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dumblilb · 1 year ago

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I KNEW THEN

Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader

(Synopsis: You have loved Ellie since the moment she moved to Jackson. You just didn’t know it at the time. Inspired by Graceland Too by Phoebe Bridgers.)

(Warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI, smut with way to much backstory lmao, switch!Ellie, switch!reader, oral (reader and Ellie receiving), fingering, friends to lovers, tlou!au, smoking weed, cursing, fluff)

(Words: 3,6k)

* ・゚☆ 。・ * ・゚★ 。・ * ・゚☆ * ・゚☆ 。

You had been in Jackson about a year before Ellie had showed up. So when her and Joel moved in next door, your parents practically shoved you out of the house to go invite them to dinner.

You knocked on the door messing with the hem of your shirt. Till it swung open and a scruffy looking man stood in front of you.

“H-hello.” You stuttered out.

“Hi there.” Joel says and you muster up your best smile.

“I live next door and me and my parents were wondering if you guys would like to come over for dinner?” You explain. You can tell the man is tired and you expect him to say no. But he gives a polite grin and nods.

“What time?” He asks and your face lights up.

“Six.” You smile.

“See you then.” He says and shuts the door as you walk off. You couldn’t help but feel giddy at the thought of him bringing the new girl in town over. You had seen her a few months back when they first found tommy. She was walking with Maria in town and you had bumped into them. The girl took a knife out of her pocket and held it to face you. You were so startled you fell back onto the snow covered floor.

“Ellie there’s no need for that.” Maria says and the girl lowers the knife as Maria helps you up.

“Sorry y/n.” She apologizes. And you dust your clothes off.

“It’s fine. I should have been watching where I was going.” You say as the girl next to her just stared at you. She had really pretty green eyes and freckles covering her frosty cheeks.

“Y/n this is Ellie. She’s a friend of Tommy’s brother.” Maria explains and you stick out a hand to shake. She looks at you funny but returns the gesture.

“Nice to meet you, I guess.” She says and you just smile ignoring that last bit.

“You too.” You say and they continue to walk leaving you to stare at the auburn haired girl.

You hadn’t been able to forget her since. She just seemed so cool and grown up compared to you. Even though you found out from your mom when they moved in that she’s the same age as you.

So as you ran home you thought of all the stuff you needed to do to get ready for tonight. You wanted her to like you.

You went into your room and shut the door loudly behind you. You stood in front of the mirror wondering if you should change your hairstyle up, or if you should put on some perfume. You changed your shirt twice and ended up laying on your bed, annoyed at the way your jeans fit, when your mom walked in.

“Are they coming over?” She asks taking in your newly messy room.

“Yeah at 6.” You say and she smiles.

“You better clean up then. What if she wants to see your room.” She teases you and you shoot up right. Looking around at the clothes scattered on your floor and the mess displayed on your vanity. You gasp internally. ‘Oh no’ is all you could think before you started to pile clothes into your hands and rush them to the laundry. Your mom just laughs before going to set the table. You finish up and rush to put on your earrings as you hear a knock at the door.

You dash past your parents and open it up. At first you only see Joel, who moves inside to greet your parents, which finally gives you a good view of her. She looked different than when you last saw her. Not really in appearance, but her demeanor. She seemed some how even more reserved. She had her hands in her pocked and a tired look on her face. All the work you had done lost all meaning in a mater of seconds and you felt humiliated realizing she probably wouldn’t care at all what you had done to look good, or how nice your room looked. But you mustered up the courage to give her a smile.

“Hi.” You say your voice almost cracking.

“Hi…” She says awkwardly. You move aside letting her in. She looks around as she gravitates towards Joel. Him and your parents notice this so as you shut the door your mom says-

“Why don’t you girls go hang out in y/n’s room as we finish up dinner.” Your heart drops as you stare at her wide eyed. Ellie just sighs and Joel nudges her in an attempt at getting her to be polite. You nervously lead the girl to your door and walk in. She stared at your posters that adorn your walls and the books and comics piled up by your bed.

“You wanna sit?” You ask motioning to the bed. She just shrugs and takes a seat. You doing the same.

“So uh, you like comics?” She asks breaking the silence and you look up at her.

“Oh yeah, I have a little collection. You like um too?” You smile and she nods.

“Yeah I had some but I couldn’t bring them to Jackson.” She says a little more comfortable than before.

“You can borrow some of mine. I’ve reread them like a hundred times so they could use some fresh eyes.” You say and she lights up.

“That would be really cool, thanks.” She says giving you a smile. It’s the first time you had seen her smile. Your stomach flipped at the sight. She was so pretty.

“So uh, do you like music?” You say and she nods enthusiastically. You spent the rest of the night getting to know each other. Talking about your interest and favorite things to do. You found out she really liked space and drawing. And you vowed to show her your favorite movies. You both were laying on your bed reading one of your comics in very loud and dramatic display when your mom knocked on the door opening it up.

“Dinner.” She says and can’t help but smile at the big grins on both of your faces.

Dinner at your respective houses became a weekly thing. And quickly a deep friendship was made. You were together all the time. You would sleep over in her garage all the time. To the point that you practically had your own drawer in her dresser. When you got old enough Maria had you and Ellie paired together on patrols. Ellie hated it. Not that she had to do them, but the fact that you got hurt so often. You’d never forget your first day. It was snowing and your feet hurt from the hours of walking in the heavy boots.

“Stay behind me okay.” She smiled moving some of your hair out of your face. You nodded and followed her around the corner towards a broken down fence. She was about to climb through when you both heard noise behind you. An infected was running straight for you. Ellie had spent weeks teaching you how to shoot. But it all seemed to slip your mind. You shot at it a few times before it tackled you to the ground. You grabbed a large rock that was next to you and tried to bash its head, but it was no use. Ellie ripped it off you stabbing it multiple times in the head. Blood splattered across her face as she did it. It fell dead to the ground and you looked up at her. The deep red lay against her frosty pale skin making your stomach flip. She kneeled in front of you and wiped away some that got on your cheek.

You had always thought Ellie was pretty. It never seemed weird to you. But in this moment you realized pretty wasn’t a good way to describe her anymore. It seemed too juvenile. Something any best friend would say. She was beautiful. When she looked at you it was almost polarizing. As she gave you a hand your grip trembled. Ellie would convince herself you were just scared after what just happened. But you knew it was the way she held on for a little too long after you got up that had your knees weak.

“Are you okay?” She asks rubbing your shoulders.

“Yeah, I’m okay…”You say not breaking eye contact.

From that day on you couldn’t help but notice little things about her. Like how she rested her hand on your waist when you would order for her at the tipsy bison. Or how she would kiss your forehead before leaving on a patrol you weren’t assigned on. Or how she was so protective of you when it came to the men in town. Little did she know they wouldn’t have a chance if they wanted one.

Ellie noticed things about you too. Like how you make sure to give her a compliment everyday. Or how you can’t help but cuddle up with her when you sleep over. Half the time leaving her aching as you sleep on her chest. Knowing it’s as close as she’s ever gonna get to what she wishes. She’s known how she’s felt about you since the first day she got here. You were just so gorgeous. It made her super nervous, so when you were so nice to her she couldn’t believe it. You began to get so close that she felt almost disgusted with how much she liked you. She even tried to date a little over the years to get over it. She dated this girl named cat who covered up her scars with a large tattoo on her forearm. But she knew that wouldn’t work out when all she could think about was how excited she was to show it to you.

The day of your 19th birthday you and a few friends went to the bar to do makeshift karaoke. Your parents, Joel, Tommy, and Maria all sat at a table in the back laughing at the sight in front of them. You and Ellie danced around like children as Dina and Jesse sang a horrible rendition of my heart will go on. When they finished up you got up and grabbed the guitar you borrowed from Joel. You start to strum and they all sit down.

You start to sing. At first all you could focus on was where you were putting your fingers. Knowing you weren’t as good as Ellie or Joel. But as you got farther into the song you looked up from the strings and at her. Whenever you heard this song you thought of her. You thought of her voice and how her skin feels against yours. You thought of how much she’s gone through and how many times she been your personal defender. You thought about how no matter what you did she was always the first and last thought you had each day. She consumed you. All you could do was stare at her as the words left you lips.

“Said she knows she lived through it to get to this moment. Ate a sleeve of saltines on my floor, and I knew then.

I would do anything you want me to.

I would do anything for you. I would do anything, I would do anything. Whatever you want me to do, I will do.

Whatever she wants, whatever she wants.

Whatever she wants

I will do anything

Whatever she wants

Whatever she wants…..”

The air felt thick as you both looked at each other. The others clapped and you got up walking towards her. You said nothing. Not one word. You just took a seat next to her and watched the next performance. She gripped your hand. Tight. And she didn’t let go till you got to her place that night.

You sat on her couch with a joint between your fingers and her legs entangled with yours. She ran her fingers down your thigh as she looked at you. She was humming the song you sang as you let out a puff of smoke.

You had shared endless nights like this. But the feeling that only can be described as understanding roamed through the air. You were terrified. Cause you couldn’t hold it in any longer. You turned to face her, just taking the moment in. She had changed into an old t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts. Her hair was half tied up. And as she took the joint from your fingers to her lips, the sight of them parting made you squirm in your seat. She let out the smoke and you finally spoke up.

“Ellie.”

“Yeah?”

“I want you to know something.” You say and she hold your hand on hers.

“What’s up?” She says trying to play it cool. She can’t remember the last time she found anyone as beautiful as she found you right now.

“I- I think I’ve liked you from the day I met you.” You say in almost a whisper, causing her to chuckle nervously.

“I would hope so. We’re kinda best friends.” She jokes and you hold her hand tighter.

“Ellie. I’ve loved you since the day I met you.” You finally let out without falter. She went tense. But her face softened. You look at her trying to read her mind. You rub the back of her hand with your thumb. Causing her to shiver. She finally lets out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding in. And she smiled. She put her hand out to caress your cheek.

“God, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hear that.” She breathes causing you to let out a small giggle.

She moves her hand to the base of your neck. Pulling you towards her.

“Im glad. Cause you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this.” You whisper and gently press your lips to hers. She grins into the kiss as you run your fingers from her hands to her arms. Moving to where she’s slightly on top of you, she separates slowly. Placing small kisses around your face. You place one last kiss to her lips before you pulled her up to go lay down.

“I’ve gotta say this is probably my favorite sleep over we have ever had.” She smirks and you push her shoulder.

“You better shut up or I’m going home.” You threaten. Small laughs leaving your lips.

“Oh yeah sure. I bet you think the stuffed bear on your bed kisses better than me too.” She smiles now hovering over you. Her knees on either side of your hips as she kisses down your neck.

You grip her hips tightly messing with the hem of her shirt. Sliding your thumbs into the waistband of her boxers you tug a little causing her to nip harder at you neck. She stops for a second to remove her shirt. Causing you to stare up at her in awe.

You wrap your arms under hers and glide your fingers down her bare back.

“You’re so beautiful.” You mutter causing a pink tint to coat her cheeks. You pull her down and start to kiss a line down her chest. Returning the favor she had done to your neck. She lets out a shaky breath gripping your shirt in her hands. She pulls it off of you slowly to let the feeling of your lips linger on her skin a little longer.

“Fuck..” she whispers. A hot feeling pooling in her stomach as she looks down at your chest. She places her hand on your skin rubbing the plush of your tits softly with her thumb, making your head lean back at the feeling. Your hands rest in her hair as she leans in connecting her mouth to one. Her tongue massages the area causing you to let out a soft moan. A hand travels down to try and remove your pajama shorts. So you lift your hips to help her. Grinding into her slightly causing her to groan.

She traveled down your body leaving sloppy pecks to your skin as she goes. She thumbs the damp era of your underwear.

“Hmm.” She sounds and you look down at her. “Can I-“

“Please.” You say. Urgency in your voice.

She lowers herself to place her nose to your clothed core and she breathes in deep causing you to gasp at her actions. She tugs at the fabric helping you get it off you legs. Leaving kisses down and back up your inner thighs as she goes. Spreading you open with her fingers she plays with your folds painfully slow. Neglecting your clit on purpose just to hear you whine.

“Ellie-“

“Shhhh…” she whispers placing her lips to your cunt leaving small kisses the the area. The vibrations of her statement making you close your eyes.

She dips her tongue in grazing it up your slit. And gently sucking on your sensitive bud. You groan loudly making her grip your hips harder. Begging to move quicker she massages the area, making you grind into her face. You grip the messy bed sheets tightly as she brings a hand to slowly insert a finger into your cunt.

She moves at a delicate pace looking up at you. Your face was contorted in pleasure as you let out a moan. Your skin was starting to glisten from sweat and each time you thrust towards her, your chest would bounce. A wet spot was forming in her boxers from the sight. Your knuckles were white as you gripped her sheets. But as she moved slightly one of your hand released its grip and found a new place in her hair. Tugging slightly to direct her where you needed. She complied happily. The feeling of you clenching as she added another finger almost being enough to make her finish herself.

“Ellie don’t stop… I’m gonna…” You barley get out as she pumps her fingers in you rapidly. Running circles on your clit with her tongue as she goes. Your head rolls back as you place your other hand to palm your chest pinching yourself as a wave of release washed over your body. Letting out a string of curses as she lets you ride out your high removing her fingers. Happily cleaning you up with mouth. She kisses up your chest to your cheeks using her thumb to open your lips, she places the fingers she was just using to them. Letting you taste yourself.

“You did so good.” She smiles softly as she places a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m not done.” You say sitting up and flipping her on her back, causing her to look up at you in shock.

“It’s my turn. Whatever you want.” You smile sweetly leaving small kisses to her cheeks as you straddle her hips, locking her down.

“All I’ve ever wanted is you.” She whispers holding your face softly in her palms. Bringing you in for a kiss. It was needy. Like she was making up for lost time. Years of pent up frustration letting itself out in this moment.

You separate for a second to pull off her boxers. You notice the soaked spot but don’t say anything. Like it was a little secret all for yourself. You liked knowing that you had the same affect on her as she did for you.

You gripped her legs pulling her closer to the edge of the bed as you got down bedside it on your knees. You hoisted her thighs over your shoulder.

“God you’re so hot.” You groan as you run your palm down her toned abdomen. When you place your mouth on her slit you swear you hear her whimper out your name. She thrusts slightly on your face. Causing you to hold her down tighter. You start to move your tongue over her clit in small up and down motions, making tension build in her. You could tell she wanted to move quicker so you let her do just that. She used your face like a toy as you assisted her hips in ridding your tongue. She brought a hand down to play with her clit as you inserted your tongue in and out of her heat.

“You feel so fucking good.” She stammers out as you move her hand and replace the sensation with your lips suctioning the area and your fingers plunging in her. A loud groan escapes her lips. She couldn’t help but lean forward a little to watch you. You take notice to this and hover over her. Kissing her neck slowly. Her fingers grip your hair as your fingers continue to fill her walls. Your palm rubbing her puffy clit in the process. She becomes louder, letting out a string of curses her hips turn restless as you add another finger curling up slightly to hit her spot.

You can feel her clench around you tightly as her legs twitch. You feel her release. Cumming on your fingers making you smile against her. Kissing down her body, You remove your fingers with a steady motion. Licking her clean you drag it up to press your chest against hers. You leaned into the crook of her neck as she breathed heavily. Her chest moving up and down, mimicking yours.

You both got comfortable heads resting on her pillows as she connects her lips to yours. You feel something wet on your cheek and separate to look at her. She had small tears in the corners of her eyes. You brought your hand to caress her as she pulls you in tight, clinging to your body.

“Why are you crying?” You ask softly kissing away a tear that threatened to fall.

“I’m just so happy. I wish it wouldn’t have taken us this long to get here.” She sighs nuzzling her head in your chest with a big grin.

“Me too. Im so glad I have you.” You say running your fingers through her roots as she falls asleep in your arms. With a smile resting on her features.

#Spotify #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams oneshot #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams angst #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams tlou #tlou part 2 #tlou fanfiction #tlou2 #tlou fic #ellie the last of us #Ellie Williams x reader smut

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gingerjolover · 1 year ago

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Detangle - Julien Baker x fem!crew!reader

Synopsis: Julien's gf helps her get unready after BG's Halloween show at the Hollywood Bowl :') (jesus!julien x crew!reader)

G's notes: gf is lowkey a costume designer? she's crew, but I'm putting her on the same part of the team as makeup artist! also thank you guys for being patient, if only you could see my WIP in google docs rn....

wc: somewhere around 875?

warnings: RPF, jesus!julien, slightly smutty, some light kissin n touchin, no fundamental physical descriptors?

There are very few things that could tear your eyes away from watching your girlfriend headbang onstage while dressed as Jesus. In fact, the entire thing feels like a fever dream. From sourcing the angel costumes for the band, hand-bedazzling Lucy's jacket, sewing Phoebe's veil, and then soundcheck, the lead-up to the Halloween show has felt like a whirlwind.

You're entirely unfocused, eyes parading down Julien's body, only half listening to the cues for an outfit change. "Here," your assistant says softly, eyes sparkling while watching the stage in admiration. She's handing you the boys' original jackets in order of who comes off stage first. You smile at her, grateful she's paying attention while you ogle the somewhat sacrilegious display onstage.

It's within minutes everyone is rushing off to side stage, clothes flying everywhere. Lucy is undoubtedly the easiest to change, so you work with her quickly, carefully adjusting her halo on her head before switching out her white suit jacket for Julien's original jacket. "Thank you," she whispers, kissing your cheek lightly before dashing off, Julien appearing in front of you.

"Hi pretty girl," she says out of breath, leaning in to kiss your lips quickly, already stripping off her robes.

"Jay, leave them on...no don't do that, your hair!" you excalim, Julien obviously was not listening to you earlier when you were standing between her legs bobby-pinning the crown to her hair. "Sorry, sorry-I" Julien stammers as you help her readjust the robes on her shoulders, sliding Phoebe's original jacket over her, "It's okay, you having fun?" you ask with a big smile, kissing her gently.

"The best time ever, I love you," Julien mumbles agaisnt your lips, kissign you once more on your cheek before winking and heading back out.

Your assistant is rushing Phoebe back onto the stage when you both stand beside each other, taking a deep breath before watching the rest of the show. It goes by in a blink. Before you know it, everyone is filing off stage, much slower this time. Julien, Lucy, and Phoebe walk off holding hands, doing a quick but tender group hug right off-stage before they separate, and Julien comes bounding over to you, immediately scooping you up and spinning you around. "How was it?" she asks, mouth already attached to your neck. You can't help but giggle, holding her head as she finally puts you back on the ground. "It was amazing, as always," you say.

"Oh god," you say, looking at her hair, your fingers assessing how tangled the crown is in her hair. "Not God, just me...actually, I'm the son of God," Julien says, eyes wide in a cocky smirk, holding out her arms.

"You're so..." you start, moving Julien further backstage and into the room where y'all got ready. "Sexy? Intelligent? Holy?" Julien rattles off, wiggling her eyebrows as she walks backward, trusting you to walk her in the right direction. "I was going to say ridiculous, but the first two definitely," you smile, eyes twinkling. "Not so much the third one," you giggle. "Oh, why's that?" Julien smirks, sitting in the hair chair in the empty "glam" room. "I don't think it's holy to dress up as Jesus," you start to say, Julien looking up at you with wide, almost glassy eyes, a look common post-show. "And your underwear," you snort. "What about my underwear? It says for God's eyes only," Julien goads, leaning back in the chair, watching you grab a comb and some detangler. "God wasn't the only one looking," you smirk, standing between her legs. "No, he was not," Julien groans, holding onto your hips, "You did a lot more than look," Julien mumbles, smile widening.

"Don't get all worked up," you murmur, smirking, starting to detangle her hair, pulling one piece that was particularly tangled when she all but squeals. "Ow, babe," she exclaims, eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed as she leans back a pace, staring at you offended.

"What?"

"That shit hurts!"

"Well, maybe if you didn't headbang so hard, your hair wouldn't be intertwined with your crown right now," you scold softly.

She grumbles, letting you get about 75% of the crown out of her hair before she's whining again. "You're tugging too hard, princess, my neck hurts."

"Me tugging isn't making your neck hurt, seriously Jules, you headbang so hard on stage, and I'm scared you're gonna get whiplash."

"Can't help that I'm a rockstar," she mumbles, finding your eyes before rolling them teasingly before hissing when you pull a chunk of hair.

"Stay still," you giggle, kissing her nose softly. Within 5 minutes, the rest of the crown is out, and you're handing it to Julien so she can keep it. "C'mon, we can pack up and get you unready at the house. Sounds like backstage is filling up," you comment. You can hear the voices of the various friends and peers who came to see the show down the hallway.

"Thanks, angel," Julien whispers, smirking softly as she uses the pet name, hopping off the chair and pulling you into her arms, dipping you ever so slightly to press a passionate kiss to your lips. "Vacation time starts now," she whispers teasingly, her hands in the back pockets of your pants, squeezing gently.

#anon cutie requested #julien baker x reader #julien baker x fem!reader #julien baker x crew!reader #julien baker mini fic #boygenius x reader #boygenius mini fic #jesus!julien x crew!reader #gingy's halloweekend

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rootedinrevisions · 5 months ago

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Twisted Fate

SUMMARY: In the aftermath of a devastating tornado that ravages her hometown, Lexi finds herself trapped in the rubble of her destroyed home. Years ago, she and Tyler Owens were inseparable until he went down a path of storm chasing and YouTube fame. Now, as fate would have it, Tyler is chasing the very tornado that has torn through her town. Miraculously, amidst the chaos, Lexi manages to call out for help, and to her disbelief, Tyler hears her cries. Risking his own safety, he navigates the debris to reach her, pulling her to safety just in time. In the moments of relief and gratitude that follow, old feelings resurface, reminding her of what they once shared.

WORD COUNT: 3.3k

It was an early summer day in Oklahoma. The air was thick and humid, the kind of day where even the breeze felt sticky. I had just gotten home from the grocery store and had stepped out of my beat-up used car as beads of sweat started to form on my forehead. With a sigh, I opened the trunk and reached for the first bag. As I grabbed it, something caught my eye. I glanced towards the horizon and noticed a dark cloud beginning to take shape, its edges curling ominously. My heart skipped a beat. I knew what that meant. A storm was brewing. And I had never seen one form as quickly as this one.

Panic set in. I hurriedly reached back into the trunk, scooping all the grocery bags into my arms, despite knowing it should probably be a two-trip job. The weight of the bags strained my muscles, but I pressed on, making a beeline for the front door. My fingers fumbled with the keys, slick with sweat, but on the third attempt, I managed to unlock the door and burst inside. I rushed to the kitchen, barely managing to throw the grocery bags onto the counter. The bags tumbled over and their contents scattered, the lemons I had bought making light thuds as they rolled off the counter and onto the linoleum. But I didn't care. My thoughts were already outside, on the storm that was rapidly approaching.

I barely had time to catch my breath before I heard the tornado sirens outside. My eyes darted around the kitchen, taking in the mess of groceries on the counter. But there was something more important. Phoebe. I had to find her and get to the basement.

I rushed into the living room, scanning the room quickly. No sign of her. I moved from room to room, calling out her name. I checked the kitchen. Then the dining room. Then the bathroom where the litter was. The wind had picked up outside, catching my attention as it rattled the windows.

"Phoebe!" I yelled, my voice laced with panic now. I ran to the living room hoping I would find her quickly. I ducked down to check under the couch, but nothing except a few toys she had pushed under there at some point. Then I hurried into the bedroom. There she was, curled up on my bed, oblivious to the chaos outside.

"Come on, Phoebe," I urged, scooping her up into my arms. She meowed in protest of her nap being disturbed but didn't struggle. With Phoebe secured, I dashed towards the door that led to the basement stairs. Once I was in the basement I frantically looked around trying to think of where the safest place to take shelter would be. Think. Think. Think. Tyler. What would Tyler tell me right now? Interior rooms. He had always emphasized interior rooms.

With this in mind, I decided on the bathroom, specifically the shower stall with its solid walls. I clutched Phoebe tightly, as I stepped inside and then sat down on the cool tile floor. With my knees pulled to my chest, I positioned Phoebe between my legs and chest, her small body trembling against me.

I reached over and grabbed a towel to pull it over my head, and made a makeshift shield against any debris if the tornado hit. I could hear the roar outside, a deep, menacing sound that sent shivers down my spine. The tornado was making its way through the neighborhood, and I could feel the pressure in the air change.

I bowed my head and clenched my eyes shut. I hugged Phoebe tighter. The sounds above grew louder and more terrifying. A loud crash reverberated through the house, signaling the tornado's destructive path. I didn't dare look. The deafening whirring sound of the tornado moving over my home drowned out all other noises. It was so loud, I could barely think. Phoebe's claws dug deeper into my skin. But I held on tighter, whispering soothing words to her, trying to calm both of us as the storm raged on. Minutes felt like hours as I endured the storm. The noise, the pressure, the fear - it was overwhelming. Yet, I stayed there, clutching Phoebe, hoping and praying that the storm would pass and leave us both unscathed.

As the roar of the tornado began to fade, a haunting silence took its place. Tears started to stream down my face. I held onto Phoebe as tightly as I could without crushing her, knowing she was all I had left. The weight of everything I'd lost pressed down on me, and I couldn't bear the thought of losing her too. Memories of my parents flashed through my mind. I wondered if this was what they had gone through in their last moments. It had been four years since the tornado that took them away. I had gone storm chasing with Tyler that day, watching in stunned silence as the tornado tore through my hometown. By the time Tyler and I had fought our way back through the rubble to help, there was nothing left to save. They were already gone.

The memories of the hours, days, and weeks that followed were a blur of grief and disbelief. I knew the tornado had shattered me. It changed me and made me start shutting people out. It made me start shutting Tyler out. He had lived for storms, and I had fought him every step of the way after the tornado. Every time he tried to go out storm chasing, I tried to stop him. The arguments grew more frequent, the distance between us widening with each passing day. Eventually, it had all crumbled, and he had walked out of my life.

As the storm's final remnants passed, I clung to Phoebe, feeling the trembling of her small body against mine. The quiet after the storm was almost as deafening as its fury. I knew I had to find a way to move forward, but the path ahead felt impossibly long and filled with memories I couldn't escape. It was a living hell I'd have to go through a second time. I closed my eyes once more, holding Phoebe, trying to gather the strength to face whatever came next.

I lifted the towel just slightly, peeking out to make sure it was safe. Immediately, I scrunched my eyes shut as the bright sun streamed in from where the ceiling should have been. Carefully, I fully removed the towel from my head. Looking around, I realized it was over. I looked down assessing my state. Small pools of blood were forming on my thighs from where Phoebe's claws had dug into my skin. A burning sensation on my forehead caught my attention. I reached up, and as soon as my fingertips made contact, I winced in pain. I pulled them away from my head and held them in front of me. Crimson red.

It was then that I noticed the several splinters of wood and shards of glass embedded in my skin and the towel. The towel had stopped most of them, but a few had poked through and cut me. I then looked around at my surroundings and realized there was wood everywhere. What appeared to be a piece of the frame of what used to be my house was wedged less than a foot above where I sat. If it had hit a matter of inches lower I surely wouldn't have survived.

I tried to stand up, but the weight of the rubble on top of me was too heavy. There wasn't enough room for me to get my legs under me and stand up, and I was too weak to lift it on my own. Panic began to set in as I struggled to move, feeling trapped and helpless beneath the debris. I held Phoebe close, her small, warm body a reminder that I wasn't completely alone. But the reality of my situation was sinking in. I needed help, and fast.

A wave of dizziness washed over me, making the world blur. I began to feel light-headed, my body struggling to cope with the stress and injuries. I heard faint sirens in the distance, growing closer with each passing moment. I closed my eyes, deciding to wait it out for help. However, the effort of staying conscious became too much, and I slipped into unconsciousness.

I groggily opened my eyes, my eyelids feeling like twenty-pound weights. The heartbreaking meows of Phoebe drew me back to consciousness. She was perched on a piece of wood above me, having jumped up there while I was out. I tried to call her back, but she just looked at me, and then out into the distance.

Realization hit me - it was getting dark. I had been out for longer than I thought. Hours instead of minutes.

Phoebe suddenly jumped away. I tried to call out to her, but it was no use. Great. Just freaking great. I'll never find her now, I thought to myself.

"Hello! Does anyone need help?" A male voice called out. "Is anyone there?"

The voice was oddly familiar, but I couldn't place it. Then I heard his name.

"Tyler, come on. I think we have some people stuck over here." Another male voice said.

Tyler. He was here. If I could just get enough air into my lungs to call out his name, he might hear me.

I took a couple of deep breaths and mustered all my strength to call out to him. "T-Tyler!"

"Hello?" I heard him call back out. He had heard me. Relief washed over me.

"H-here," I muttered, slowly sticking my hand up.

"I need some help over here!" You heard Tyler yell out. His footsteps grew closer as he climbed through the rubble of what was left of your house. "Don't worry, we're coming for you!"

Holding my arm up felt like a fifty-pound weight, but I kept it up so he wouldn't lose sight of me.

"I'm almost there!" I heard him call out.

Finally, I looked up and saw him standing there. He was covered in dirt, his clothes soaked. As Tyler's eyes met mine, a flicker of shock and panic crossed his face. His steps momentarily halted. For a moment, he just stood there, frozen in place, the reality of the situation sinking in. Recognition seemed to dawn on him, and his expression went from shock to determination.

"Lex?" He breathed out, his voice a mixture of disbelief and relief. "Hold on, we're going to get you out."

The world around me seemed to blur as he quickly regained his composure, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the wood frame trapping me. Without any hesitation he lunged forward, pushing away the piece of wood enough for me to crawl out from underneath it.

Tyler extended his hand to me, his eyes locked on mine with a mixture of concern and determination. I grasped his hand, feeling the strength and warmth in his grip as he helped pull me to my feet. As I rose, my legs wobbled beneath me, and I stumbled briefly.

Before I could fall, Tyler's other hand shot out, grabbing my arms to steady me. His touch was firm, yet gentle, grounding me in the moment.

"Easy now," he murmured, his voice soothing amidst the chaos surrounding me.

I looked up at him, seeing the familiar features of his face etched with worry and relief. For a moment, everything else faded away - the destruction, the pain, the memories - and all that mattered was that he was here.

Tyler's eyes scanned you with concern. "Are you hurt?" He asked, his voice filled with urgency.

I glanced around frantically, searching for Phoebe. "Phoebe," I gasped. "Where's Phoebe?"

Tyler shook his head, his face a mix of regret and reassurance. "I don't know where she is, but we'll find her. First, I need to get you help."

A wave of dizziness hit me again, and I winced, clutching my head. "My head...it hurts."

Tyler looked up at my forehead and frowned. "You've got a pretty good cut," he said, examining the wound. "But we'll get you fixed up at the first aid station. Just hold on a bit longer."

As I glanced down, I noticed tape wrapped around his ankle, a makeshift bandage. I quietly mumbled, "You're hurt."

Tyler looked down, brushing it off with a dismissive gesture. "It's just a little sprain. Nothing to worry about," he said, though his tone was strained. I could tell it was hurting him, but he was pushing it to the side to help others.

It was such a Tyler thing to do. Not the Tyler everyone saw on YouTube. Not the Tornado Wrangler. But Tyler Owens. The Tyler I knew. Or at least used to know.

He then glanced around at the wreckage of what used to be my home. I could see the gears turning as he assessed the situation, trying to figure out the best way to get me out and towards downtown where help was waiting.

"Alright," Tyler said, his voice steady, "let's get you out of here. We'll find a way through the rubble and get you to safety. Just stay close and try to keep moving as best you can."

With that, he began clearing a path, carefully guiding me through the debris, his presence a steadying force amid the chaos. Tyler managed to guide me out of the basement and through the rubble to the street. But just making it that far had drained me, and I felt like I had nothing left. "I need to stop for a second," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

I turned and looked down at the mess that was once my home, the debris and destruction a stark reminder of the devastation my town had seen today.

Tyler followed my gaze, his eyes softening with empathy. "Hey...all of that can be replaced," he said gently. "But you're still here. That's what matters."

He glanced around, his attention refocusing back to the task at hand. "The first aid station is just four blocks down. Do you think you can make it with some help?"

I nodded, though the effort made me feel even more exhausted. Just then, another volunteer ran over, his face concerned.

"I'm here to help. What can I do?" The man asked.

"Javi, can you take her other side? We need to get her to the first aid station. She's got a head injury they're going to need to take care of." Tyler said. With an arm around each of them, I started to make my way slowly toward the first aid station. Each step was a struggle, but the presence of Tyler and Javi provided the support I needed.

I had made it about halfway to the first aid station when my legs suddenly felt like jelly. "I...I can't do it," I mumbled, feeling as though another foot forward would make me collapse.

"No, no, no. Stay with me, Lex," Tyler said, his voice firm yet gentle as he tightened his arm around my waist, offering support. His hand on my waist was both comforting and foreign.

Javi turned to Tyler with a look of concern. "Do you know her?"

Tyler nodded his face a mixture of focus and weariness. "Old acquaintance," he said casually.

Acquaintance. The words stung more than I would have expected. After all, it had been almost four years since Tyler and I broke up. I shouldn't care what label he attached to our previous relationship. But to reduce our past to something so detached, so impersonal, hurt deeply. But I knew I had bigger issues right now than the pain of old wounds. My energy was slipping away, and the thought of collapsing was a real and frightening possibility.

"Just a little further," Tyler urged, his voice full of determination. "You're almost there. We've got you."

Javi must have felt my weight getting heavier and me relying on him and Tyler more and more with each step. "Tyler, we may need to carry her the rest of the way."

Just then a scream split through the quiet night. "Help! My son! Somebody help!" came from a house on what was probably the street over.

Tyler looked in the direction of the cries. "You go help them. I'll get her to help and then come back with others to help." Tyler said.

A few moments later my feet started to give out entirely. Tyler quickly assessed the situation. Then without hesitation, he bent down, placed a hand behind my knees and lifted me into his arms.

"What are you doing?" I asked as I looked at him. "I-I can try to walk."

"I don't know if you'll make it much further. And we need to get you to help."

I could feel the slight limp in his steps, the result of his injured ankle, with each step he took. It was clear that the pain in his leg wasn't slowing him down. His focus was solely on the task at hand. For a moment I thought about trying to get him to set me down on account of his leg. But I knew it was no good. Tyler Owens was the most stubborn person I had ever met. And once he had his mind made up, there was no changing it.

"How bad is it?" I asked.

"What? You?" Tyler asked as he glanced down at me before his eyes moved back to the road in front of him. "You'll be fine. That cut on your head is pretty bad, though. They have paramedics that will get you all taken care of."

"No, I mean the town."

He paused for a moment before saying anything, pondering his words carefully. "It's a near loss. There's not much left."

A blanket of sadness washed over me as I leaned my head against Tyler's chest. It felt oddly comforting being here with him. I had no idea what I was going to do, but having a sliver of familiarity at that moment was nice.

"Are they doing anything for lost animals?"

Tyler scoffed and shook his head at me. "Still worried about that furball, huh?" He must've been able to tell that I was very serious and I saw his expression shift to a more serious one. "Yeah. There's a tent with some volunteers collecting any animals we find. They're examining them, giving them food and water, and trying to get them reunited with their owners. "Did you have her with you when you took shelter?"

“Yeah. She was with me the whole time. Until just before you showed up. I-I think she saw you or heard you. And I know it sounds crazy but I think she was trying to get you to help.”

He chuckled and then shook his head. "Now I know you hit your head. That cat would never willingly come to me."

He had a point. Phoebe was never a big fan of Tyler when we were together. In her defense, he made fun of her namesake, my favorite character from Friends, every time he saw me. I wouldn't like someone who made fun of me every time I saw him either.

"We'll find her though. I'm going to get you dropped off with the medics, and then I'll go to the tent and add her name to the list. If they find her, they'll get her back to you." He reassured me.

My eyes started to grow heavy, and I felt my head start to lean back as it became increasingly difficult to stay awake.

"Hey, stay with me," Tyler said as he gently shook me. His voice was firm but soothing, a beacon of encouragement amid my growing fatigue.

"I'm tired," I mumbled as I struggled to keep my eyes open.

"I know you are, but you've got to stay awake until I can get you to help. Just a little bit longer." He glanced ahead his gaze focused. "I see the tent up ahead. We're almost there."

His words were a mixture of encouragement and urgency, and they gave me a small surge of strength. I managed a faint nod, fighting against the overwhelming exhaustion. I turned my head and saw the first aid station coming into view, offering a glimmer of hope. I clung to hope, pushing through the fatigue with every step Tyler took.

TAG LIST: @omgbrianab I @shanimallina87

#Tyler Owens #Tyler Owens Fic #Tyler Owens Fanfic #Tyler Owens Fanfiction #Twisters #Twisters Fanfic #Twisters Fanfiction

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phoebe-delia · 8 months ago

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the best people in life are free

Okay so I'm breaking my own rule and doing a Taylor Swift songfic for the Phoebe Tries to Write Again Challenge. To be fair, I did write most of this a while back. I'm just finally dusting it off. This is inspired by "New Romantics" by Taylor Swift, which is also a @drarrymicrofic prompt.

"I bet I'm faster than you."

That's all Draco says before he flashes Harry a wild grin and then sprints down the sidewalk like a madman, his arms spread wide as if he's trying to hug the rain coming down around them. Harry groans to himself and starts after him, almost losing his balance on the slick path.

Draco's clearly paying no mind to the irritated pedestrians who barely move out of his way in time, nor does he seem to be worried about the hazardously wet streets. The Malfoy that Harry knew growing up wouldn't willingly be outside in this weather without an umbrella charm, let alone dashing gleefully through dirty puddles through the crowds in a major city.

But then again, Draco hasn't been Malfoy in a long time.

Harry is relieved when Draco finally slows to a stop, sticking out his tongue to catch the raindrops. That lets Harry start to catch up to him, and for a brief moment, Harry fears that Draco will take off running again when he sees him.

Instead, he throws his arms around Harry's neck and kisses him soundly, and Harry lets the rest of the world fade to white noise. The kiss is deep and exploratory, and Draco tastes like the rain, and Harry nearly forgets about the risk of slipping on the sidewalk.

His senses return to him once they pull apart. Draco grins like he's won something hard-earned.

"What got into you? Aren't you afraid of getting sick, standing in this? Have you gone mad?" Harry's trying to scold but coming across far too fond.

"Mad for you, maybe," Draco waggles his eyebrows. He leans down and gives Harry a soft, short peck on the lips.

But Harry doesn't let it go so easily. "You've surely ruined your shoes, not to mention your socks. Why did you do that?"

"Because I can, Harry." Draco's expression sobers, and he lifts a hand to cup Harry's cheek, thumb wiping away a raindrop. "Don't you ever want to do things just because you can? Because no one can stop you?"

"I-" Harry starts to argue, and then he lets out a laugh that's more of a huff. "Merlin, and I thought I was supposed to be the Gryffindor."

"You are. That doesn't mean I won't still keep you on your toes, Potter," Draco smirks.

The sound of thunder causes them both to startle a bit and look up at the storm, which picks up speed. Draco takes Harry's hand. "Come on!" He takes off jogging down the sidewalk, pulling Harry with him.

"Draco, where are we going?" Harry nearly stumbles as he tries to match the pace but he doesn't let go of Draco's hand.

Draco looks over his shoulder and meets Harry's gaze with sparkling eyes. "Anywhere we want."

Send me a prompt! See the guidelines here.

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jbaileyfansite · 1 year ago

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Interview with Interview Magazine (2024)

Before he was known as the dashing Lord Anthony Bridgerton or Tim Laughlin, the character in Fellow Travelers for which he won a Critics Choice Award earlier this month, Jonathan Bailey caught the attention of Phoebe Waller-Bridge with his confident, self-possessed audition for her show Crashing nearly a decade ago. “You came in like a fireball,” said the Fleabag star on Zoom with Bailey, recounting how, while reading for the role of the sex-obsessed Sam, Bailey asked permission to lay his script out on the floor in front of him like a rainbow. “You had no embarrassment. You didn’t actually refer to it again, but you took those few seconds to just completely set up what you exactly needed for that audition, and then you were so free.” In the years since, with roles in Bridgerton, the Showtime drama Fellow Travelers, and the upcoming Wicked movie adaptation, Bailey has become one of the most sought-after actors in the business, capable of generating sparks with whoever’s on screen with him. Waller-Bridge attributes this to the 35-year-old’s distinct understanding of tension. “You’re like a chemistry machine,” she gushed. “There’s this incredible erotic energy that people are so excited about.” Last week, from a hotel room at Claridge’s in London, Bailey talked to Waller-Bridge about longing, orgasms, frosted tips, nostalgia, Shakespeare, and his very first role: playing a raindrop in a stage production of Noah’s Ark.

PHOEBE WALLER-BRIDGE: Hi.

JONATHAN BAILEY: Hi.

WALLER-BRIDGE: I’m taking my glasses off. Now I can be real.

BAILEY: I’ve just had a gin and tonic, actually. I had a meeting and he really wanted a glass of Whispering Angel, so I was like, “Well, I’ve got to dive in.”

WALLER-BRIDGE: What’s the time there?

BAILEY: Oh, I’m literally around the corner from you. Literally, I’ve come into Claridge’s Hotel and checked in for an hour just to have a Zoom.

WALLER-BRIDGE: Oh, god. That’s so chic. Jonny, I want all of your secrets.

BAILEY: I feel like you’ve got quite a few of them already.

WALLER-BRIDGE: I do, actually. And we’re not going to talk about any of those. But I did also get to do a little bit of research on you.

BAILEY: Oh, god. What have you got?

WALLER-BRIDGE: Jonathan Stewart Bailey, I’d like to jump straight in with the fact that the first professional job you had was playing a teardrop, or a raindrop?

BAILEY: There were teardrops, but yeah, I was playing a raindrop.

WALLER-BRIDGE: You were a crying raindrop.

BAILEY: A crying raindrop in Noah’s Ark.

WALLER-BRIDGE: And how old were you then?

BAILEY: I think I was about 5 going on 29. I was really upset because it didn’t rain. The bitch that played Noah, she forgot the cue for the rain to come. So my dance didn’t make it, but at the end of the show they allowed me to do it once everyone had applauded.

WALLER-BRIDGE: I asked you that specifically because you’ve also said that your grandmother took you to see a production of Oliver in London and that’s what changed everything.

BAILEY: Yes.

WALLER-BRIDGE: So was the raindrop before or after that? I am getting to something, I promise.

BAILEY: I think it was probably afterwards. I was really young when I went to see Oliver.

WALLER-BRIDGE: I’m interested because I read that seeing it made you decide you wanted to perform. Can you tell me the specific thing that made it click?

BAILEY: I’ll tell you, the most bizarre thing is that I had three seasons at the RSC under my belt by the age of nine. There was a moment where I played Prince Arthur, the kid in Shakespeare who gets his eyes gouged out and has to escape a turret. I remember doing that production and thinking I was aware of the power of words, if that makes sense. You’re so porous at that age, I think. It is such a gift, isn’t it, to be shown what iambic pentameter is.

WALLER-BRIDGE: Do you still feel passionate about Shakespeare now?

BAILEY: I do, actually. It’s my dirty, filthy habit.

WALLER-BRIDGE: Your dirty little habit. I know what you mean, though, how if you come to it quite raw, and it’s not something that you’ve had shoved down your throat at school, there is nothing more epic and spectacular.

BAILEY: And being around people who are just so committed to their vocation, whether they’re writing or creating. The smell backstage at the RSC at the Barbican was like cigarettes, stage makeup, Joe Fiennes, and hope.

WALLER-BRIDGE: That’s a lot of beautiful smells you’ve got going on there.

BAILEY: I know. Talk about top notes and bottom notes. I was like, “These men, these titans of theater!”

WALLER-BRIDGE: That’s extraordinary that you were exposed to that kind of level of professionalism. Because you are consummately professional, and I remember that. You have this incredible ability to be completely live and spontaneous and wild at the same time as being so incredibly professional, and that’s why working with you felt totally safe. I know that I’ve got a professional actor coming today, but I have absolutely no idea what’s going to happen because you still managed to keep that spontaneity and danger.

BAILEY: I suppose it’s sometimes dangerous. Today I had to do an interview. Crashing came up and I described working with you as being on the constant edge of an orgasm and also hysteria.

WALLER-BRIDGE: It did have a kind of wild, beautiful energy.

BAILEY: There’s a chemical alchemy when you get the right group of people led by the right people.

WALLER-BRIDGE: I haven’t had that in quite the same way since, where everyone has equal importance in the story. That’s the thing that feels quite rare, actually, there’s like six of you and they’re all as fucked up as each other. I remember your audition. You came in like a fireball and you already felt like you had a Sam energy. You sat in your chair, took out your script from your bag, and then you were like, “Give me a second,” and you laid out your script around you on the floor. You had no embarrassment about what you needed or in front of you. You didn’t actually refer to it again, but you took those few seconds to just completely set up what you exactly needed for that audition, and then you were so free. And I just wonder if you’ve felt that particular type of confidence your whole life?

BAILEY: That’s a really good question. I’ve got three older sisters and I wonder if they are a structure. I’ve definitely been in environments where I don’t feel free, and then you give the worst performance of your life. What I’ve found in the last few years is that, of course, you have to adapt so quickly to work out what you need in order to be able to be free. I think if I don’t have the equivalent of that on the floor, I panic or get really scared.

WALLER-BRIDGE: There’s something about that, which is being able to play dangerously in a safe environment. I feel like that’s got so much to do with an understanding of tension, which I think you have. You’re like a chemistry machine. Obviously, with Bridgerton and then in Fellow Travelers, there’s this incredible erotic energy that people are so excited about.

BAILEY: I really think it comes from Crashing.

WALLER-BRIDGE: It doesn’t come from Crashing, it comes from you. I think you’re the king of tension. I think you understand what that is.

BAILEY: I think you can give yourself butterflies, can’t you?

WALLER-BRIDGE: Is that what you’re looking for, the butterfly all the time?

BAILEY: Yeah, I’m always looking for my butterfly farm. The misty, slightly smelly greenhouse full of butterflies.

WALLER-BRIDGE: That’s your tummy?

BAILEY: Yeah, that’s my tummy.

WALLER-BRIDGE: Did you always dream of playing leading man roles growing up?

BAILEY: Not at all, no. I never thought I would be able to.

WALLER-BRIDGE: Why?

BAILEY: I’ve realized that I’m completely in awe of other people and performances and creative endeavors. I go to the theater and I love a performance and I’m like, “How do they do that? I can’t see the seams.” So therefore, I feel like I must be driven by that. And when something comes my way, there’s a fear that it won’t work.

WALLER-BRIDGE: What’s really exciting to me is when I see palpable dynamics between characters, which you have done multiple times, like the relationship between Tim and Hawk. There’s so much opportunity for intimacy and that kind of danger. And when you get to play those sorts of roles, when you know that you can stand in front of each other and you don’t really need to do anything because it’s giving you something, it must’ve just been a joy walking into this world because it’s like a banquet of stuff to play with, right?

BAILEY: Totally, and it feels sort of vital and sexy. I do remember this one memory, which I guess I’ll share with you now. I did play and there was a tiled wall,at eye level with a mirrored border around. And there was a guy, we were into each other, and I remember just looking up in the middle of a conversation and he was looking at me in a reflection. And I was like, “This is what life is about.” Anyway, I think that it must have something to do with feeling the most alive in that.

WALLER-BRIDGE: Do you know Esther Perel?

BAILEY: Yeah, I love Esther Perel.

WALLER-BRIDGE: So she’s written about how she believes that your next orgasm begins at the very end of your last one, which is basically our whole life just building up to our next orgasm.

BAILEY: That’s just fantastic. It’s just so positive and hopeful—

WALLER-BRIDGE: And so beautiful, isn’t it?

BAILEY: It is.

WALLER-BRIDGE: Everything that you encounter in your life, every conversation that you have, is in some way building up to the next euphoric physical experience. Every single character has to have that inside them one way or another, because every human does. And I think with Fellow Travelers, because you long for them so much as an audience and you want them to have everything that they want from each other, but they’re also brutal to themselves and to each other, there is something so extraordinary seeing characters in that time portrayed in the way that you guys have portrayed them.

BAILEY: One thing that we’re all born with is the sense of longing. Longing comes before anything else, doesn’t it? Whoever you put on the wall, laminate the poster or whatever, it’s there. And actually, if you long for someone, more often than not you don’t think you are worthy of it. And that, to me, is a way into characters.

WALLER-BRIDGE: Do you remember your laminated poster longing person?

BAILEY: I think I had the Simpsons, which was obviously me trying to disguise myself as much as possible. Lucy Liu was a big one for me, too.

WALLER-BRIDGE: Well, I can see that.

BAILEY: I suppose there’s the laminated wall in my literal bedroom and then there’s the laminated wall in my gay—

WALLER-BRIDGE: Mind.

BAILEY: Who was yours?

WALLER-BRIDGE: You know what? It’s really interesting, because I was the eagle in the Rescuers Down Under. That wasn’t necessarily a sexual longing, but it was a romantic idea, that overwhelming sense of watching the Rescuers Down Under and being able to run out of the back of my house on my own, age 10, and jump onto the back of a giant eagle and he’ll fly me around. But in terms of just a hottie that I really fancied, I think it was probably Leo [DiCaprio].

BAILEY: Oh, yeah.

WALLER-BRIDGE: Are you a nostalgic person?

BAILEY: Yes, I think so. I think a lot about my younger self. I’m always like, “Guys, remember this?” It’s slightly annoying, but I’m always drawing a line between the past and now for sure.

WALLER-BRIDGE: That’s how you measure your life, by remembering the time that’s gone by or what 11-year-old you would think of what you were doing?

BAILEY: I think I’m probably more romantic than nostalgic, if that makes sense.

WALLER-BRIDGE: Go on.

BAILEY: Well, I just think I’ve fully committed to the idea of everything being brilliant and then I work backwards from there.

WALLER-BRIDGE: Well, having starred in two hit period dramas and also being a huge part of the fact that they are a hit, that’s why I wondered about what your relationship is with the past and history, and how much you actually knew about McCarthy America?

BAILEY: Oh, no. Have you got a quiz?

WALLER-BRIDGE: I actually don’t. Do you want one?

BAILEY: No, that would be the worst.

WALLER-BRIDGE: Do you enjoy historical novels? Do you live in the past in any way in your mind? Or you are kind of like, “We’re here and we’re moving forward?”

BAILEY: I do think I’m here and moving forward. I really struggled with history at school, I could not take in information about the past. When it came to exams, I would remember the page where things were written but I couldn’t stitch together epochs and eras and kings.

WALLER-BRIDGE: It crashes my brain, too. I have a friend, and you can say to her, “June 24th, 1999,” and she can tell you pretty much what she was up to.

BAILEY: That’s amazing.

WALLER-BRIDGE: You can see her go into the diary in her mind. She has a very different wiring of her brain. But speaking of longing, are there any fictional or real life couples, gay or straight, that captured your heart over the years?

BAILEY: Oh my god, what a question. What about Michelle Williams and Ryan Gosling in Blue Valentine?

WALLER-BRIDGE: I think Morticia and Gomez Addams were the most romantic couple.

BAILEY: Yeah, I see that.

WALLER-BRIDGE: They understood it. They got it all.

BAILEY: Also maybe Ryan and Marissa in The OC.

WALLER-BRIDGE: Yeah, yeah, yeah. Any gay male couples that you ever looked up to or were romanced by?

BAILEY: Well unfortunately, there just weren’t that many were there growing up.

WALLER-BRIDGE: So wild.

BAILEY: But I met Matthew Rhys recently, who I just love. And I was thinking about that relationship in Brothers and Sisters. And then there was Queer as Folk. Russell, T. Davies changed the game. So many people owe so much to him just purely for visibility. There is no Tim and Hawk to a 2023 audience without Queer as Folk.

WALLER-BRIDGE: But did you feel frustrated?

BAILEY: Well, speaking of history, I was doing media studies with an amazing teacher and I decided that I was going to do my dissertation about the representations of Hutus and Tutsis and the Rwanda genocide, looking at Hotel Rwanda and Shooting Dogs. And then Brokeback Mountain came out and I was like, “Hang on, how can I possibly create a world where I can go and have a free pass to go to the cinema to watch it 10 times?” I’m really proud of my 17-year-old self, I wasn’t necessarily out, but I changed the topic to representation of homosexuality in Brokeback Mountain and I watched that film 10 times. And this amazing teacher, Dr. Brunton, who probably had an idea of what was going on, was just like, “This is brilliant, keep going, keep going.” And I think it was the best mark I ever got.

WALLER-BRIDGE: Do you still have it?

BAILEY: It must be on a hard drive upstairs in the attic. And obviously, that completely changed me, something chemical happened there. But it’s funny, I’m not clear on memories. And I do think it’s a common thing for a lot of people, growing up and having to survive and be basically in fight or flight, there’s a murkiness to how I recall.

WALLER-BRIDGE: Of course, because you couldn’t be truly present because you weren’t being completely yourself.

BAILEY: Totally, yeah.

WALLER-BRIDGE: When you look back and start unpacking it, do you feel overwhelmed with sympathy for how hard you were having to work as a 16-year-old, coming up with excuses to see the movie that you wanted to see?

BAILEY: Yeah. But I spent more time trying to be sympathetic towards the people that were around me who didn’t support or couldn’t help. I look back and I go, “Hell.”

WALLER-BRIDGE: Yes. But you are representing that and living that for so many people now. Your speech at the Critics Choice Awards the other day was so sublime and beautiful and straight from the heart. You are so electric as a human being and that is the most important thing. There aren’t many people in the world that can do that, that can stand there in front of people and speak from their heart about what it means to them to be given this opportunity. And I know that your career is just going to be the most extraordinary journey. When I first met you, I remember sitting with Josh [Cole], who was the producer on Crashing, and we were like, “If we get this guy, it’s going to be the game changer for the show.” And I know that every single person now wanting you on their project is feeling the same thing.

BAILEY: I definitely feel overwhelmed by that, but it’s lovely to hear.

WALLER-BRIDGE: Can I just ask you one question which I couldn’t remember about Crashing?

BAILEY: Yeah.

WALLER-BRIDGE: The frosted tips were your idea, wasn’t it?

BAILEY: I had this conversation today. I think it’s in the script. But my reference picture was Justin Timberlake in double denim.

WALLER-BRIDGE: No, I don’t think it was [in the script], because Sam’s a character that I hold closest to my heart because, in so many ways, he represents how I feel about maybe my inner life. I just love him so much, and your ability to play every single little corner of him that I dreamed of.

BAILEY: Maybe that’s the answer I was looking for when you asked if I was drawn to any romantic couples? No, it was just about wanting bleach blonde hair.

Source

#jonathan bailey #phoebe waller bridge #jonny bailey #interviews #interviews:2024 #interview magazine #interview magazine interview #fellow travelers #crashing #NEW!

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letsgoletsgetit08 · 2 months ago

Text

fix off pt. 1

summary: Mingi turns to every coping mechanism besides a healthy one in the aftermath of Jongho's death, two years later.

warnings: MDNI!!, 18+, su*c*de attempt, implied/referenced su*c*de, major character death, overdose, recreational drug use, religious imagery & symbolism, catholicism, barebacking, strangers to lovers, bittersweet ending, angst, hurt/comfort

pairing: priest!soft dom!Jeong Yunho x hot fucking mess!Song Mingi

author's note: HEY! Read the tags! This fic has some very heavy content! Please DO NOT READ this if mentions/discussion of suicide/attemps or character deat (RIP Jongho, so glad you're alive IRL, king) are in any way triggering to you! Also, know that myself and Ateez would be very sad if any Atiny or anyone else took their own life. Don't do it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ! !! !!! That said, this work is based on/influenced by/referencing - sometimes lightly, sometimes very directly because Phoebe Waller-Bridge is more of a genius than me - the show Fleabag. This show is personally very important to me, it both healed me in some ways and also hurt me very deeply. If you have seen the show, you know how this ends. Again, read the tags. Phoebe, if you happen to read this for whatever reason, I just hope you're flattered because of imitation and all that.

OKAY! Disclaimers disclaimed, please let me know if I missed anything. And with that, please enjoy. This one is kind of my baby. I hesitated to even post it here because I'm a little scared of how it will be received but you never know until you try, right? Comments, likes, & re-blogs are always welcome, but please be civil.

word count: 23,480

ao3 link: fix off

fix off

It's hard not to spiral.

Chest constricting, breath becoming shallow.

Mingi tossed the bar rag onto the counter and dismissed himself to the bathroom.

Cold water splashed on his face.

Not cold enough. Need some ice.

He thought he had seen Jongho. Which was impossible.

His friend had died nearly two years ago now.

He died two years ago.

Mingi composed himself enough to go back and sling espresso martinis to faceless patrons. Turning on his disarming charm enough to make decent tips.

Coping.

Back home, laying in bed, Mingi got off while watching the news. Contemplated texting his ex.

He was a little offended that she hadn't come back yet.

She always came back.

It was one of the only constants in his life, repeating the cycle of breaking up with Yuji when she became too overbearing, trying to be too serious.

“It feels like you only want to be with me for the sex.” She had accused him of it a thousand times if she had done it once.

“My friends really like you, too.” Mingi half-heartedly defended himself. She'll hate to hear that.

“Do you like me, Mingi? Because I'm trying. I want to take care of you.”

“I'm not a child.” Mingi pouted.

“You're the only person who believes that.” Yuji turned to go, taking his lack of response to her question for what it was, “I'm not coming back, Mingi. Not again.”

She'll be back.

She wasn't.

The next time he'd seen her, six months later, she had actually looked happy, something he honestly couldn't say during the times they had been together. Ring on her finger, hand around the bicep of a man Mingi vaguely recognized.

Mingi saw her. Caught her eye.

She's going to walk over.

She walked over and introduced her fiancé, “This is jfodwjjfow.”

He wouldn't remember the man’s name anyway, why bother to hear it when it was said the first time.

“So good to meet you, Jeff.” Definitely not his name. “Wish I could stay but I really have to be going.”

He barely noticed the confused expression on her face as he dashed away.

Two Years Ago

"You know that guy who comes in on Tuesday nights and sits at the end of the bar?” Jongho asked, looking up at Mingi with a devious grin.

"Tall guy who drinks red wine and looks like he wants to eat you?” Mingi teased him.

"Shut up, no way! He's probably looking at you. Everyone looks at you.” Jongho meant it as a compliment.

"Well they should look at you because I will just chew them up and spit them out.”

"Why else would God give you such big teeth?” Jongho skirted out of the way before Mingi could smack his ass with the bar towel.

"Do I have big teeth?!” Mingi was hurt.

"No!” Jongho stayed a few feet away, out of the line of fire, “No! I'm sorry, your teeth are fine!”

"I'm hideous!” Mingi whined.

“Hush, Mingi. You're perfect.” Jongho sighed, “Nevermind about that guy, anyway. I have my hands full with you already.”

“You love it.” Mingi shot him an innocent smile.

“Of course I do.” Jongho poked his cheek, “Who else will?”

A Tuesday. Probably.

“Mingi, promise me you won't be late tonight.” Seonghwa’s voice was stern, pleading over the phone.

Mingi had taken the call while riding Soobin's dick. Or maybe it was Seungmin. He couldn't remember. He'd just been calling him “baby” since he came over.

He was Hongjoong’s accountant.

“I won't.” He would. “Promise.” He shouldn't.

It was Seonghwa’s debut as Marius Pontmercy in an off-broadway production of Les Misérables. A big deal. He would finally be catching his big break.

“Okay, good because I really want everyone there.” Mingi faltered at the implication of the word. Like they were complete without Jongho. “It's very important to me. And I don't want to be embarrassed by you walking in late, I'm not even sure they will let you-”

“Yes, I know, Hwa.” He panted, Baby's hips bucking underneath him, “I'll be there.”

He’s noisy. Loves nipples.

“What are you doing? You sound out of breath?” Seonghwa’s voice was verging towards hysterical.

“Just out for a run!” Baby let out a moan that Mingi knew carried through the phone.

“Ew, Mingi! That is disgusting-”

“Fuck, yes, Soobin!” Mingi couldn't help but cry out, ending the call as the man nailed his prostate.

Soobin filled the condom inside him, Mingi followed quickly behind, collapsing to his chest.

“It's Seungmin, asshole.” The man pushed Mingi off of him and cleaned himself up, gathered his things to leave, shirt on inside out.

He’s probably going to realize he’s actually straight now.

Mingi got off to the memory of the scene again, later, in the shower.

He was only twenty minutes late to Seonghwa's debut that night. Tears streaming down his face at the performance. His friend was beautiful. The musical was one of his favorites.

I’m a total sap.

He wished Jongho were there to see it.

Seonghwa let himself be hugged backstage after the show, a rare treat, even letting Mingi linger for a beat before pushing him off, accepting the flowers he held out to him.

My bouquet looks pathetic next to the others. He’ll hate it.

“Didn't want it to go to your head too much.” Mingi quipped, joking about his bouquet.

“Thankfully, no one else had your same mindset.” Seonghwa was probably joking but his words stung. He studied Mingi’s face, not seeming to know how to help in the moment, instead, turning his attention to the rest of their friends, Hongjoong sidling up to his side as Mingi stepped away. “Let’s get everyone in for a picture.”

Everyone.

The word was repeated all night, at dinner afterwards, at the bar after that. Ringing in Mingi’s ears.

Mingi coped in one of the only ways he knew how.

Drink after drink, not knowing what was what, just that it had alcohol.

Everyone will be mad at me by the end of the night.

He had gotten too loud and apparently said something to upset Seonghwa. Not hard to do. Hongjoong scolded him, staying composed as he asked him to leave.

Yeosang sweet Yeosang ended up under his arm, guiding him to the curb outside of the bar, waiting on the Uber.

“What's wrong with me, Sangie?” Mingi slurred, ignoring how Yeosang’s body tensed when his head fell to the other's shoulder.

He's going to say nothing is wrong with me. They always do.

“Nothing is wrong with you, Mingi.” His voice was sweet, deep, soothing.

“Everyone hates me.” Mingi whined.

“No one hates you, Ming.” Yeosang wrapped an arm around his shoulders, “You just feel your feelings out loud. And you have a lot of them. Wooyoung is similar, but he has a San to regulate him.”

“I don't have anyone.” Mingi sobbed.

“You do, Mingi. You just push us away. And I get it. No one can take Jongho's place. He was that for you, wasn't he?” Yeosang asked gently.

Mingi didn't answer but sat up, looking at Yeosang.

He is so pretty.

Mingi leaned in for a kiss.

Yeosang stopped him with a hand, “No, baby. You're drunk. You don't actually want to do this.”

What the hell did Yeosang know?

He was right. Of course.

“Sorry.” Mingi mumbled.

The Uber pulled up and Yeosang helped him inside, instructing him to drink some water when he got home.

He should have asked for Yeosang to help him. He would have done it.

I should ask.

He should ask.

But he always pushed them away.

Mingi hated riding in cars. He gripped the seat for dear life the entire drive.

There was no one to make sure he didn't drown in a pool of his own vomit. The thought hit him somewhere on the ride home.

He wouldn't drown in a pool of his own vomit.

He hadn't yet.

I need a grilled cheese and a cigarette.

Two Years Ago

The Tuesday man was leaning across the bar as far as it would allow, flirting with Jongho. Mingi felt pride swell in his chest. They were cute. He was sweet, making Jongho blush, calling him pretty.

Bastard.

He hated sharing Jonho. Yes, the seven of them were friends, but he and Jongho were close outside of that. If he were asked to trade the six others for Jongho, he would. Easy. No one got him like Jongho did. Mingi felt a little like he had raised the man, with him being a little over a year younger than himself. He knew it had to be hard being the youngest in a friend group. He wanted to make sure Jongho had someone. They were roommates in college. It stuck. Had worked at the same bar together ever since.

In a lot of ways, though, Jongho had taken care of Mingi, too. Through heartbreaks and the general ups and downs of life.

He loved him more than anything.

Naturally, he was a little possessive of his friend. But he also wanted him to be happy.

He pushed down the acidic, curdling sensation in his chest. Let him be happy.

Mingi would be there for him when he inevitably let him down.

A Thursday? Maybe??

Wooyoung had talked him into hot yoga.

“It will be good for you, I promise!” Wooyoung sing-songed as they walked into the studio.

San probably loves the fact that he’s into yoga.

The studio was sweltering, they weren’t misadvertising, that’s for sure.

“I feel like I’m going to die.” Mingi complained.

“Shut up and take your shoes off.” Wooyoung instructed.

Not the first time he’s said that line.

“Buy me dinner first.”

“You need therapy.” Wooyoung rolled his eyes.

Tried that, didn’t work.

His therapist said that he was projecting his grief for Jongho onto what really was daddy issues. Or something like that. He really hadn’t paid too close attention. He had fucked his therapist after a few sessions though.

After sweating buckets and nearly pulling a muscle to keep from slipping and busting his face open, he thanked Wooyoung for inviting him and made him promise to never do it again.

On the way out of the studio, a bus was unloading.

Tuesday guy.

Mingi locked eyes with him as he hopped off the bus. Time stood still.

The man nodded and Mingi darted in the other direction, Wooyoung chasing after him.

He finally caught up, “Hey, what the fuck!”

“Sorry!” Mingi clawed his fingernails into his palms, “Forgot I liked the smoothie place on 7th better than the one on 9th.”

A lie.

“Well damn, you could have just said something!” Wooyoung scolded him, mostly playfully but still seeming perturbed at Mingi’s odd behavior.

Two Years Ago

Jongho was off that night. Tuesday guy sat in his same spot.

Mingi tested him.

Tuesday failed.

Took Mingi to his apartment after work.

Fucked Mingi senseless into his mattress.

Fucking Tuesday.

He never learned his real name.

But he would never have called him by it anyway.

Mingi’s dad had cheated on his mom.

Any given day of the week, honestly, does it really matter?

The bar was dead that night and Mingi didn’t bother to fight to close with his new coworker. Let himself be cut early so that he could go home.

He texted the group chat on his walk home.

Got cut early. Anyone wanna meet up?

He waited for replies. None came in. No one had even read the message.

Fine then.

He walked aimlessly around the city, finally landing on a park bench, staring out over the lake. He didn’t know what to do with himself.

The sun was setting and he watched it paint the sky pastel.

He dialed Jongho’s number.

Hey, it’s Jongho! Leave a message. Or just text me like a normal person.

Again.

Hey, it’s Jongho! Leave a message. Or just text me like a normal person.

Interrupted.

“Anyone sitting here?” A feminine voice, light German accent. He looked up.

She had stick-straight dyed red hair to her shoulders, microbangs, piercings, and was more tattoo than skin.

“No, sorry. Just um.” He looked down at the phone in his hands, “On the phone.”

“Why are you apologizing?” She raised a sharp eyebrow at him. He spotted a tongue ring when her mouth was open.

“I don’t know. Sorry.” He blinked at her. Clocking that he had just done it again.

She studied him, “Hm. You’re sweet, aren’t you?”

He shrugged.

“Pretty lips. I like you. If I take you to my place, you can’t murder me, okay?”

She looks more like she would be the one to murder me.

“Okay.” He agreed.

Looks like I have plans tonight after all.

“Oh, you’re going to be fun.” She smiled, standing up and offering her hand to help him up. He followed her like a lost puppy to her apartment.

The Germans are known for their open-mindedness in the bedroom. I should have remembered that.

He was tied to her bed from all four corners, wrists and ankles secured. Cock leaking pathetically onto his stomach. She walked around the bed, strutting in her elaborate black lace lingerie, pulled the blindfold down over his eyes.

They had discussed it briefly on their way over. Limits, safe word (tiramisu), and the light system.

Green light. Green light. Green light.

He felt the bed shift as she crawled between his legs, fingers dancing over his skin as she teased him everywhere except where he wanted it.

“So desperate already for me, aren’t you, Mingki?” Her accent added an extra percussive affect to his name.

“Yes, goddess.” He breathed.

With no warning, she began licking his cock from base to tip, guiding it into her mouth without even touching it with her hands. The tip of it hitting the back of her throat immediately.

I'm way too well hung for someone to be able to do that so easily.

She worked him expertly, slow at first, then picking up her pace until she estimated he was close to his peak, a faint pop as she pulled off of his dick. He squirmed, searching for any sort of touch, wanting to cum so badly. He heard her chuckle, “Oh, no, mein liebchen, it won't be that easy.”

He whined and pouted, cut short as she positioned herself above him, rolling a condom on and applying lube before lining herself up and taking him in one go.

I'm way too well hung for someone to be able to do THAT so easily.

She sat still, cockwarming him until he couldn't take it, sweat breaking out on his forehead, hips bucking, which earned him nothing besides sitting up so that only his tip was inside of her. He couldn't reach, no matter how hard he tried, to enter her any further. Eventually, she lowered herself ever so slightly, once he stilled his movements, proving he could be patient. She bounced up and down, tiny movements, only taking the first few inches of his length. Normally, he would be slamming his hips at breakneck speed by this point but he felt more turned on than ever before as he was brought to the edge again, only for her to pull off at the last second.

She was straddling his face seconds later, “Me first, then we'll revisit you. If you can manage to get me off.”

“Yes, godd-hmmmpph” she cut him off by placing her wet cunt on his face. The lube was strawberry flavored and he ate devotedly, like it was the last supper.

I'm not even religious!

He focused hard, listening for little moans and the involuntary twitch of her hips to guide him in knowing what she liked. It was so much harder to gauge with a blindfold on, but just as his jaw was aching so bad he thought he might have to give up, cock throbbing and leaking precum into the condom, she finally came, crying out at her release.

“What a good pet.” She panted, moving back down to his cock again, taking him in one go and grinding her hips evilly, swiveling them but not letting him fuck into her still. “You can't cum until I come on your pretty cock, understood?”

“Yes, goddess, please let me make you come.” He begged, surprising himself.

She fell forward bracing her hands on his chest as she fucked herself on his dick. He almost lost it as he finally felt her clench around him, moaning at her second release, then surprising him by removing the blindfold.

“Eyes on mine and beg me for it.” She demanded.

“Please let me cum, goddess, please I'll do anything, please, please, goddess, I-” she stroked him with her pussy, as he begged until she was satisfied, tears streaming down his face.

“Okay, since you asked so nicely.” She stilled her hips, “Go ahead and use me, you filthy boy. So desperate.”

He cried out as he tried to get a better range of motion to fuck her. She didn't help at all, but he was already on a razor wire, and soon he was cumming hard. She dismounted as soon as she felt his orgasm start, ruining it. He whimpered pathetically, not feeling satisfied, not enough cum leaving his body.

She chuckled, “What's wrong, my little pet? You wanted to cum. I let you cum.”

He couldn’t answer, genuinely crying now.

“Color, Mingi?” She asked, seeming concerned.

“Green!” He sobbed.

“Good.” And she removed the condom, his dick still hard. She stroked up the underside with one steady finger until his hips were bucking pathetically again, then she gripped him genuinely, working him to a real release this time. The sound that escaped his chest was something he was sure had never left his body before, thick ribbons of cum hitting his stomach and chest, covering her hand.

“Thank you! Fuck, thank you.” He cried as she worked him through it.

She made sure he got proper aftercare when they were done. He stood in her doorway, staring at his shoes, voice barely above a whisper, “Can I… um. See you again?”

She smiled sympathetically, “No, so sorry, darling. I only ever do this once with someone.” She tapped his cheek, “Best of luck out there. I really did have a good time.”

“Okay.” He sighed, “Thank you again.” And he turned to leave, feeling emptier than ever as he walked home.

Two Years Ago

Jongho was a mess when he got to work that day, dark circles under his eyes. Mingi clocked it immediately, dragging him to the walk-in cooler to talk.

“What's wrong?” He asked, trying not to panic, certain he was found out.

Jongho never cried. It ripped Mingi’s heart in half. “He fucking-” Jongho choked on a sob, “I don’t know what I did wrong! I-” He buried his face into Mingi’s chest, “He told me he cheated on me and then-” A huge sniffle, struggling to catch his breath, “He said he couldn’t live with the guilt and he broke up with me! I don’t know what’s wrong with me-” Another wave of sobs racked his body.

“Shh, come on. You can’t work like this. Let’s get you home.” Mingi pulled him to his side, guilt spilling down his spine like ice water.

Back at their apartment, Mingi spent all night taking care of Jongho, wrapping him in a blanket on the couch and letting him talk things through. Three bottles of wine between the two of them. He had no clue why Tuesday hadn’t told Jongho the full truth. He was too scared to do it himself. Instead, he let the gravity of his sin guide his actions, coddling his friend to try to make up for it.

They ended the night curled up in Mingi’s bed together, Jongho still crying softly as he drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, the bed beside Mingi was cold.

He had thirty missed calls on his phone. None of them were from Jongho.

He panicked, calling the last person who had called him back.

“Mingi, thank god.” San’s voice was thick, clearly he had been crying.

“What happened?” Mingi’s voice was strained, anxiety eating him alive.

“Mingi… It’s Jongho.” San took a shuddering breath, “He’s- he’s gone.”

“What do you mean, ‘gone’? There’s no way. He was upset but I’m sure he just turned his phone off and he’ll be back here any time with a pack of cig-” Mingi refused to believe what he had just been told.

“No, Mingi.” San cut him off, “They found him. His car, it was-”

“No! You’re wrong!” Mingi was in denial, verging on hysterics, “They’re wrong, they need to check again! He’ll be back any minute!”

“Mingi…” San sobbed. He heard him mutter something about not being able to do this as the phone was passed to someone else.

“Mingi. I need you to take some deep breaths and calm down.” Hongjoong’s voice was surprisingly gentle over the phone, but commanding enough to make Mingi stop sputtering nonsense that he knew, deep down, was all untrue.

“I’m sorry.” Mingi felt tears begin to streak down his face, “I’m sorry. I’m listening.”

“Hwa is ordering you an Uber. We should all be together right now. You need to get dressed and be downstairs in ten minutes, okay?” Hongjoong’s voice only wavered slightly.

“Okay.” Mingi hung up the phone.

Once he was at Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s apartment with the others, they filled him in on everything they knew, which truthfully, was very little.

Jongho indeed had alcohol in his system, according to the coroner, but having known him, he had a pretty high tolerance. It wasn’t certain he had been too drunk to drive. He had left no note, but the way the crash had happened, it almost looked intentional.

There was no way of knowing now, of course.

Mingi filled them in on why Jongho had been upset. Not the full story. He didn’t think he could ever admit that to anyone. Even with the added context, the friends all silently agreed that it had been an accident. The alternative was far too painful.

The pit in Mingi’s stomach begged to differ. The doubt that lingered would never leave him. Not even for a moment.

Seonghwa’s Bachelor Party

Mingi felt especially proud of himself, walking up to Seonghwa’s apartment - his fiance would be staying at a hotel that night - knowing what surprise he had planned for the night.

He’s going to do backflips.

The stripper he had hired was around Hongjoong’s height, pretty dark brown hair, wide, soulful eyes. Mingi had picked him out himself, wanting the surprise to be absolutely perfect.

When he stepped inside the apartment, his stomach dropped.

I really shouldn’t have muted the group chat.

He was under dressed in slacks and a sweater. Everyone else was in suits. More than just their close friend group was there, too. A memory niggled at the back of his mind, vaguely remembering reading a text saying Seonghwa’s more conservative cousins would be in town from Korea. They were staying for a few months before the wedding, through the holidays, since the wedding was on New Years Eve, treating the trip like a long vacation.

Mingi tried to turn around to back out, wanting to call the booking agency immediately to cancel the stripper, but Wooyoung spotted him, looking relieved to have an excuse to leave the conversation he was having with a particularly dull looking family member, making his way to Mingi in just a few strides, pulling him into the living room.

“Thank fuck!” Wooyoung whispered into his ear, “That guy was talking about the stock markets and I thought I was going to die.”

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Mingi couldn’t help but laugh at the situation.

“He got got, too!” Wooyoung jutted his chin out, gesturing towards the kitchen, where San was sequestered by three cousins, eyes pleading as he met Wooyoung’s gaze.

Mingi cackled as he saw San mouth “Help!”

A punch on his arm from Wooyoung startled him, “Why are you underdressed?”

“I muted the group chat! You guys talk so much.”

“Well some of it is important, dumbass!” Wooyoung scolded him, “You better not be planning anything stupid tonight.”

“What!” Mingi tried to look surprised, “I would never! I’m just here for Seonghwa.”

“Yes?” Seonghwa had heard his name and was headed towards them, “Mingi, why are you underdressed?”

“I’m sorry! I can’t read, you know that.” Mingi whined, trying to sound innocent.

“Just, please, please don’t do anything stupid tonight. It’s already tense with my family here, I had to bribe them to even come to the wedding by promising we would get married by a Catholic priest. Neither of us wanted that, but no offense, I didn’t want my wedding to just have you guys and all of Hongjoong’s family.”

“We’ll be good, Hwa. Promise.” Wooyoung offered.

“It’s not you I’m worried about. I need the princess to survive the night without making it all about himself.” Seonghwa snipped, then his face fell, looking a little remorseful, “Sorry, that was harsh, I-”

“No, no.” Mingi pretended it hadn’t hurt him to hear, “You’re right. I promise I’ll be good, tonight is all about you and making your weird, boring cousins happy.”

As it turned out, keeping his weird, boring cousins happy was a tall order. They didn’t want to play drinking games - they barely wanted to drink, they didn’t understand Mingi’s sense of humor, and when they weren’t talking his ear off, they seemed to be treating him practically as wait staff, asking for more of the snacks from the kitchen, or another beer, or what his beliefs on the afterlife were. The latter of which he dodged, making a lame excuse of needing to pee.

Mingi had snuck off to the bathroom attached to the primary bedroom, searching through Hongjoong’s side of the cabinets, hoping that the man still had a bit of a fun side. Exclaiming in excitement when he found a little bag of weed gummies buried carelessly under other over-the-counter meds and random, clearly forgotten about toiletries.

He figured they were probably old, so he popped two in his mouth before even reading what the label said. 25mg/piece.

Fuck. Well. Too late now.

He spotted an old bottle of Xanax, giving it a shake to see it was almost completely full. He pocketed it as well.

You never know.

When he emerged, he was rudely reminded of what he had been so worried about when he had arrived.

Yeosang was answering the door, letting a man dressed in a black, sparkly, see-through shirt, red, glittery, heart-shaped pasties covering his nipples clearly visible underneath, and loose black pants, the outline of his bulge making itself known as well. Yeosang, innocent and clueless as ever, let the man inside before Mingi could get over there to stop him.

The weed began to hit Mingi and he couldn’t make his feet move as the man turned on the bluetooth speaker in his hand and a loud, harsh techno beat took over the room, every single voice going quiet to stare.

“Who’s the beautiful blushing groom?” The man surveyed the room noisily.

Seonghwa’s cousins were stunned silent, but Yeosang still hadn’t caught on, pointing to Seonghwa, “That’s him!”

The Hongjoong look-alike stripper ripped his shirt off as he approached Seonghwa, and only then did Mingi’s brain catch up to his feet, jogging over to stop the man.

“I’m so sorry!” Mingi tried to cut him off, “There’s been a mistake, I messed up-” He let out a giggle, his weed-fuzzed brain finding the situation hilarious despite himself.

“Is this your idea of a joke, Mingi?” Seonghwa looked mad, hurt, and very disappointed.

The stripper was not tuned in to the conversation and had started trying to dance for Seonghwa.

“No! I’m sorry! It’s not a joke, I didn’t read the group text and I was going to cancel-” Mingi touched the stripper’s shoulder, trying to pull him off, “Hey, can you please stop that, you need to go, I’ll pay-”

“HEY!” The stripper yelled, “No touching! That’s literally the first rule you agreed to when you booked me!”

“Mingi, get the fuck out of here.” Seonghwa scolded him.

“Hwa, I’m so sorry! I’m going, I promise-” Mingi pleaded, hands coming up to try to show his innocence, but hit the stripper’s ass on their way up.

“What the FUCK did I just say?!” The stripper wheeled on him, punching him straight in the right eye socket.

San was there in an instant, putting the stripper in a hold and froggy walking him out the door, Mingi following dejectedly behind, trying to keep the tears from spilling out as the cold air hit his face again.

“San, please, I’m sorry, he has to know it was an honest mistake.”

“Honestly, Mingi. Not right now. Just.” He huffed a long breath out of his nose, “Just save it. Okay? It’s not me you need to apologize to.”

He turned his back on Mingi, heading back inside the house.

The stripper glared up at him from his spot on the curb, holding his hand out for payment.

“Are you insane? No one carries cash.” Mingi spat at him.

“Then Venmo me, dickhead.” Not-Hongjoong instructed him.

“No! Fuck off. You ruined my night.” Mingi turned around, trying to start walking home, but was stopped when the stripper jumped on him from behind, struggling to put him in a headlock due to their height difference. It was enough to get Mingi to turn around, though, which earned him a knee to his crotch and a sickening crack of his jaw, followed by his left eye. Mingi doubled over and took off running the best he could given his current state, lip bleeding onto his sweater, ignoring the shouts from the angry stripper behind him, hating how high he was as he staggered home in the cold, the world around him not feeling real.

Back at his apartment, he drew himself a bath, placing the bottle of Xanax and his phone on the edge of the bathtub before climbing in.

His head still felt wrong from the weed. Off-kilter. Anxious. Like melting cotton candy.

He lined up the pills on the lip of the bathtub, counted them.

He read the label that time.

He took three.

Dialed Jongho’s number from memory on his phone.

Hey, it’s Jongho! Leave a message. Or just text me like a normal person.

Again.

Hey, it’s Jongho! Leave a message. Or just text me like a normal person.

His brain went pleasantly fuzzy.

Head falling to the back of the tub a little clumsily.

He took three more.

Hey, it’s Jongho! Leave a message. Or just text me like a normal person.

He took three more.

Hey, it’s Jongho! Leave a message. Or just text me like a normal person.

The words started to lose all meaning as his vision blurred and he sank further into the water.

His fingers dialed the only other number he had memorized.

“Mingi?” Hongjoong’s voice was sleepy, clearly worried.

“Everyone hates me.” Mingi sighed, slipping down further into the tub, water feeling like molasses on his skin. Everything felt warm. Sticky. Cottony.

“Why aren’t you out with Seonghwa for his party, what’s wrong?” Hongjoong asked him, voice urgent.

“I think I fucked up, Joongie.” Mingi’s voice was slow, distant, tinny, metallic and childish sounding in his own ears, tongue too thick for his mouth.

“Mingi, baby, tell me what you did.” He heard Hongjoong get up from bed, “Where are you?”

“‘M home. I love you guys.” Mingi sighed, his vision going spotty.

“No, Mingi, stay with me!” Hongjoong pleaded.

But Mingi’s phone fell into the bathtub with a subdued splash as his vision went dark.

H e y , i t ’ s J o n g h o ! L e a v e a m e s s a g e . O r j u s t t e x t m e l i k e a n o r m a l p e r s o n .

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Mingi blinked his eyes open slowly, head splitting as his pupils adjusted to the bright lights.

The unmistakable smell of disinfected hospital hit his nose. He was equal parts relieved that he was alive and annoyed that he was so incompetent he couldn’t even kill himself properly.

His muscles screamed as he turned to the left, finding an open-mouthed, haggard looking Hongjoong asleep on the rigid hospital chair next to him.

Tears streamed down his face silently as he felt himself drift back asleep.

“I swear, he didn't seem that bad when he left!” Wooyoung's voice was hushed, urgent as he defended himself.

Mingi didn't open his eyes yet, not wanting to give himself away, now very intrigued in the conversation.

“I guess the stripper must have beat him up when I kicked him out. I should have driven him home.” San's voice quivered at the end of the sentence.

“Yes, someone should have stayed with him.” Hongjoong sounded incredibly exhausted and a little mad.

“It's easy to see now, but I mean was he acting that abnormal leading up? I don't understand what set him off.” Yeosang sounded genuinely worried.

“You guys realize the anniversary of Jongho’s funeral was the day before yesterday, right?” Hongjoong asked reproachfully.

The silence was deafening.

“I knew it was soon…” San trailed off, clearly ashamed.

“I know we were all friends with him. And I'm not saying whatever friendships all of us had with Jongho weren't important or as meaningful or anything like that. I would never minimize that.” Hongjoong took a deep breath, “But it was different for Mingi. I think we all know that, deep down. And I don't think any of us have acknowledged it. We've been pretty hard on him.”

“Who exactly is ‘we’?” Wooyoung asked, his tone biting, “From my point of view, we've been pretty normal with him. The only person he's fought with is your fiancé.”

There was a pregnant pause before Hongjoong spoke again, “I- I know. Seonghwa knows, too. He doesn't mean to be hard on him… I promise he's trying. You guys have no clue how hard he's beating himself up over this. He hasn't eaten since he heard. I'm really worried.”

“He has to know Mingi won't blame him for anything-” Yeosang started.

“He needs to grow the fuck up and get here and be supportive.” Wooyoung huffed, his tone erring on petulant.

“Baby…” San tried to calm him down.

“Sorry.” Wooyoung mumbled.

“He'll come by when he's ready.” Hongjoong said simply.

“Well try to give me warning because I really don't want to see him right now.” Wooyoung spat.

Mingi tried to stir to bring attention to the fact that he was awake, not wanting the conversation they were having to turn into a fight.

“Wooyoung-” Hongjoong said at the same time San tried to soothe him, “Jagi-”

“Guys.” Yeosang made eye contact with Mingi as he sat up in bed.

“Mingi!” Wooyoung nearly tripped over his feet to get to his bedside, San and Yeosang following behind, Hongjoong giving him a little more space.

“Youngie.” Mingi croaked, his throat incredibly parched, mouth tasting too much like mouth for his comfort.

“We're so sorry, honey.” San’s face contorted, holding back tears.

“We didn't know how bad it was.” Yeosang offered.

Hongjoong poured him a cup of water, which he took gladly, taking a sip before speaking again, “I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking stupid.” He felt tears build in his eyes again, looking over to Hongjoong, “I'm sorry you had to find me like that.”

“Mingi, no. I'm just glad I found you.” Hongjoong laid a hand on his shoulder, never being one to be very comfortable with physical affection.

“I'm so sorry.” It seemed to be the only phrase Mingi could remember how to say.

Luckily for him, the nurse came in then to check on him, taking his vitals and informing him that he had been accepted to an inpatient behavioral health hospital and that transport was being set up as they spoke.

“You're sending me to the psych ward?” His stomach dropped.

“Yes sir, we're required by law to have you admitted after a suicide attempted. You're considered very high risk right now.” She spoke as if she had delivered the same line a thousand times already that day.

“I just failed to commit suicide and I feel like dog shit!” The effort from raising his voice made him dizzy, “There’s no amount of money you could pay me to convince me to try that shit again right now.”

His friends didn't seem to know what to say

“You will just have to take that up with your psychiatrist at the hospital. I'm sorry. If you don't go willingly, the doctor will have to put you on a 72 hour hold.”

Mingi closed his eyes, seething, “Fucking… fine.”

“Okay, good. I'll let the doctor know.” She walked out of the room and no one moved until she was out of ear shot.

Wooyoung cocked an eyebrow at him, “You're really gonna-”

“Hell no. You guys have to help me get out of here. I'll stay with one of you, I promise, I just can't… please. Don't make me.” Mingi all but begged, feeling small and vulnerable like a child.

Everyone turned to Hongjoong, the de-facto leader, often thought of by his friends as the dad of the group.

He looked between the men before finding Mingi’s eyes, sighing when he saw how desperate his friend looked, “San, trade clothes with him and go distract the nurse.” He never stopped looking at Mingi while he spoke, “We're getting him the hell out of here.”

Five minutes later, Hongjoong, Yeosang, and Wooyoung surrounded Mingi from four sides, trying to obscure him from the view of anyone who might try to stop them, though it was essentially futile, considering how Mingi towered over them, giggling to themselves as they heard the nurses gasp and squeal. San had evidently just taken off his paper scrubs shirt as a distraction. They made it into the elevator and all the way downstairs undetected, within only a few hundred feet of the front door when they heard San’s out of breath voice from the stairwell yelling, “Run!”

They obeyed, taking off towards the parking lot, hopping into San's 4-Runner as he unlocked it to signal its location, though he himself was still a hundred or so yards behind, bare feet slapping on the pavement (Mingi had squeezed his feet into San's shoes) as the guards slowed their pace behind him, clearly accepting their defeat, out-paced easily by the athletic man.

Mingi felt like death as he wheezed, exhausted from the effort in the middle back seat of San's car, wedged securely between Hongjoong and Yeosang, San hopping into the driver's seat. He felt like death, yes, but he also felt more alive than he had in a long time, being the first one to crack and start laughing in the car after a moment of unsure silence. Wooyoung followed second, his high pitched wild laughter making everyone else submit to a giggle fit as well. San rolled down the windows and stuck his head out as he drove out of the parking lot, hair blowing in the chill winter air, yelling, “Nice try, bitches!” as they made their escape.

Two and a Half Years Ago

Mingi and Jongho had managed to sneak away from Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s engagement party, finding themselves in Hongjoong’s den, laying on the floor, rather cross-faded, skin still damp after coming inside from the balmy spring air that had enveloped them on the back porch.

"I can’t believe they’re finally going to get married.” Mingi sighed staring up at the ceiling.

"San and Wooyoung must be thrilled. I bet San is scheming already.” Jongho chuckled.

Mingi scoffed, “I think San has had a ring in his closet for a year at this point.”

"You’re probably right.”

Mingi turned his head to look at his friend, studying his profile, the shape of which he had memorized years ago, “First those two, then Wooyoung and San. You think everyone will expect us to get married next?”

Jongho met his gaze, “Mingi, no offense, but I will only marry you at fifty if we’re both still single.”

"Promise?” Mingi was mostly joking.

Jongho rolled his eyes, “Someday, someone will take care of us like we do each other.” He turned his head back away, “But just in case… yes. Promise.”

"Hell yeah.” Mingi pumped his arm in victory.

"You left Yeosang out of all of that, by the way. What’s he going to do?”

"I assumed he would move in with Youngie and San at some point.” Mingi deadpanned.

Jongho chuckled, “I’m honestly surprised they haven’t all moved in together yet.”

Footsteps had them craning their head to the back of the room.

Seonghwa’s arms were folded, “Did you guys plan on being antisocial all night?”

Mingi and Jongho shrugged, sitting up, Jongho helping Mingi to his feet.

Seonghwa sighed dramatically, “Please come back and join us. Act normal for once.”

“Yes, mom!” Jongho mocked.

They had to swallow their giggles as Seonghwa marched them back to the kitchen and living room, where everyone else was gathered.

The Present, October 15th

Mingi woke up, slightly disoriented, in Wooyoung and San’s guest bedroom, far too early in the morning. His face was throbbing, bruises and swelling finally going down, but still aching and tender nonetheless. He looked on the bedside table for painkillers before remembering that he hadn’t been left with any from the hospital, considering how he had chosen to depart. That, and he assumed, a cold pit in his stomach, Wooyoung wouldn’t allow him access to any meds without supervision. Really, Mingi felt zero desire to ever try to hurt himself again, but he understood that his friends were just doing their due diligence to protect him.

Embarrassment and shame coursed over him.

I'm a fucking mess.

He looked for his phone, finally finding it plugged in on the desk on the opposite side of the room.

He scrolled through and replied to messages from Hongjoong and Yeosang, telling him he was feeling fine and thanking them again for their help.

He knew it was too early for Wooyoung to get up, so he scrolled absentmindedly through his phone for a while before the pain from the wounds on his face, his split lip and bruised jaw and eye sockets, were too much to continue ignoring. He looked around in the room for any of his belongings, not finding anything except what he had worn of San’s home from the hospital.

The dresser in the corner of the room stared at him and he walked over to take a peak. Some of Wooyoung and San’s off-season clothes were in there, shorts and swim trunks mostly. But in one drawer alone, was one of Jongho’s old hoodies. Faded dark green and perfectly worn. Mingi remembered it because he had borrowed it on more than one occasion after work, on their walk home, always having been one to forget a jacket. Jongho acted like he was put out to lend it to him, but Mingi knew as well as he had, he didn’t mind a bit. Now that he thought about it, it was totally possible that Jongho had always worn it just for his sake. The man ran very hot, constantly complaining about it, even in winter.

Mingi brought the sweater up to his face, hoping it would still smell faintly of him, but knowing deep down it wouldn’t. He slipped it on, zipping it up, putting the hood on, and heading into the kitchen to try to find some coffee. After a few minutes of searching (much to his guilt, realizing that they had locked up their knives), Mingi found the necessary supplies to make coffee, rustling through the pantry for something to eat as it brewed.

“You’re up early.” Wooyoung’s raspy morning voice startled him.

“Ah!” Mingi whipped around, “Sorry, yeah. My face fucking hurts.”

“I’ll get you something.” Wooyoung gave a small smile, “Sorry, you understand why I couldn’t just leave you some-”

“Nah, I know.” Mingi waved him off, “I would do the same thing. Don’t worry.”

Wooyoung nodded, “Okay, good. I’m glad. I’ll go grab it.”

Mingi poured two cups of coffee as Wooyoung returned, handing him a steaming mug in exchange for two ibuprofen tablets.

“Thanks, man.” Mingi tossed them back, swallowing them dry, knowing the coffee was still too hot to sip on, “And thanks for letting me stay. I don’t want to put you guys out-”

Wooyoung placed his mug down on the kitchen island, his typically sharp, vulpine features turning soft, crossing over to hug Mingi out of the blue, “No way, Mingi. I’m just so glad you’re okay.” He pulled back, “I’m so mad at you, too. But it’s far outweighed by how glad I am that you’re here.”

“I’m glad I’m here, too.” Mingi confessed.

“Good.” Wooyoung blinked back tears, swallowing, “I couldn’t do another funeral, Mingi.”

“I know.” Mingi’s face flushed red, embarrassed at the idea of causing his friends so much grief, “I know. I’m sorry.”

“No more apologizing.” Wooyoung commanded, “You should keep it, by the way.” He nodded at the hoodie Mingi had donned.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to take-”

“Mingi, I’m sure. He would have wanted you to have it. It just makes me fucking sad every time I see it. I want to remember him in different ways other than just being sad he’s gone. Please take it.” Wooyoung’s eyes were soft as they peered into Mingi’s soul.

Mingi held his gaze for a moment, before finally nodding, “Okay. Yeah. Thank you, Wooyoung.”

“Of course, Ming.” Wooyoung sipped his coffee before turning around to retrieve a skillet from the cabinet under the island, “Let me make you some pancakes.” He stood up and cut Mingi off before he could protest, “No. I’m rephrasing that. I’m making us pancakes. And you’re going to eat them with me.”

“That sounds great, Youngie. Thank you.”

Mingi watched as the younger began to gather ingredients, pouring them into a mixing bowl and starting to combine them. Something kept clawing at the back of his mind though. He didn’t know how to breach the subject so he just asked, “Have you um… heard from Hwa?”

Wooyoung stirred a little aggressively and Mingi nearly laughed at how his jaw clenched at the mention of their friend’s name, “No. Although to be fair, I think Hongjoong made it clear he shouldn’t talk to me right now. I’ll ask San when he wakes up, but I highly doubt it.”

“Ah.” Mingi couldn’t think of anything else to say. He understood why it might be hard for Seonghwa to see him at that very moment, but he wished he knew exactly why his friend didn’t want to see or speak to him. Was it because he was mad at Mingi? For the party, or for trying to kill himself? Or was he mad at himself? Or was it all just too much for him to face? Maybe a combination?

Wooyoung poured the pancake batter into the skillet, “I can hear you overthinking. This is partially why I’m so mad at him. He’s leaving you wondering why he won’t reach out.” He waited for the edges of the pancakes to bubble before flipping them, “You know, for someone who gave you so much grief for making things about yourself, he sure does have a nasty habit of doing it himself, doesn’t he?”

Mingi snorted, laughing at how true the statement was, “I’ve always said he and I were too similar in all the wrong ways.”

Wooyoung couldn’t help but break a grin as he plated the first batch of pancakes, handing it to Mingi, “You might actually be right about that.”

Wooyoung joined him at the table a few minutes later, and it didn’t take long for them to defrost a bit as the man realized he didn’t have to handle Mingi with kid gloves. San joined them a bit later, and there for around an hour, everything felt almost normal. Like they were in college again, scarfing down breakfast at someone’s apartment after a night at the bars. It was so nice that Mingi found himself just staring, watching Wooyoung and San interact together. The two of them had become symbiotic practically immediately, nearly a decade ago at that point. He realized possibly for the first time ever, seeing how so painfully domestic and intimate the two of them were, that he wanted that with someone.

He hadn’t noticed the tear slip down his cheek until San looked at him, concern falling over his delicate feline features, “What’s wrong, Song?”

Mingi laughed at the intentionally bad rhyme, “Nothing. You guys are just cute. I’ve missed you a lot. I’ve missed this.”

Wooyoung kissed San on the cheek, “Hear that? He thinks we’re cute.”

Mingi crinkled his nose in fake disgust, “Okay less so now.”

San chuckled, “We missed you, too, Mingi.”

“We’ll make more of an effort. All of us. Promise. We all need each other and it’s time we stopped isolating.” Wooyoung looked at him a little pointedly.

“I agree.” He nodded, knowing that Wooyoung was also holding him culpable for that last part.

“Good.” Wooyoung smiled, before standing up to start clearing the table. Mingi and San helped, San explaining that he had taken the day off of work to hang out with Mingi.

“Oh, um, I mean. You don’t have t-” Mingi started, feeling once again like a child.

“Yes. We do.” San said, a little stern, but there was no resentment in his voice.

Mingi nodded, “Okay. Thank you. I’ll be glad to have your company.”

San didn’t press or try to make him talk all day, which Mingi was grateful for. They watched movies and played video games for most of the day before Mingi felt like he needed a nap. They ate together like a family once again that night.

The next couple of weeks went on like that until they started to trust him again, leaving him alone during the day while they both returned to work. Mingi wondered absentmindedly if he still had a job. His boss hadn’t even called, but maybe his friends took care of it. He wondered if he even cared. Really, he didn’t know why he had even stayed after Jongho’s accident. He could bartend anywhere. If he really wanted to continue doing so was the real question. After graduating with an anthropology degree and no desire at the time to continue his education, he had just continued to do what had gotten him through college. No reason not to, he was handsome and very good at his job. Made great money. But weirdly enough, nearly dying had him taking the first look at his future that he had bothered to take in years.

Maybe I should go back to school.

He had always liked the idea of teaching at a university level.

Seven Years Ago

"Fuck, yes, baby. Just like that!” Mingi looked up in awe as the girl he’d had eyes on all semester from his Literature class was riding his dick, letting out pretty moans. He didn’t even care if they were fake, she felt incredible.

Click-BANG!

The dorm door flew open, a completely distraught, clearly sleep deprived and hungover (possibly still drunk) Jongho barged in, only blinking as the girl covered herself and yelped, diving beneath Mingi’s navy comforter, laying herself flat to his chest.

“Mingi, I fucked up. I thought my history test was next week, you’ve gotta help me.” Jongho begged him.

“Right now?!” Mingi whined, hips still rocking under the girl whose pussy he was deliciously buried deep inside of.

“Please?” Jongho begged him, “I’ll pay for your laundry for a month, hell, I’ll do your laundry for a month, man, but please help! You’re the only one who knows anything about history.”

Mingi’s pace picked up at the compliment, hearing the girl moan as he plunged deeper, “Okay, fine, I’ll meet you at the library in twenty, and you better get coffee for both of us.”

“Thank you so much, I owe you!” Jongho packed his backpack, moving at a tortoise’s pace in Mingi’s eyes, who was barely restraining himself from moving like a hare.

“Jongho, get the fuck out of here!” He half-yelled, half-panted, grabbing the girl’s hips and beginning to slam her onto his cock, moaning as she moved her hips to match his movement.

Jongho sped up, haphazardly tossing his history textbook into his backpack and darting out of the room, saluting Mingi as he turned his back and closed the door.

"God, yes, Mingi!” The girl cried out while he rubbed her clit with his thumb, head falling back as she clenched around him. He followed moments later, spilling into the condom with a broken sigh.

In his post-nut clarity, Mingi made a surprisingly good history tutor.

Jongho had gotten a nearly perfect score on his test.

October 29th

Mingi was being given a chance to prove himself. He loved Wooyoung and San but he missed his apartment. He missed being alone, oddly enough feeling more alone around the couple than he did when he was by himself.

It didn’t help that he had decided to swear off sex for the time being. He wanted to be sharp. Clear headed.

He had decided to apply for graduate school.

There was no reason he wouldn’t get in, truthfully, but it had been a while since undergrad and he would need to get letters of recommendation from his old professors, plus take the GRE, and write an essay for his application. All of it was due in March the following year, in order for him to start at the fall semester, but he wanted to get a head start, scared to leave anything to the last minute.

He was being given a chance to prove himself by going out with his friends for Halloween. Promising to not take off, not do any drugs, and limit himself to a few drinks. Agree to go home with Wooyoung and San at the end of the night.

He could do it. He felt it in his bones as he tied up his shaggy, grown out hair for his Geto costume. He could be good.

I can be good.

Wooyoung and San were getting ready and changing into their Gryffindor and Hufflepuff costumes in their bedroom, so the knock on their door in the living room confused Mingi.

“I’ll get it!” He called towards his friends’ bedroom.

He opened the door to Seonghwa, dressed as Rey Skywalker.

Mingi offered a small smile upon seeing the look of poorly disguised worry on Seonghwa’s face, “Hey, Hwa.” He moved out of the doorway, “Wanna come in?”

Seonghwa cleared his throat, stepping through the doorway, “Thanks.”

“Wooyoung and San are still getting ready but I can go get-”

“No!” Seonghwa cut him off, voice tense, “Sorry. No, thank you. I wanted to speak with you, actually. If you’re okay with that.”

Mingi led them over to the kitchen table, knowing it to be more out of earshot to his friends’ bedroom than the couch in the living room.

Seonghwa sat down across from him, folding his hands in his lap, almost like he was trying to take up as little space as possible.

Mingi waited for him to start. Maybe he was a little petty, but he really wanted Seonghwa to be the one to start. He felt that he was justified in being a little annoyed that it had taken the man two weeks to speak with him.

“Mingi…” Seonghwa’s voice trembled immediately, “I owe you an apology.”

“Hwa, you don’t have to, I understand-”

“No.” Seonghwa’s eyes snapped up to meet Mingi’s, “You don’t understand.”

Mingi leaned back into the chair, placing his clasped hands onto the table, “Okay. I’m listening.”

“The night that Jongho…” Seonghwa swallowed, “No one knows this besides Hongjoong. But.” He breathed deep through his nose, “I had a missed call, Mingi.”

Mingi blinked as the realization hit. “You-”

“My phone was on silent. I had been on the phone with family all day, frustrated about wedding stuff. You know my parents don’t approve. It’s not an excuse… It’s been eating me alive. It’s a big reason we have postponed the wedding for so long. I’m seeing a therapist for it now but I think I was taking some of my anger at myself out on you, Mingi. Because you were with him that night. You’re a heavy sleeper and you’d been drinking. We all know that. Jongho certainly knew that. It’s not your fault you didn’t wake up when he left. I see that now. But I was deflecting my frustration with myself onto you and blaming it all on that.”

“Hwa…” Mingi wanted to tell him it’s okay. The guilt of his own secret making itself known by trying to steal the air from his lungs, stomach twisting.

“No, please.” Seonghwa blinked back tears, “Let me finish.”

Mingi nodded, so Seonghwa continued, “When I got the call from Hongjoong. Well, Mingi, it hit me that I shouldn’t have let it get this far. I almost lost you, too. After yelling at you and kicking you out of my house.” A tear escaped his eye, making slow work through the makeup on his cheek, “I almost lost you, Mingi.” He sniffed, reaching for a paper towel to dab his eyes, “I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself. I’m so fucking glad that Hongjoong answered his phone. I should have been understanding. It never should have gotten that bad for you, Mingi, I’m so sorry.” His words started to rush out then, “I knew I should have been there at the hospital. I shouldn’t have stayed away, but honestly, Mingi, every time I thought about trying to talk to you, trying to face this, I nearly had a panic attack. Hongjoong was patient, of course, but he told me we weren’t going out tonight unless I talked to you. He was right. I’m so sorry it took this long.” He buried his head in his hands, “I understand if you can’t forgive me right away, Mingi. But I want you to know that I’m going to do better. I’m going to be there for you. I never want you to feel like you can’t come to me, or any of us. But please, please, Mingi, don’t let it get that bad again, I don’t know what I-”

“Hwa.” Mingi stood up, walking around the table, “Come here.” He opened his arms.

Seonghwa blinked at him from his chair until Mingi nodded, then his friend stood and let himself be hugged. “I’m so sorry.” Seonghwa mumbled into Mingi’s chest.

“I’m sorry, too. I never should have scared you guys like that.” Mingi admitted.

“I’m just glad you’re here.”

“Me, too.” Mingi squeezed him tighter, “And I forgive you, Hwa. If there’s one thing I’ve learned recently, it’s that we all process grief differently.” He released Seonghwa, moving back to his chair.

Seonghwa sat back down, “You sound like my therapist now.” A smile worked its way up the corner of his mouth.

“Well,” Mingi laughed, “I don’t have the right degree for that. But I have decided to apply for grad school.”

“Mingi!” Seonghwa’s face lit up with pride, “That’s amazing, honey. I’m so proud of you!”

“Thanks, Hwa. I love you, you know?”

Seonghwa smiled, “I love you, too, Mingi. I promise I’ll do a better job of showing it.”

“I’ll take it. Any extra love you have sitting around.” Mingi joked.

“Deal.”

“And then I’ll double it and give it back.”

Seonghwa laughed, “I know you will. You try to hide it, Mingi, but I know you’re a loverboy. Soft. Hopeless romantic.”

Mingi’s head tipped back with his chuckle, acknowledging how right his friend was, “Just don’t tell anyone, okay? I have an image to protect.”

Seonghwa stuck out his pinky, “Your secret is safe with me. Pinky swear.”

“Pinky swear.” Mingi let his finger wrap around Seonghwa’s, sealing the deal.

Hongjoong, dressed as Kylo Ren, called a few minutes later, having been waiting in the lobby of the apartment building for them. The four of them went downstairs to meet him, walking towards the subway station without being asked. Mingi was sure that they normally would have called an Uber, but they finally seemed to be acknowledging his aversion to riding in a car.

They met Yeosang, dressed as a vampire, at the bar.

Mingi did well for a while, but after a few hours out around so many people, noticing things he normally would have acted impulsively on - people discreetly exchanging small baggies of white powder, someone making eyes at him from across the bar, a woman trying to grind on him on the dance floor - added a sharp edge to the situation that he wasn’t accustomed to. He felt his heart rate begin to pick up, pounding in his ears, which had also started to ring.

His instinct was to dart off out the front door alone, but he remembered his promises to ask for help if he needed it. He searched the room, finally spotting Yeosang leaving the bathrooms.

He rushed over, grabbing his friend by the arm, “Sangie.” His grip was too tight, he knew.

His vision started darkening around the outer edges. Unable to take a full deep breath.

“Mingi?” Yeosang studied him, seeing his chest heave, eyes looking like they were having trouble focusing, “Come on, let’s get you outside.”

Mingi’s brain couldn’t make sense of his words, “Am I in trouble again?” His voice sounded small.

“No, honey, you just need some air, I think.” Yeosang looked at him more seriously, trying to ensure his words got through, “Mingi-ssi. You’re not in trouble. You need fresh air. I’ve got you, come on.”

Mingi let himself be led outside, gulping the cold air down like water as fast as he could get it inside his lungs.

“Just breathe through your nose, Mingi, you’re okay.” Yeosang instructed as he helped Mingi sit against the wall of the building.

Sobs racked his body unexpectedly, “I’m not trying to make everything about me, I swear!” Mingi looked at Yeosang, eyes pleading, desperate for his friend to understand.

“Mingi, no. No one thinks that. No one should have ever made you feel like that.” He grabbed one of Mingi’s hands, crouching in front of him, “You just got overwhelmed. It’s okay, really. I promise.”

Wooyoung and San had noticed their absence, evidently, as Mingi could hear their voices, tight with worry, coming towards them.

“Oh, thank God.” San said, sitting down beside Mingi, “Hey, you’re okay, Mingi.”

“He got overwhelmed, I think he may have been having a panic attack. But he came and found me.” Yeosang explained.

Wooyoung took Mingi’s other side, pulling his other large hand into his lap, “Good job finding Yeosang, honey.” Wooyoung squeezed his hand, “You did exactly the right thing.”

Mingi still wasn’t back to reality, but his brain had started to clear somewhat, “No one is mad at me?”

San put an arm around his shoulder, pulling him over so his head fell to his broad shoulder, “No, Mingi, I promise. No one is mad. You did the right thing. Let’s get you home, yeah?”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make you guys leave early-”

He heard more footsteps approaching, “Of course we’re sure.” Hongjoong’s voice, “Come on. We’re all going to Wooyoung and San’s.”

“We’ll get takeout.” Seonghwa added.

“We can watch Avatar: The Last Airbender. I know you’ve been wanting us to watch it.” Wooyoung offered.

Mingi finally sat up, tears tracking down his cheeks, “Okay, yeah. That sounds good.”

Who knew letting your friends help you would be so nice.

Back at Wooyoung and San’s place, they piled together on the couch and the floor in front, pizza slices in hand as they watched Aang and the gang fight the Fire Nation. Mingi was wedged between Seonghwa and Hongjoong and he let his head fall to Seonghwa’s shoulder as he started to get sleepy.

He awoke a few hours later to find that everyone had stayed. He was in Seonghwa’s lap, everyone else snuggled together with blankets and pillows on the carpet or curled into armchairs. It felt like a sleepover they might have had in college. His heart ached with love for his friends. Jongho would have scoffed and acted opposed to it, but Mingi smiled as he pictured the man begrudgingly staying, probably ending up cuddling close with one of them on the floor.

For once, the thought of his friend didn’t send him spiraling.

He had agreed to stay another week at Wooyoung and San’s on their way back last night. He knew it was the right call. He laid his head back into Seonghwa’s lap and fell back asleep once more.

Three Years Ago

The roof of the bar was crowded, but Mingi and Jongho had managed to carve a spot on the railing for it.

“I’m confused why we’re drinking for this particular occasion!” Jongho had to practically shout over the music and voices.

“We’re celebrating for my mom!” Mingi said it like it was an explanation. It wasn’t.

“For her getting cheated on?” Jongho was still lost.

“For my dad finally signing the divorce papers!”

“Ohhh!” Jongho nodded, “Okay then why aren’t you drinking with your mom about it?”

“Because she’s not ready to celebrate it, but I am!” Mingi held his cup up, expecting Jongho to clink theirs together.

Jongho shook his head, finally doing what was expected of him, “To cheaters! May they learn their lesson and never do it again!”

“Cheers, I guess.” Mingi laughed, confused by what exactly his friend meant. “What’s worse, the cheater or the person they're cheating on with?”

Jongho considered, “The cheater. But it really depends on how close the other person is to the situation.”

“So you don’t think cheaters should be punished for cheating? Just learn their lesson and never do it again?”

“Their conscience will be punishment enough, I’m sure. Plus, I mean, I don’t think anyone is born a cheater. Or a mistress. Criminal. Everyone has things in their past that can explain their behavior, I think. It doesn’t mean they should never live a good life just because they do something bad.”

Mingi thought about what had just been said, unable to come up with anything to rebut with. “I think you’re one of the most empathetic people out there, Choi Jongho. Good work keeping it so well hidden. I fear if anyone knew, they would just take advantage of it.”

Jongho chuckled, “Shut up.” He took a sip of his drink, “But thank you. Don’t tell anyone.”

~part two~

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