovers of his breakfast now encrusted to the surface. But before he has the chance to at least attempt to scrape the remnants of what was once a decent portion of sunny side-up eggs, you peek through the door and call for him with a voice so thin Eren barely hears you.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, taking notice of your embarrassment.

“I don’t know how to take it off” you murmur and it takes everything in him not to chuckle. But it appears that you have memorized the meaning of each twitch of his lips, must be why you snort.

“I’ve never worn a traditional one! And I don’t want to ruin it, s’not mine” you grumble, not even giving him the time to acknowledge your fair reasons before disappearing behind the door once again. Eren clears his throat to disguise the little laugh that slips past his lips and prays you haven’t heard it as he makes his way to his bedroom.

You’re sitting on the bed, look at him with those big eyes of yours when he enters the room and for a fleeting moment he selfishly thinks he doesn’t want you to take the yukata off at all. Perhaps part of the night is still clinging to it, maybe taking it off means discarding each new, little moment tying you to him and starting from square one. Because he didn’t make up all those fragments still frozen in time and his memory, did he? His fingers in between yours in public for the first time, that look in your eyes when you took the keychain in your hand, the way he almost, almost got to…

“Hello? Do I have to call Sasha?” you’re standing now, waving a hand in front of his face. Eren blinks, snapping back to reality.

“Turn around” he demands, voice hoarse. You comply, mentally kicking yourself because of how the mere pitch is enough to send a shudder down your spine. It’s all you can think of as his fingers work their way through Sasha’s intricate ribbon, a few curses being muttered for good measure as he fumbles with the fabric, tugging and tugging in hopes of loosening it enough to take the obi off. Your back is pressed to his chest with each pull and it takes a deep exhale to keep yourself from leaning into him the way you’ve been dying to do for the entire night.

He pulls the bow one last time, not without a grunt, and the knot can finally be easily untied. You catch the obi before it falls to the floor and carefully fold it to then place it on Eren’s desk. It’s fine, he’s done, you can take it from here. So why does he keep you in place, hands on your hips a gentle warning to keep still as his arms wrap around you and his chest is finally flush against your back?

His fingers find the tight knot of the cord resting above your waistline and take their sweet time untying it, your heart stuttering erratically against your rib cage. Eren wonders if you can feel his heart on your back, it’s throbbing almost painfully and he swears whatever is left of his chest fucking flutters when you release the tension in your shoulders and melt in the embrace the cord was nothing but a pathetic excuse to initiate.

Yeah, he’s invited you to stay over with no malicious intent but what the hell? The damn thing is coming off, what’s going to be left of the night if he doesn’t seal it on you somehow?

He doesn’t let the yukata slip off your body, instead he accompanies it. Eren takes a second to appreciate the fabric gliding easily from his fingers, so cool, smooth and slick it reminds him of water. You do too. Just like water, a stubborn river or an unstoppable downpour with its persistent dripping, you have drilled yourself into his very being and patiently shaped every corner to make sure it could accomodate you and no one else.

Of course you don’t see the point in staying still: patience wears thin whenever he’s there for you to have. You barely ever allow him to take his time, always so eager to get what you want and him yielding without fail against his better judgement. Look at what you’ve become, just because he’s never been determined enough to teach you any better.

As you spin in his embrace, Eren lets you have it your way for a moment. He lets you take his face in your hands and dips his head to meet you halfway, a whimper already easing from your throat as you command his lips to part with the tip of your tongue. Again, he indulges you, lets you lick into his mouth and clumsily untie his yukata, allows it to unceremoniously pool at your feet. But you attempting to drag him toward the bed with you is where Eren draws the line.

His hands are not smoothing over your hips anymore, they feel everything else as they rise to cup your face. He only allows himself one harmless nip to your bottom lip, nothing but a gentle warning as his hold grows firmer to keep you in place while he finally kisses you the way he’s been dying to for so long. It’s unrushed and deep and he hopes to god the slow swipes of his tongue over yours are sweet because he’s certain he doesn’t want to taste anything else now that he’s tasted you like this.

“Eren…” it’s the only thing you have enough air in your lungs to rasp when he shows enough leniency to let you breathe, pulling back only to nudge the tip of his nose against yours.

“I’m here” he whispers back, head dipping lower to lightly nip at the spot where your pulse taps against your skin so fast it’s almost flattering. The way he lightly sucks at the skin of your neck draws another whine.

The change of pace, those butterfly kisses he slowly drags across your jaw are a novelty so unexpected you have to tighten the grip on his arms, sharp nails digging into the skin of his biceps as you urge him closer and attempt to steady yourself at the same time because you hardly trust your legs at the moment. When you breathe out his name again, mind short-circuiting as your head falls back to grant him more access, he hums comfortingly.

“What is it?” it’s exhilarating how you’re melting like soft butter under his touch and yet he’s the one feeling delirious over a hunger with smoother edges that now accomodates something bigger, something as tender as the sound you let out with a shuddering breath when he gently scoops you up and kisses you again while attentively settling you on his bed. You keep him close, arms around his neck not loosening for a single moment.

“What is it?” Eren asks again in a murmur, big hands resting on each side of your thighs to make sure they remain locked around his waist, abdomen tense to keep his balance on his knees and avoid crushing you.    

You’ve never seen a gaze so intense, you never took it slow enough to count his heavy breaths and notice the painful thumping of your heart nor the unfamiliar wooshing in your ears. Holding eye contact is overwhelming and your stomach clenches at the coldness of one of your legs when one of his hands abandons it, knuckles leaving a scorching trail of pure fire behind them as they gently graze the right side of your face.

He lowers his head but doesn’t kiss you, nose pressed to your cheek in a way that makes it hard for the both of you to breathe, in a way that feels raw and desperate.

“Tell me” he’s so close it feels like he’s whispering the words into your very bones, for a moment you think you can swallow them. The hand he gracefully sneaks between your bodies draws a breathless gasp.

I love you.

Time stops. The thought rings so sharply in your head, you’re convinced you’ve voiced it out loud.

You love him, of course you love him. How could you not?

It’s such a stupid revelation and there’s really no excuse, no plausible reason to justify the tears that sting the corners of your eyes.

I love you.

Eren pulls back to breathe, or perhaps just to look at you. Even if you remain out of focus from such close distance, even in the dim light that bleeds through the door into his dark bedroom, he sees enough. The tip of your nose, your furrowed brows, lips parted and swollen. He’s too busy thinking he wants you exactly like this, all the time, to notice the slight trembling of your body underneath him.

He’s certainly made his point about not being in any rush tonight but still he is waiting for something, it’s evident in those devastating irises piercing yours. You tighten the hold of your arms around his neck, a bitter taste on your tongue as you pull him closer to whisper the wrong thing against his lips.

“I need you”

Against all odds, he deems it enough. He can read all there’s to read in your gaze alone, he feels it in the familiarity of your fingers through his hair and is determined to hear it in all the ways he wants you to chant his name over and over again, in every possible pitch and inflection. He wants it to be a prayer and a revelation.

You already have him, all of him, and you don’t even know. So it’s only fair he makes sure you finally do.

You stir awake and the first things you register are the arm draped over your waist and the soft breath tickling your shoulder. Your body stills, frozen, equal parts terrified of waking him and absolutely scrambled by the rapid succession of resurfacing memories bound to the previous night.

The cautious, minimal turn of your head against the soft pillow results in a hitched breath. He’s so close already and only seems intent on scooting closer, unintelligible humming somehow louder than the thumping of your heart as his hold grows tighter and he nuzzles further into you, nose effectively buried in the crook of your neck, lips pressed to your skin.

You feel dizzy. Mind’s all over the place, unable to pull itself together and make sense of the events that hold the power to potentially disrupt you life, change everything you have so carefully tried to keep together.

Not a single time Eren has been bad at sex, he’s never taken your pleasure for granted nor has he ever chased his without first making sure you were either getting your fair share or felt the determination to focus on him and only him. It just took a couple of encounters to memorize your body, the angles and rhythms and grips and praises and sometimes the harsher words that render you either boneless or a mess whose loudness he never even attempts to swallow.

Eren can be attentive, rougher and impatient on certain days, slower and languid on rainy afternoons, when he gets you ready for him with such care pleasure melts into pure anguish. It’s never enough, you always need more of him and are not even shy enough to hide it anymore, shamelessly asking with an all-consuming force gradually blurring into straight up demanding. That’s when his low chuckle echoes like a melody. He enjoys every second of the reactions that showcase the effect he has on you.

But everything about last night felt different, from the way he kept looking at you to the newfound feeling of his fingers intertwining with yours over your head while the most tender whispers guided you through your high.

He’s done nothing short of worshipping you, featerlight kisses trailing from your ankles to your inner thighs, the slightest touch more than enough for your back to arch, every inch of your body and nerves catching fire as he kept stroking your hair and pressing his lips to your eyelids, all while reassuring you of you good you were being for him, how beautiful you looked, how perfect you felt. It’s a miracle you didn’t end up melting into a puddle underneath him, because that’s where he kept you the entire time, never once allowing your hands to grant him relief or your mouth to do anything else but welcome his. It was just you, nothing else seemed to matter in his entire universe and Eren didn’t so much as catch his breath until you were reduced to a babbling, limp mess that couldn’t even think about how to spell his name correctly.

And then he’s kept you close, pulled you into his chest as if scared you were going to slip away like the sand you probably brought inside the house with those sandals anyway. He’s kissed your forehead, the apples of your cheeks, all while the pads of his fingers were busy drawing lazy, airy figures along the curve of your spine, the very last sensation you remember before falling asleep in an embrace so warm and protective.

He’s made love to you. What’s more, he’s made love to you like nobody else ever has and now there’s no further ignoring it. God knows if you’ll have the strength to walk away from it at all.

“Hi” you wince when his sleepy drawl vibrates against your skin, lips sealing the simple greeting right below your ear. It’s the first time you wake up next to him, the thought is enough to have the rate of your heartbeat spike.

“Hi” you whisper back. His hand traces a smooth pattern along your side, up and down, then it settles right where your ribs reside, thumb grazing the skin gently and feeling the little valleys in between the cartilage.

“How are you feelin’?” he’s still not raising his head, position either too comfortable or simply ideal to give you some extra time to adjust to… everything.

“Good” you murmur but Eren senses your discomfort and can feel the stiffness of your body. So he withdraws his arm and scoots away, retreating to his side and placing his head back on his pillow instead of using you as one. But now you can meet his half-lidded gaze and lazy smile, as charming in the early morning as it is in the middle of the night.

“How are you feeling?” you can’t help but ask in turn, which is weird and formal and draws a low chuckle.

“Never better” although he feels more than better, he feels the luckiest he’s ever been. He feels disgusting and psyched. He feels so in love.

“Great” you clear your throat as you pull the thin sheet further up. Eren keeps looking at you like he’s foolishly trying to map out your features. As if he needs to do that, as if they’re not already burned into his memory.

“Hey” he warns, fingers delicately flicking your forehead “no freaking out before breakfast”

You peer up at him from long lashes.

“I’m not freaking out” of course you are and of course he knows but that won’t stop you from frowning in protest, mockingly distorting his words.

“Sure you aren’t” he smiles to himself and rolls onto his back to rub his eyes with a loud yawn that has you giggling.

“What are you, a blue whale?”

He clicks his tongue, feigning annoyance as he stretches and intentionally avoids your gaze.

“That’s no way to talk to the man who’s about to put together the best breakfast you’ve ever had”

Although Eren doesn’t want to get up at all. He doesn’t need food nor water as long as he gets to have you right there in his bed, as long as he gets to hold on to the hope of having you like this again and again.

“Whatever we’re going to do about this presumption of yours” you hide your smile in his pillow but he simply shrugs, not sparing you a glance as he gets up with a groan and collects some clean underwear from one of his drawers.

He only leaves the room after he’s playfully thrown his shirt at you, softness settling in the corners of his lips as he suggests you take a shower while he carries out his breakfast duty. Your heart swells at the attentiveness of it all, at the space he’s trying so hard to give you in hopes that you feel comfortable enough to catch your breath. Not to run away.

With a long, drawn out sigh, you comply.

The shower feels nice and his shampoo smells so good you don’t mind the absence of your coconut scented one. Of course he also has conditioner, there really is no other explanation for that hair.

As you tiptoe back into his bedroom wrapped in nothing but a skimpy towel, you catch the glorious sound of something sizzling in a pan and it’s enough to bring a smile to your face while you shut the door and rest your back against it for a moment. Your eyes land on Sasha’s yukata, staring back at you from the ground in all its glory. You rush to pick it up and carefully fold it, embarrassment burning your cheeks at how little you’ve cared about not ruining it. Along with the cord and the obi, you let it slip into an empty paper bag big enough to contain it because there’s no way in hell you’re walking home in that.

The shirt Eren has given you is long enough to cover your ass but certainly not enough to step outside without drawing scandalized looks along the way, so you dig into his closet some more and pick a pair of bermuda shorts that will certainly look ridiculous on you but remain the best option currently on hand.

After patting your hair dry with the towel to the best of your abilities, you grab the bag, your phone from his nightstand, and pray to be ready for whatever is coming. The flutter in your chest is not entirely unpleasant, right? There must be a way to make this work. Whatever it is.

It’s love, you goddamn idiot, a voice whispers from inside your dizzy mind. You pay it no mind.

“That was fast” Eren looks at you for just a second before returning his attention to whatever he’s cooking. You catch the smile anyway.

“Smells too good” you leave the bag to rest against the table leg and plop down on a chair. It feels like your seat already, given that he’s placed the mug you usually use right there, filled with coffee to the very brim. When he spins to serve the breakfast he’s prepared, Eren rolls his eyes upon meeting your already skeptical gaze.

“Just try it” he mumbles “I got a different one”

For you.

As you take a tentative sip, you notice everything he’s filled the table with. He’s pushing a portion of french toast in your plate right from the pan and taking a smaller one for himself, but there’s also a separate plate available for all the other options: fried eggs, herb cream cheese, strawberry jam, some honey, toasted bread.

He sits down next to you and meets your amazed gaze only to crack a boyish grin.

“I didn’t know what you liked”

“I’m impressed” you swallow the lump of whatever feeling got caught in your throat along with the coffee and raise the cup to indicate the object of your praise. As if he hasn’t already called all your bluffs.

“I get that a lot” he sticks his tongue out and it’s your turn to fondly roll your eyes.

It’s the first time you taste something he’s cooked and it’s so very painful to find out he’s good at yet another thing.

The intimacy of sharing a quiet, sunny morning at his kitchen table is not as overwhelming as you thought it’d be: he holds the power of making it easy and special just like everything else. You feel eerily at home, suddenly filled with giddy excitement at the prospect of experiencing more of these mornings. At the idea of him welcoming you into his everyday life with such ease, willing to buy expensive coffee if it means you accepting to stay long enough to drink it.

It almost makes you want to say it. As you laugh at the funny story involving one of the students he’s going to teach to in an hour, with your mouth stuffed with french toast and the urge to collect the cream cheese remnants from the corner of his lips with yours, you almost blurt it out.

I love you.

I love your smile and your kindness and how you stay awake for me if the wind blows too hard and I know you wonder if my roof creaks just like yours does. I love your life and your friends and how there’s so much space for everyone in a heart that may as well be as big as your beloved island. I love the touch of your hands and how you kiss me on the way home if no one else’s around and now I wish you could kiss me awake each morning.

“Stop” he playfully throws a crumpled up piece of his napkin at you. It hits you right between your brows.

“What? I’m not doing anything” you throw it back but he dodges it.

“You’re overthinking”

“I’m thinking exactly the right amount”

“Care to let me in so I can decide that?”

You open your mouth to entertain more of the familiar banter you hold so close to your heart but your phone screen lights up and the text you get is enough to capture your attention right away. Your heart drops to your stomach as you read it, the french toast still melting on your tongue now tasting bad enough to draw a pang of pure nausea.

“You okay?” you recognize the sincere worry in his voice, even as he attempts to keep it light.

“Yeah” locking your phone again, you place it face down on the table once more. You don’t think you can stomach a single other bite of food.

“I have to go now, will stop by Sasha’s to bring her yukata back. I borrowed that bag of yours, is that okay?” you’re not looking at him as you get up and he does too, confused.

“Yeah, of course” he follows suit as you quickly grab the bag still resting on the couch and shove your phone in it. Eren doesn’t have the time to enjoy the glorious sight that is you in his clothes, even with those ridiculous shorts everyone will surely be able to recognize as menswear.

But just as he thinks you’re going to leave him without sparing him a single glance, you stop in your tracks right before the door and turn around, the smile on your lips so artificial it makes his stomach churn with a sour feeling that erases all the sweetness that has coated his morning up until this very moment.

“Will you come over, later?”

There’s softness in the way you direct the question to him and he holds on to it for dear life.

“If you want me to” he replies with the same softness and something inside you just melts.

What you have to do is terrible, cruel in its unfairness, but unavoidable. So you should get to bask in a fantasy for a few seconds more, right? You should get to delay his disappointment, to give him a few more hours of peace of mind.

It’s heartbreaking, the way he perks up when you take his hand and bring the chapped knuckles to your lips.

“Of course I want you to” you don’t let go as you rise onto your tiptoes and tilt your head in a silent plea. You wish the relief he exhales right into your mouth could take root in your lungs.

When Eren kisses you, the crackling electricity is still there. But it’s the tenderness that makes your eyes burn, the way he takes your face in his palms and squeezes gently to make sure you’ll be looking at him as he pulls back enough to return your dazed gaze.

“We’ll figure it out” he says it so simply, so genuinely, you’re not sure you can get out of his house before he notices the tears.

You find it in yourself to nod and reach for another peck, because it’s probably going to be your last anyway.

I love you.

It’s that thought that carries you through the day, repeated over and over in your head until your lips follow suit and you’re muttering it like a madwoman.

You let the brief time spent with Sasha soothe your mind and it’s actually fine that she notices the redness of your eyes and the heartache embedded in your blank stare.

“Did he do something to upset you?” sometimes she reminds you of Armin, the attentive way she adapts her energy to match the one of whoever she is with is one of your favorite things about her. Although you’d much prefer a bubbly distraction at the moment.

“No, never” you reply with a small, bitter smile “I’m the one who’s about to do it, actually”

You tell her because she asks and because she’s part of the people you’re gonna have to say goodbye to. Since you’re absolutely not planning to go to the beach, you take your chances and ask her the odds of her breaking the news to everyone else.

“There’s no way in hell” she retorts with a glare so sharp it’s almost funny “they’d think you don’t regard them as friends. Connie would never forgive you”

With a light huff, you deflate against the backrest of her couch. Of course she’s right, they deserve a proper goodbye.

“I’ll come by tomorrow” you capitulate with a weary sigh and Sasha takes one of your hands in hers with a smile that never reaches her usual bright eyes.

“I’ll miss you” she almost whispers it and it takes everything in you not to choke up on your own I’ll miss you too as you squeeze her in the tightest hug you’ve probably ever given to another human being.

The first thing you do when you get home is get changed, his clothes are neatly folded and placed at the end of your bed because you can’t bear the idea of more of his scent clinging to your skin: you’re not even entirely sure the shower was enough to wash it off.

With a certain degree of fatigue, you pull the suitcase out from your closet, the sweltering heat of the room suddenly suffocating and unbearable. Even with the AC turned on, it feels like you can’t breathe.

You tear your clothes from their hangers, snatch them out of your drawers and toss them in your luggage, not even bothering to fold any of them. It’s better to do it today, you’re not sure you’re gonna have the strength to do it tomorrow and you definitely don’t want to spend your last day packing up.

Robert Lowell’s book is placed carefully on top of the chaotic mountain of clothes, it’s a gift you deem special and you’d hate to ruin it.

Connie’s sketch is stored in a plastic folder and you reserve it the same attentiveness as you put it right next to Armin’s book. It’s a stylized portrait of someone who barely looks like you: your eyes do not have that glow in them and your smile most certainly isn’t as bright. You like the overly accentuated features, he has a cool drawing style and it’s still so hard to believe he felt the urge to devote his free time to craft something so unique and meaningful just for you.

The sight of the tourist brochure draws a chuckle and you pick it up from your nightstand to open it and read Jean’s silly inscription for the umpteenth time.

She believed she could so she did: to a summer spent outdoors!

Right underneath, he’s scribbled a list of the best spots to visit, the vast majority of them comprising the forests he spends most of his mornings and afternoons guiding tourists through. You’re gonna miss his teasing smirk and predictable jokes, the way he nonchalantly worms his way into any conversation you’d be having with Sasha just to get a burger out of it.

One day you’re probably going to deem it hilarious, the fact that the brochure is what gets you. Fat, searing tears overflow at last, staining the stupid tank top Eren’s pulled over your head so many times you’ve lost count.

You end up sliding down to the parquet floor, knees to your chest as you sob pathetically, hiccup after hiccup until you’re shaking so bad you have to wrap your own arms around yourself in an attempt to calm down. Phone screen lights up again and you catch the preview of a text from Sasha, one picture attached.

Developing this today, so you can take it with you!

It’s most probably from the previous night, the only group picture you’ve ever taken in two months. If you close your eyes, you can almost feel the familiar weight of Armin’s arm around your shoulders and Connie’s chin resting on your head.

You catch your breath at last, cheeks burning and eyes puffy. Your limbs don’t carry enough energy to do anything else besides booking a one-way ticket, tossing your phone away and crawling onto your still perfectly made bed.

It’s funny, the hollowness your chest tightens around as you shut your eyes: you could swear the exact same spot had been so impossibly full of love and light just a few hours prior. It’s been so easy to get transported into some sort of fantasy world, a perfect reality that didn’t include your actual life at all. But you do have a life you have to get back to and it’s been foolish of you to allow yourself to forget about it. There’s a job offer you cannot afford to refuse because you’re two months behind on your rent, there’s the uncomfortable amount of stuff still waiting to be collected from your ex boyfriend’s house, the now irretrievably shifted dynamics of your friend group you have to navigate. And yet.

In two months you’ve met people that have made this holiday so special. Talking to them has given you the courage of opening yourself to the world like you used to do when you were younger and filled with hope. It felt like stepping into the sun after a long, dark, tiring night.

Who knew you could feel so free, wrapped in foreign embraces and inspired by unfamiliar routines, who knew you could meet someone who’d make you feel so lost and then, suddenly, found. Eren’s made you fall for him little by little, the invisible trickle of a covert fountain concealed by whispered conversations in your bedroom, failed dinners whenever you’d stubbornly insist on not letting him anywhere close to your stove, afternoons spent with your feet buried in the boiling sand in hopes to catch as little as a glance, the fleeting flash of a grin shot your way. He’s made you fall for him gently, the idea of crashing to the ground never once crossing your mind, bones still perfectly intact even at the mercy of his touch.

Eren’s disrupted you while keeping you whole. Even better, perhaps he’s given you an entirely new form. One that adapts easily to life and chases adventures and isn’t afraid of being seen.

You hate the idea of leaving him behind, insides churning at the mere thought of telling him you’re leaving with such short notice. But maybe it’s for the best. Those three words have been left hanging in the air after all, segregated in your minds and engraved in your bodies. You’re content with tricking yourself into believing that it’s a little less real, if you don’t say it. You feel it and perhaps he feels it too, but you’re just in time to nip what it is and whatever it may become right in the bud.

Unsurprisingly, the nap ends up proving to be absolutely useless and you wake up a couple hours later with a throbbing headache and an almost debilitating thirst. The birds outside are chirping mockingly as you lethargically drag yourself out of your bed and out of the room, the mess of clothes, bags and luggages still reigning supreme right in the middle of it clumsily stepped over without so much as a glance.

The living room is filled with corners you can’t look at, although you briefly wonder if the books stacked by the tv will be collected and eventually find a new owner.

After gingerly pouring yourself a glass of cold water, you climb onto the kitchen counter and check your phone. Sasha’s already had the picture developed is what you can guess from the picture of a big envelope she’s sent you a few minutes ago. There’s a flight confirmation email in your inbox and a text from Armin, asking why you’re not at the beach yet.

You actually end up turning the tv on at full volume while you finish packing, taking a break only to down a dry sandwich when the squeezing of your stomach gets impossible to ignore. No more pathetic tears gather along your lashes for the rest of the afternoon, turns out packing your things is a lot easier when you don’t care about how you’re putting them away. All your clothes are probably going to need a heavy ironing session once you’re back in Tokyo, quite the minor inconvenience.

When Eren arrives, he announces his presence as loudly as usual, dragging his saccharine helloooo because it always makes you laugh. He has bags in his hands because he’s once again stopped by the market just in case and is already grumbling about how you never keep your damn door locked when you get up from the couch to greet him.

“You really need to stop filling my fridge with so much food” the good-natured scolding meets the skeptical click of his tongue as he starts pulling out the groceries and piling them up on your table.

“Says the girl who raids said fridge and leaves it empty in the space of one evening”

You huff but Eren cuts you off before you can put together a comeback.

“It’s just some of Kukiko’s fruit and a few snacks”

“You mean those rice cakes, candy corn and ketchup chips you love?”

With a fond roll of the eyes, he finishes emptying the bags and waves a box of chocolate pralines half an inch from your nose. Your gaze flickers to the different products scattered across your table: peaches, figs, your favorite tourist-friendly ice cream and cream filled wafers. There’s just a tiny box of rice cakes.

“I actually wanted to get proper food and cook a nice dinner, you know, because you barely touched my fantastic breakfast” he flashes you a quick smile “but then I thought, I know this great place we’ve never been to and they make an incredible pan-fried salmon”

Eren knows something’s up, he obviously does. But that doesn’t stop him from taking your cheek in his hand to gently tilt your head up and let you meet his painfully hopeful stare.

“Will you let me take you out, tonight?”

Will you let me do this right?

Instead of taking a step back, you place your hand over the back of his to press his palm deeper into your skin. He doesn’t really know at what specific point he starts holding his breath.

“Eren, I’m leaving”

There’s a slight spasm of his lips, one that would’ve probably been imperceptible to a less trained eye.

“I’m aware” there’s a sour harshness in his tone he doesn’t try to bite back “I was hoping we could’ve talked about this later on”

Of course he knows you’re leaving. Still, the fact that this is the first thing you deem reasonable to bring up after the previous night, after that morning, is hurtful. Hell, he isn’t even allowed a full day of timeout from reality? Are you really that eager to remind him?

You press his palm a little harder.

“In two days”

The silence that settles over the small room is loud enough to make your ears ring, cheek brutally left cold as if your skin has suddenly turned scorching.

“What?” he attempts an incredulous smile “what d’you mean in two days? You said you’d leave in September, it’s barely August”

You take a quivering breath, forcing yourself not to lower your gaze.

“Something came up. I’ve been offered a job I really need and they want me in Tokyo by the end of this week, I really didn’t plan for it to—”

“Did you know?” he interrupts you with an aggressiveness you don’t recognize “this morning, as you were leaving, did you know?”

“Yes” you swallow the painful lump constricting your throat. He lets out a bitter laugh, one hand running through his hair in disbelief.

“Did you know last night, too? Before we fucked, I mean. That’s all it was to you anyway” he storms past you and before you can even think of stopping him, he’s pushed the door to your bedroom open. The sight of your packed up luggage makes him want to throw up on the spot.

It’d be so easy to indulge his version, allow it to gain consistency and distance yourself from whatever it is you’re both feeling. But you can’t bear the thought of betraying him twice, you decide you can’t carry the weight of a lie so big so you let it melt on your tongue.

“You know that’s not true” it’s pathetic, really, the strangled way words leave your mouth. Eren chuckles again, a sound so empty and dull compared to his real laugh. It breaks your heart, it makes you feel as if something’s clawing at your chest from the inside.

“What was it, then?” he challenges, it only takes two very angry, wide strides and he’s towering over you again “you can’t even say it”

“What good would that do?!” it’s unfair, it’s really fucking unfair that he’s handling the whole situation as if it’s hurting him more than it’s hurting you “what if I say it, then what? This entire thing was bound to end anyway! Even if I stayed, how do you know we wouldn’t end up going our separate ways in a month anyway?” so long for keeping tears at bay, you think as you angrily wipe your cheeks until they burn from the unforgiving friction.

“Fucking hell” Eren shakes his head with another mocking smile that makes your blood boil.

“What? Look at us, you’re already second-guessing everything about me!” you push past him and toward your couch, just to have something to lean against because your legs feel wobbly “acting like you’re the only one affected by this bullshit situation” words don’t come out as harsh as you’d like, dying in your throat instead as you fail to hold back a sob.

Eren stays by the sink with that irritating condescension he just couldn’t fucking spare you. As if you’re not shattered already, wondering how you’ll be able to put the pieces back together once more now that the edges are rougher and different and will probably never match each other again.

“You can’t do this. You can’t make me fall for you and then leave” he spits the last word like it’s venom and it actually burns on his lips. Eren’s never actually planned to ask you to stay, he never thought he’d be selfish enough. Turns out he was wrong all along.

When he says it, you can’t help the way your head lifts in surprise. He’s said it and there’s really no turning back now, no place to hide or run away to. It’s all over him, the disappointment you feel so responsible for, it’s in the way his fists seem to shake and in the sharp edge of his tight jaw. It’s in the way his eyes lack their usual spirit as they look back at you.

“That’s right” he mistakes the shock on your face for dread and allows for another smile to split across his face, nothing but a cruel mask distorting his features “bet that’s the worst fucking thing you ever heard, huh?”

It is. Because now your heart can’t stop its swelling and the flutter in your chest feels suffocating. It is, because somehow he’s fallen for you the same way you’ve fallen for him and if he’s experiencing half the sorrow currently knocking the wind out of your lungs, perhaps you should find it in yourself to be gentler.

“I’m sorry” you whisper it quietly, with a slight shrug and fresh tears staining your cheeks “I’m not doing any of this to hurt you. I wish I could decide to stay, just like that, but I don’t have a job and I’m behind on rent and, fuck, I think even the only coat I own is still at my ex’s house and…”

“What are we?” he interrupts you once more but there’s no aggressiveness this time. He’s quiet as he steps closer but you don’t dare look him in the eyes, choosing to focus on the milk white carpet beneath your feet instead. However, Eren’s not having any of it. With new found, blind obstinacy, he gets close enough to gently grip your chin and demand your attention. You’re a terrible liar and, by now, he knows all too well where to look for a lie in your stare.

“Tell me” he lowers his voice almost in a plea and the lump in your throat only grows in size when you catch the redness framing his eyes. 

“We’re friends” you whisper “before anything else. I hope we’re friends”

His grip on your chin tightens.

“What else?”

“Eren—”

“I’m in love with you” he sighs, in disbelief at how easy it’s been to pronounce the words out loud at last, a familiar albeit pained smile finally making its way to his lips as he lets you go “am I really that bad of a contender?”

But he lets go of your chin only to take your face in his hands right as new tears start rolling down your cheeks, unfazed by how useless it is for his thumbs to try and wipe them away. That’s finally him, embedded in the tenderness he holds you with.

“I want this” he mutters “I want you and yes, that may go away some day but you’re letting it go away now. You’re not even willing to try”

It takes so much effort to find it in yourself to gently grab his wrists and pull his hands down.

“You’re asking me to give up my entire life. Sometimes love isn’t enough, Eren, sometimes someone has to be an adult and do the right thing even if it shatters them”

“I’m guessing you’re the adult in this scenario whilst I’m being what, the irrational brat?”

“Stop putting words into my mouth” you tiredly wipe your cheeks again, so exhausted you can barely take another shaky breath in “you want me to stay. I can’t do that, even if I fucking hate that I can’t. You think you’re the only one with a broken heart in the scenario, as you called it, so feel free to turn this into another sad story you’re gonna recall with the next tourist girl you sweep off her feet”

Eren thinks a raw slap would’ve hurt less. He looks at you like you’re someone he can’t recognize and finally takes a step back with a slight nod of his head, acceptance slowly setting over his features.

A beat passes, one where the only sound filling the room is your accelerated breath.

“You never asked if I’d come with you”

And just like that, something slams against your ribcage but it couldn’t be your heart because you're certain it has stopped beating.

“You’d never do it” your tongue suddenly feels swollen in your mouth, too big and heavy to assist you in properly articulating a sentence “I know you’d never do it. You always say you can’t imagine yourself anywhere else” desperation gets the best of you and your pitch turns squeaky. Eren smiles another one of his sad smiles, the ones you’ve met today for the first time and are sure will haunt you in your dreams.

“Have you ever even thought of asking?”

For a few seconds, you believe those are going to be his last words to you. That is until he turns around by the front door, just a second, maybe to take a look at you for the very last time. That’s the real breaking point for whatever is left in your chest.

“Don’t expect me to be around to say goodbye, tomorrow”

A fragment of time is all it takes for him to be out, all signs of him having ever been there at all still scattered across your kitchen table. 

The AC system of Armin’s car is currently not working and you only find out once you’re seated in a boiling passenger seat. He chuckles when you turn to look at him in pure horror.

“You wouldn’t have let me take you if I’d told you. It already took me two hours of convincing as it is” he reaches across you to roll down the window, the hint of a guilty blush tinting the tips of his ears. His hair is lighter now than it was in the early summer and the flush of his cheeks is harder to detect now that his skin is tanned.

“I could’ve taken the bus” you rest your back against your seat with a light frown: the parts of your skin that are not covered by your thin tank top stick to the scalding leather right away.

“I know” he offers a soft smile “but I really wanted to do this”

Armin hated the idea of you having to go alone much like everyone else but he was the only one free enough to have a few hours to spare that morning. Sasha insisted on letting Niccolo handle the cafe for the day but she doesn’t own a car and the backseat of Armin’s Ford Fiesta is already taken up by your luggage and backpack. You resisted up until the very end, stubbornly insisting on being perfectly capable of reaching the airport on your own, mumbling some nonsense about not wanting to be a bother until Armin had raised a hand, resolute.

So I don’t even get to give my friend a ride?

Connie was the only one to laugh at the tears rapidly collecting in your eyes but it was a sweet, accomodating sound at odds with his usual exuberant cackle. Even he found it funny and kinda concerning that you still couldn’t grow accustomed to being considered their friend.

“Thank you” you return his smile and Armin nodds, giving your shoulder a light squeeze before he starts the car.

The small vacation rental that has welcomed and taken care of you for more than two months shrinks and then disappears in the rear view mirror, the morning sun bouncing off the scraped off exterior you’ve grown fond of.

You now recognize the small streets, alleys and shops you pass by, going as far as to lean out of the window to check if Masaru-san, who always treats you to an extra muffin on the mornings you drop by to buy his fresh bread, is having a smoke outside his bakery.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” Armin’s gentle voice draws you back into the boiling car.

“Sure”

He shoots you a quick glance.

“Have you at least told him that you love him?”

You suck a sharp breath in, caught entirely off guard. There was never a direct agreement of not mentioning The Topic during the one-hour drive but, given how considerate Armin always is, silly you kinda thought that’d be implied.

“I know it’s none of my business” he quickly adds because of course he can’t help himself “but I haven’t heard from him in two days and I’m kinda hoping he at least has that to hold on to”

“You haven’t heard from him in two days?” it made sense for him not to be at the beach when you dropped by to say your goodbyes, you never expected for him to show up anywhere else until he could be sure you’d be sitting on that plane but to disappear off the face of the earth? Not even talking to his friends?

“No. To be completely honest, we’re worried. He’s never done this before” Armin keeps looking ahead of him, tone oddly flat as if he’s having a conversation about the most casual topic.

“We had a fight” you mutter “didn’t exactly say goodbye on great terms. He’ll come around”

“That doesn’t exactly answer my question”

It’s not like him to be so pushy and you suddenly feel like the heat is too suffocating, the vehicle too small, your lungs too rigid.

“No” you clear your throat “but he knows”

There’s no point in denying or feeling embarrassed about it. You’re positive everyone knows anyway.

Armin hums, seemingly pensive, but doesn’t say anything. Your neck itches and the pads of your fingers start tingling.

“What?”

“Nothing”

“Armin, just tell me”

For fuck’s sake—

“S’just that Eren can be really dense. I bet he’s convinced this was nothing more than a summer fling for you”

That’s not true, he’s one of the smartest people you’ve ever met. Well, when it came to most things anyway.

“He knows” you insist, heart rate spiking for reasons not entirely clear. Armin shrugs.

“If you say so”

A beat passes, silence stretching past a comfortable interval.

“What if he doesn’t?” you challenge, exasperated “even better, he’ll get over it sooner!”

Armin lowers his head slightly, hands sliding to the sides of the steering wheel.

“He’s in pain” it’s not an accusation, just a mere observation. And yet it hurts all the same.

“I am too” why is it so easy for everyone to forget that?

Little do you know, Armin is perfectly aware. Everyone is aware. You’re wearing that pain on your disheveled hair and the bags under your eyes, it’s embedded in your dull tone and in how easy it now is for any word to draw tears.

It’s not like him to get involved in someone else’s life, especially when the situation is so raw and delicate but not even him is willing to just sit and watch two people mutually agreeing to ruin each other and leave it at that. It may not be his place but he’s prepared to dismiss his usual reluctance.

“I know” he’s driving way too slow for someone who’s supposed to rush you to the airport but you’re too distracted to notice “sorry, that was insensitive of me. You’re right, it’s for the best, he’ll come around soon enough”

You don’t say anything back, attention harshly grabbed by the view behind him. The sun is high already and reflects in the sparkling ocean you’ve grown so fond of. The sussuration of the waves lashing the shore doesn’t quite reach you but if you close your eyes and concentrate, you’re almost able to taste their pungent, salty smell.

Will Jean have some time to bring his surfboard to the beach in the afternoon, after a morning of work? Is the cafe as packed as it always is in the mornings, the usual mob of tourists forcing Sasha and Niccolo in an exhausting frenzy? Which table has Connie decided to bend over to try and finish that comic of his? Are his fingers stained with ink or did he go for the digital alternative today?

What is he doing? Can he afford to just disappear, neglect the surfing lessons?

You remember seeing Eren for the first time, running around by the shore accompanied by Jean with that charming smirk of his, occasionally asking strangers to join a volleyball match if they were short on players. You remember thinking wow, that’s a person that probably has it easy. He seems happy, is attractive enough to pull pretty much anyone. He sounded friendly and was literally smiling every single time you’d catch a glimpse of him, day after day, never short on energy. And then, you’re still not sure why or how, his eyes had actually found yours once, twice, then often enough for you to decide to do something about it.  

You still see it all in your head, painfully vivid and oh so alive. It comes in unforgiving flashbacks, from the first time he took your hand in his to the way you fell asleep in his arms less than three nights ago. And now you’re going away and what if Armin is right? What if he doesn’t even know?

“Stop the car” you murmur, mind not even quite catching up with your mouth yet.

Armin glances at you.

“What?”

“Stop the car for a second” you can barely stop yourself from slamming the brakes firsthand, hand brought to the column of your throat in a silly attempt to calm down. He quickly but safely pulls over, the car coming to a full halt when he turns off the engine entirely.

The first time you drew a sincere laugh, the first hushed conversation you shared on a humid evening.

I’m in love with you. Am I really that bad of a contender?

“You okay?” Armin is now only slightly worried he’s gone too far as he takes in the way your chest is heaving.

Have you ever even thought of asking?

“Hey—” you unfasten your seatbelt and escape his touch, quite literally throwing yourself out of the car only to slam the door and lean against it. Armin gets out as well and rapidly walks around the vehicle to check on you.

“What’s wrong? I have water, d’you want water?” if you weren’t so out of breath, you’d find his panic amusing.

“I’m fine. Sorry, just… give me a sec” the smile you offer him is probably more of a grimace but he’s too kind to point that out anyway.

Armin tries to give you the space to calm down but judging by the beads of cold sweat forming on your forehead, the process isn’t exactly going well. He feels guilty, mainly because his entire strategy has tragically backfired and he is on the literal verge of profusely apologizing until you meet his concerned gaze with heartbreaking despair.

“You think I should go to him?” your voice trembles and it takes everything in him to hold back the biggest smile.

“With some urgency” he quips immediately, motioning toward the car. He’s been dying to drive you there the entire morning.

You take a step forward, allowing him to open the door for you but make no move to actually step in again.

“C’mon!” he’s openly smiling now.

A beat passes, you shoot the car a quick glance and then return his smile.

“Keep an eye on my suitcase, will you?”

And then you’re just gone, sprinting in the opposite direction, dangerously close to passing cars and absolutely deaf to whatever Armin is yelling from behind you.

Incredibly, your legs carry you across the entire main street and your exceptionally keen senses assist you in dodging bikes and pedestrians and you think you may have accidentally run past Connie on the sidewalk at some point because you recognize a familiar go get him! already fading in the distance as you race until your lungs feel a second away from exploding.

The strappy sandals you’re wearing are absolutely inadequate for the marathon you’re running underneath the scorching sun and people look at you funny when you melt against the stand of a greengrocer to catch your breath. Nevertheless, with a hand pressing to a chest that’s never felt as tight, you’re soon on your way again, lips stretched into a frenzied smile and heart beating fast from both the physical effort and your favorite kind of anticipation. The idea of seeing him again gets your blood pumping, every other care or issue or flight disappears, literally fades to nothing in comparison to what you’re feeling at the thought of being in his arms again.

And yet you falter once you’re at his door, one palm resting against it and throat burning with every breath you attempt to take in, sweat dripping from your chin and running down your back. You’re far from having a plan or a solution to offer, the only thing you’re currently certain of is that you’re not gonna board that plane today. The rest, you can figure out together.

It takes some persistance and a certain number of violent knocks, your nuckles are burning by the time he yanks the door open.

“Jean, I swear to god if this is you again—” Eren freezes when he sees you awkwardly standing on the doorstep, phone trapped between his cheek and shoulder as he was clearly in the process of tying his hair back.

“Hey” you smile but then frown, puzzled “wait, who are you talking to?”

He opens his mouth, then closes it. Then opens it again.

“Thank fuck, talk to you later, bye!” a familiar voice chirps on the other line and you shut your eyes for a second because how could you fall for the oldest trick in the book? Haven’t heard from him in two days your ass.

“What are you doing here?” his guard is very much up and by the look of those dark circles you can only guess he’s slept just as much as you in the last two days.

“Uh, so, really funny story” you chuckle, painfully aware of your racing pulse and ragged breaths “Armin was driving me to the airport and we got to the seafront and he started talkin’ about you not knowing that I love you and stuff, which would be absurd because I’m sure you’re pretty much aware even if I never actually said it” you pause to clear your throat and take a hand to the currently cramping side of your waist “anyway, he said you’re dense and he was worried because they haven't heard from you in two days which, I now realize was a blatant lie but the point is, I started thinking about you and how much I hated our fight and the idea of getting on that plane because, well, I’m in love with you, disgustingly so actually, and I’m sure I’ll find another job and my landlord will understand and I was kinda hoping we could have more time to figure things out so maybe I could stay a little longer? If you still want me” you finish what’s probably the most awful, embarrassing, pathetic speech in recorded history with a coughing fit, throat basically occluded by sand. Perhaps you should’ve accepted Armin’s water before deciding to run almost two miles in a 95 °F weather.

Eren’s blank stare is far from encouraging and the more the silence stretches, the less you think it was a good idea to barge in there unannounced. But right as you take a tentative step back, apology already taking shape on the tip of your tongue, he reaches over with lighting speed to grab your wrist and quite literally slams your body against his, trapping you in a suffocating embrace.

“If I still want you?” he pokes fun at your words, distorts them with open incredulity “you’re so stupid”

“Eren, stop, I’m so sweaty right now!” your voice barely comes out, muffled by the fabric of his shirt. He only squeezes you tighter against him, lips pressing to the crown of your head.

“Say it again”

You are finally allowed to wiggle your way out of his arms but he keeps you in place, rough palms trapping your cheeks and puckering your lips. God, those eyes. How could you have believed you’d be able to leave them so easily?

“M’really fucking sweaty at the moment”

Eren smiles, pressing his palms harder, until your lips part.

“Not that” he’s willing to be patient now, because you have just granted him the only thing that makes him feel whole again. Time.

“Mmph—” you try to loosen his grip but he only raises his eyebrows expectantly, amused by your useless attempt “m’in lovewithyou?”

Just like that, his smile turns into one of those bright grins you adore but can barely return at the moment.

“Damn right” Eren meets your lips like that, pressing on your mouth firmly until he finally loosens his grip and you have some room to return his rough kiss right as he clumsily drags you inside and catches you when you trip on the cursed umbrella container he keeps by the door. You taste salty, just like the ocean, and he licks into your mouth with the softest groan when you lightly tug at the curling strands at the base of his nape.

“Let me hear it again” he mutters but how are you supposed to collect the required air in your lungs if he refuses to stop kissing you stupid?

Through the dazed state of your mind, you manage to whisper the words into his mouth at last.

“I love you” again and again and again, until your love and his violent adoration is all he can feel in every crevice of his body, in each jolt of the electricity buzzing through his veins.

But then Eren breaks the kiss so abruptly you lose your balance and awkwardly stumble forward, your brows knitting as he starts laughing so hard he has to rest his forehead on the curve of your shoulder, hot breath tickling your neck while he giggles so hard you’re both shaking.

“What?” as it always happens, you can’t hold back a confused smile yourself.

Still barely able to contain the fit of laughter, eyes crinkling adorably at the corners, Eren straightens up to meet your gaze.

“I had just booked a flight to Tokyo”

[whalesforhands]

HAII NYV!! hope ur doing well!!

tbh,, i’ve been thinking. How do you think SSS trio would feel about Dyf!mc going the same path suguru did? (Yk, seeing riko die and going spiraling to the point that she leaves jjt n stuffs,,) Do you think they would try and beg her to stay? Or would they let her go willingly because they’ve always wanted the best for Mc? Also, when they see each other after 11 years, Who sees her first?

tbh ive js been having brain rot of dyf so like…a million AUs are coming to me about it at once LMFAOO. but hope ure doing well, love ur writing xx

tw: yandere

lol why does ur spelling of name perfectly describe how it’s meant to be pronounced

what makes you think you’re even allowed to leave them behind like that? what makes you think you’re even able to leave them so freely?

you won’t survive out there on your own, are you just trying to die quicker? are you just trying to make them suffer just as much as you?

you’re in pain. they know, they know. you’ll get food placed outside your room’s locked door, have all 3 of them talk to you from outside too. sometimes it’s all 3 of them hanging around, sometimes it’s just 2, sometimes it’s just 1.

it’s gojo satoru that has had enough of your slump, kicking your door down with little to no effort as you flinch from shock, hiding under your blankets when you feel the dip of your mattress, and a head landing atop of your cocooned self, letting out a disappointed sigh.

“I didn’t wanna do that, ya know? You’re making things hard.”

it’s only then that he would lay down next to your form, an arm over your waist and spooning you from behind as you start to break down even harder, taking his intrusion and hoarding the comfort he gave you in this moment.

and your door’s been broken so many times you decided to just leave it unlocked… letting him and the others come and go as they please, letting him wrap his long arms around you at every given chance, letting him kiss you on the forehead every morning he gets to spend in school, telling you that he’ll be back from a mission soon.

maybe that was how it started.

“There are no missions for you, (last name).” Yaga’s scratching his head as he flips through his clipboard, carefully scanning the words.

“W-what? Why?” Your arms are shaky as you hug a Baby Panda close to yourself, soft purrs emanating from him as you pet him mindlessly. You’ve been loitering around in the campus for… Close to 3 months now.

“I’m quite confused as well. There haven’t been any curses within your grade level as of recently—“ He pauses as he flips through more papers, eyes narrowing behind dark sunglasses. “There just isn’t—“

“Then m-may I take one above my grade? T-that would put me on grounds for promotion, right?”

“You can, but there aren’t any sorcerers available to invigilate and recommend you for promotion anytime soon. Earliest I could find one is—“ The incessant flipping of papers stop.

“In about 6 months.”

ieiri shoko lets you roam around the school campus, watching you, talking to you, trying to improve your mental health. she prods you to speak your mind, convinces you that the world outside was the one that was going insane, that it wasn’t you that felt trapped, felt cornered in here.

“The campus is where you can be safe from such things. Don’t sweat it.”

and you believe her. why wouldn’t you? she’s your beloved shoko. shoko who teaches you how to do first aid when she notices how lost and listless you’re becoming, who teaches you how to treat wounds, how to stitch up open cuts, how to stop internal bleeding… all just to take up your time. she’s patient with you, holding your hands, letting you take tea breaks with her… it’s peaceful with her. you’re at ease.

so much better than being out on field, right?

geto suguru takes his time with you. he reads your favourite manga with you, asks you about the novels you have been eyeing and wanting to buy, talks about the soba noodles he had on that one trip to nagoya... hell, he’s the one who cooks food for you and helps you clean your room when he thinks you’re getting sloppy.

“Let me do it for you, okay? You’re not looking well enough to do it on your own.”

maybe that was when you thought to yourself that, maybe, just maybe… you didn’t want to leave this place.

though, if you still have some fight in you…

out of all three of them, the one who would most probably fold to your whims and let you leave is suguru. maybe when you go limp in his arms, break down crying into his chest, go quiet when he attempts to feed you…

or maybe it was that decisive kiss under the blankets of darkness, a show of your desperation and longing for something more than this that he starts to crack, starts to break. it’s then that he finally thinks that, maybe, perhaps, he needs to let you go. he’s always been quite the emotional one.

11 years of free roam? more like 11 years of surveillance. it’s not like you were allowed to go with no strings attached, you were still standing on soil that wasn’t Jujutsu Tech ground because they’re the ones who have given you this right.

they’re the ones who let you go have fun, even letting you get a job as a regular salary worker, let you get a quaint little apartment nearby, let you live the life of a regular person.

but no, oh no. you wanted to play hero again when you saw a little girl getting chased, hunted by a curse? wanted to save a life again because that’s what you could do? wanted to do?

And you got hurt from your decisions?

let’s just say you’re in for a bad time.

[instruth]

FORGIVENESS

If you love yourself, forgive yourself

If you love others, forgive them too

Unforgiveness builds a clinging anger

A self-imposed style to choke the other

Don’t fool yourself - who suffocates?

©Johnny J P Lee

09 April 2024

A Gogyoshi Poem ( 5 Line Poem)

Photos: J. P. Lee (Mode Hal Isen, Nagoya)

[embossross]

The Devotion of the Girl in the Mirror

Chapter 4 >> Chapter 5 >> Masterlist

✣ Pairing: Rindou x AFAB fem!Reader w/ a chapter cameo of reader/yuzuha

✣ Warning: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI

✣ Series: part of the In the Belly of the Beast fic universe

✣ Chapter CW: bdsm play feat. reader/yuzuha (gasp!), bondage, overstim, vibrators, exhibitionism, group BDSM feat. 2 other subs getting masturbated (one fem!AFAB and one fem!AMAB, idk crowd jeers, a little bit of degradation, bad communication & angst, drinking)

✣ Story CWs: BDSM dob/sub relationship; sex (oral, ptv, pta, etc.); genre typical drug use, alcohol, smoking

✣ Synopsis: A story of two lonely people find love for better or worse. Or, dom!Rindou is sweet on his girl. Or, on paper, you and Rindou have nothing in common. But sometimes chemistry defies logic, and with every conversation, you find yourself more bewitched until all you see, smell, or hear is Rindou.

✣ Word Count: ~8.5k

The black dot may have been nothing but a circle, a representation of the sun or an eye, except it is written, which makes it punctuation. As a symbol of punctuation, it may have been a period at the end of a sentence, except there are three, which makes it part of an ellipsis. As an ellipsis, it may have indicated a trailing off of a thought except it accompanies a blank space on his screen, an auto-generated signal from his phone, which means you are still typing, as you have been for the last five minutes with no message yet in response to his text.

It should not take this long to respond to an invitation to dinner.

With every minute that passes, his ire rises higher.

Rindou strains through another set of lat pulls, refusing to let you and your silent treatment slow him down. Opposite him, Benkei deadlifts a stunning 300 kg. When the bar hits the floor, the clang echoes off the mirror-lined walls.

There is a gym in the basement of his apartment complex, guaranteed to be empty in the early pre-dawn hours, which he prefers for the privacy it offers. Wakasa’s gym is never empty. Fighters practice boxing, MMA, and jujutsu with retired pros morning and night. Most of the customers sport tattoos from one syndicate or another, and Rindou often recognizes the guys on his own payroll by the free weights or sweating in the saunas. Rindou only started returning to Wakasa’s gym for the occasional practice bout or strength training session in the last few months. Wakasa’s been filling his ear with the idea of taking you and his girl on a double date, a vacation to the mountains when your semester wraps, and Rindou has been coming by to talk the details.

A text finally lights up his screen, and Rindou forces himself to ignore it for a solid minute while he finishes his set even as his eyes dart back against his will.

I can’t do dinner. Plans with Naoya. But I could do drinks.

Wakasa lopes forward, hands in his pockets, before Rindou can answer. It’s his turn to leave you with the ellipsis of anxiety and doom. He locks his phone and tosses face-down on a bench.

“Wanted to tell you we got the goods through Nagoya yesterday,” Wakasa says tonelessly. “Ushioda’s really come through. My guy says customs not only didn’t check, they agreed to decrease security personnel during offboarding. Ran is going to be a menace about being the one to make this happen, but he’s worked his magic on this.”

Rindou matches Wakasa’s subdued attitude beat for beat, but in his mind, he runs through a month’s worth of memos and emails to recall if he knew about this plan. “You sent a shipment of girls through the port? That’s fucking brazen.”

“Mochi wanted to test the limits early with something cheap before we put our expensive shit through there,” Wakasa said.

According to Takeomi, Ushioda begged on bended knee for clemency for his son. It was hard to say whether love or shame drove the father, but the outcome was the same. Acme Corp would smuggle Bonten contraband through the Port of Nagoya, so long as they streamlined into their regular shipping schedule to avoid setting off any alarm bells.

This was the second shipment received through the port after moving a little marijuana through a few weeks earlier. Rindou tries to keep his expectations in check as operations continue smoothly, but his hopes rise against his better judgment.

“Mochi says he wants to do a few more runs, but that you should start thinking through where you could source the heroine,” Wakasa relays.

They could source through the triads as the Chinese and Russian gangs already have inroads with the producers, but they would each take their cut and ruin Bonten’s margins. The drug would be new on the market. Rindou doesn’t want to price high outright. Start cheap and once the clientele can’t live without their fix, then drive the prices up. They could run a deficit to start, but that would mean Koko up his ass. Cutting the triads out completely isn’t an option either as they would need to ship out of China, but if they could build their own supplier network, they could negotiate a better rate.

“It’s gonna be too obvious if we have guys coming in and out of Afghanistan all the time. They don’t even run direct flights out of Seoul. We’d get picked instantly. I’m thinking we could get away with sending someone through to Turkey though. With a little palm greasing, they can cross into Iran without getting their passport stamped. The IRGC run the heroine trade through Afghanistan, so we could develop our own connections from there,” Rindou says.

Wakasa nods along at what he already figured. “Who you gonna send?”

“Not me if that’s what you’re thinking. I hate plane rides,” Rindou says.

“Of course, not you. We need you. I was thinking Hanma.”

Rindou groans. “I fucking hate that guy.”

“We all fucking hate that guy. But that’s why he’s good at this shit. He’s done great work in Hong Kong. Send him over there. He knows how to make the coldest man sweat,” Wakasa suggests.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll think about it.”

He finishes another set of lat pulls, while Wakasa and Benkei chat away about the insipid rise of Peloton. Endorphins rush to his brain, and he feels magnanimous enough to finally shoot you a reply.

See you at 5.

If he has anything to say about it, Naoya will be eating dinner alone tonight.

--

Two people could not be dressed more oppositely. Fresh from his post-workout shower, Rindou wears nothing but a pair of sweats. Droplets of water scatter across his bare shoulder blade as his long, wet hair drips freely. Strong chest and arms still pumped from muscle training great you at the door. You, meanwhile, dressed for an Arctic exploration in a floor-length parka, bulging in all the wrong places, a fluffy scarf wound three-times round your neck, and an equally fluffy, fur-lined hood. A mask completes the look, so the only skin he can see is a sliver of your forehead and your narrowed eyes.

“Just looking at you makes me feel cold,” you scowl.

“Just looking at you is making me cold.”

You barge right past him into his apartment. The heater works overtime to keep the entire complex a toasty 23 degrees. Past the entryway, where you slip out of your boots, the dining room table is lined with boxes of Chinese takeout; Unsure what you’d want to eat, Rindou opted to order a smorgasbord of options.

Beneath the unflattering coat, you wear a black dress. The long sleeves and tasteful length contrast a daring vee that dips down to show off the swell of your lovely, little breasts. You’re packaged like a delicious gift for the unwrapping, and Rindou can’t resist planting a soft kiss to the back of your neck as you hang your coat. He expects the battle tonight will be a long and painful one, but still you dressed up for him.

“Good to see it’s you under there. For a second, I thought it might be an assassin,” Rindou jokes.

“Easy for you to laugh all warm in here! It’s freezing outside. They’re calling for snow tonight into tomorrow, which sucks. I can’t miss class at this point in the semester,” you complain.

“Well, I’ve got everything you need to warm up,” Rindou says. He gestures at the table laden with food, and then, more critically, brandishes the bottle of wine bought just for tonight. “And if the weather’s too bad tomorrow, I’m sure they’ll cancel. You can just hang out here all day.”

“My professors are all sadists. I wouldn’t put it past them to host class as they get double-bypass surgery. They’d have the surgeon right there in the lecture hall,” you grumble.

Rindou half listens as you launch into a prolonged rant about your upcoming finals. His attention is understandably split as he searches your lively expressions for the ugly shadow of jealousy. Behind every word, he hunts for double meanings.

The look of pure betrayal on your face when he ran into you yesterday in Chiba will not soon leave his mind. It colored his scenes yesterday with Mayuri, turning him mean and unmerciful as he bound and belted her ass red. She deserved his full attention after putting her trust in him, but Rindou twice almost walked away to call you. Had you answered, he might have berated you for daring to look at him like that, like you’d caught him fucking your mother or murdering the family pet. Like he’d done something unforgivable to you.

Now, as you gripe about exams, every bit the picture of the beleaguered uni student, your words ring false. Like you are filling time and space to put distance between the you of yesterday, so judgey and offended, and the you of today. You tell him how exams are two months out, and like a good student, you are already studying in earnest in the pits of what you dub “flashcard hell” as Kii has taken to posting flashcards over every expanse of wall in her apartment, springing prep questions on unconsenting listeners, and crying periodically about how she should have spent fewer hours sleeping and more time reading the supplementary materials. Rindou hums in sympathy in all the right places, and he almost, almost begins to relax into the conversation. Like an idiot.

“Are you feeling the dumplings or the pork?” Rindou asks, plating up a hearty helping of food for himself.

“Neither. I can’t eat, remember?” you say.

“Oh, come on. Stay the night. It’s too cold to be going out.”

“True, but I promised Naoto. We’re going to this really fancy curry restaurant, and he said he’d pay, so I’m planning to go all out and get dessert,” you say.

Noticing his wine glass is running low, Rindou drains the last dregs and pours himself a healthy portion. This will be easier drunk. He debates pouring you more as well, wondering if a little tipsiness would make you spunkier or mellow the worst of your impulses. Because he senses the fit approaching, the moment you break your pretense that everything is fine and well and force a confrontation.

“You know, I don’t like playing games,” he says.

 “I don’t like playing games either.”

“Then, don’t.”

Rindou says it shortly, definitively. The barest hint of command reinforces his voice, and he watches the way you receive the order, squirming in that delightfully submissive way of yours before you reject your inclination to obedience. You set your jaw.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say.

Rindou sighs. He expected you would be difficult but not passive aggressive. Not like this.

“You have dinner plans with Naoto? Seriously?”

“Yes?”

“Bullshit,” Rindou snaps. “I expected you to be immature about what happened yesterday, but this? You’re better than this. Forget your conveniently timed dinner plans, and let’s act like adults. Then, we can have a nice night.”

“It’s a work event. Naoto was nervous about going alone, so he asked me to come with him. This was planned weeks ago. I just forgot until he reminded me,” you insist, standing up from your chair, like the added height will strengthen your lie.

“Convenient,” Rindou sneers.

In the six months you’ve been together, you have never had a genuine fight or even argument. Seeing your smiling face typically puts Rindou in too good a mood, curbs the worst of his temper, so he is slow to pick fights. You, meanwhile, listen so well, adapting your behavior without him having to utter a word. Bickering typically becomes flirtatious banter in a matter of minutes, the kind that ends with your panties in his pocket.

So, Rindou doesn’t know what to expect from you in a real fight. He half expected you to fold at the slightest correction. You are still young, so he doesn’t write off the possibility of some kind of petty manipulation either, the silent treatment maybe, or more probably breaking into a mess of tears, the kind that bring so many men to a panic; Unfortunately for you, Rindou doesn’t capitulate to a woman’s cries or begging, going cold at any miserable attempt to manipulate his emotions.

Faced with you now, the tendons in your neck pulse as you square of against him without any sign of crumbling. You worry your lower lip between your teeth until it is red and swollen. It is the only sign of anxiety. Otherwise, you stand strong.

“If you feel like I’m somehow attacking you, it must be a guilty conscience. Because I haven’t said or done anything to you.”

“What do I have to feel guilty about?” Rindou demands coldly.

“You’d have to tell me. Because I thought about it all day and night –”

“See, I knew you were wound up about yesterday –”

“I thought about it all day and night,” you raise your voice to drown him out. “And, yes, it was weird to see you with someone else. Yes, it hurt. It was so unexpected. But, if you think I’m trying to punish you over it, you’re out of line because my eyes are wide open. You’re not my boyfriend –”

“No, I’m not. Which is why you shouldn’t –”

“I know, I know. How can I be hurt or angry when you’re not my boyfriend? You didn’t cheat on me or break any promises. I have nothing to be upset about.”

“Right.”

Confused and more than a little wary, Rindou sits back down at the table. He has held conversations like this a few times in his life. Most subs understand the importance of negotiation implicitly and take him for what he is. There have been a handful of in the past, however, usually inexperienced women like you, who struggled to work through the limitations of their relationship with him, crashing futilely against the boundaries of what he offered.

Because he doesn’t do relationships. Blame it on the dangers of his work, the secrecy inherent in the lifestyle, or some intrinsic flaw in his makeup. Regardless, he never plans to tie himself down to one woman. All that road offers is the erosion of his freedom.

“Since you wanted to talk about it so much though, bringing it up and all, I would like to ask about what I should expect,” you continue. “Because I didn’t realize you were seeing other people, and that raises questions. Like, are you practicing safe sex with these women? Have you been getting tested for STDs? Should we be using condoms? And, are you looking for more long-term subs? How would you even fit in another sub? Would we have to see each other less, so you could make time for a new one? What should I expect going forward?”

Each question is too reasonable to deny, so Rindou answers plainly, “You’re the only person I see regularly, so I use condoms with everyone else and get tested on the first of every month. If you want to use condoms together, that is entirely your decision. I’ll accept whatever you decide. I’m not looking to train anyone else right now. If I found someone that suited my tastes, I might consider it though, and yeah, that would mean adjusting my schedule around because I’m going to go out on a limb and assume you would not be open to training together.”

“No!”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Rindou says.

“How many women have you been with since we got together?” you demand.

There is no good answer, and Rindou groans, “Seriously? Don’t start overreacting now.”

“I’m cool! I’m being so cool. Just answer the question,” you smile, but it is a mockery of your normal, gleaming smiles. Teeth clenched tight together, it is more like an animal baring its fangs.

“No! I don’t owe you a fucking itemized list of every woman I’ve fucked. Just like I don’t run around town telling them about you. I haven’t cheated on you. I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“I just wanna know how and when you’re finding time to meet other people.”

Rindou rolls his eyes. “Because that’s rational. You don’t actually want to know the answer to that.”

“I just don’t know where you’re possibly finding the time to meet all these women –”

“Again, you’re exaggerating. Not all these women. Some, like Mayuri, I knew before you. Some I meet through work. Straightforward stuff.”

“Mayuri is the woman from yesterday?”

“I think we’re done with this conversation now,” Rindou says tightly.

A shininess blurs the color of your eyes then, and Rindou sighs. He wants to wrap you up in his arms and praise you for being such a strong, beautiful girl because despite all your tough words, this isn’t easy for you. If he could be a better man for you, he would consider it, but there is only so much he can offer, and the burden of accepting that is on you.

“Thank you for being honest with me. I really do need to head out and meet Naoto, but I’ll think about the condom thing,” you murmur.

“Baby, don’t leave like this,” Rindou tries. There is no more fight in your stance and now that the threat of conflict is ended, he finds the energy draining from his whole body.

“I’m fine! We’re fine. Seriously, Rindou. I’m not going to overreact or stamp my foot at you like that might change something. My eyes are wide open like I told you. I understand where you’re coming from completely. We can hang out soon,” you say.

Rindou doesn’t like the idea of you leaving when your foundations are so shaken, wants to stuff you full of gone-cold Chinese food and cuddle on the couch until you fall asleep on his shoulder. Even if neither of you yelled or descended into insults, he feels like he fought a war, and the only way to recover is in your arms.

He follows you to the entryway.

You redon your winter gear in a hurry. The puffy coat is plush and cozy as he pulls you close and kisses you long and slow. You return the kiss with wind-chapped lips not fighting him at all. The heat that always explodes between you blazes, and he cups and caresses you through the barrier of the coat.

He wants you to stay.

You break the kiss after only a minute and smile.

“I’ll call you, ok?”

And then, you are gone.

--

When Rindou sleeps, he dreams of shopping malls built like mazes, window shopping displays of the finest goods, and he understands without knowing that to obtain even one miraculous product from these stores would spell his salvation; But whenever he tries to enter one of the stores, the maze shifts, redirects him until he is walking forwards again, searching. Still searching. During the slippery seconds between sleep and waking, that liminal space where dreams and life converge, he stews in resentment for what he can’t possess. That resentment often follows him into the day, though he tries not to dwell on it. The recurring dream started sometime in his early twenties. He remembers that dream joining him in sleep on at least a monthly basis, but for all he knows, he dreams it every night only to forget with the rising of the sun.

The weeks that follow the lingerie incident remind him of that dream only there is no supernatural force reworking the architecture of time and space to prevent him from entering the store. It feels like he’s piloting a plane headed straight for a cliff. There is still time to push the emergency button and eject to safety if he is only willing to abandon the plane to its solitary, fiery fate. But, he is a pilot, and the plane is all he’s ever known, and the longer he goes without pushing the button, the slighter his chances of escaping unscathed.

Because you are not fine.

The three weeks that follow pass at a crawl. Time reshapes itself into molasses around the giant you-sized absence in his days. It is easy, at first, to deny the obvious as you offer such convincing excuses to blow him off. After all, your friends do often lean on you for emotional support, and finals are drawing close, and your mother does deserve a break. So what if you leave his texts on read for hours at a time?

On the fourth day, he calls you in the free period he knows falls between your Wednesday lectures. When you answer, Rindou mistakes your sing-song hello for the voicemail you have relegated him to recently. You apologize for not having time to talk, squeezing more words into a breath than humanly plausible as you explain your packed study schedule. You promise to see him soon before you hang up.

You sounded fine on the phone. The same voice, light and airy like spring personified, that Rindou knows so well.

But you are not fine.

The ice wall between you thaws a little in the second week when Rindou reminds you that he bought tickets to the Inaba/Salas tour. Again, you surprise him by joining as planned at the stadium. Throughout the concert, you smile and cheer along, and the open delight on your face as you groove to the music invites him to join in the fun. At the end of the night, he drives you home to where you swear your mom is waiting. He kisses you breathless in the front seat of his car. You sigh hot and sticky into his mouth, notched into the crook of his shoulder like you have carved a space for yourself there, and whisper “Sir” with more fervor than a prayer. Everything seems fine.

But you are not fine.

Only a few days later, you agree to a date. The familiarity as he texts you details and soaks up your liberal usage of emojis relaxes him into thinking all is well. He takes you ice skating at Tokyo Midtown Gardens. With your little gloved hand in his, you half carry each other around the rink, equally graceless without the surety of solid ground. Rindou laughs more than he has for two weeks. You both fall again and again, Rindou toppling each time so as to shield your body from the worst of it. As you sprawl on top of him, padded from head to toe in winter wear, you promise to kiss his purple bruises better and call him your hero. Back at his apartment, you do just that, licking and kissing every part of his body, losing track of time. The trains stop running, so you sleep where you belong in the cradle of his arms. He wakes up at 6AM to the sound of you shuffling, halfway out the door citing an early start to the day. You would have left without a goodbye, but at his groggy inquiry, you tell him you are fine.

But you are not fine.

Rindou wants to confront you about the change. He hates playing stupid games more than accusations or tears and would rather have it out at this point. But, whenever you visit, he never broaches the subject. Because you are so singularly you! And fuck it. He misses you. The contrast between seeing you fives time a week and this drought is stark. Now, when you leave, you don’t send him dumb memes or answer his calls to talk about your day. You don’t rush to make plans to see him again either, and Rindou knows he can’t accept your lame excuses anymore. Something is fundamentally broken.

For the first time in maybe ever, Rindou throws himself into his work. The timing is convenient with recent developments, so he offers to take the meetings outside the perimeter of Tokyo when before he might have dragged his feet. He personally briefs Takeomi every day. When Kakucho mentions a security threat in passing, Rindou volunteers to help even though it falls well outside his purview. Anything to keep the body active.

You had come to fill up the hours of his day, to be the dessert he could look forward to after a meal of veggies. Rindou can’t comprehend how he used to fill the interminable hours between six PM and sleep without your assistance.

So, he works, and he tries not to think about anything much at all.

The plane soars onward without any assistance on his part. The details of the exposed cliff face, jagged and unforgiving, grow clearer by the hour. There will be no escape. When he crashes, Rindou knows he is going to explode.

--

Ran once said all of Bonten has PTSD in one form or another. Overexposure to high stress, life-or-death situations puts too much stress on the adrenal system, so now half the executives drop to their stomachs when a car misfires, stand with their backs flat to the nearest wall in every new room, avoid crowds like some people avoid traffic tickets. Rindou considers himself free of this affliction, but on the road, hands flexing on the steering wheel and eyes split between mirrors like a car might strike out into his lane at any moment, he is every bit as activated.

The hour is late, creeping towards midnight when Rindou pulls onto the expressway. There are predictably few passenger cars sharing the road. Semitrucks kick up a mist of rain that obscures his windshield.

To fill the sleepless hours, Rindou is developing all kinds of new habits. Driving, brain preciously blank to all but the threat of traffic, is one of them. So is going to the office. Just today, he went to the Ueno office of all places rather than watch the hours of the day tick by in his apartment. There is no email unanswered, directive unissued, or memo unread to keep his brain occupied. He wishes there was because his apartment holds as little allure now as it did this this morning.

A notification lights up the display. It’s a reminder that the BDSM club in Roppongi – the one where you first met – is open for play tonight. Rindou palms his cock, and it feels like an animal, a dead one, in his pants. Not even a stir. His mood is too black and distracted to responsibly dom anyone, so he dismisses the notification.

Screeching the tires, Rindou almost misses his exit. He brakes hard down the ramp until he shoots out on a quiet street. At the drab buildings, he does a double take, recognizing the north entrance to Nakano Station.

He has driven straight past his real exit and an extra twenty minutes without noticing to arrive in your neighborhood.

Rindou feels drunk despite not taking a sip of alcohol all day. He pulls into a gas station and refills the tank. While it pumps, he pops his contacts out of sore eyes. Everything blurs like a photograph in soft focus. He closes his eyes against a headache and breathes deep for 120 torturous breaths. Back in the car, he unearths his glasses from the glove compartment. They’re the same style, though a stronger prescription, that he wore as a teen. Catching his reflection in the rearview, Rindou sees the boy he once was. Just as lost, letting things happen around him without a thought, only leaping to action when stronger powers (namely Ran) prompted). Someone who watches as life happens.

Nothing is in his control.

The BDSM club is five minutes closer to Nakano than his apartment, a negligible difference, but after the driving mix-up he changes course. Nostalgia takes the wheel to lead to where you first met, where he has not visited since.

The ticket takers at the theater don’t recognize him, hesitating until he points at the tattoo on his throat. He looks unkempt: hair ratty and unbrushed, jacket slung over his shoulder and button-up crumpled at the ends, and his glasses highlight the eyes of a man who has barely slept in days. It is no surprise that subs don’t flock to him when he enters. He doesn’t look like the all-powerful dom tonight. Best he sits back and watches.

Rindou pays for a full bottle of bourbon, served neat and hard on the taste buds. The club is busy as it’s Saturday, and couples and groups clog the four stages. There are no tables left close enough for a view of the action, so Rindou stands in the corner, taking heavy swigs straight from the bottle until his stomach cramps.

There is little variety on stage. Three doms whip, cane, and flog their subs. All older man with younger women. They are impersonal, showing perfunctory delight at the infliction of pain. These are the kinds of scenes that bore him when done without finesse.

On the fourth stage, he recognizes Lady X, a domme he knows from many shared nights spent just like this, bringing women to their knees. Lost in his memories is Lady X’s real name. Yuzu something…Yuzuriha? Yuzuyu? In the clubs, she always goes by her alias or is called simply Lady, but Rindou remembers her vaguely as the sister of the tenth gen leader of the Black Dragons.

Lady is the antithesis of Rindou as a dom.

If Rindou finds control in manipulating a pliant body and acceptance in a sub’s embrace of his touch, whether it offers pain or pleasure, Lady finds release in giving her subs what they want. Where Rindou hoards women’s orgasms like precious jewels, flaunting his ownership of them only to hide them away again, Lady distributes them like cheap birdseed, doling out orgasm after orgasm to her thankful subs. Eventually said thanks turns to pleading, as one orgasm becomes four and the pleasure twists to something monumental. Lady then ups the vibrator or nips the woman’s clit with blunt teeth because, as she told Rindou once over a drink at this very bar, her goal in every scene is to create a world where her subs’ worst problem is the existence of too much pleasure, not its absence, nor its inverse, pain.

Tonight, Lady commands the largest audience of patrons. No surprise there as she strikes quite the picture herself, tall and lovely in a pencil skirt as she brings three subs on stage to piteous tears. Rindou slides closer to her stage for a better look.

Suspended in a harness of ropes, the first sub weeps wretchedly. There is a hitachi wand held to her clit. The setting must be high because the buzz travels from the stage to his ears. The woman cries but does not beg for mercy. There is the sheen of the acolyte behind her eyes, like she might commit unspeakable acts if they only bring her back here to Lady’s ropes and generous toys.

A second sub at her side stands restrained but not suspended. Her arms are tied above her, so that she can do nothing while Lady strokes her cock. Lady’s little hand smears messily over the tip, which is an inflamed red. There is a puddle of cum on the floor from the woman’s past orgasms. Little drips of semen harden on her legs. Every touch must hurt, but Lady keeps playing with the tip, forcing her back to hardness whether she likes it or not.

The third sub is just an ass in the air. A perfect ass at that.

Bent over a wooden block and shackled at the ankle, so that her legs are to the audience, the sub’s pussy is spread wide around a vibrator taped to her clit. Her feet kick ineffectually against her restraints, little trembles jiggling her thighs.

Rindou enjoys watching Lady work, so self-assured, so competent at bringing her subs to the brink and past. His eyes stray again and again to the pretty ass in the air. A stir in his pants makes him question his decision to abstain tonight. It has been over a week of his own hand.

After fifteen minutes of more of the same, Lady releases the first two subs from their ropes and cuffs. They are felled heaps on the stage, panting in puddles of their own slick and cum. Lady rounds to the third sub, leaning toward that hidden face in private conversation. Then she stands, and sighs for the audience’s benefit.

“Here I am being so generous, telling this slut to cum as many times as she wants, and she hasn’t cum once! What to do?”

Lady answers her own question by crouching down in front of the sub’s spread pussy and burying her whole face in it. There is a lull in the music, and Rindou can hear just how lewdly Lady laves that pussy with her tongue. Her fingers stretch the sub’s hole at a brutal pace. The woman keens loudly and kicks her feet again. Everything from her little naked toes to canting hips look beautiful in the throws of overstimulation.

Of course, Rindou knows without knowing. A presentiment colors the scene. He leans forward with interest, compelled toward that wet cunt, not wanting to miss a moment of the action, but his stomach sickens too. He ignores the sensation, blames the bourbon warming its way down his belly.

Lady tuts as the sub continues to hang on the precipice without teetering over.

She turns to the audience and says, “Little slut is having a hard time coming without permission from her old dom. Isn’t that the most pathetic thing you’ve ever heard? Why don’t you let her know she has permission to cum? Tell her to squirt all over my hand.”

Eager to join in more actively, the crowd of about thirty hoot and holler in encouragement, mixing in obscenities about the sub’s wet cunt and place beneath Lady’s toys. Rindou claps along.

Four fingers slam in and out of that sloppy hole, and the time between shakes and cries from the sub evaporates until she is blubbering at the stimulation. Lady yanks her up by the hair to gift her the added sting at her scalp, and it pushes the sub over the edge.

Correction: it pushes you over the edge.

Because Rindou knows that ass, and he knows those toes, and even at a distance with the lights too bright and a row of people in front of him, he knows that pretty pussy, too. That pretty pussy now clenches around Lady’s fingers in an orgasm far too long and powerful for your overstimulated body.

Rindou watches your face screw up in pain and tears, an expression just as familiar to him. It is an expression that should belong solely to him.

All three subs follow Lady dutifully off stage after your orgasm finally settles. She bundles you all in blankets, heaping compliments and affection down on you as is your due after such a trying scene. Rindou hovers within earshot as Lady pets your head and rubs a tear from your check. Twenty minutes elapse as you come out of subspace, during which time Rindou drains half the bottle of bourbon.

“I look like a racoon. I’m gonna head to the bathroom and fix my makeup,” you laugh, pointing at the streaks of mascara that paint your cheeks.

You replace the blanket with an overcoat to shield your nakedness then weave your way through the crowd. Compliments on your performance rain down from all sides. Rindou shadows your step. Not far from the bathroom, you drop your phone. When you turn to pick it up off the floor, Rindou is there, already scooping it off the ground.

“Rin – Rindou!” you yelp.

“Not trying to scare you,” Rindou says immediately, defensively, and he passes the phone back to you without even scanning the lock screen for a peek at your messages. “Just saw you and wanted to say hey.”

“Well, hey…um…”

“You might wanna fix your makeup. You’ve got…” Rindou gestures at the cakey residue you already know is there, and you curse.

“Yeah, sorry. I need to go to the bathroom and deal with this.”

“I’ll come with you,” Rindou says, opening the door for you.

“Rindou, you can’t come in here with me,” you whisper.

He almost tells you it’s his club and he can do whatever he wants, but Rindou wears his secrecy like a second skin and only smirks at your worries before following you into the women’s bathroom. It is a six-stall affair with a wall mirror above the sinks. He can hear a woman pee behind the door of one stall, but he ignores the stranger’s presence as you ignore his, turning to the mirrors.

“You did good up there. Looked like you had a lot of tension to work out, which isn’t surprising considering all the studying you’ve been doing. Didn’t you have a paper due this week?” Rindou prompts.

You rub dry fingertips against your cheeks. When that doesn’t work, you wad up three paper towels, wet from the sink, and scrub.

“Yeah, I had a paper on Bashō’s references to music and instrumentation in his poems, which was due on Thursday. It could have been a lot worse honestly. I like the subject, and I thought my first draft was good for once. Of course, I had a complete breakdown on Wednesday after dreaming that the paper was really supposed to be about Nishiyama Sōin and that I’d miscited every source in there, but um, I managed to calm myself down.”

“Good. I don’t know why you always have nightmares about your papers. You always get an A.”

“Not always,” you say darkly.

The woman in the occupied stall hurries out, casting a few curious glances Rindou’s way as she washes her hands. She doesn’t dry them, leaving little splatters of water on the counter. Then, they are truly alone.

“Are you planning to stick around now that you finished your scene? Can’t imagine you wanna do another after that? It looked intense.”

“You really watched that?” you ask.

“Most of it,” he confirms. “You did good.”

“Thanks,” you say without looking at him. You dry your hands while staring at your now streak-free reflection in the mirror.

“If you don’t wanna stay, I could take you home. Or, if you’re hungry, I know a 24/7 breakfast place not far from here. You never eat enough after a scene,” Rindou says.

“Um, I’m good…Have you been coming here often?”

“No, it’s my first time in forever. You?” he asks in a tone that just misses casual.

“It’s my second time in the last two weeks. I’m kind of trying out stuff right now,” you say.

“Trying out stuff…” he tests the words.

“Are you okay? You look a little tense.”

Normally, Rindou chooses his words with precision, but he finds himself unable to process his surroundings. He exists somewhere outside his body, outside his brain, outside this room entirely. He peers down on the scene almost like a security camera, removed and distant. No, rather more like footage from a security camera, viewed days after the fact in a little room by someone who neither knows nor understands the context of the scene. Trying to think through the likely consequences of his words or choosing an alternative phrase, he finds his thoughts vaporous and ungraspable. So, he simply speaks.

“I didn’t like it.”

“Like what? Watching me with someone else?” you say quickly.

He grunts because that’s easier than searching for any kind of answer.

“You said we could fuck other people.”

“I know. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Rindou agrees. It is the correct and automatic response, but he can’t resist tacking on the truth at the end. “I didn’t like watching.”

“Well, that’s flattering at least,” you mutter.

In a different reality, one where he sent you up there with a pat on the ass, he might have liked watching Lady work your cunt up to a waterfall before returning you to him, still hovering on the precipice, edged and needy. He might have liked teasing you all night with the possibility of an orgasm. But he did not like watching you cum for someone else. Not without his permission. Even with a filmy gauze slowing down his brain from the half bottle of bourbon, he knows that much.

“We’re not okay, are we?” Rindou asks.

“No, Rindou. We are not okay.”

“Well, can we talk about it?”

“I don’t know. Can we talk about it without you making me feel like a complete idiot?” you snap.

A woman pushes open the door to the bathroom, but upon hearing the direction of your conversation, she turns right around, leaving you to a privacy tinged by history. The door creaks back into place with a choked slam.

“Like a…? You’re not an idiot?” Rindou insists.

“I know I’m not an idiot! I have spent the last few weeks going back and forth between feeling so sad and then so goddamn angry with you! Because I know that I could not have been more chill about things if I had a lobotomy to remove my frontal cortex first! I was so cool about everything, so understanding, so kind, and you treated me like, like some fucking bother you had to get out of the way!”

The first feeling to reemerge from the confused pit you dumped him in is embarrassment at himself as he is admittedly slow on the uptake, stuttering out, “Wait…this isn’t about…? This is about our conversation at my apartment?”

“Yes!” you hiss, hands flapping emphatically and voice echoing off the tile. The overcoat swallows you whole, a sea of black fabric trailing the floor, but somehow you stand tall within it. “Yes! I came that night so prepared to listen to your side of things and be reasonable and empathetic and all the rest, and you treated me like I was a hysterical child that you had to manage. Far be it from me to criticize the great Rindou! Not that I even did criticize you before you were jumping down my throat. I am not unreasonable. I am not hysterical. And I am not a child. I did not appreciate being treated like I was.”

Rindou remembers back to the hours before you arrived at his apartment that day. How he’d been so sure you would accuse him of cheating or play mind games to negate your own jealousy. The whole time you were there, he maintained that sureness even when you acted contrary to those expectations.

It, he admits, hadn’t been fair.

Worse, it may have been patronizing.

He groans, not at you but at the memory, and rubs a hand over his face. “Fuck, yeah, yeah, you’re probably right. I see that. I didn’t want you to blow things out of proportion, so I tried to shut you down before you could. But I guess I acted like a prick.”

“A prick might be understating it. I came to you to have a conversation in good faith, and you made me feel so…small. Insignificant. Like, I’m just this easy thing to you. Like you could use and discard me, so I better shut my mouth before you throw me away.”

Rindou opens his mouth to give a rebuttal-like reassurance that you are wrong about your supposed disposability to him, but you plow forward, pointed finger punctuating every word, which is a welcome distraction from the look of raw pain on your face. It is like the sun. Too painful to look at directly.

“I know what that feels like, Rindou, because I’ve been treated that way before. I’m young and people call me sweet, and that means people think I’m stupid or superficial, but I’m not. I’m capable of dealing with the hard things and having the hard conversations, and I do not deserve to be treated like I’m too naïve to know how things work.”

There is a layer of grime on his tongue. He focuses on how foreign it feels in his mouth rather than the thumping organ in his ribcage. The way his heart races and the room feels too small is not dissimilar to the sensations he feels when someone fires a gun, when his life is momentarily suspended. A kind of physical panic that quickly settles into alertness.

He breathes deep, calming. Rindou smells the antibacterial soap and weak air freshener blowing from the vents. The colors of the room appear saturated, more contrast and more details accessible to the eye. Most importantly, he sees you clearly. The veins of your throat strain as if bursting with tension your body can’t contain. There are new smudges at the edges as tiny tears wet your eyeline. There is every emotion in those eyes from disgust to anger to sadness, but most of all, there is a question lingering there as you silently beg him to answer: where can we go from here?

“I have never thought of you as some easy thing. I fucked up. I don’t know what was going on in my head that day, but you’re right. I wasn’t seeing you. I should have shut my fucking mouth and listened. I’m sorry.”

Relief warms your eyes.

“I accept your apology,” you say.

“Really?” Rindou asks. After weeks of brewing resentment and your impassioned speech, he didn’t expect a speedy turnaround no matter how many pretty speeches he made himself.

“Yeah, I don’t like being angry. It takes a lot of energy,” you half laugh.

The abrupt about face from anger to laughter throws into stark relief that the is very drunk and very tired.  Beneath that, Rindou recognizes a more abstract emotion, too: happiness.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say something sooner. I didn’t realize what you were upset about,” Rindou says, and then he adds helpfully. “Because I’m stupid. Thanks for forgiving me.”

“Yeah, you are stupid, but I figure you deserve a little grace because this was the first time in six months that you disrespected me. So long as you never treat me that way again. Seriously. My mother taught me to never put up with that from anyone,” you say.

“On my honor,” Rindou vows. “So, can I buy you something to eat now?”

The happiness explodes out like a shaken soda bottle. One second, he’s filled to the brim with it, and the next it’s gone, bubbling to nothing on the tile because you don’t say yes. Instead, you stare grimly at the wall, all traces of reconciliation gone as you clutch the sleeves of your overcoat tight.

He wonders if his apology is not enough, if he might prove his sincerity to you in some other way. If you were Mikey, he would cut off his pinky. He would gladly gift you the ring, index, and middle fingers of his left hand, too, if you demanded them. But fingers out of the question, he has nothing to give you to prove himself, and you don’t say yes.

“Rindou…I do accept your apology for insulting me, but that’s not all…The truth is, I tried to be cool about it, but I’ve had weeks to think, and…I’m not okay with things going back to how they were if you are dating or hell, sleeping with other people. I’m jealous and hurt. And I can’t accept it,” you say.

“It’s normal to be jealous,” Rindou tries, tone bracing and supportive. “I got jealous today, but I worked through it. I’ve been a dom since I was nineteen, and I’ve never been tied down to one person before. It’s not the way I know how to do things. That’s why I didn’t make any promises when we got together. I didn’t cheat on –”

“Please don’t start that again! I know! I know you technically didn’t do anything wrong. And I know that I can’t make you stop seeing other people. It’s your relationship, too, and you can have your boundaries, but…”

“But?”

“But if I can’t ask you to stop seeing other people, then you can’t ask me to keep loving you.”

You clap a hand to your mouth as if shocked by the confession, or like you might herd the words back into your mouth where they will remain unspoken. But it is too late. He can count on one hand the number of times anyone has told him they loved him, and he will not forget this.

“Baby…” Rindou tries to reach for you, but you scramble away, and now tears fall down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry, but that’s the problem, ya know? It hasn’t just been sex or hanging out for me. What we were doing, for me at least, was love, and it hurts too much to love someone who…I tried to take a step back, just have fun with you every once in a while, but there’s no medicine for falling in love, and every time I saw your stupid face, my heart started doing backflips. It doesn’t listen to me when I tell it we shouldn’t love you anymore. And that’s why…”

Your face blurs. It takes Rindou several confused seconds to realize his eyes are wet and blink the moisture away. When you reappear, you have steeled your nerves for the finishing blow.

“That’s why I don’t want to see you anymore. I need space and time to get over you, so um, please just stop calling and texting and all the rest. Just stop.”

Your face blurs again, and this time Rindou knows it’s because his eyes are watering. He blames his stupid glasses. He needs a stronger prescription.

There is no such excuse for your tears that drip past your chin to land on your collar. You wipe fruitlessly at the leakage, too slow to stimmy their fall.

If you say anything after that, Rindou doesn’t hear you over the ringing in his ears. Three women enter the bathroom arm-in-arm and immediately jabber at him about how he isn’t welcome, like three harpies sent to drive him away. Rindou doesn’t fight them as they push him out the door with their words.

Outside in the club, in the dark and music, far from the bright quiet of the bathroom, Rindou feels like he’s stepped onto the surface of Mars. Like he’s planets away from where you are, and he might as well be.

He doesn’t know how to find his way back to you because he stands now amid the wreckage, engine on fire, wings cracked. The plane has finally crashed.

A/N: entering my villain era

"'I was always watching you.' This could have been a breathless declaration of love or a final farewell." - Yōko Ogawa, The Diving Pool: Three Novellas

[yusyusds]

I'm Glad We Met Part 1

“Recording!" 

That was the signal, the interview started, everyone got focused on their job, Rei was trying to keep a calm but pretty smile on her face, on her side Wonyoung looked fresh as always while Liz was looking up for everyone before doing the group greeting.

“Sky high, Hi, we are Estelle”

"I'm really grateful to see you all here," the interviewer,Jung Shik, greeted. "It's your first time here, how does it feel ?"

All the girls looked at each other before the leader Yujin took the initiative to talk. 

"We are a little nervous, but so happy about being in your show, sunbae." The girl's answer received the approval of the rest that nodded showing agreement. 

"Oh no, let's forget honorifics, now you can introduce yourself. Let's start with you..." he pointed at Rei while reading the papers on his hand to look up for her name. "Rei!" 

"Y-yes, I'm a lovely and graceful butterfly in charge of the rap in the group, my name is Rei," she greeted and the rest joined one after the other doing their respective greetings.

The interview officially started. 

Everything was going correct, Rei wasn't too participative but that was not a problem since everyone was having their time to shine after so long.

"Let's talk about your new music." In a natural way the interviewer changed the theme. "I see here that some of you participated in the creation of some of the songs in your new comeback, Rei was one of them." All the attention went on her and automatically Rei felt the nerves invade her body, she already knew what he would ask. "The song "I’m Glad We Met" was written by you?" 

"Not by me, but I helped with some things," Rei answered shyly. 

"It's a song about first love, how did you manage to help, maybe… you have a love story like the one that the song talks about?" He asked curiously, following the script without knowing the effect that could have on the girl. 

Rei’s hand went directly to the little butterfly necklace that went almost unnoticed between all the other accessories on her. Liz reacted too, taking her hand in a supporting way, she knew that the question would effect Rei.

"I- I always use my fans as inspiration, they are my first and only love, so this song is for them," she lied, still playing with the necklace, in it the initials "R" and "Y" were inscribed on the each wing, away from the sight of the rest. 

She wished to be able to talk about her real first love and talk about all the happiness it caused her, but the interview was not the place for that and before she knew it a new question was made, moving to a different theme. 

"Since when you all wanted to become idols and how were you all recruited?" he asked, and while the girls were deciding who would be answering based on the most interesting history, Rei got lost in her memories. 

"Dad!" the girl screamed between the people that walked without looking at her. "Dad, I'm here." She continued, starting to walk looking up for her family, but neither of the adults surrounding her were her parents.

In her desperation a voice mingled with hers, she searched around her until her gaze met with one of another child. Both stayed on their sides looking at each other with fear and curiosity.

"Did you also lose your parents ?" The kid asked in a funny accent, keeping the distance. Rei nodded, playing with her hands nervously. "We should look for them together," he offered, extending his hand to her "I'm Lee YN, I’m from Osaka" 

"I'm Naoi Rei, I’m from Nagoya" Still afraid, Rei approached and took his hand saying her name in a low and shy tone. 

"That's a pretty name." YN started to walk without letting go of Rei's hand. 

Tokyo was a really big city in the eyes of a kid who was alone and so far from home, but at least they were not alone anymore. Together they started to call their parents' names and approach all the adults that looked somehow like their familiars, but didn't succeed. 

It was a search for minutes, but for them felt like hours, eventually they reached a little park where they took a seat. Rei felt calmer, especially thanks to YN's firm grip, but she was still worried about finding her parents. 

On the other side of the park, some young people appeared with loud music, attracting the attention of both kids. 

Do you know that song?" YN asked. 

"I don’t think so," Rei tried to remember, but no memory came that included that song. 

"It's the debut song of SNova he explained. "Don't you like kpop idol groups?" YN asked, looking at her.

"Not really, I don't understand Korean," she answered sincerely.

"Oh, then I’ll work hard to become your favourite idol, my dream is to become an idol of a popular group, hopefully under SNova’s company starlight" YN's eyes almost shined while saying that. 

"I’ll need to learn Korean then..." she said, a little insecure, but still supportive, he turned and smiled at her brightly.

Before the talk could continue they heard their names, they automatically turned in search of the familiar voices watching their parents run towards them. Within minutes they were separated and embraced by their parents as they were bombarded by questions. 

The adults quickly greeted the other family, and then took the children and went on separate ways. 

"Good luck in Korea" Rei almost screamed while waving at YN thinking that the next time they would see each other would be through a screen. 

The years passed, and everything became bigger, including the interest of Rei for kpop, to the point that she wanted to become an idol like her favourites and YN, even if he hasn't debuted yet. Whenever auditions were opened, she sent her videos in the hope of being chosen, but sometimes she didn't even receive the predetermined message thanking the participation. 

Feeling more exhausted than usual, she finished shopping and left the store. Her mother needed some ingredients and couldn't find them in any nearby store so she had to walk several blocks to get there. 

She walked at a calm pace while humming one of her favourite songs. Maybe it was because there weren't that many people on the street at the time, but it gave her the feeling that she was being followed, but before she could do or say anything a man in a suit approached her. 

"You have good looks, if you are interested contact me. We are looking for trainees for a new group," he said in a funny sounding japanese before offering a business card. 

Rei took the card with doubt, but once she saw the name of the company she raised her eyebrows. 

"Starlight Entertainment." That name shone in her eyes, and from that moment the mission to get into the company started. 

It was not easy to convince her parents, it was normal that they refused to let their little daughter go to a totally different country to spend hours and hours training to debut in a group that could end up failing. So Rei made a big effort to convince them using her opportunity to study there as a benefit and eventually they agreed, with many rules and conditions, but after receiving the permission everything happened in the blink of an eye. 

Her journey in Korea started.

[nono-uwu]

The boy!! Whooo we all cheered for the silly little guy

Loree utc :3

Homura was born into a loving family. He was always a little different (aka autisitc) but his family still loved him and he loved them. He had difficulties fitting in with his peers at school but that didn't bother him as at the end of the day he would return to his family. How nice :)

Then december 25th 2012 happens and they all die-

So as the sole <13 year old in his family, he survives the inital apocalypse but then has to evade vampire capture. How? He shuts himself in a closet with a knife and prays to whatever god there is that they don't find him.

Luck is on his side as two days later, Yua finds him. A very # dramatic scene play out where he lunges at her with the knife, she catches his hand and goes to pat his head like "it's okay kid you're safe". Our boy gets pseudo adopted by Yua and she takes him to JIDA headquarters. He bravley signs up to training to become a soldier and a few years pass.

Once he gets his very own demonic weapon, he chooses a gun(I think it's a rifle? but idfk it just looks cool). His demon is surprisingly polite, a young silver haired girl. Her only condition on lending him all her power is that he sometimes gives her full contol over his body, during which he's unconscious.

When Yua gets back from her solo mission, very noticeably unharmed he jumps to her defense. Thanks to his superb bargaining skills he gets Yua a less harsh punshment and continuously jumps to her defense afterwards.

As for his army career... it's a little weird. He somehow has incredible luck. He returns mostly unharmed from even the most dangerous missions, even when his squadmates bite the dust or get heavily injured. Homura himself has no real idea how he always survives (probably thanks to his demon) whoch has netted him an unfavorable reputation amongst his fellow soldiers. Due to this he's usually delegated to supplying and protecting human settlement.

Whenever Yua would come back from her adventures, he'd eagerly listen to what she's been up to. After each time, the prospect of he himself visiting those vampires becomes more and more enticing. He already has a hard time getting along with his fellow soldiers and his luck would probably save him from death. Besides, Yua speaks highly of them, so they can't be that bad.

One day he mentiones this to Yua who, understandably, isn't too excited about the idea. She may get a free pass but Homura? He's just another human soldier to the vampires.

To test the waters, Yua just takes Homura to meet with Machigai since he'd be the most understanding. Machigai is just like "bro idfk go ask them yourself" but that ordeal is cut short by a wandering Chess appearing out of nowhere (she was bored and decided to follow Machigai even though he specifically told her, Horn and Crowley that he'd like to go alone lol). A very panicked explanation by Yua later and Chess is fully on board with getting another human friend (if she gets to drink some of his blood that is >:3). Shortly after, Nagoya city hall now has two special human visitors who regularly bring intel and snacks!

Ofc this gets him into some hot water when others notice his prolonged absences and his adamant defense of Yua, who is already under suspicion of being a 'traitor to humanity', but he doesn't care. (Will probably elaborate on this sometime)

[lesbiansloveseokjin]

day 437/548 of seokjin’s military service

these selcas were posted on 190112

#BTS WORLD TOUR ‘LOVE YOURSELF’ ~JAPAN EDITION~ The first performance of 2019, the Nagoya Dome (Day 1)! ARMYs, we really missed you💜* Thank you for making wonderful memories for us today! Nagoya is the best👍 

(trans cr: Maya @ bts-trans)

[#Today’sBangtan] Thank you, Nagoya! What’s important is that we’re breathing together with ARMYs who are in Nagoya right here and now! Nagoya~ is Bangtan’s~💜 #NagoyaDay1Concert

Banner Translation: No matter whether we’re surrounded by desert or sea, ARMYs will always stay by your side

(trans cr: Mary & Yein @ bts-trans)

[namchyoon]

day 283/547 until joon returns cr. namuspromised

[bts-boys]

190112 BTS V at Love Yourself World Tour in Nagoya Day 1 © nuna v do not edit, crop, or remove the watermark

[hyperfixationsporfavor]

I Left My Heart in San Fransisco

I Left My Heart in San Francisco (Higuruma x Reader)

My love waits there in San Francisco…

~

Hiromi Higuruma considered himself a professional, a man dedicated to his work. That dedication was most likely the cause of his nonexistent social life. Something Shimizu, his associate, felt comfortable enough pointing out to him. 

“When’s the last time you went out? Just to see a movie? Have a nice dinner?”

Hiromi just ignored her questioning and took a sip of his coffee.

After a barrage of incessant pestering from Shimizu the two of them took a small break at Takagi’s cafe, which was conveniently empty in the middle of the afternoon. 

Takagi was his former coworker from his first job out of law school. The fact that she had to work another job on the side proved that the pay in criminal law was abhorrent. 

The words of his law professors at Nagoya University rang true. 

Criminal law was for the bleeding hearts who didn’t let money drive them, but the passion for the legal profession.

That was all well and good but Hiromi still would have liked to own a home in his lifetime. 

Takagi approached the table with a couple of muffins, on the house for her fellow attorneys.

“Leave him alone Shimizu, this time next week he’ll be smooching his college sweetheart in the City by the Bay,” she mused as she sat down next to her.

“(Name) and I weren’t in a relationship, we were friends.”

“With benefits?”

“Shimizu, you’re embarrassing him,” Takagi scolded. 

“What? We’re all adults here. It’s not like we’re talking about holding hands on the playground.”

Hiromi just clenched his jaw. “No. And if we’re just going to waste time prying into my personal life I don't see why we can’t go back to the office and get some work done.”

He reached down to grab his briefcase before his associate stopped him.

“Wait,” Shimizu protested. “I’m sorry. I was just curious. I didn’t mean to step out of line.”

Hiromi relented and picked up his muffin. 

“It’s fine.”

“Either way,” Takagi chimed in. “It’ll be good for you to get away and relax.”

“It couldn’t come at a worse time. I have a million things to do at work,” he mumbled. “Maybe I should just cancel.”

“Absolutely not. It’s just a weekend. I can handle our caseload until you get back,” Shimizu assured him.

“But-”

“No buts, you're going and that’s final,” Takagi ordered. 

~

Hiromi had met you when he was a student at UC Berkeley. He had been fortunate enough to receive an opportunity to study abroad the last two and a half years of his undergraduate studies. 

You had bumped into each other at a mixer for pre law majors. 

He admired you. 

How you held yourself in class, never backing down from a challenge, always passionately engaged. Hiromi was a bit more reserved, yet the two of you connected like opposite poles.

You were good for him and he was good for you. 

You forced him to put the books away and take periodic breaks, frequenting the local 7-Eleven with enough regularity that you were on a first name basis with every employee. He was able to reign you in when you flew off the handle, passion being easily misinterpreted as hot headedness. 

On one occasion a spat with a chauvinistic legacy student, during a mock trial, led to you lunging over the bench to give him a black eye. Thankfully Hiromi was able to ensnare his arm around your waist before you got yourself expelled. 

“Guys like that just…oof…they make me so…fuck,” you vented over your usual Big Gulp.

He just nodded and snacked on his Snickers Bar. 

Hiromi liked you, maybe he liked you more than he let on but he squashed that possibility like a miniscule ant under his thumb.

He didn’t want to ruin his friendship with you by having some brief fling the two of you could grow to regret. 

The logistics were a nightmare anyway, there was an entire ocean separating the both of you. He’d eventually have to go back to home and the two of you would further your studies, start practicing law, and continue the never ending cycle of human life. 

~

You had invited Hiromi to San Francisco for a weekend. You were tired of being relegated to emails and wanted to have a proper reunion. 

‘I’d like to see you in person. It’s been too long, Hiromi.’ 

~

“Sir?”

A voice woke Hiromi up from his catatonic sleep. He looked up to find a flight attendant standing above him. 

“We’ll be arriving soon,” she informed him.

He nodded. “Thank you.”

Had he really slept the whole flight?

What did he expect after pulling so many all nighters? And how did he still feel so tired?

~

Hiromi rolled his suitcase out of the airport at around 6 pm. He followed the directions you gave him to the parking garage and spotted you in the loading zone. You stepped out of a polished BMW, dressed up in a well tailored pants suit. He was slightly taken aback, you looked so…sophisticated. You hurriedly sprinted over to him and practically tackled him to the ground in a bone shattering hug. 

“I can’t believe you’re really here,” you exclaimed. 

He indulged himself by hugging you back. You were still the same (Name) in some ways. 

You pulled away and took his hands in yours. 

“How are you Hiromi?” you asked.

“Jetlagged,” he mused. “You look good.”

You smiled. “So do you.”

“Liar,” he playfully retorted. 

~

“So where to?” you asked as you sped through the city. 

Hiromi gazed out the window at the scenery whizzing past him.

Memories from the occasional day trips the two of you would take here flooding back to him.

He loved the old homes, the hole in the wall restaurants, the water, the breeze that snuck through your clothes, the seagulls and pigeons that pestered you for bread. 

“I’d honestly like to relax a little if that’s okay,” he said despite the guilt he held.

He was always working so the idea of not working was a concept he was unfamiliar with. But he wanted to try and ease himself into doing nothing and allow himself to rest.

“So nothing touristy,” you confirmed.

“Definitely not.”

You smirked. “Fight it all you want but before this weekend is over I’m going to get a picture of you in front of the Golden Gate Bridge wearing an ‘I heart SF’ shirt.”

That got a laugh out of him. He felt embarrassed to laugh out loud sometimes but just for the next few days he’d indulge himself.

~

You lived in a small yellow house sandwiched between a Mexican bakery and an ugly gentrified apartment building. 

The inside of your home had old creaky wooden floors and mauve walls that complemented the antique furniture. You had decorated with nick knacks and trinkets you had collected through your travels. It was so homely compared to Hiromi’s apartment that still had furniture unassembled in boxes.

“Obviously the floors are a bit annoying and it gets a little cold in the winter, but it’s home.”

Hiromi peered around. “I think it’s wonderful.”

“Are you hungry?” you asked.

A little,” he admitted. “I slept through the in flight meal.”

“Should we order in or are you up for going out?”

He thought it over. “I’d prefer to order in but if you want to go out I could manage it.”

“We’ll stay in,” you decided. 

“Okay.”

You went to the kitchen to retrieve the take out menus you had stored away in a drawer.

“Burmese or Italian?” you asked.

~

Over a feast of both Burmese and Italian food you and Hiromi caught up.

“So how did you find this place? Didn’t your parents live by the pier?” he asked. 

You nodded. “Yeah but a few years ago their building was bought by this development firm so they had no choice but to relocate to Sacramento.”

“I’m sorry (Name).”

“It’s sad but it’s just a reality of what’s been happening here.”

“The apartment next door?”

You scoffed. “Isn’t it hideous? If you're going to force people out of their homes to build housing for rich people can you at least make it pretty?”

Hiromi nodded in agreement.

“Anyway, to answer your question one of my mother’s friends wanted to move to Oakland to be closer to her son’s family, so they worked out a deal for the rent and I was able to move in. Thank god because I’d never be able to find a place nowadays.”

“And this place is close to the nonprofit you volunteer at?” he asked.

“It’s just down the road, mostly pro bono work for low income families. I’d like to do more but my day job keeps me pretty busy.”

Hiromi finished the last of his beer. “But you like the work?”

You smiled. “I love it.”

He pondered that sentiment trying to apply it to himself.

~

The next day the two of you got up early to make the most of your brief time together. Hiromi secretly wished he could have stayed longer, even if he knew a weekend away from work was already pushing it. 

After filling up on coffee, the two of you walked across the street to an old record store tucked away behind a former Blockbuster. 

“It’s sad they went out of business,” you sighed. “Many times we rented that same copy of Dumb and Dumber from there.”

“I hated that movie then and I hate it now,” Hiromi mumbled.

You smirked and leaned against a box of old cassettes. “Well we can’t all be as intellectual as Hiromi Higuruma. What was your favorite movie again? The Graduate?”

He smiled despite himself. “Please, I was in my early twenties. That movie is tailor made for people that age.”

Hiromi stopped combing through a stack of old records and ironically pulled out Sounds of Silence.

You gasped. “That’s a sign. You need to buy that.”

“To play on my imaginary record player.”

Despite the record having no practical function in his apartment he bought it with little resistance.

~

After the record store you drove to a cafe to pick up sandwiches and clam chowder. Once you had secured your food you went to the beach to have a picnic. You laid out the old quilt you brought from home and settled down for a feast.

“This is so good,” Hiromi groaned. “I forgot how amazing the food is here.”

“Surely you have your favorite local spots back home?”

He sighed. “I don’t really go out much. I pretty much live off the convenience store on my street.”

“Well I know you told me you like to take on harder cases, but why not give yourself a break?”

“I am,” he argued. “I am, I’m taking a break right now.”

You rolled your eyes. “Hiromi, a weekend with jetlag doesn’t count. You need a real vacation.”

“I don’t know what it is about me. I just get so…obsessed.”

You set your sandwich down. “Okay look. How about we make a deal?” 

“What?” he suspiciously asked. 

“You can take on one more, excruciating, difficult, sleep depriving case, and then you have to start to cut back.”

“What do I get in return?” he asked between bites.

“A lap dance from me.”

He nearly choked on his sandwich as you broke out into a fit of laughter. 

“(Name) are you trying to kill me?” he managed to get out.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Once you had calmed down you presented him with your real offer.

“We’ll go on a real vacation.”

“Where,” he asked. 

“What’s the one place in the world you’ve always wanted to go?”

He thought for a moment. One place he always wanted to go. 

“Iceland.”

“Interesting,” you mused. “Why Iceland?”

“I’d like to see the Northern Lights.”

You nodded. “Then that’s where we’ll go.”

“(Name) I can’t just drop everything and-.”

“Don’t get in an argument with me Hiromi, you know who’s going to win.”

He relented and tossed the remaining crust of his sandwich to a nearby seagull. 

“Deal.”

~

To celebrate his final day in town you promised Hiromi a home cooked meal. 

“We’ll go to the market later, but since it’s still early let’s go to the bakery next door and get some pan dulce.”

While you paid for your order Hiromi looked through a small box of wooden bracelets by the register. 

“What are these?” he asked. 

“Saint bracelets,” you answered. “It’s a Catholic thing.”

You plucked one out of the box and handed it to the cashier. 

“No, I don’t need one,” he argued. 

“It’s a souvenir. It’ll go with your new record.”

~

“Is it supposed to be so…crunchy?”

You wrinkled your nose at the final product.

You had planned to have risotto but your combined culinary skills led you to create a big pile of crap.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. I added way too much salt to it.”

You tried to smother your laughter. 

“It was an honest mistake, at least we still have the wine.”

You got an idea. 

“I have crackers, let's just get some meat and cheese and make a charcuterie board.”

~

The two of you lounged on the couch. Hiromi’s cab would arrive soon to take him to the airport. By this time tomorrow he’d be back in his small apartment staring at a record he couldn’t listen to and a bracelet from a religion he didn’t practice. 

“Do you want a family Hiromi?” you asked.

He thought for a moment. “I don’t think so. I don’t have the time. What about you?”

“I’d like to get married someday, but I don’t want kids. Does that make me a bad person?”

“Of course not.”

“Can you tell my parents that?”

He chuckled. 

“I don’t know,” he mumbled. “Sometimes I feel like I’m missing something but then that feeling goes away.” 

“We’re getting older, do you think we’re just settling?” you asked.

“No. I think we’re just doing what we want. The thing that gets us out of bed every morning.”

He sighed.

“(Name)?”

You looked at him. “Yes?”

“I really want to go to Iceland with you.”

You smiled. “It’s a deal.”

~

The cabdriver stuffed Hiromi’s suitcase into the trunk of the car and slammed it shut. He stood in front of your house giving it one last look before he left. 

“Hiromi?” you asked. 

He looked at you, taking note of how you anxiously crossed your arms in front of your chest. 

“Yes?”

You bit your lip and looked up to meet his eyes. 

“Why…didn’t you ever ask me out back then?”

His breath hitched. 

“I…” 

“Why not even for a night?”

He swallowed his fear and dared to speak the truth.

“I didn’t want to say goodbye.”

You took a step forward, closing the gap between you. 

“Well then don’t say goodbye, say I’ll see you next time.”

He reached up and shakily cupped your face in his hands. 

You kissed, your lips meshed perfectly with one another, two lost souls reunited in a single moment. 

Hiromi pulled away and wrapped you in his arms. 

“I’ll see you next time.”

You surrendered him from your grip and he got in the cab, giving you a final wave. 

The cab sped off into the night, he watched you until you got smaller and smaller, and just like that you were gone. 

~

(Several months later)

Reykyavík was a beautiful city, but not as beautiful as you. 

Hiromi held your naked body tightly against his, unwilling to let you go. You cradled his face trying to etch every little detail into your memory, every line and crevice. 

Neither of you wanted to forget a moment of this. You intended to make the most out of your two week stay in Iceland, even if it meant you never left your hotel room. 

You sighed in relief as Hiromi’s calloused hand caressed your hip. 

“So what should we do today?” you murmured. 

He pressed his lips against yours for the umpteenth time that morning. 

“This,” he mumbled. “Just this.” 

~

My love waits there in San Francisco…

The End. 

[argumentl]

The Freedom of Expression Vol:19 - Watching Hanshin vs. Chunichi

*Long post!

To summarize:

•Kaoru enjoying talking about baseball

•The announcement of the mug winners

•Eating Nagoya foods

•Trying to guess pro-baseball players' annual salaries

•Hating on the Yomiuri Giants

•Kaoru-toriko research

•Modelling the happi coat*

*All three watching the game and hitting plastic bats in support*

J: Can he manage this? What do you think?

K: Hm, I'm not sure.

J: Oi..oi..oi....What's this batter's name?

K: Hosokawa. He is good.

J: Who is the pitcher?

K: Otake

J: Otake!

T: He gave away two points already!

J: Whats going on, Otake?? He is the starter, isn't he? They haven't changed him yet?

K: No, not yet.

J:...What's that? We're already on-air?? Didn't you know that, Leader?! The broadcast has already started!

K: Haha, oh, thats tiresome.

J: I'm getting cues in my ear, haha.

T: Oh, Joe.

J: Well, this is what I'm like before I start drinking.

K: You'll just get more eccentric once you start drinking, won't you?

J: I will, yes. I don't think it will get much more complex though, haha. Ok, Leader! Today is the live broadcast of the Hanshin vs. Chunichi game!

K: Yep

*applause*

T: I've really been looking forward to this.

J: Yeh, Tasai, your syle of support is a bit different from everyone else here. You've brought like a baseball directory with you.

T: Yeah, this book is a baseball directory put out by Spo-nichi (Sports Nippon).

K: Tokyo Sports hasn't done one of these?

T: No, we are not good with details.

J, K: Hahaha

J: Right? Data is not Tokyo Sports' strong point.

T: Yeah. Spo-nichi and Nikkan (Nikkan Sports) are the leaders in this field.

J: Ahh. Yeah, you wouldn't believe anything written in a directory by Tokyo Sports.

T: Haha, right?

K: I wanna see that now, haha.

J: Haha, right? You'd be like, 'Hang on a minute!!'

T: A while ago we put out an article about that famous left-handed player Randy Johnson saying he was right-handed.

K: Haha

T: We are in no place to put out a directory.

J: Haha, thats bad. Getting left-handed and right-handed mixed up. Sports newspaper do that a lot, don't they? haha. Someone just asked in the comments if we are gonna drink. Well, later on...actually, are we gonna continue till the game ends?

Staff: We have a set time.

J: Ah, ok, a set time today. Till about 9o'clock?

K: Well, its already the 4th innings.

J: Oh, already? Ok, well, today we are broadcasting while watching the game between Hanshin and Chunichi. You guys can watch with us. We'll have a drink during the course of the game too, so please stay with us.

T: Kaoru, you haven't introduced yourself yet.

K: Eh?

T: You haven't introduced yourself.

K: I'm Kaoru!

T, J: Haha

T: Im Tasai!

J: Im Joe!

*applause, Joe carries on clapping with the bats*

J: This is great. I'm just cheering on my own here. Its the first time for me to ever do this kinda thing. I love these bats.

K: Yeh, but even if you speak through them, it just makes your voice muffled.

J: What if I put it near your mic? Well, we've got a lot planned today...Hey, what was that? Some kind of anime or something just appeared on the screen.

K: Huh? Nothing appeared...Anime??

T: Were you talking about the comments?

J: Was it? No, I mean these days, compared to in the past, the stadiums and teams are doing a lot more things so that you can easily watch the game. Its fun.

K: Yeah, but Hanshin hardley ever do stuff like that.

J: Really?

K: If I had to say, they are the type to not do that...I mean, they started doing it a bit before, but hardley ever now. Other teams are much more advanced with this stuff.

J: Which teams?

K: Like, Yokohama.

T: Yeah, and Manager Okada was saying that kind of thing takes too long.

K: Yeah, if you do it every time, it gets disruptive.

J: Ahh, I see. So Okada thinks that doing some kind of performance or show whenever anything eventful happens will disrupt the flow of the game. Uh, ok, so I have a very basic question, but..

K: No.

T: Haha, that was fast.

J: Ehhh?! What position are Hanshin in at the moment?

K: Top spot.

J: Ohhh!

K: But...but I was saying last month that they were too strong, right?

J: Yes. Have they remained that way since then?

K: They went down to 2nd place for a while yesterday. They got chased.

J: Ahh!

T: The interleage games have been a bit sketchy.

K: Yeah, they have been bad.

T: I think they had 3 games under .500.

K: We just can't win at Yokohama stadium for some reason. We lost all three games recently. At Yokohama stadium itself, we've lost 13 in a row.

T: Wow, really?!

K: Yeah.

J: Maybe its just not compatible...I wonder what it is?

K: It used to be really compatible! I used to think Hanshin should make Yokohama their home stadium.

J: Haha, that was your thought?

K: Yeh, but we can't win there recently for some reason.

J: Ehh, 13 losses in a row at Yokohama? And three losses there recently? Ahh, what about yesterday? Yesterday was against Chunichi?

K: Yeah, well, today is the second match.

J: How was yesterday?

K: Well, yesterday we got so many hits, it feels like there will be none left for today.

J: Ahh, I see, yesterday was that good.

T: A comment says 'Joe, that pink shirt makes you look so shady, its good'.

J: Oh, come on, haha. I cant help it, Tasai got the yellow one, I got pink.

K: Yeah, but you were already wearing it when I arrived.

J: Yeah, cause it was hanging behind my seat, so I thought I have to wear this. So, it looks shady? There are people who dress like this, right?

T: Yes, there are.

J: Aren't there a lot of older women in Osaka who dress like this?

K: If anything, you look more like a Giants fan.

J: Haha, of course.

K: You look like the type of old guy who has a favourite salesgirl at the stadium.

J: Ahh, I didn't know about this, but I was just looking in this players directory, and it says in here that there are Tiger Girls! I'm more interested in this! I wanna do the show with the Tiger girls instead of baseball!

T: Tiger girls? Let me see. Its Tigers girls, not Tiger girls.

J: Oh, who cares! Tokyo Sports isn't supposed to care about the details! You can even get right and left correct.

T: Haha, yeh.

K: Hahaha

J: Ok, whats next..?

K: Oh, the mugs! The ones we got in Fussa.

J: Ah yes. Do you remember when we went to Base Side Street in Fussa? The winners of the mugs have been decided. So Leader is going to announce them now.

*applause*

K: 'Guest' from Miyagi. This person didn't write their name. 'Mari' from Tokyo...*applauds with bats* Oh, it broke! 'Ponta' from Aichi. *applauds with a bat in each hand* Oh, maybe this way is better. 'Chi' from Hiroshima, and 'Popon' from Okinawa.

T: Thank you! Have they already recieved them?

K: Yeah, it looks like they have.

J: Congratulations!

T: Ah, someone wrote, 'I won, thank you!'

J: Ah, there are a lot of benefits to watching this show, right? Congratulations, and thanks to everyone who took part.

T: 'So jealous!'

J: Ah, yeah. Ok, so we are still taking your questions and comments during the show..

K: Hurry up with this! We can't get the drinks until you read this.

J: Ah, we can't do kanpai?

T: Read it quickly, Joe.

J: Ah, ok...*speed reading* So we are taking questions and comments about the show, support for Hanshin, anything is ok. People using twitter can use the tag TFOE. We just have one request about the comments. There is probably a bit of a time lag between our screen with the baseball and this show's comment section, so if you comment on the score etc, we might know it before we have seen it, so please do not comment on the status of the game!

K: Haha

J: No spoilers! haha. So the first half of the show is free for anyone, but the second part is for members only. If you join, you can watch this broadcast in the archives for free for a year, and we also have videos for members only. So please join using the link at the top of the screen. Leader is pointing to it. Please enjoy the show to the end!! *applause* Oh! Mine broke too!

T: Ok, now that we've done that, lets get the drinks out!

J: Everyone, get ready for kanpai too!

K: This is kinda noisy, haha.

J: Yeah, its tough for the sound guy.

*They all get their drinks*

J: Ugh, ok..

K: You sound tired already! haha

T: Tired out in 10 minutes.

J: Yes, ugh, Im tired *from too much cheering etc*. Well, it's cause I don't really understand much of the talk when it comes to baseball. But anyway, do you all have your drinks ready at home? Lets have a toast and a short speech from Leader for our first drink.

K: A short speech?

T: Oh, that reminds me, well done on finishing the last tour.

J: Joe said he was gonna come to one of the dates, but he never did.

J: Yeh, I didn't.

T: ???

J: No, no, it was just my schedule, my schedule clashed.

K: Haha

J: I wanted to go, honestly, haha.

K: Oh, look, look! *points to baseball game on screen*

J: Ah, its Mie! Mie-chan! You know, I had thought that baseball players these days have less personality than before, like in terms of their hairstyles or stances, but this guy here is easily noticable. His name is Mie-chan, right?

K: He has a cute pose. *Does V sign next to his eyes*

T: Do you know what that is, Joe?

J: Eh?

T: Mie-peace sign.

J: Oh man. Now that I know this, I can use that pose next time I go drinking in Kansai, right?

K: Hahaha....Ok, kanpai!!

J, T: Kanpai!!

J: Everyone, do kanpai at home too.

T: Ah, delicious. Send lots of alcohol emojis, everyone.

J: Ok, so we have lots of snacks here in front of us. As today's game is against Chunichi (*Nagoya's team*), we have a variety of Nagoya foods here, with a view to eating Chunichi into oblivion. We are gonna eat Chunichi up!

K: Are you gonna shout, 'I love Nagoya!'?

J: Haha, no, Osaka is the best. But this is a good idea from the staff, right? Eating up the opposition.

T: Also, look at this, Tigers fried cutlet.

K: Actually, that and these bats were a gift from a fan. At first I wondered why so many were included, there were three pairs.

J: Oh, for this show?!

K: Yeah.

T: Really?! Oh wow, thank you!

K: Yeah, probably.

T: Thank you! That makes me so happy. Apologies for using them so roughly.

J: Oh, yes, a comment asks, 'Can you eat the tenmusu with shrimp in it?'

K: I can tolerate shrimp now.

J: Oh, great!!!

T: Big news! Kaoru can tolerate shrimp now! Haha, what kind of news is that?

J: You overcame it?

K: Well, I can eat it at least.

J: Can you eat it today?

K: Yeah.

T: Ok, you gotta eat one in the second part. Haha

J: Yes, you can eat one for the members only content.

K: I can eat it now even.

J: Ah, someone said they wanna see you eating shrimp! Thats for members only though, right?

T: This is crazy, haha. Leader just eating a shrimp is members only standard now. Wow! haha

K: Hahaha

J: Haha, of course. Thats for members only. 'A shrimp tasting'. That's right. Everyone, please make sure you are a member so you can watch it. So, I just want to touch on the game for a minute. We are finished the 3rd innings now, right?

K: No, we are finished the 4th innings.

J: Oh that was quick!

K: It was 0-0, wasn't it? *writing score on whiteboard*

J: I feel like the game is lacking momentum, right, Kaoru?

K: I wanna make this 2 into 0 too. (*Chunichi scored the only two points so far, earlier in the game*)

J: Should we?? Well, it wont make any difference if we do.

K: Haha.

J: So, overall, its 2-0.

T: Kaoru, tell us about your happi coat.

K: Oh, I bought this a long time ago. I went to watch them play and wore this before too.

T: Stand up and show us.

J: Ohh, what about the back? Oh, amazing! Was this just sold like normal?

K: Yeah, just like normal. I bought it.

J: The ones me and Tasai are wearing must be like the basics...or thereabouts.

K: Or thereabouts? haha, what on earth do you mean?

T: It doesn't mean they are worse.

J: Yeah, but pink might be for women, I'm not sure. Oh, comments saying, 'Leader is so cool!', and 'I want it!'. Can't you buy this these days?

K: Oh yeh, it was a long time ago when I bought this.

T: Having this shows you are a long time fan.

J: Well, yeh I guess so....*responding to a comment* No, it wasn't just dropped by the wayside, haha. Anyway, as for the game today, who are the two starters?

K: Uh, for Hanshin its Otake.

J: What kind of player is he?

K: Uh, in the players draft he came to us from Softbank.

T: He has been really active. His ERA is probably in the 0s since before the interleague games...even though he just gave away 2 points.

J: Ehh. And what about Chunichi?

K: Takahashi

J: Who is Takahashi?

K: Well, he is a Chunichi player.

J: I know that! What kind of person is he?

K: I don't know anything else about him, haha.

T: Joe, I'll check the directory....It says, 'After his experience with the national team, he has scaled up another level. He is a pillar of the Dragons. He is a treasured pitcher within the team'.

K: He is young, isn't he?

T: Yeah, he is 21, in his third year.

K: Yeah, cause during the WBC he wasn't allowed to drink alcohol.

T: Ahh, he was underage?

K: What is it over there again?

T: In America, the legal age to drink is 21...or is it 22?

K: Yeah, so when they were all celebrating, he couldn't drink alcohol. You know with that big champagne bottle? He couldn't have any of it.

J: Ahhh, he might be bitter about it still.

T: No, no, he won't be.

K: He probably hates Hanshin more.

J: Yeah, he might hate the American laws too.

K: No, but Hanshin have taken practically a clean sweep with the All Stars vote.

T: Oh yeh!

J: Eh, whats this about?

K: The fan vote for the All Star team.

J: The results were announced today?? Oh, what kind of positions did Hanshin get? All number 1?

K: Yeah, but I think Akiyama might have gotten center.

T: I'll just check.

K: But otherwise, its all Hanshin. The fans votes are ????, so its not very interesting in the end.

J: Well, yeh, but its resulted like this naturally, right?

K: Well, yeh, cause its a fan vote. It just means they have a lot of fans.

J: No Giants players there. You know, when I was young, the All Stars team was almost always exclusively Giants players. Times have changed!

T: Yeah, Joe, Hanshin are really popular these days.

K: Well, they've been a strong team, I mean, up until last month, haha.

J: Ha, using the past tense I see.

T Yeah, I remember Kaoru saying last month it was tough to handle the success.

K: That feeling is at max level now.

J: Ah, talking about it will jinx it.

K: Yeah, but then again, Joe was talking up that curry so much last time, and we got it again today!

J: Yes, see! Wasn't it good?!

K: Yeah, haha.

J: You know, we had that curry earlier, so we aren't getting through any of these snacks at all. I guess we will get hungry eventually. Someone asked, 'Kaoru, when did you go to Koshien?' You bought that happi coat quite a while ago?

K: This? Yeah, it was a long time ago. I think the last time I went was about 5 years ago. I filmed a video there for my blog.

T: Someone said, 'Hanshin fans have strong personality, they are easy to spot'.

J: Like me?

K: Nah, you definitely have a Yomiuri look.

J: I look like.a Giants fan?

K: You have a kind of pretentious look about you.

T: Ahh, I see it.

J: Like a Tokyoite?

K: Like the type of person who would bring a really fancy bento to eat. All show, but nothing on the inside, haha.

J: No way!

T: Don't eat that kind of thing at Koshien! Haha, look at that comment, 'I can't believe this prejudice against the Giants!'

K: Hahaha

J: Well, that can't be helped today.

T: Yeah, its a Tigers day

today. Forgive us just for today.

J: Yeah, and keep writing comments. Actually, about the score, I didn't see the moment when these two points were scored. What actually happened there? Don't either of you know?

K: Oh, but they just showed a replay of it earlier.

J: Ah, they did.

K: Yeah, but we weren't watching. Its ok though, they'll probably show it again.

J: So, this is obviously a pitching duel at the moment?

K: Yes.

J: Both aces are ???

K: Well, not really, but its kinda like that.

T: This kinda situation is no problem for an ace.

J: Well, what I really wanna know is what the aces' annual salary is? Tasai. Its written in the directory, right?

T: Yep, it is. Who do you want to start with?

J: Oh, the young Chunichi guy who couldn't do kanpai.

T: Ok, so Joe, can you guess the salary of Takahashi, who is in his third year of play?

J: Uh, 3rd year..so 30 million yen?

K: He's only 21.

J: Ah, ok, 20 million.

T: Haha, why?

J: Well, he's still young, so he doesn't have the experience.

T: Incidentally, in total he has 6 wins and 7 losses....up until this season.

J: Ahh, well probably 20 million then.

T: 20 million? Kaoru, what do you think?

K: Hm, maybe 15 million?

T: The correct answer is..35 million!

J: Ahhhh, so we have a 35 million yen pitcher against Hanshin's...?

T: Shall we check?

J: 35 million yen...how much is that per throw?

K: I don't know, I can't work it out, haha.

J: But how many games would he have per season?

K: Hmm, about 15?

J: And about 100 throws? Someone work it out. 15 games × 100 throws.

K: 1500 throws. I dunno, probably about 2000 yen per throw. Haha

J: 2000 yen! Thats more expensive than curry!

T: Ok next is Otake Kotaro, who transferred from Softbank.

J: That means he must have had some achievements for Hanshin to want him?

K: No, it wasnt like that. He wasn't chosen in the initial draft...

J: Oh, so he was a spare?

K: Yeah, so he was available for transfer.

J: Ahh, so like, he wasn't that active in his previous team?

K: Yeah.

J: Oh, well in that case, it might be lower, if he is not highly rated.

T: His stats are 10 wins 9 losses.

J: Oh, 10 wins is not bad...I'll say 25 million.

K: What year of play is he in?

T: His 6th year. He is 28.

J: Ok, 25 million.

T: You think?

J: Yeah, he previous team let him go. What do you think, Leader?

K: About 20 million.

J: What's the correct answer?

T: Ohh! One of you got it right! The correct answer is 20 million! Kaoru, thats amazing! You can even guess Hanshin players' annual salaries!

K: Haha.

J: Have you memorized them all?

K: No, haha.

T: You just guessed, 'Its probably around this amount', and got it right.

J: So today, 35 million and 20 million are up against each other. Thats a 15 million difference.

T: This is all research for us.

J: Yeah...Ah, research, research! Lets carry out research on the viewers.

T: Yes, Joe, can you explain the plan for today?

J: Oh yes, sorry, I forgot about this.

K: Haha.

J: Ok, lets get on with our plan for today, which is...Kaoru toriko research!

*applause*

J: We are gonna find out what kind of people you all are, by using surveys. What kinds of thing will we ask you? Well, firstly, lets go with ' Where are you watching from?' Should we start there? From which region are you watching this broadcast? A survey will pop up on your screens, so please choose your region from the options.

T: Oh wow, 8 options! I thought we could only do 4!

J: Yep, we can do 8. Hokkaido, Tohoku, Kanto, Chubu, Kinki, Chugoku, Shikoku, and Kyushu/Okinawa. There might be people watching from overseas too, right? Sorry about that! We cant fit any more options on. So you have to choose from these.

T: Should we see the results?

J: Ok, here are the results. Ahh, overwhelmingly Kanto, at 42.9%. Next is Kinki with 26.4%. Chubu is 8.8%, thank you! Tohoku and Hokkaido are 5.5% each. Chugoku is 3.3%, Kyushu/Okinawa is 5.5%, and Shikoku is 2.2%. So, overwhelmingly Kanto and Kinki, about 70% are in those regions. Oh, someone said 'Not many from Kinki!'. Yeah.

T: Haha, someone said, 'Im watching from the store staffroom on my break'. Thank you!

J: Well, we will be asking you more surveys from here on. Leader, is there anything you want to ask? Anything is ok.

T: Let's ask this...Which team do you support?

K: Eh? But there are only eight spaces.

T: From the Central League, I mean. Ok, time to make tough choices.

J: At this rate its gonna be Hanshin, right? But there are a lot of viewers in Kanto, I guess. So there may be a few votes for the Giants, Yokohama, and Yakult too. Are you eating onigiri already, Tasai?

K: Tenmusu, you mean?

J: Yeah, Tenmusu. He had curry earlier too.

T: It tastes good.

J: I couldn't believe Tasai earlier. When he was eating curry, he broke his spoon!

K: Oh, mine broke too!

J: Really?? I thought it was just Tasai.

K: It was tough curry.

T: The spoon broke when I ate the potato.

K: For me it broke when I just put it in the curry sauce.

T: Ehhh? Haha

K: I was trying to scoop up a piece of beef, and it broke.

J: What kind of power are you guys using to eat?? I've never seen anyone break a spoon eating curry before! haha. Which player just came on?

T: Oh, there's the survey.

J: Which player is number 12?

K: Sakamoto.

J: Sakamoto is the batter, the pitcher throws.... speed 142km.

K: Your commentary is nostalgic.

J: Like Showa?

T: Yeah, like old radio commentary.

J: Right, the survey now. Which team do you support? Tigers, Giants, Baystars, Carps, Dragons, Swallows. Ahh, I see, people refer to the teams like this these days. Not like 'Hanshin' etc.

K: No, but people still say 'Hanshin' a lot.

J: Oh, the score. The 5th innings finished again with 0-0? Its already the 6th innings?? That was quick!

T: Write it on the board, Joe.

K: No, we are still only half way through the 5th.

J: Oh, ok. So Chunichi were 0.

K: Yeah.

J: Ah, sorry. Ok, lets see your favourite teams. No worries if you don't have a fave. Oh someone said they support the Pacific League. Ah, we can ask that too. Just choose one from the central league for now. Ok, lets see the results. Its gotta be Hanshin, right?.....Oh, its quite split.

T: But look, the Tigers are top.

J: Yeah, Hanshin have 51.9% . The Giants have 14.3%. Same for the Carps. Then, the Dragons have 11.7%, there are a few Dragons fans watching this then.

T: Sorry!

J: Baystars have 5.2%, and the Swallows have the least with 2.6%. What is the actual league board like currently?

K: Its, (1)Tigers, (2)Baystars, (3)Carps, (4)Giants, (5)Dragons, (6)Swallows.

J: Ah, so the Swallows are having no luck?

T: Not really this year.

K: Their pitchers are struggling.

J: Ahh, I see. Ok, so we discovered the majority are Hanshin fans. Kaoru, do you want to ask anything?

K: Ok, What do you like best? Tenmusu, Tebasaki, Misokatsu, Doteni.

J: These are the snacks we have in front of us, right?

K: Yeah

J: Eating Nagoya to defeat. Which do you like best from these snacks? Someone said, 'I like Kaoru'.

T: We know that.

K: Hm, maybe not 'which do you like best?'....hmm, ok, maybe 'which do you like best?' is ok.

J: Ahh, this tebasaki is great! So good with beer! People are saying they like them all.

T: Someone said they are a Nippon Ham supporting Kaoru fan, but they can support Hanshin too.

J: Yeah. Ok, so Tenmusu, Miso katsu, Doteni, Tebasaki. Which do you like? Well, they are all delicious though.

T: Ahh, Im sleepy, haha.

K: Huh, you're tired?

T: No, no, Im having fun, haha.

J: Kaoru, which one of these snacks do you recommend?

K: I've only had Tebasaki and Misokatsu out of these.

J: Yeah, the tenmusu is for the paid contents. Do you like them all?

K: Well, I guess I often eat tebasaki when I go to Nagoya.

J: That might be the most popular. You can get it anywhere in Nagoya, right?

T: I used to go to this one tebasaki restaurant quite often.

K: Yama chan? Furaibo?

T: Yeah, Furaibo. Yeh, for work stuff.

J: Ok, lets see the results. Which one do you like best? Sorry, Im doing this while im eating....Ohh, Tebasaki 40.4%!

K: Ok, next question! This is about the menu at Koshien, so out of Koshien Curry, Yakitori, shell fish skewers...

J: They havd shellfish??

K: Yes, and...grilled squid....which one do you wanna make me eat? I mean three of them skewered, but..I.wanna eat them, haha.

J: You want them to make you eat one of them?

K: Yeah

J: How about instead of that, you get them to send you it.

K: Well, thats later, haha.

J: Oh, look, there's the action replay. This this is the moment they entered ????]

K: They haven't entered yet, its still Hanshin's turn.

J: Oh, right, I see. Yeah. This could be a chance, the runner is out. Oh I see, the points were scored in the second innings.

T: Yeh, it just showed up.

K: A home run? Ah, no. But he's doing well.

J: He hit, and made it to third base. Was it a sacrifice fly? Oh, no. Ahh, look at the pitcher. There goes the runner....Ahhhh.

K: Yeah.

T: That guy on the left is a bit scary.

K: Mie-chan, right?

J: Well, its not a catastrophic lead.

T: Its only 2 points.

K: Yeah, there is still time....but we are still kinda getting beaten.

J: Its about time Hanshin start to get serious.

K: Well, actually, their winning pattern so far this year has been to start scoring in the later parts of the game.

J: Ohh, the later half, I see. Ah, high hopes from now then. Ok, lets see the results of this survey. Koshien curry, Yakitori, Shellfish skewers, and Squid skewers. Which do you wanna make Kaoru eat? Here are the results.

T: Koshien Curry! But its still quite a split result.

J: Hang on. Whats special about Koshien Curry? How is it different from regular curry?

*K looks at J incredulously*

J: Haha, don't look at me like that.

K: *To T* What is he talking about??

J: No no, from the point of view of an outsider like me...

T: Its Koshien curry!

J: But what about the taste? Isn't there anything special about it? Anything Tigers related? You don't need to just stare at me like that!

K: Haha

J: Is it sweet? Or is it really meaty? Or anything like that?

K: Its regular curry.

J: Ehh? I bet the viewers know what its like!.....Ehh?!...Our kind director is trying to show me a picture of it, but I can't see it at all.

K: Haha, its just regular curry!

J: But does it taste good?

K: Yeah, it does. Its even sold as retort.

J: I see, its very ordinary. Can we even buy it up here?

K: Yeah, probably.

J: I wanna try it.

K: Yeah, but its better to have it with some other food, like these snacks.

T: You'd get the feeling of being at Koshien.

K: Its won't break your spoon.

J: Haha, you guys are breaking too many spoons when you eat curry! Well, we'll have some more surveys later in the show. Ok, its coming to the end of the free part now.

T: That was fast!

J: Well, there is still another 90mins to go, so we can watch the game together while doing more surveys, and also part of the members only content will be Kaoru eating a shrimp. So you can look forward to that. Here's how you can watch the second part. The first part of the show is free for anyone, but the second part is for members only, so you have to be a member if you want to watch to the end. If you become a member, you can watch this broadcast in the archives for one year, and we also have members only video, where we do lots of stuff. So you can enjoy those too. Here's how to join. There should be a blue link at the top of your screens now. Leader is pointing to it with his fan. Please use this link to register. If you click the link a screen will appear asking you to choose your payment method.

T: Oh, ARE! (*THAT*)

J: Ah, yes, its an 'ARE' fan. Ok, choose your preferred method and click proceed, enter your details, and you're done. If you haven't yet registered, please do so to enjoy the show to the end. Ok, Leader, do you have any announcements?

K: Uh, our 25th anniversary tour Bluray/DVD will be released next moth (*July*)

T, J: Ohhh.

K: And the vinyl version of Phalaris will also be released. Thats next month too.

T: Oh, great! Comments saying they reserved it already.

K: Apparently, its already sold out on Amazon etc, just with reservations.

J: Eh? The DVD and LP?

K: The LP.

J: Ahhh

T: I'm looking forward to it.

J: Yeah, but people should be able to still find it somewhere if they look, right? Like CD stores or something?

K: I think so, yeah.

J: Ahh, someone said its their first time buying a record. Dir haven't done this much before have you?

K: We've made records as special bonuses etc, but its the first time for us to actually sell one.

J: Oh, I see.

T: What is the cover jacket gonna be like?

K: Well, its a head-on close-up of the Phalaris bull.

J: You can buy record players quite cheaply these days, right? For like ¥10,000.

K: Yeah.

J: This could be a good reason for people to buy a record player. Oh, a comment saying, 'My first ever record is DIR EN GREY!' The sound is good on analog, right? And its fun going to second-hand record stores. This will open new doors for people.

K: Lets go to a record store! We went to second-hand clothes stores already, so...

J: Ah, going to a record store would be fun!

K: Right?

J: There are some in Shimokitazawa, and also in Shinjuku. Lets do this, people wanna learn about records! Record store visit! (*J sounds as if he said rekōdo-myan instead of rekōdo-ya for 'record store'*)

T: Myan??

J: Did I say that? I meant 'ya'! Its cauae I've been drinking! Ok, we will pause here, and the screen will change for a moment, but we will be right back with the members only content, so just wait there. Ok, see you in the next part!

[umichenginabroad]

Week 1: Place Japan

Howdy y’all, it’s me Connor, checking in after my first week here in Nagoya, Japan.

First off, holy guacamole the culture shock is real. Who could have guessed being in a country 6000 miles away from home is a bit disorienting. However, I have begun to get used to all the changes. Because classes have yet to start I have done nothing but eat, explore and experience this amazing country, that I have somehow found myself in. So let’s go over some highlights together:

First day in I visited the forefront tourist destination the Nagoya Castle. There is nothing I can say about this location other than stunning, an absolute marvel of scale and human ability. Every inch was intricate and precisely made.

This is a photo of me in front of Nagoya Castle. Sadly the main portion (The white building) was closed to visitors however I was able to tour the palace (The smaller wooden building) which was astoundingly beautiful. The entire area was filled with history and I was able to learn so much. I even got to see the largest stone ever placed in a handmade stone wall (Photo not included).

(left) A cup of matcha and a green tea mochi dessert I had. Both had a wonderful earthy flavor which I really loved. I even got to sit at a traditional Japanese table on the ground it was a ton of fun. (right) a photo I got with two real life ninjas at Nagoya Castle. Later this week we even got to explore Iga, a city renown for the Ninja arts.

Day two was orientation, this is the first day where I met all the new people I’m going to be spending the next month with. Luckily everyone was super friendly so I had no problems introducing myself. I moved in with little issue and got done with the orientation for classes quickly. We even had a huge party afterwards with the professors and some other Nagoya University students.

A banquet and party held by the staff. This is where I met a lot of the tutors who are current Nagoya University students who are helping us adjust to life here. They are all super cool and telling me I shouldn't be a Chunichi Dragons fan (The local major league baseball team) but I still can't wait to go to a game (Hopefully next Friday).

This is my dorm room, it is actually smaller in real life but I can't wait to call it home for the next month.

The next couple days were spent on a huge group trip to the cultural capital of the country, Kyoto. We saw a ton of amazing architecture between the number of castles and shrines we visited along with the clustered and vibrant streets of the downtown. This trip is when I met a lot of my new friends too. I had such an amazing time and plan on going back at some point later this trip.

The first of the temples we visited in Kyoto, this was the Kinkaku-Ji. It was a massive gold structure surrounded by beautifully cut wilderness. This will truly be a place I will never forget. Funny enough this temple was also known for its mochi, I got the brown sugar flavor which was quite delicious.

This was our trip to the Kiyomizu-Dera one of the most famous temples in the entire world. This is where you wash yourself with sacred water which was a wonderful time. Another absolute wonder of human ingenuity. Most of it was built simply with wood fittings and no nails.

I lit incense and candles at temples for a number of reasons. I was shown how to by some of the staff for the NUSIP program and how to properly pray to ensure my wishes come true.

This was me visiting the Fushimi-Inari Shrine (More commonly known as the primary Torii Gate Shrine). Fun fact I woke up at 3:45 am to see this and it was well worth it. Another absolute marvel of scale with there being about 10,000 gates you can walk through.

On the left I am joined by some friends at a river in Kyoto we actually took a quick dip in because it has been exceptionally hot and humid out this week. On the right it is another group of friends I have made at an Izakaya, a type of Japanese restaurant often know for its large number of appetizer-like courses and large drink menus.

During the Kyoto excursion we also stopped in Nara, another huge cultural center of Buddhism within Japan, more important though, THEY HAVE SUPER FRIENDLY DEER THAT YOU CAN FEED AND PET.

Finally the weekend came and we were left to our own devices:

Saturday we has a chock full day of visiting Nagoya's very own shrines which although less impressive than the ones in Kyoto were beautiful never-the-less. This day also included a trip to the Nagoya Port Aquarium where we saw an amazing dolphin show.

Sunday we went to Nagoya Spaland. It is a combination amusement park, water park and spa. It was so much fun and there were no lines and I even went on the longest roller coaster in the world. Sadly we got caught in a massive rainstorm and you can see me and my friends rocking trash bag ponchos to protect ourselves. We got laughed at by everyone but we made the bus so it all ended well.

Classes are finally going to start this week and I am eagerly awaiting them. I have gone over all of the syllabus for my engineering course and I am going to learn an incredible amount about the automotive industry. I truly cannot express my excitement as Japan is just filled to the brim with automotive history. I am also ready for my Japanese skills to improve with class. Its been fun being the Americans who don't speak any Japanese but it has made traveling quite a bit harder.

Lastly for a little surprise here is a tik I made in Kyoto to the song Kyoto by Phoebe Bridgers :)

Until next time, さようなら, また 来週

Connor Gilfillan

Mechanical Engineering

NUSIP Automotive Engineering in Nagoya, Japan