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ddaehyeon · 4 years ago

Text

kalopsia; s. wb + reader + k. ty

pairing: seo woobin + reader + kim taeyoung

genre: angst, fluff, hanahaki au

word count: 10.4k

warnings: blood, hospital visit, light cursing, mentions of sickness, death, anxiety, and alcohol/drinking

summary: in each passing day that you grew fonder of taeyoung, more petals would come out of your lips. your heart, a garden of the most beautiful flowers, only that it was also a reminder of your unrequited love. and with the withering petals, woobin can't bear to simply watch.

-- video teaser; story playlist; masterlist; taglist form 🥀

a/n: my longest fic so far! aaaa this is for a fic exchange with the amazing @arieswonjin. ilysm <3 i enjoyed writing this a lot and i hope we can do more exchanges in the future! also, special thanks to @starrycrvty who helped me with the editing process and cheered me up while i was losing a braincell in the development of the scenes. you’re awesome and ily. <3

hope you will enjoy this ride. send me feedback through my ask/reblogs! i’ll appreciate it a lot :>

taglist: @bunnyseongmin

[ will edit this again in the future; ]

regardless of how the day was already ending, flowers seemed to not lose their vibrancy. whenever a gust of air blew by, it would dance along with the wind’s melody. you took a breath, the floral scent easing your body which was probably hugged with nothing but fatigue out of the ruthless writing sessions you gave yourself for hours.

a mélange of colors in the sky; the red hue engulfing the orange tint. it was funny how despite that war of colors, in the end, the sky will turn pitch-black with scattered twinkling stars.

sure, spring was one of the most beautiful seasons. but that small amount of fondness for the aforementioned season will never be enough to make you want to experience it for the whole year. life played favorites though— it was spring for you all year round.

you smiled to yourself, trying to shrug off the thought. good thing you weren’t in your room and the sidewalk wasn’t the quietest place to be at during this hour. it offered a space for distractions. most shops were closing, students were to go home from long hours of studying, workers with a weariness that yours couldn’t match walking to hubs for some sort of leisure activities. if you were in some kind of company work, you’d probably be in the same position. going for a drink or two with friends after working hours. but well, you weren’t.

instead of a bustling office requiring formal attire; you were usually in your pajamas, musing about life and writing about it through means of prose and poetry. a young published author who was known for having a great appreciation for flowers. in a few months, another book will be launched under your name. its spine holding all the papers inked by your love, not for flowers or anything else, but for a childhood friend who seemed to not have taken notice of the flower that began growing in your lungs— a rose.

reaching the convenience store, you contemplated which instant food would serve as your dinner tonight. ordered food seemed to have bored out your taste buds, a little change was needed. and to say, probably a more unhealthy choice. maybe a dosirak would do or a kimbap and peel sausage.

as you were to enter, a call of your name put your feet to a halt. you turned to look at the speaker. “oh hey, woobin?”

a weak smile graced his lips, opening the door for you. he spoke after the both of you had entered the store. “tired of ordered meals?”

“kind of,” you replied, a sigh punctuating your words. you walked up to the aisle of dosirak. the sight of it made you swiftly cross it out of your options. you wanted something else. “how about you?”

“craved for ice cream,” answered woobin who, unlike you, had made his mind in settling with a pint of almond ice cream.

grabbing some triangle kimbaps, you looked at him with a raised brow. “wouldn’t that harm your ever so majestic voice?”

if you made money through books, woobin earned his through singing. it ranged from covers to original song compositions. he was quite popular with all the ballad songs he covered that without a lie was a heart-melter. if home and serenity would be defined using a voice, woobin’s would be the perfect definition for it.

“not really.” a chuckle was heard from him as he watched you grab a cup of instant ramyun. “well, wouldn’t that harm your ever so wonderful brain?”

you shook your head but laughed at the remark. woobin had been your friend for quite a long time, probably one of the closest. light and playful banters seemed to have become a part of your usual talks.

walking towards the counter, you settled your items which the worker scanned quickly. the amount flashed by the small screen, and you pulled your wallet out to pay. woobin followed shortly.

“a healthy alternative after ice cream?” you asked, noticing a herbal medicine pouch being placed in his bag.

woobin hunched his shoulders up, and proceeded to go out of the store.

a soft breeze welcomed you as you stepped out. the sidewalk was no longer as busy as it was earlier and the sky was losing its colors bit by bit as if the flickering lights in the queued lampposts were sucking it all.

“so how is it coming out?” woobin asked as he walked beside you. your apartment and his were only a few blocks away. his apartment was inside a street, away from the main road filled with noises coming from horns and speeding cars, while yours was in a complex near the road. you liked watching people from up the balcony, it was like watching a film, only that everything that was happening was real and only the made-up dialogues of the strangers were sheer fiction.

“minor editings left,” you replied. “also, next week the possible art for the cover will be out. want to check it out with me?”

he didn’t reply right after as if he was mentally checking his schedule, weighing if he was free or not. though his answer indicated that the things he had to do had flexible deadlines. “sure, just tell me when.”

“i’ll call you once they message me about it.” a cough ended your sentence, you covered your mouth as you did so. something smooth touching your palm. it was happening… again.

“are you alright?” concern evident on woobin’s face, he went closer to you. his hand on your back, rubbing circles to ease your coughing.

but he was aware it would not be enough to stop it. a rub or any sort of medicine wouldn’t stop it. like how will those be enough to stop a flower from blooming in your lungs?

it was the reason why even though you admired the beauty of spring, you also disliked it.

flowers were in full bloom during spring. the way each petal was colored was pleasing to the eye. however, such beauty should have just stayed where they were supposed to be. on the ground, decorating the world with its vibrant color. it should only be there instead of clinging onto someone's lungs after failing to get their love returned.

hanahaki, a disease that causes someone to cough up flower petals when their love is one-sided.

there were different stages of it. at first, it was only a mere cough. something one would mistake for a regular cough. until petals come along with it on the next stage. followed by a mix of blood, acute chest pain, and shortness of breathing in the last.

two ways to resolve it. either undergo a surgery which will cost a fortune at the risk of wiping out not only your emotions but also the memory of all people you are close with or have your love reciprocated. inability to obtain any of the mentioned cures will result in the most unfortunate event. no more pain from the flower sprouting in your chest. no ache, coming from the bitter taste of being reminded every single night that your love wasn’t reciprocated— death.

“i’m alright.” it took quite a while before your coughing subsided. you were sure petals were already accumulated on your hand. bringing your hand down, you let go of the red petals. luckily, no blood. but you didn’t expect less. this disease had been giving you restless nights lately, worsening and worsening.

a sigh left woobin’s lips as he shook his head. “that’s not the look of someone alright for me.”

the rest of the walk was silent. woobin insisted on walking you home, to which you had no power to decline. even if you told him no, he still ended up doing so.

by the time you reached the front of your unit, night had already won the clash in the sky. the stars glimmering above at their triumph.

“don’t work up until late,” woobin reminded.

you smiled, wishing you could tell him that it wasn’t the writing that made you get less rest every evening. it was the rose that inhabited your lungs. “i will not.”

“here,” said woobin, handing you the bag of the things he bought earlier.

the ice cream was no longer of its same form as it was earlier. its mist soaked the insides of the plastic bag. “and why are you giving it to me?”

“just take it. you know in movies heartbroken people would eat ice cream as they mope around.”

the lighthearted remark made you laugh. woobin had his ways to make you feel better. “and what about the medicine?”

“you’re probably sad, but that won’t mean that you should not take care of yourself.” he was aware of your feelings for someone else. he was aware of the red roses in your chest. he was aware that your feelings weren’t reciprocated.

“makes sense.” you flashed him a smile, scrambling on your bag to take out one of the triangle kimbaps. the item tossed to his direction which he caught smoothly. “take that at least.”

“well, thank you?” he gazed at the food you gave him before returning the smile. “have a good night, y/n. call me if you need anything.”

you hummed as a response, watching woobin make his way to the stairs, descending afterward. another gust of wind passed by and you rushed to go inside. staring at the now melted ice cream, you shook your head. a laugh escaping your lips as you closed the door.

how long has it been? you thought.

collapsing on the bed, you stared at the ceiling. the coughing had already stopped, yet the burning pain in your chest remained.

what was the flower again?

a rose?

maybe the stabbing ache was caused by its thorns that came to hug your lungs. you sighed as if that would altogether pull out the suffocating sensation— of course, it wouldn’t. it would never.

a curt beep on your phone pulled you out of your cloudy thoughts, reaching for it to read the notification. a message from one of your friends which read,

it’s your debut book’s first anniversary today! congrats, y/n.

for a moment, your lips curled into a faint smile, so weak that it didn’t even last for a minute. sending a quick reply to show gratitude over the thought, you allowed yourself to drown over the same thoughts.

that book with inked poetry all meant to deliver a single message— your feelings for taeyoung. the words laced in each rhyme was a cover of the affection you had for him, and the petals you cough each night was his answer.

a childhood friend who you used to be neighbors with. he still lived under the comforts of his parents’ home, while you moved to live alone in an apartment, desperately seeking independence.

or maybe seeking for a way to not see his face every single day and be reminded that his favorite flower, a rose, had been blooming in your lungs.

the brightness taeyoung had never seemed to fade, his smile still carried sunlight of its own. a contagious one that would make anyone have the same smile (but maybe not as bright). his bubbliness was a comfort. whenever around him, the butterflies causing chaos in your stomach would make you forget about the evening ache he was subconsciously bringing.

taeyoung, ever since you were young, loved books and flowers. you preferred other things though, but somehow you found yourself conforming to what he liked. being the person you spent most of your time with, his interest became yours. whenever he would tell you about something he became inclined to, you would check it as quick, forcing yourself to like it. it was a repeated action that was implanted as a habit. in the process of trying to be his ideal person, your own identity was thrown away. a trap filled with nothing but thorns of his favorite flower.

shifting to your side, your eyes landed on the wall just above your working table. photographs of roses were stuck on it, along with verses other people might find painfully beautiful. you knew your words better though. its beauty was a mere delusion. hiding behind the pretty words were ugly cries— your reality.

another cough, a petal escaping from your lips. it danced in the air as it was freed, only to meet the cold floor of your room. with flowers blooming in the chest, you closed your eyes drifting to sleep. the pain no longer mattered as it was the usual sensation.

a soft instrumental had taken over your apartment. the sun was already up, its light filtering through the blinds. your potted plants were probably thankful for its generosity. you took a sip of your coffee, staring at the few words written in the new document reserved for a new manuscript. writing, or at least conceptualizing the main theme, of your next book was your top priority today. however, the continuous notifications coming from your close peers dragged you out of your bubble every single time.

with you celebrating the first anniversary of your debut book (which basically marked the day of your debut as a published writer), receiving messages was plain inevitable. your editor even asked if you’d be up for a drink later this night. an offer you turned down. silence and alone time this evening were everything you craved for.

putting your laptop on rest, you grabbed your own copy of withered roses, your book. it was silly how you decided to have perfectly blooming and lively roses as its cover when it contained the very title, your own withered roses hiding through beautiful verses.

flipping through the pages, you stopped on a certain poetry. undeniably, one of your favorites. it was one of the first poems that you wrote for this collection. grabbing a paper and a pen, you scribbled the words down, the same words still describing your situation perfectly. and maybe that was the reason why your condition was worsening.

you stuck the paper on the wall, just beside a photograph of a blue rose. for a moment, you stared at it, smiling at the words as if those were some kind of lost friends who rekindled with you. you smiled as if those were something that you should be smiling at.

three doorbells and a few knocks. a heavy sigh came out of your lips, tearing your eyes away from the poem. slow steps towards the door, the person on the other seemed rather impatient for the doorbell continuously made a sound. it was enough for another breath to escape the confines of your mouth.

swinging the door open, your eyes widened. the sight penetrating quickly to your senses and the sensation you hated the most overpowering you, your heartbeat loud. really loud. “taeyoung?”

for him to be able to give you the most wonderful feeling of warm cheeks and butterflies and still be able to poison you using his favorite flower lethal to your body, you wondered when it would end.

“it’s withered roses’ first anniversary!” his smile was a band-aid, too fleeting of a cure for you. he lifted a pot of cycnoches orchids, something that was probably from his parent’s flower shop. “here’s a gift for you.”

“thank you.” as he handed you the pot, you gave him enough space to enter your unit. placing it just beside the other plants you had, all coming from their shop, you turned to look at taeyoung. a pout appearing in your countenance. “you should have brought food.”

taeyoung scratched his head at your sudden words, a sheepish smile curving on his lips. “well, we can order.”

at the sight of a slightly flustered taeyoung, a string of laughter became your immediate response. “i was kidding.”

you went back to the couch to sit with taeyoung following you shortly. the music playing in your room had long ago stopped, something you only noticed after taeyoung came. after your awareness came to hug you once again.

his eyes wandered as if it was his first time in your unit. it was definitely not his first visit, to count how many times he’d been there was also impossible. just like how you frequented their flower shop, he was usually in your unit as well. maybe it was due to him being used to your company. childhood friends, former neighbors— inseparable, but in a manner that went nothing beyond romantic feelings. at least to his side.

glancing at him, you followed where his gaze was fixated on. it was focused on the wall that held photographs of roses and the poem you scribbled earlier from your book.

“wasn’t that the eighth poem in your book?” intrigued, he looked at you with a brow raised.

you didn't have to meet his gaze. a smile slowly crept out of your visage. it didn't hold an emotion though, more like a simple forced curve. "it is."

"i love it." it was a genuine remark, but somehow, instead of giving you a warm feeling, it did the opposite. standing up, he reached for the paper, detaching it from the wall. the words slipping out of his tongue as he read it out loud.

heat-haze; sunrays visible at the nighttime daydream under the cloud of deep distance built a sensation of unrequited affection innumerable actions-- satisfied, captured by mere existence. nevertheless, the heart was jinxed in a presence, a love, i cannot withdraw from.

as the final four lines were uttered, he looked at you in the eyes, a hint of gloom clouding his misty orbitals. he had the poem memorized, but it was only the words he had carved in his mind. the feelings sealed with it, unnoticed.

taeyoung was the reason why you began writing. a simple comment of his saying that you would make a good author and your words were all prettily laid out made you want to write.

or perhaps it was not the writing you were chasing for, rather the speaker who told you that he wished to see more of your writing.

for others, writing could be a form of escape. to be under a little spell that would pull someone out of their reality. you wished you were the same. you wished your writing wasn't your reality.

anywhere you go, you were surrounded by your reality. the potted plants you should not be taking care of if it wasn't for his interest in plants and flowers. the book that was published a year ago and the soon to be published one. the colors that accented your unit which he said was such a relaxing palette. the words in your head. the flower in your chest. it was the reality made out of nothing but the person you loved.

“wait.” taeyoung’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. he was peering over petals of red roses that were on your table.

it seemed like you forgot to clean it up earlier. well, you didn’t expect anyone to actually go to your house. such a realization was thought late.

“were you playing with roses?” taeyoung asked, frowning as he looked at it.

you’d consider that a stupid question, but taeyoung didn’t know a thing about your condition so you let it pass. there was no way in hell you’d tell him about it now. not yet. “yes.”

“so how was it?” the excitement and giddiness leaking in his tone as he plopped down next to you on the couch didn’t help. what was he even referring about? your hanahaki disease? what? as if hearing your question, he clarified his query, “does he love you?”

ah, the popular he loves me, he loves me not.

there was no need for that though, the petals you vomit each night was a clear answer. you smiled, leaning back to get seated more comfortably. “he doesn’t.”

the way those two words left your lips surprised you. no hint of hurt, sadness, or anything— it was laced with a calm tone as if retreating, surrendering, accepting. will it really be your fate?

taeyoung sighed, the smile he once had melting away. “don’t worry, it’s just a silly game anyway. the person you love probably loves you too.”

you turned to look at him. a mistake. kind eyes met yours, reassuring you of something you had already known for so long was false. there was no need to hang into that ray of hope when you were aware that it was not the case.

eyes glossy with the tears that never dared to fall, you offered him a tight-lipped smile. “thank you.”

he grinned, which you assumed was out of relief before he looked at your wall once again. “why use roses though? there are other flowers out there.”

“well, isn’t it the first flower you’d think of when you hear the word love?” you replied. “it means a lot more depending on its color, but in simple terms, it just means love and romance.”

“you seem to know a lot about it,” he remarked, not tearing his gaze away from the photograph. “why blue out of all colors?” he asked referring to the photograph you had on your wall.

“it stands for an impossible miracle.” a clear depiction of your situation. no word followed that sentence, and good thing taeyoung didn’t ask any further about why. maybe it was due to his perception that poetry writers had other symbolism hidden behind their verses, even when there was nothing and the message was just in front of their readers.

“roses are wonderful, aren’t they?”

not when they are blooming in your chest. not when its thorn embraces your lungs. not when it suffocates you. your thoughts were loud in your head. but you knew you can’t blame it for inhabiting your body. you can’t even have taeyoung blamed for it either. it was the universe’s fault for laying such a disease in humanity. “they truly are.”

“it’s my favorite,” taeyoung mused.

there was a smile that sat on your lips, a peck of gloom decorating its corners. “i know.”

how could you not when its petals were the ones that kept on coming out of your lips every evening?

a ringing coming from a device shattered the silence in your apartment. but this time, it wasn’t from yours. it was from taeyoung who was now about to leave your unit, his parents had called him to go and do his tasks in the flower shop. seemed like he had forgotten about it, considering that he’d been with you for almost an hour.

“take care and have fun for the rest of the day!” taeyoung ruffled your hair and left. his touch lingering.

your room suddenly felt empty. as if taeyoung had taken all the vibrancy it had after stepping out of it. taeyoung was your paradox— a home that housed nothing but emotions you shouldn’t regard as home, but you did. he was your home.

you coughed, a petal threatening to escape. the windpipe blocked, your chest tightening. a sorrowful smile was your only answer to the ache that was resurfacing. your gaze didn't falter, still locked on the photograph of the blue rose. to no one in particular, few words were whispered, “they are beautiful.”

“remind me again why i’m here with you?” woobin looked at the almost empty store; sleepwears displayed from the first showcase up to the last rack. it was a week after the first anniversary of your book, things had seemed to tranquil much more.

shopping during the working hours on weekdays was certainly one of the best things. the absence of people led to different advantages like having no long queue to the cashier, no people to deal with as you browse the clothes, and overall just serene shopping.

you didn’t mind it when a salesperson would go and ask you about what type or design you were looking for, they were probably getting bored having to stand for a long time and entertain just a few passing potential customers. the mall’s theme song was playing from a distant speaker, almost inaudible and muffled by the sweet piano music playing in the shop itself. keeping it up to the theme of the shop, if there was a bed in there, you’d probably be brought to sleep right after. something you weren’t sure to consider as a good aspect or bad aspect of the clothing store.

“well, you just finished posting another wonderful cover which hit a hundred thousand views in an hour, we must celebrate, right?” you replied as you picked up a pair of pastel plaid pajamas, checking the fabric quality to which you quickly marked as spandex.

woobin reached for the design next to what you picked up, eyeing it with less interest than you had. “but why are we buying pajamas?”

“because i need it.” a chuckle was heard from you after he let go of a sigh at your words. you stepped closer to him, peering over his shoulder to check the design he was checking.

“by the way,” he began, not wanting to ask more as he was aware of your love for comfortable clothes (pajamas being the top of it along with sweaters and hoodies). “i’m applying for a job in this pharmaceutical company located in another town as a medicinal chemist.”

“oh? the one you mentioned before?” you watched him go through another set of sleepwear.

it was a sudden reminder that before being known as the seo woobin who sang various songs in innumerable gigs and had built a name in the music side of youtube, he was the seo woobin who excelled in his major, organic chemistry. for years of him not applying for an actual job as a chemist anywhere and pursuing his dream career, that fact was swept out of your mind.

you met woobin in one of your electives— a chemistry class that you would probably have to retake only if he didn’t help you out. the limited slots in language classes were the ones you put your blame on, but it wasn’t completely that bad. after all, you had ended up making a good friend in the class you despised the most.

“are you going to quit singing?” worry was painted all over your face which earned a soft amused laughter from woobin. you adore his singing a lot, the comfort his mellifluous voice could bring was distinct, something you’d grown ever so fond of.

“you know, i just want to put my degree into proper use.” woobin smiled reassuringly as he tossed you a set of pajamas with the design he guessed was what you were searching for, the one with doodled roses decorating it from bottom to the top. “kind of had the urge to get a secured job.”

the clothing dumped to you went unnoticed as you fired off another question. “what about the album deal? i thought you already had one. what’s going to happen with that?”

“i will still sing.” there was no need to doubt woobin’s calm tone as he said those words. “don’t worry about it. i love singing and i’ll not stop doing it.”

“make sure to.” you walked towards another rack, finally noticing the pajamas woobin had thrown in your way earlier. staring at it for a moment, the initial thoughts about the flower easily came into your head. “this one’s cute. i’ll take it.”

unconvinced, woobin raised a brow at you. “are you sure you found it cute or there’s another reason behind you liking it?”

the other reason he was pertaining to was clear, enough to become a slap rather than a mere reminder. do you really like it or do you simply want the person you like to notice you for having something close to their favorite thing?

feeling lost to your own set of likes seemed like a normal thing. mind plagued with taeyoung’s interests that it mattered more than yours. at this point, you weren’t sure if you were doing it for him to like you back and finally get the fuzzy feeling of being loved back or you were simply desperate to stop the flowers from budding in your chest.

“i like it,” you answered after a long while of spacing out. you even nodded your head as if trying to convince yourself from a statement you weren’t sure whether to label as a lie or a truth.

“if you say so.” an indistinct sigh came across woobin, subtly shaking his head in disbelief. he didn’t go deeper into the topic though, instead uttered some words that made a bright smile grace your lips. “go and choose whichever you want. it’s on me today.”

wearing the new pair of a loose shirt and pajama, you gazed at your reflection. a curve spotted on your lips, satisfied with the new purchase. demeanor dropping as a familiar sensation crawled up to your senses. the calm night was taken aback when your chest began tightening. a petal quickly rising, stuck on your throat afterward as you tried to hold it in. however, it was a failed attempt. the urge strong that you had to run towards the bathroom to release all the petals of the vivid red rose that nurtured in your body, watered with nothing but unreturned affection.

just like any other night, the sickness came to do its visit. its terrible reminder playing in your mind. the blood that mingled with the petals was hard to discern as they were colored in the same hue; it tasted different though.

a ringing in your head as your vision started to blur, not noticing how tears had formed in your eyes as the pain emerged to be stronger than it usually was. the intensifying ache wasn’t the only one that made your tears fall. all your unnoticed efforts, regardless of how big they were, were the ones that brought salty tears. your knees buckled, allowing you to meet the ground unceremoniously. it was getting harder to breathe and the cold bathroom tiles were your only company.

it was a twisted melody. in each cough, petals would escape. it didn’t even take a long time for you to be surrounded by a sea of red petals. what a sickening view, you thought. how do people regard roses as something so beautiful?

a memory.

“dear, taeyoung is outside, waiting for you.” a few knocks on the door accompanied your mother’s call.

it was a hot summer, the sun giving no mercy with its ray as if angry with how it was neglected during the cold seasons. with a few remaining days before the start of a new quarter, you probably had spent most of your time in your room. oftentimes will you go out only at the call of a childhood friend.

“y/n.” as if stepping out of your thoughts, taeyoung had your name wrapped by his cheerful voice. “mom made homemade ice cream. come on, get out of your room already.”

if your own mother wasn’t able to pull you out of your room, taeyoung was. your feet quick to move as you checked on your reflection by the mirror, practicing a smile and some silent dialogues. all to which you weren’t really able to show when you opened the door. a faint blush crept on your cheeks as soon as your gaze landed on the bright smile taeyoung had on his own. butterflies flew free in your stomach, heart pounding.

maybe it was the way taeyoung would talk to you with an unmatched enthusiasm even if your words make no sense. maybe it was because of the vibrancy he had all around him that simply could bring comfort to anyone he was with. maybe it was due to the fact that he had been with you since you were a kid.

or maybe it was just because he was him, kim taeyoung, that your crush began budding as a love. and as soon as it did, his favorite flower, a rose, was caught in your lungs during middle school.

occupied by the sensation, your mind didn’t attend to the continuous doorbells ringing in your apartment. in a few, the door was opened, rushed footsteps along with your name uttered in sheer concern echoed in your unit. with the air knocked out by the relentless flower, from red your vision turned pitch black.

when dusk fell, woobin was already in the hospital with a drink in his hand, which was meant to be given to you. he’d been going back and forth to the hospital and his apartment to bring you food and some other items you needed.

the scene he witnessed last night was still fresh in his mind, the panic lingering. on your cold bathroom floor, you laid unconscious with petals of roses surrounding your figure. he was swift to get help, which ended up with you having to stay for almost a day in the lonely ward. your room making you feel sicker.

“oh, you’re back?” serim, the head nurse and a close friend of woobin, said as he walked towards the other.

woobin nodded, tracing the track he’d been stepping into since this morning. it was as if he could easily go to your room even with eyes closed. serim followed from behind and before he could say a word, woobin had already found your room empty. finally, he offered the nurse attention. “where’s y/n? already discharged?”

“yes, they just went to talk with their doctor for a few more reminders.” serim shook his head disapprovingly. “they should stay longer, but they seem like a very busy person.”

“y/n should just follow their doctor.” a sigh punctuated woobin’s sentence.

“and you should too,” said serim.

woobin began walking his way back to the nurse station reception to wait for you. “my case is different.”

“you’re slowly losing your voice because of your own sickness.” serim’s sigh was way heavier than woobin’s, his orbitals painted with worry. being one of woobin’s closest friends, he knew all about it. “orchids are blooming in your lungs, how are you different?”

a glare was darted to serim’s direction which became woobin’s sole reply since they both saw you approaching them. serim hunched his shoulders up, shaking his head once again before walking away.

“thank you for taking care of me,” you told woobin who handed you the drink he bought outside.

“of course,” woobin said, leading the way out.

there weren't a lot of people in the lobby. only a few were there, either the nurses turning for their night shifts or the relatives of those people staying in the hospital for the night.

“it’s getting worse, isn’t it?” woobin’s words slowed down your pace, your head turned to him as he continued. “shouldn’t you start trying to move on and finding someone who can actually love you back?”

“what do you mean?”

woobin shrugged. “it seems like it’s the only way for you to be properly healed.”

yes, moving on and falling for someone else was a considered cure as well. a change of feelings could remove the flower naturally. but doing so was easier said than done.

a sad smile became evident on your brim. how could you do that? you thought. “i can’t just fall in love with someone like it’s nothing, woobin.”

“give me a chance then.”

woobin’s words were powerful enough to make your feet stop from moving, to catch your breath and make it halt. it can’t be. you looked at him confused, wishing that you misunderstood what he said. you wished that it would be his regular sentences as he tried to make you feel better. you wished what you were thinking was a mere thought, an idea, a false gut feeling. “woobin?”

it was a question that didn’t need any elaboration. the simple call of his name with such perplexed tone was enough as a query. the same gloomy smile on his lips matched what you had earlier, accompanied by his faint chuckles. “yes,�� to your horror, he confirmed. he let go of a breath, something that gave him a boost to finally utter the words he’d been meaning to say. “i’m in love with you and all i want is for the flowers in your chest to stop blossoming.”

“that means…”

to experience the same thing you had been experiencing. to give someone the same taste of your suffering. to plant a flower in someone’s chest and water it every day as you were failing to return their provided affection. it was something you didn’t wish to do, an extremely unfavorable idea which reminded you of how the universe had been unfair from the very start.

“yes, and they aren’t beautiful.” a tight-lipped smile became apparent on his countenance as he stared at the glass doors of the hospital. a few more steps and both of you will be out of the place the two of you frequented on different days, but for the same means— a fleeting cure for the ache caused by hanahaki. “the pain we’re both carrying out of unrequited love. it isn’t beautiful, y/n.”

a lump in your throat stopped any possible reply from coming out of your lips. you wanted to apologize, but an apology from taeyoung wasn’t the thing you’d want to hear from him after you confess and you assumed such wouldn’t give comfort to woobin as well. an apology wouldn’t be enough when you were already striping away someone with their lives.

rather untimely, the door opened, revealing taeyoung. he was holding a basket of flowers, probably for some kind of delivery. with hinted concern, he walked towards you and woobin. “what are you doing here?”

“stomach ache.” regardless of your mangled thoughts, it was a surprise that you were able to respond as soon. it was as if such sickness was a practiced lie.

“is that so?” taeyoung looked at woobin to confirm and the older just nodded not wanting to speak more. he turned to you, his worry dropping a few levels, but was still obvious. “let me just bring this flower to a friend and i’ll walk you home. will that be alright?”

you looked at woobin, silently asking if he would be okay with that. it was such a silly act, of course, he would be against it. but what can he do? just like him, the person you had grown fond of hasn't reciprocated your feelings yet. both of you probably wishing the same thing— for the flowers to wither and be gone. for the restless nights to end. to be loved back. the only difference was woobin was so focused on you that he had forgotten about his condition which was worsening at the same rate as yours.

he patted your shoulder. “sure, i need to head somewhere else anyway. get home safely?”

“i will, you too, woobin.” you gave woobin a smile, guilt sitting in your stomach which was continuously twisting.

woobin weakly mirrored the feature before turning his back to you and taeyoung. as he was stepping out of the establishment, he looked at the twinkling stars, hoping this night would be kinder. but he was certain he’d be the one coughing out orchids tonight, probably worse than your roses.

the stars from above watched you and taeyoung walk on the now empty sidewalk. even without the illumination coming from the lampposts, it was all so bright. all in gratitude for the moon which served as a ball of shining light in the clear night sky.

"you've been sick since we were kids, but you never told me what with." taeyoung broke the silence, uncertain if he should go further. “was it really because of stomach ache earlier?”

a chill ran down your spine, making you inwardly shiver. that wasn’t the talk you were so ready to face. and after what happened last night, you can’t simply bring another lie. however, telling taeyoung everything wasn’t something you planned to do as well. afraid that rejection would become the final straw.

taeyoung stopped dead on his tracks, looking at you with nothing but sheer concern. “is there anything bothering you?”

you gave him a smile which was obviously forced. “don’t worry about it.” you urged him to continue to walk and he did, but just as you thought that you were already safe from his questions, he asked another.

“it’s not a stomach ache wasn’t it?” hands on his back, his gaze was fixated on the road. “what was it, y/n?”

maybe it was time to tell taeyoung about it? maybe— “hanahaki.” the words subconsciously slipped out of your tongue.

“what?” surprised by the mention of the disease, his eyes were wide when he whipped his head to your direction. “you mean… your love is unrequited?”

taeyoung was quick to catch the gist of the disease. it was pretty much a popular sickness that had probably made some of his other friends suffer. the only thing he wasn’t quick to get was… who your feelings were for.

“woobin doesn’t like you back?” he asked, snapping you out of your thoughts which was purely of practicing the possible explanations if he ended up recognizing your feelings for him. and apparently, he didn’t.

it was your turn to shoot him a look. “what?”

“don’t you like woobin?” he averted his gaze and it trailed back to the road. “i mean the two of you seem like really close friends and you’re together most of the time.”

you didn’t know whether you should be relieved or not. but since you were still unprepared to offer any explanation, you just went with the flow. a bitter smile coming to your lips. your head had his name on your sentence, regardless of how you uttered another man’s name. “yes, i like woobin. but it seems like he doesn’t feel the same way.”

“maybe you should… try moving on?”

the way taeyoung suggested the same thing made you laugh, confusing the person beside you. to move on, huh? was that what the universe wanted you to do? to move on? a smile lingered on your visage, as you stepped on the stairs with taeyoung following you behind. it was just funny how he thought you were in love with woobin, when in fact the flower he adored the most was living in your lungs. that he was the person you were in love with, not any other person.

stopping at the front step, the worry that sat on his orbitals didn’t waver. the look asking if you’d be alright tonight— you already knew the answer. “take care, okay? if you need anything, just call me. good night.”

as soon as you closed the door, it began. the coughing that seemingly just waited for you to step into your unit came rushing. a petal waving in the air before meeting the ground. “i need your love, taeyoung. i badly need it.”

the smell of freshly done pancakes wafted up to your bed, a few noises coming from the kitchen followed. it was a gentle alarm that pushed you to wake up and get out of your bed. too groggy, a foot still on the dream you were having, you didn’t think that whoever was in the kitchen could be a thief or anything. well, who in their proper mind would cook food for the owner of the house if they were only to snatch things after?

a few days ago, you had an extreme case of hanahaki, something that led you to stay in the hospital overnight. after that, it had seemed to subside or at least be more gentle during the evening, resulting in more hours of sleep.

“woobin?” you called his name as you watched him turn off the stove, placing the fluffy pancakes onto a plate. there was already a hot chocolate ready for you to drink. you didn’t even question how he got inside. probably jungmo, the landowner, gave him the code to your room. oh, talk about privacy.

his smile was as warm as the morning sunrays. “good morning.” his voice was a little hoarse, normally you wouldn’t really pay attention to that. when he recorded songs too much in a day, he’d end up with such. but now that you knew he was experiencing hanahaki, a question hung in your head. was it because of the coughing? your thoughts dropped at the sound of his voice, still mellow regardless. “i’ve cooked you breakfast.”

“don’t you have work to do?” you asked, remembering how during the past days he’d been telling you about his new work— the slot in that pharmaceutical company as a medicinal chemist. you dragged a chair before occupying it, looking at him as he placed all the things he used in the sink. a curve became visible on your lips as your eyes fell to what he prepared. it was just pancakes, but it was woobin’s pancakes. he was such an amazing cook, you could vouch for that. “thank you by the way.”

“work? ah yeah.” he took the seat adjacent to yours, a cup of coffee in his hands. he grinned at you and you swore, your heart was in ultimate chaos when you heard his next words. “i took on the job of taking care of you for free starting today.”

sunlight filtered through the glass door of the flower shop, highlighting the wide variety of spring flowers. ranunculus, tulips, and calla lilies were all displayed along with other non-seasonal plants. there weren't a lot of customers coming, given that there were flowers available to be picked up in some public gardens. regardless, there were still a few who would come and get flowers arranged for some special occasions. but then again, it was just morning. it was rather too early to judge the possible count of customers later.

“jungmo’s coughing out petals now,” allen, one of the workers in the flower shop. said.

taeyoung looked at him, pausing his actions of tying a yellow ribbon in the bouquet of tulips. with a brow raised, he asked, “hanahaki?”

putting the freshly done arrangement of peonies, allen tapped on the counter which called the attention of the delivery man. he pointed out the card which contained the address and watched the other go out to deliver the item. dragging a stool to sit on, he stretched his arms. “seems to be. he’s coughing out petals of his crush’s favorite flower, crocus. i don’t think it’s a mere crush now though.”

“oh, so the flower that blooms in a body experiencing hanahaki would be the favorite flower of the person they like?” taeyoung asked as he finished the bouquet he was working on. he retrieved stems of roses and cut them nicely, removing the thorns and excess leaves.

“yes,” allen replied. “you like roses right?”

taeyoung only nodded, a memory alighting in his head. it can’t be—

“that means the person who likes you, but ends up with a one-sided love would end up having roses in their chest,” allen continued, causing taeyoung’s hand to stop from moving. the younger’s eyes fixated on the collection of red roses in his hands.

“it’s my favorite,” taeyoung mused.

there was a smile that sat on your lips, a peck of gloom decorating its corners. “i know.”

the flower growing in your chest was his favorite flower, roses?

it was him all this time?

right at that moment, there was one thing taeyoung would want to address himself as. an idiot. realizations came crashing to him like a powerful wave that held no mercy. it was ice cold, his body freezing at each thought that his mind welcomed.

the petals he found on your desk weren't there because of a silly game of he loves me, he loves me not. it was the petals you coughed out and forgot to clean.

“are you okay?” allen asked, momentarily snapping taeyoung out of his daze.

the twisting on taeyoung stomach was unbearable. his heart racing not with flutters, but rather with anxious thoughts. he was the cause of your pain?

with an almost inaudible voice, taeyoung let out of his horror. “y/n likes me.”

continuous taps on the keyboard, words appearing on the screen only for the flow to stop with punctuation. in sync, the doorbell rang. you no longer wondered who it was. it had always been him.

you stood up and shuffled towards the door, opening it before welcoming the male with a warm curve in your face. “it’s lunch already?”

woobin nodded, handing you a bag of still hot dishes he cooked probably not more than an hour ago. he followed you as you made your way to the dining area. when the male said he’d be taking care of you starting that specific breakfast, he stuck to his words, visiting you almost every day. the only exception was when he had to meet a producer. his own album was in the process of being finalized.

you placed the bag down and woobin walked towards your cupboard. where to find the things was already memorized. it was as if he was living in the very unit.

“so how’s your morning?” he asked as he placed two plates on the table.

“woke up a bit late, but i was able to finish the last set of poetry i’ve been meaning to write!” the spark in your eyes was a lot brighter than the past days. it was easily contagious as woobin found himself having the same amount of glee. “i’ll print the last parts and let you read, wait.”

woobin shook his head, a smile crossing his brim as he watched you go to your workspace to do what you said. as he finished setting up your lunch, he took a seat and waited for you. just like you, woobin was experiencing fewer symptoms. his voice was no longer that raspy and he was able to post new song covers almost every week regardless of his current busy schedule with other recordings.

“here!” with unwavering enthusiasm, you extended your hand for him to reach the printed papers. you sat on the seat across him, gazing at the food which only made your mouth water. eyes already feeding off the sight of the meat dishes.

“this is quite interesting,” woobin remarked. “is this the last one?”

you nodded at his words when he showed you the last page. “i figured that it could be the best way to end it.”

“it sure does.” woobin served you by putting meat on the top of your rice. “eat up.”

just like the past days, you enjoyed lunch with woobin. a few talks here and there, though most of the time the two of you were silent. not the terrible kind of silence, but a good one. something comforting. and maybe that kind of silence was all you needed.

after the meal, the two of you sat on the couch. the television served as background noise as you run down the things you have to do this afternoon.

“you seem to be happier the past days, did you get yourself another contract?” woobin asked once you were done telling him where to drive you today, the flower shop and to your editor’s place.

“i do?” you caught sight of the lone photograph of roses on your wall. the poetry that accompanied it once was now resting on your table. “i haven’t been coughing recently.” your cheerfulness evident when your eyes wrinkled into crescents as you turned your head towards the direction where woobin was sitting. “maybe he’s starting to like me!”

a soft beam hugged woobin’s visage, contented with the result you were having. for your own flower to stop blooming, that was all he wished for. his mind got him best though, speaking without much thought as he eyed the last poem you wrote once again. “or maybe you’re starting to like him less.”

blinking in confusion, woobin handed you back the printed papers you gave him earlier. it was on the last page. the words were probably a clear indication of your feelings.

zest gone. pen dropped. book closed. lock kept. no word survived.

those words weren’t the most gleeful of words, but it carried freedom. something you’d been wishing you could get out of taeyoung’s labyrinth of roses. something you never knew would finally come to you.

“right?” woobin pulled you out of your own thoughts. “i’ve been coughing less as well and i can guarantee that you’re the only one i like.”

“that means…?”

“you’re slowly moving on, y/n.” woobin gave your head a light pat. his beam growing warmer as he looked at you. “you’re moving on.”

before going to the place where you were to meet your editor, you asked woobin to stop by the flower shop. knowing your editor, she’d probably love some dahlias and irises.

upon entering the shop, the same floral scent you had been accustomed to since you were younger embraced you. however, instead of taeyoung greeting you, the expression in his face— wide eyes after a gasp— was a little perplexing. you raised a brow at him, stepping closer to the counter with woobin following you from behind.

“dah—”

“can we have a moment?” taeyoung’s question interrupted your own set of words.

with a head tilted to the side, you didn’t make an effort to hide your confusion. the seemingly forced smile he had, which was quite too awkward for your liking was not a help at all. you turned to look at woobin, asking if it would be alright for him to wait. “will it be okay?”

“sure.” woobin shrugged, trying to act as nonchalant as he could. something he was successful in doing so. “i’ll buy you a drink while i wait. just send me a message if you’re done.”

“thank you, woobin.” and with those words said, you watched woobin leave the establishment. as soon as he did, your stomach sunk. there was no one else in the flower shop, it seemed like the other staff had already left.

taeyoung gestured to you to sit on an empty stool next to the counter, but you declined. instead, you leaned to it, urging him to speak what he wanted to talk about. he wasn’t the kind to be hesitant with such, but now, it was as if his tongue was tied in hundreds of knots and words can’t just be delivered.

“you’re experiencing hanahaki, right?” a stiff start. not only you, but taeyoung could feel how unnatural it sounded. no cheeky grins, no bright tone. it was flat and dripping with nervousness you weren’t aware taeyoung could be under the state of. “how are you?”

“i’m alright.” you chuckled at his words, letting loose of the already tensed atmosphere. as much as you were nervous for what was to come, you didn’t want it to spread on your formerly cheerful mood. “come on, taeyoung. i’m not going to be mad or anything.”

it partially helped taeyoung who had a small smile on his visage. but his eyes were still unable to meet yours as he locked his gaze on something else, the flowers healthily blooming inside the shop. “you were coughing out… roses, right?”

you hummed as a reply. finally taking the offer to sit. “yes, your favorite.”

“that means that you like me?” taeyoung took the seat next to your stool.

surprisingly, instead of worrying about how your little secret got figured out, you had an opposite feeling. you were relieved. there was no anxiety about him giving you the possibly worst rejection, no concern about how he could possibly shatter a thorned heart.

whatever made him realize such a thing, you were thankful. at least you no longer have to go through excessive explanations.

but there was something you would want to clarify.

“i used to like you a lot,” you said, giving an emphasis to the phrase: used to. a relieved sigh left your lips, satisfied with how everything was happening. it wasn’t as bad as you imagined. “you don’t have to worry now though, i’m gradually moving on.”

“still. you had to suffer from that for years,” he trailed. “i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay taeyoung.” your tight-lipped smile turned into a genuine one. the moment you shifted your gaze to look at taeyoung, you met his eyes. regardless of the pain it brought you, there was in no way you saw yourself blaming taeyoung. you liked him. and that summed it up. “your brightness was a blessing and never did i regret liking you despite the thorns and petals brought by it.”

his slightly soaked eyes were an indication of his former worry, which was slowly being washed away by a good amount of reassurance. “i’m glad.”

“you no longer have to worry about the roses, taeyoung.” stripping down the photographs on your wall for the past days, you replaced them with other photographs. you were sure the delusion was coming to an end. yes, the roses were indeed beautiful. but its thorn wasn’t as astonishing. “it’s withering.”

a stray tear slipped out of your eye and taeyoung didn’t only catch the tear, his arms were wrapped around you in such a warm hug. you were sure no petals would come out of your lips again. the warmth that embraced your body conveyed a closing home.

it’s time to move out and find a home that has no garden.

you no longer despised the spring. the beautiful flowers surrounding the town were no longer catching distasteful looks from you. your lungs free from spring. hand wrapped around woobin’s, the warm rays of the remaining afternoon sunlight filtered through the thick leaves of the trees the two of you would pass by.

another book was published, all containing the last words for your former muse. the title didn’t hide anything, quite an obvious choice: kalopsia.

three times a week you would go out for a book signing while woobin, now your boyfriend, would fetch you every time. he was busy himself with the recording of his album which was to be released by the end of the month. but he never missed going to the venue where your book signing would take place. by now, he probably had about nine signed copies of your book.

“you experienced hanahaki as well, right?” you asked woobin as you passed by a shop that had orchids hanging on the wall. petals of lush yellow, pink and purple decorating it.

woobin chuckled, taken aback by your unexpected question. “i did.”

“how was it?”

“it was weird. i mean coughing out petals so suddenly.” he looked at you, only to see your furrowed brows. something that made him laugh once again. “what do you expect me to answer?”

“that made you realize that you like me?”

“don’t be silly. even before the first petal left my lips, i knew i already liked you.” a contented smile graced his brim. even before that, the way his heart would thump in his chest as if it had run a marathon, the way a dumb smile would hang on his lips once he saw you, the way he would be subconsciously adoring you while you were busy writing, the way he wanted to be beside you, the way he wished to hold you closer— it all happened before a petal of orchid escaped the confines of his mouth.

a faint blush became apparent on your cheeks, giving it such a cute color. “and up until now you still like me…”

“correction, it’s liked. past tense,” woobin said, laughing at how your expression shifted. he took a big step and stopped right in front of you, he turned to face you with his hand still holding yours. “now, i love you.”

the weather wasn’t as hot since the sun was preparing for the twilight, but your cheeks were. it was accompanied by the wild flutters in your stomach. letting go of woobin’s hand (a reflex to hide how flustered his words got you), your ears were enveloped by his sweet, sweet chuckle. you walked past through him in such rushed footsteps, a peal of laughter escaping your lips as you did so. “i can’t believe you had to say that in that way.”

however, you were not even that far from him when woobin caught you. your steps halted when he locked you in a back hug, giving your cheek a light peck which simply made it more flushed. “i love you more than you’d ever know,” he carefully whispered to your ear.

you chuckled at the gestures, his words tickling you. regardless of how playful it seemed to be, you knew woobin was dead serious with it. he detached himself from you, only to hold your hand once more and walk beside you.

glancing at your interlaced fingers, you leaned your head to his shoulder. “i love you too, woobin.”

“i love you so much, y/n,” he replied, gently squeezing your hand.

to be able to look at the flowers without thinking about how they budded in your body, to rest every evening without worrying about the petals disrupting your serene night, to be right next to the person you love and loves you, there was nothing else you could wish for.

the flowers in your chest had long ago stopped blooming. it went the same way with woobin. but little did you know... orchids started blooming on someone else’s body, slowly growing on the chest of the person who once caused you to have roses hugging your lungs.

and just like how you first found those roses beautiful, taeyoung thought those orchids were too.

#cravity imagines #cravitywriters #cravity oneshots #cravity x reader #kpop imagines #seo woobin #kim taeyoung #woobin x reader #taeyoung x reader #cravity

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homesweetsewer · 5 years ago

Text

Saturday Morning (Michelangelo x Reader)

I know...I need to finish the last part of Consolation Prize—I swear, I’m working on it! I also have a MASSIVE Transformers fanfic I’m working on on another site that needs my attention desperately. I’ve been so scatter brained lately that it’s hard for me to concentrate on any one thing. It sucks! So, I’ve drummed up some Mikey angst. I’m sorry!

P.S. Not sure why I always make April the bad guy, lol. Guess she’s just an easy target.

Saturday mornings were the best.

They’d always been Michelangelo’s favorite ever since he’d been very young. It was the one time out of the week their dad and Leo let them sleep in. No morning training. No hurry to get up and get ready. No battle over who got to use the bathroom first. There was no rush and nowhere he had to be. Saturday mornings were slow paced and lazy, full of pancakes and morning cartoon marathons. Of course, that wasn’t Michelangelo’s favorite part of the Saturday morning routine...at least, not anymore. He’d found a much more fulfilling way to spend those early morning hours.

A sleepy smile found its way onto the turtle’s face as he burrowed deeper into the warmth of his blankets. Thoughts of you...his baby, his angel...filled his mind. You always stopped by the lair on Saturday mornings, a bright smile on your beautiful face, arms laden with fresh pastries and hot coffee or cocoa from your favorite local cafe. You’d greet his father and brothers, all of whom were much earlier risers than himself, before making your way to his room.

“Mikeeeey,” you’d practically sing his name as you’d plop down onto the bed, nearly collapsing on top of him. Working your way under his mound of covers, your small, slim fingers would seek out his unprotected sides, knowing just where to dig into the sensitive skin to send him into a fit of giggles. “Time to wake up, Sleeping Beauty! I brought goodies...”

He’d capture your arms, pulling you further down into his cozy, little nest and hold you close. “Just five more minutes, sweetness!”

Five minutes would turn into ten. Ten minutes would turn into fifteen. Fifteen would turn into twenty as the two of you cuddled and laughed. Your fingers would trace nonsensical patterns on his plastron while his own busied themselves playing with your hair. He’d nuzzle into your neck, breathing in your scent, and steal a kiss or two—still amazed that he was allowed to do so, and dreaming of doing so much more—as the two of you made plans for the rest of the day...and, oh, Mikey had plans. Yes, he wanted to cook breakfast with you this morning, play video games, teach you to skateboard, snuggle on the couch and watch a movie or two, but he was also thinking about next week. Next month. Next year!

Michelangelo may have been the jokester, the free spirit, but he was 100% serious where you were concerned. Honestly, he still couldn’t believe you’d agreed to be his girl. He was a turtle, a mutant. He lived in the sewer and you...You were the most beautiful and amazing creature on the face of the Earth in his eyes and he was certain you could have had any man you wanted, but you’d chosen him. Him!

He hadn’t said the words yet, not out loud, but he loved you so much that it hurt in the most wonderful way. Oh, but he wanted to tell you. He had for a while now...even before you’d made the transition from friends to something more just a short month ago. He wanted to hold you close and smother you with kisses and pour his little turtle heart out to you and tell you how wonderful and perfect he thought you were, but was afraid it was too soon and the last thing he wanted to do was scare you away. He couldn’t imagine loving anyone the way he loved you. He may not have been the most fearless, the strongest, or the smartest of his brothers, but he was definitely the most in love.

As if his thoughts had summoned you, he heard his bedroom door ease open and close just as quietly, followed by the padding of feet drawing closer to where he lay. He didn’t open his eyes or roll over, but his smile grew and his skin tingled in anticipation of getting to hold you again. He heard the soft rustling of fabric and felt the bed dip down as a slight weight settled in behind him and curled against his shell. A very human, very feminine arm circled around his shoulders and he felt a pair of soft lips press against the back of his neck.

A content churr rumbled up from his chest as he relaxed into the affectionate gesture. “I was just thinking about you, babydoll.”

A giggle was his response followed by a seductively asked, “Oh, really?”

Michelangelo’s eyes snapped open and, shrugging off the intimate embrace, he quickly rolled over to face his bedmate. Surprise registered on his face as he stuttered, “A-April?”

“Mmhmm...” a coy smile played on the woman’s lips as she attempted to wrap her arms around the turtle’s neck and press in close for a proper kiss.

Mikey wasn’t sure he’d ever moved so fast in his life as he scrambled backwards. In doing so, however, he became tangled in the covers, pulling them off the bed with him as he fumbled, and ended up sprawled on his back on the cold concrete floor, rocking slightly side to side on his shell as he tried to right himself. “What-What are you doing?”

“Michelangelo,” April cooed as she rose from the bed. “What do you think I’m doing?”

Mikey managed to push himself up into a sitting position to address his friend, his blue eyes widening for a split second before he hastily slapped a large, three-fingered hand over them. This situation made absolutely no sense in his mind and panic was rapidly setting in. Why him? Why now? Had the world gone mad? “You...you’re naked!”

“Yes, I am,” a breathy laugh left April’s throat as she crawled toward the downed ninja and moved to straddle his lap. She tugged at his arm. “Mikey...you can look. Touch if you want...” She grabbed the hand that wasn’t covering his eyes and pressed her bare breast into it.

“No, no, no...” Michelangelo shook his head rapidly back and forth and tried to jerk his hand back but April clung tightly. “Dudette...you-you need to stop and p-put some clothes on! I don’t...I can’t...”

“It’s okay,” she insisted, pressing herself against his plastron. “I want you to...”

“You don’t understand,” Mikey whined, as close to hyperventilating as he’d ever been. “This isn’t...We can’t....”

“I understand perfectly,” April giggled. “It is and we can...”

“No! I-I have a girlfriend!” Michelangelo managed to blurt the words out and was relieved when April stiffened and pulled slightly away. He quickly removed his hand from her body and peeked cautiously between his fingers to find a look of confusion plastered on her face.

She demanded, “You have a what?”

“A...a girlfriend,” he carefully repeated, slowly lowering his hand as April finally grabbed one of the blankets tangled around them and covered her chest with it.

“A girlfriend?” April repeated the words slowly as if trying to make sense of them. She huffed, “Since when?”

Despite the awkwardness of the situation, Mikey couldn’t help the goofy grin that stretched across his face at the thought of you. Your name left the ninja’s lips in a breathy sigh. “We’ve been together since about a month ago.”

“I...” April struggled to find words. “What? But...” she shook her head. “Then...what’s with all the flirting, Mikey? All the pet names?”

“I didn’t mean it, not like that!” Michelangelo shook his head in denial and raised his hands in defense, “That’s just how I talk. I was just...being friendly!”

“Friendly?” April looked at the turtle in disbelief. “I thought...the way you act, I thought you liked me!”

“I do...as a friend,” Michelangelo quickly insisted. “You’re like...family! Yeah! My sister from another mister!”

“Sister?” April laughed, but there was no humor in it. She shook her head once more, feeling her face redden with both embarrassment and understanding. She should have known. Yes, the youngest turtle was flirty whenever she was around, but he lit up like a damn Christmas tree whenever you walked in the room. With you, he wasn’t so much flirty as he was doting.

Now that he’d mentioned it, it was plain as day how deep the turtle’s feelings for you ran. If it wasn’t the dreamy look in his blue eyes every time someone so much as mentioned your name, the way he constantly talked about how wonderful you were to anyone who would listen should have been enough to clue in even the most dense of observers. She sniffled, “Oh, my God...I’m an idiot. I’m—I’m sorry, Mikey. I don’t know what I thought I was doing...”

Mikey was surprised to see tears welling up in her eyes. “Aww...don’t cry, angel cakes.” He was nothing if not a forgiving guy and he hated to see anyone hurt. This was a misunderstanding—a horrible, awkward, mortifying one—but April was his friend and he figured he was as much to blame for the miscommunication as she was when he thought about it. He’d do better in the future, he promised himself, make it perfectly clear that he was a one woman kind of turtle. He cautiously adjusted the blanket that was tangled around her, carefully covering anything he shouldn’t see, and wrapped the embarrassed woman in a hug as he tried to lighten the mood and dispel the horrible awkwardness between them. “You’re not an idiot. I should be sorry. It’s hard to resist the charms of Magic Mike.”

April did laugh, then. “It really is.” She pulled away from the turtle, sniffled, and wiped her eyes. “I really am sorry. I didn’t know. I-I’m happy for you, truly. You two make a great couple.”

“Thanks, Ape,” the turtle answered sincerely. “I’m a lucky ninja.”

“Well,” the woman sighed, “she’s a lucky girl.” A pause, and then, “think we can forget this ever happened?”

Michelangelo grinned, “Forget what?”

Relief spread over April’s face. “Thanks, Mikey. We’re still ok?”

Mikey nodded in understanding. “Always.”

Some of the tension left her frame. “Guess I should probably get dressed and get out of here, huh? Don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.”

“Yeah,” it was Michelangelo’s turn to feel relief. His voice was soft and reassuring as he agreed “I think that would probably be for the best.”

At that very moment, two things happened simultaneously...almost as if in slow motion. April leaned in for one last apologetic hug while at the same time Michelangelo’s bedroom door swung open. It was a perfect storm.

“Mikeeeey!” You bounded into the youngest turtle’s room as always, a bright smile on your face. “You better not still be...sleeping?” You froze completely at the sight that greeted you. It took a moment for your brain to catch up to what your eyes were telling you. A plethora of emotions bombarded you as you tried to process the scene. You blinked, trying to dispel the image, but it remained unchanged. Yes, Michelangelo was still sitting on the floor in a mess of blankets with his arms wrapped around a very naked April O’Neil.

You weren’t smiling anymore.

“Oh, my God!” April let out a gasp of surprise, her face going pale as she quickly clambered off of Mikey’s lap and bundled herself up in his sheets.

A look of sheer panic settled itself on Michelangelo’s face as he quickly thrashed his way out of the tangled covers and jumped to his feet. “Sweetness! This...this isn’t what it looks like! I swear!”

Your mouth opened and closed as you struggled to find your voice, but a large, bitter lump had already formed in your throat making speech impossible. Your eyes burned as they filled with tears that slowly spilled over your cheeks. Never in a million years would you have ever expected something like this, not from Mikey. He wasn’t that kind of guy. At least, you hadn’t thought he was. Had you been wrong? Your gaze flitted between the pair, eventually setting on April who looked slightly nauseous and shaky as she quickly pulled her clothes on. She wouldn’t even look at you. It was like a bad dream that you couldn’t wake up from.

“Babe.”

Your eyes snapped back to your boyfriend. Well, the guy/turtle you’d thought was your boyfriend. The man you loved, and who you’d been pretty sure had loved you, too. You hadn’t spoken the words to each other, but there’d been so many times you’d wanted to tell him. He wasn’t human. He wasn’t the classically good looking jock that so many other girls your age seemed to swoon over, but you’d thought him handsome in a peculiar way the very first time you’d met. It had been his personality that had sold you on him, however, and the two of you had become close friends. It wasn’t until a particularly competitive game of Mario Kart had ended in a tentative kiss that you realized he may have felt the same way about you. He’d made it so easy to love him.

Too easy, perhaps, now that you were faced with the current situation.

“Please, baby, just l-let me explain...” Mikey sounded like he may burst into tears as he took a couple slow steps towards you, as if afraid any sudden movement would send you fleeing. His arms extended as he reached for you. “I-I know this looks b-bad...”

You shook your head, twisting away as he tried to pull you close. Bewilderment blossomed into anger as you snapped, “don’t touch me!”

The turtle flinched as though you’d slapped him. “It’s not what it looks like,” he repeated once more in desperation and looked toward April for help, his eyes pleading for her to back him up, to confirm that this was just a horrible mix-up and miscommunication.

April, now fully clothed, pressed herself against the wall and stared wide eyed at the pair of you. Her eyes brimming with tears...as if she had a reason to cry. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I’m sorry. I-I didn’t know.”

With no further preamble, the pretty reporter bolted for the door, scooting by you quickly, not even looking at you as she made her escape. Your fists clinched at your sides as you struggled to resist the impulse to grab her by the hair, drag her back into the room, and beat her skinny ass. You restrained yourself...barely.

The sound of a ragged breath drew your attention back to the room’s other occupant. Michelangelo looked utterly betrayed as he stared at the space April had vacated. His bottom lip quivered and tears pooled in his eyes as he turned his attention back to you. Under normal circumstances, the look of sheer anguish and despair twisting his boyish features would have pulled at your heartstrings now, however, it only made you sick to your stomach.

“Why?” You managed to croak, “why, Mikey?”

“No, no, no,” he denied, the tears finally too much for his eyes to contain and making wet streaks down his green skin. “It’s not like that!”

“She was naked,” you hissed. “You were holding a naked woman!”

“I know,” Mikey sniffled.

“Not just any woman, April fucking O’Neil! What am I supposed to think,” you demanded.

“She came to me,” the ninja babbled, trying hard to get it all out, to make you understand. “I was in bed thinking about you and the next thing I know April’s in here and she’s naked and we’re on the floor and she’s sitting on my lap telling me to touch her.” The turtle shook his head, “but I didn’t want to. I told her to get dressed and leave! I told her I had a girlfriend! I told her about you! She apologized but looked so sad and embarrassed and then she started to cry and I felt so bad and—and, yeah, I hugged her, but that was it! She gonna leave right before you walked in, but then you were here and, and...” he trailed off into a stream of unintelligible gibberish punctuated by sobs.

You scoffed, finding his explanation utterly unbelievable.

“Nothing happened,” he insisted between ragged breaths. “I promise! I would never, never do that to you! I-I don’t even think of April like that! You have to believe me! You’re—you’re my one and only!”

You sniffed, wiping your nose on your sleeve. “You expect me to believe that she just came in here, got naked, and tried to molest you?”

“Yes!” The turtle nodded, hoping you’d understood and that the two of you could put the whole, horrible incident behind yourselves and salvage whatever was left of the morning. “I swear, sweetness, it’s the truth. I wouldn’t lie to you!”

“Do you think I’m stupid, Mikey?”

Michelangelo’s eyes went wide and he shook his head vehemently back and forth. “N-no!”

“I should have known better.” Tears were flowing freely now, down both your faces. You shook your head, a grimace pulling down the corners of your mouth. “I should have seen this coming.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” he insisted, his blue eyes pleading for your belief. “Im not a cheater! I’m not that kind of turtle!”

“That’s what I used to think,” you murmured brokenly. “I trusted you, Michelangelo. I loved you!”

The ninja’s breath caught in his throat and a spark of amazement lit inside his eyes, warring with the panic and hysteria already there. “You...you l-love me?” He breathed the words as if he couldn’t quite believe them.

“I thought,” you mused sadly, “I thought maybe you loved me, too.” A look of pain settled itself on your face. “I guess it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

“N-no!” The turtle reached for you again, stopping when you scooted away once more. “It-it matters! I-I love you, too! More than anything! More than pizza! I’ve wanted to tell you for the longest! Please!”

“Save it, Mikey,” You shuffled backwards toward the door. Your fingers gripped the knob, turning your knuckles white as you wrenched it open. “I really thought we had something special. I hope she was worth it.”

“Wait!” Mikey wailed out your name as you turned on your heel to leave. He could feel his heart shattering in his chest as he watched you flee the lair. All his hopes, all his dreams went with you. He fell to his knees, his large hands covering his face as he wept into them. “Come back,” he sobbed. “I love you!”

Saturday mornings were the worst.

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt mikey #tmnt april #tmnt april o'neil #michelangelo x reader #mikey x reader #angst #misunderstanding #cheating?#heartbreak

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bastionkeeper · 6 years ago

Text

I feel bad for my lack of updates lately so....

Here! I wrote this in @nonbinarydisaster ‘s dms because we were talking about an rk1k wedding, I neatened it up as much as my exhausted brain let me but it’s still very much a rough fic, regardless I offer it up to you readers for staying loyal during my hiatus <3 enjoy! Full story under read more! Warning for vague descriptions of coatroom sex ;)

EDIT: forgot to mention but Nathan is what we call Nines and Serenade is an old oc from a different fic

“So, you freaking out yet?”

Connor turned to Hank, stopping with his constant struggle against the bow-tie that won't sit straight and the mirror that shows off every flaw of his suit. His partner was leaning in the doorway with a glass in hand, eyeing him up with a smile. Connor decided to deflect.

"Drinking already?" he asked, turning back to the mirror and fussing over his bow-tie again. "I'm not even married yet and you're already celebrating."

"It's a coke," Hank said, rolling his eyes. "But I'll be hitting that open bar as soon as you say 'I do' make no mistake about that."

Connor smirked, trying to fall back into the classic Hank and Connor banter instead of thinking about saying 'I do.'

"You're definitely freaking out, stop that," Hank sighed, setting his glass aside and slapping Connor's hands away from his tie. He straightened it effortlessly, and moved on to the rest of Connor's suit running his hands over it to smooth it out. "You look fine, Connor."

"I'll be having words with the tailor," Connor huffed.

"And those words will be 'thank you for dealing with my constant pestering,'" Hank said. "You're just nervous, the suit is fine. Lay off it before you work it to shreds."

Connor sighed and took a seat in a nearby chair. He could hear North and the others setting up downstairs, the balcony hid none of the sound even if the curtains hid the reception hall from sight. Connor is tempted to pull back the curtains and watch everyone work, but North gave him strict orders to stop bossing them around and go relax before the ceremony. He was supposed to be having a drink and taking some deep breaths, instead he was staring at his reflection and trying not to bolt.

"What if he deserves better than me...?" Connor said, wringing his hands and looking up at Hank with hunched shoulders and an uncertain gaze.

"S'not about deserve," Hank said, taking a sip of his drink. "He's stuck with you now, and he's happier for it. If you're both happy then stop worrying about deserve and just get on with it."

"As always, your advice brings me relief and confusion," Connor replied dryly, causing Hank to laugh.

"Kid, you've got a good thing here," he said. "Don't ruin it with fear. Just remember, you two have known each other years now. This day isn't a big deal, it's not even 'making it official' it's just a party and some words..."

"And an open bar," Connor remarked, earning another laugh.

"You two are together already, and this day is nothing more than a celebration of the fact," Hank said. "Just ignore all of us and tell him how you feel, alright?"

Connor takes a deep breath, feeling his overworked systems cool as he nods. "Thanks, Hank."

"Hey, it's what a dad's supposed to do when his kid gets married."

Connor heard Hank get choked up at that, and looked at him curiously. He saw Hank quickly wipe at his eyes and the sight made Connor beam.

"Are you...?"

"No, fuck you," Hank sniffed. "I'm gonna go get another fucking soda. I'll see you down there."

Connor let him go express his feelings in private, feeling bolstered by the teary eyed paternal joy.

When North comes to get him, bring him to his place, his anxiety is greatly lessened. It's still there of course, it stays with him the whole while Hank leads him up the aisle to wait for Markus's approach. It only vanishes when he sees him.

Markus looked good in clothes he fished out of a junkyard, so of course he looks breathtaking in an eight hundred dollar tux. Connor forgot himself for a moment and rushed down to meet him halfway, and only realized what he was doing when the crowd rumbled with laughter at his hurried kiss to Markus's temple. He blushed, but Markus laughed and kissed his hand, and then it was just the two of them again.

Markus held Connor's hands and promised him his love, his attention, and to stop splattering him with paint when he's in his good clothes. Connor promised Markus his love, his protection, and to lay off the schedules. A little bit. A slight reduction of about 13%

. Markus laughed a lot, his mismatched eyes crinkling in mirth and everytime he laughed Connor lost himself a little to this man he was going to be with forever. When they're told to kiss, Connor doesn't need to be asked twice. He dips Markus, who is clearly surprised by the passion, but gets his revenge by dipping Connor right back. Connor hears Hank and North wolf-whistle and sees Simon crying and clapping when they pull apart.

"I love you... so much," Markus breathed into his ear, something just for them to share.

There's a lot of applause, and eventually the wedding party all trails out. Nathan took his best man duties very seriously. It didn't matter that Connor never assigned one best man, just asked Nathan and Hank to be there for him (Markus claimed North or else she'd be on his side too), in Nathan's mind it was his job to part the crowd of well-wishers and get Connor and Markus to their table. He might have stood there like a bodyguard all night if Simon hadn't dragged him off to their table.

"Would you like something to drink, Mr. Manfred?" Markus teased. Connor tilted his head.

"I think I would, Mr. Anderson."

They had never decided on abbreviating or just keeping things as they were. Considering last names were a novelty for androids anyway, they had the luxury of time to decide.

Markus, as it turns out, didn’t even need to go get drinks because North kept the champagne and thirium coming with dutiful attention to their empty glasses. Connor also spotted her and Hank making mixed drinks of their own invention whenever they thought Connor was not looking, dumping mini bottles into already potent glasses. Connor let them have their fun, maybe it was the champagne making him dizzy or maybe it was Markus's hand on his leg but he couldn't really seem to care about anything but the man at his side right now.

They dance, and it's all careful programmed steps and showing off for the crowd. When they're alone they let their bodies move as they will, but both Markus and Connor like the way people ooh and aah at how they can move with precision and grace so they put on a little show.

The dance floor quickly fills up, Hank takes North for a spin and Connor is surprised to see Nathan is convinced to dance at least three times by Simon, Markus, and Serenade. He shoots his brother a smile, and is pleased to see him scowl back with a faint blush as each dance partner makes him loosen up and have fun for once.

Hank managed to give a speech with minimal tears, though he did wave his glass around a lot. North cut in on his time, stealing the microphone and calling Connor "her main bitch" and Markus "the best ex turned friend a bot could ask for." Connor pretended to boo them away, pleased at the middle fingers they flashed him and embarrassing stories they told. Nathan gives a much more formal speech, but by the end of it he's crying a little and Connor has to come hug him until he's less overwhelmed. Nathan holds him tight and swears a Hankish amount of times.

Eventually, Markus's hand on his leg grew higher and higher, and both androids found themselves flush with alcohol and newlywed passion as they snuck off to be alone.

"And where do you think you two are going?" North asked, making them both jump with surprise in the nearly empty hallway.

"...breath of fresh air?" Markus says just as Connor says "looking for Hank."

"Hank's sobering up in the bathroom," North said, jerking her head in the direction of the coat closet.

"So, you better take that instead. I'll play lookout for exactly fifteen minutes and then I'm going back to drinking the old man under the table."

Connor doesn't care whose coats they're sending scattering to the floor when he pushes Markus up onto a counter. He pulls his husband's tie free with his teeth and... oh, his husband. He likes the sound of that.

They make love, Markus with a hand over Connor's mouth to keep him quiet, both of them grinning like idiots when they aren't pressing kisses to exposed skin or gasping for breath.

Connor remembers saying "mine now," a few times, much to Markus's delight. He's embarrassed post orgasm, but Markus just laughs and peppers his face in kisses.

"And you have the papers to prove it," he ribbed playfully while Connor covered his face.

"It's the champagne talking," he groaned.

"I sure hope it's not, Mr. Manfred," Markus said, kissing Connor deep.

"We've used up our fifteen minutes, Mr. Anderson," Connor reminded him as Markus pulled Connor's lip with his teeth.

They leave the coatroom wearing each others ties and tucking their shirts back in. Their first argument as a married couple is spent giggling as Connor demands Markus fix his sex mussed hair, as he is too wasted to do so properly. Markus refuses, says he looks cute and that he wants people to see. Connor says that's a terrible idea, but flushes proudly regardless.

"Connor!" Hank says when they come back to the party, throwing arms around both grooms. "Markus! I'm so fucking happy for you two."

"I'm pretty happy myself, sir," Markus laughs, before North drags Hank off again. Connor and Markus take their seats and watch as Nathan is mobbed by children who all want a turn riding on his shoulders.

"You think he's next?" Connor asked, gesturing to Nathan.

"He's good with kids, not long before someone snatches him up," Markus said with a chuckle. "I know a dozen or so androids begging for the chance."

"Well they'll have to get my approval first," Connor huffed. Markus kisses him, and Connor kisses him back and it's been minutes before they stop kissing and laughing so caught up in the moment.

"Eat your cake, you were so excited about it," Markus teased.

"No," Connor growled, nipping at Markus's ear.

"Eat your damn cake!" Markus laughed again, dabbing his finger in some icing and smearing it on Connor's lips. Connor licked it off, and pretended to scowl at Markus, all the while just taking him in. He was so beautiful, Connor just wanted to stare at him forever.

Connor’s not entirely sure how they got home when he wakes up the next morning. He’s dimly aware of him and Markus arguing over who got to carry who over the threshold, and the ensuing wrestling turned affection that came from it. Other than that the night has blurred into North’s loyal drink refilling and Markus’s beautiful eyes.

Connor turned in bed to look at the android in question, finding him slumbering peacefully in rest mode. He took note of the ring on the hand splayed across the pillow, pride and joy both rising in his chest as he eyed it over.

“You’re staring pretty hard,” Markus mumbled, not so asleep after all. Connor laughed sheepishly, snuggling closer to press a kiss to Markus’s nose.

“How do you know what I’m doing with your eyes closed like that?” he said.

“I’m your husband, I know everything,” Markus said back, yawning to cool biocomponents warmed from inaction under a warm blanket.

“That so, Mr. Anderson?”

“It is, Mr. Manfred.”

#dbh #rk1k #conkus #rk1000 #blatantbalderdash

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faejilly · 7 years ago

Text

i am for you

this is entirely @janoda‘s fault. her and her tag essays. ANYWAYS. I have a weakness for epistolary fic, and also Alec & Magnus being adorkable, so here. Have some self-indulgent fluff. Part 1/? (AO3) (series tag)

One misdirected email leads to bonding over bookstores & bad fiction, sleep-deprivation, the introduction of the Lightwood-Garroway Family Hedge, and Magnus and Alec falling in love.

From: [email protected] [M. Bane] To: [email protected] [R. Fell] subj: forgive me

Hello, you old stick in the mud.

Yes that is a perfectly acceptable way to open a letter, do shush.

And yes, email counts as a letter, just because you study ancient dead people more than living ones does not mean you should not admit to the existence of modern innovation.

Also yes, obviously, I have bad news, you know me so well, however have we borne each other's company for so long?

Especially when you have such an appalling lack of sense as to allow me to borrow your copy of Marlowe's treatise on the White Book.

Oops?

It will not be wending its way back to you along with the references on the Grey and the Red. I know, it's not the same when it's not a whole set, I will make it up to you.

Somehow.

I promise.

And you know I keep my word.

From: [email protected] [Alec L.] To: [email protected] [M. Bane] subj: this is awkward

I want to apologize. I'm not whoever it was you were trying to write to, but there are way too many people I know who would start an email with a "forgive me" so I was about half-way through before I realized you weren't actually one of them.

So, uh. Sorry? I mean. Sorry, really, and you should probably double check your friend's email.

But. Not to be too creepy or intrusive, barging in on someone's accidentally public conversation, but I know a bookstore on Isaacs Dr, behind the campus liquor store, (the one with the red roof, not the one with the blue roof), that had a copy of the book you mentioned. If you wanted to find a replacement. It's called Fray & Garroway, and if you tell them it's for Alec they'll give you a 10% discount.

Assuming you're even in Alicante, which may be a bit of a jump, but you did send your note via a UIA email address.

From: [email protected] [M. Bane] To: [email protected] [Alec L] subj: Charming, not awkward

I feel, my darling Alec, (if I may?), that it must have been Providence that sent my email astray. Do you believe in fate? I think I do, as of today.

There cannot be many people in Alicante who have even heard of Marlowe's delightfully obscure infatuation with the occult, much less know where to find a copy of a reprint of one of his books. Or be familiar enough to know a discount on that price-tag is not a trivial thing.

Not that I wouldn't have paid full price to redeem myself in my long-suffering (as he says) compatriot's eyes, but it is rather delightful to know that I did not have to, purely thanks to the kindness of a stranger.

Thank you.

You didn't have to reply at all, much less go out of your way to offer assistance. It's unusual to bump into such a giving soul these days. You have quite restored my faith in humanity.

-- M

From: [email protected] [Alec L.] To: [email protected] [M. Bane] subj: you do have a way with words, don't you

M, is it? Are we embarking on a mystery correspondence? I feel I may have fallen into a bad spy movie, or perhaps a pulp detective novel. (I am certainly no 007 to have fallen into a good spy movie, after all.)

Do you have contacts scattered across Idris running secret errands for you? Clandestine meetings and secret back-alley exchanges?

(Please don't tell me if you don't, imagining a secret society dealing in strange matters of the occult is the most interesting thing to have happened to me all week, and the only interesting thing in at least a month that wasn't bordering on a disaster, and is quite probably the only thing that's going to keep me awake for the next two hours of my shift.)

You're welcome, but you don't have to thank me. I just answered an email. Definitely not worth the weight of the entire human race settling in-between us.

From: [email protected] [M. Bane] To: [email protected] [Alec L] subj: but your words were so much more interesting than mine

There are a myriad number of people whose job it is to reply to my emails and yet they never manage it. You are exceptional, and I refuse to let you avoid my gratitude. I am thanking you, and you are just going to have to accept that that is the state of things.

Also I may have laughed out loud and scared my best friend when I read your email, so now you have to keep responding so I can prove you're a real person and we're having a real conversation and she doesn't think I'm crazy.

Well. Crazier than usual.

You are a real person aren't you? Who likes spy movies and old pulp paperbacks? (Can you recommend some of those detective stories? I really loved your bookstore, it was very welcoming. Sunlit and dusty and well-organized shelves but piles in the corners just waiting to be explored and the most gorgeous tiny pieces of artwork hiding in all the small bits of wall where shelves wouldn't fit. Quite my new favorite place, I think I shall be back, especially if I have a shopping list as an excuse?)

Don't answer that real person question, I don't want to know if it's a no, anymore than you want to know that there are no covert societies, encoded messages, or secret passages anywhere in my life.

Though wait, of course you must be real, that lovely young redhead at the bookstore was positively delighted at the idea that Alec sent me, her whole face lit up with a smile.

Are you sure you're not already living the life of a secret agent? I feel I may have unwittingly been involved in some of your clandestine courier work already.

Though I suppose secret agents do not generally have shift work.

From: [email protected] [Alec L.] To: [email protected] [M. Bane] subj: not nearly as interesting as you are attach: ruleswip.docx attach: pulpfiction.docx

Oh hell, Clary was working? Were there charcoal stains on her fingers and a sketchbook on the counter? Was it an evil smile?

It was, wasn't it. I'm doomed, I'm going to have to avoid family dinner for at least a month.

I could distract her with your compliments, perhaps? Most of the artwork is hers. Some of it was her mother's. Either way she actually almost looks shy whenever someone says something nice about it.

Or I could ask her all about you.

I feel like that would be uncalled for, but I'm not sure why. Are we playing a game? Are there rules? Would that be cheating?

Unless you asked her about me, in which case it would be entirely fair, and also that was definitely an evil smile and oh my gosh I'm rambling in an email. I'm typing myself rambling, clearly the sleep-deprivation has reached epic proportions, I am so sorry.

And yet I'm going to send this as is, because I think perhaps that might be one of the rules.

Maybe I should make a list? Would that be weird? This entire email is weird, have I apologized already?

See attached: two lists. Feel free to delete them. Or edit and send them back. I feel I have no idea what I'm doing anymore, I may need some direction.

That's wow. I'm kind of pushy tonight, sorry.

This is what happens when you work second shift at the student support center. Which is usually about as difficult as did you try turning your laptop off and on again and let me unjam the printer with the occasional yes I do know how to format a bibliography, that's why I'm here. I am definitely as far from a secret agent man as it is humanly possible to be, and my brain has mostly leaked out my ears from boredom by the time I'm done.

(That was an attractive description, wasn't it. I'm sorry.)

But second shift was quiet enough when I was an undergrad I could manage to do extra studying, and now they're stuck with me, I guess. Or I'm stuck with them? I'm not entirely sure anymore. At least this is the last year.

But now I'm wondering, if you're not part of some secret coven of the occult, why The Book of the White?

Which is assuredly none of my business, feel free to ignore me.

If you've made it this far and still respond, I think I might start believing in miracles.

From: [email protected] [M. Bane] To: [email protected] [Alec L] subj: still with the incredibly charming attach: ruleswip2.docx attach: pulpscripts.docx

I don't believe anyone has ever compared me to a miracle before, I am quite over-wrought.

That sentence came out even more melodramatically than I intended, but that does not mean it isn't sincere. We haven't met, but I find I am quite pleased to think I have earned your good opinion, and your curiosity.

I have indeed taken a look at your rules, and marked it up with my virtual purple pen. (Not red, because it did not need correction so much as expansion. You have a very economical way with words once you switch to informational.) Also I counter your collection of ridiculously titled fiction (all of which I am looking forward to devouring) with some ridiculously styled plays. We did start this with Marlowe, after all.

I feel like it will be a great disappointment to tell you that I am doing regular boring class-related research; I do not think that crosses the bonds of this strange pseudo-anonymity we have, as you recognized the UIA email address, and thus know what an 05 extension means. (Though I still have no idea how my first email got routed to you. I am distressingly good at clicking the wrong thing, but that is a bit dramatic even for me. The servers must have had an aneurysm or something, the original recipient's an 08, on top of the entirely different set of initials.)

And no, I did not ask the redhead anything about you, I was oddly terrified that somehow she'd learn my entire life-story in the process. There was a very steely glint in her eyes when she rung me up.

But family dinner! I am entirely intrigued. Are you also a redhead, my mysterious benefactor? Cousin, brother, uncle?

I typed boyfriend in that list and erased it and typed it about three more times and then I looked up at our rules and realized you're right. I'm not sure if we've reached a coherent set of directions yet, but I don't wish to cheat either. I typed it, it stays.

From: [email protected] [Alec L.] To: [email protected] [M. Bane] subj: I may start blushing at any moment attach: ruleswip3.docx attach: bmovietime.docx

Oh fuck no, definitely not her boyfriend, I am very gay and also she's kind of my sister?

And wow, that's a way to come out to one's secret pen pal. I really have to stop responding to your emails at 2 in the morning, I am always vaguely horrified when I remember what I said the next day, and this is clearly not going to be the exception.

Though, since you keep responding anyways, clearly I should only respond at 2 in the morning? I may have to consider that one.

And no again, I am not a redhead, and the family dinner is a little complicated, (see the kind-of above) but I suppose I would be her step-brother once removed? That sounds entirely implausible doesn't it, it's quite obvious I just made that up.

Her step-dad married my mom.

That was much less complicated than I thought it was going to be, hmm. Clearly I have been over-thinking the family history every other time someone asked. Perhaps it's a lifetime of being over-sensitive. One of my brothers is adopted and we got a lot of oh dear you look nothing alike comments when we were little.

But now I realize how very one-sided our conversation has become, you know my name and that I have a family hedge rather than a tree, that you can find some of us at a bookstore, and that I have a rainbow flag sitting in the cup of pens and highlighters on my desk.

Also that I am much more familiar with b-movies than b-plays, so I feel I must switch media in our disaster lists of duelling recommendations yet again. I did manage to find that set by Bernhardt to read, however, and they were joyfully terrible, I hope someday I can see them on stage.

My sister is staring at me in shock from across town, I always rolled my eyes when she was in her musical theatre stage in middle school. (Different sister, not the redhead.)

Then again I rolled my eyes at everything at that point, it's difficult being nice when you're so far in the closet you can't even see the door. And look at me, over-sharing again. I don't.

This isn't something I do? But since that email you sent back thanking me, I have felt like I've known you forever, and can tell you anything. Is it because I don't have a face to put to the words, so I'm not worrying about what I look like to you? Is it just that such sincere and honest gratitude isn't something I've really seen before? Maybe you don't think people can just help just because, but I'm not sure I've ever seen someone just say thank you without a single caveat. You answered me with such grace, it made my heart ache.

I don't know. And here I am getting all philosophical, the joys of 2am confessions. I can't say I'm sorry though, because that wouldn't be true.

But I know next to nothing about you. And you did just compliment my curiosity, it's in the email chain, I could copy-paste it and prove my point, if I had to. (Never leave a paper trail if you don't want it to be used against you.)

Though I can make an educated guess, at the very least, that your long-suffering compatriot is Professor Fell? I don't know why I didn't think of it earlier, I knew he had a bunch of Marlowe in his collection. And his old email got routed to mine over the summer when I did a work-study with him and he didn't want to deal with any more of Dean Aldertree's questions.

Everyone else switched to his new extension when he got tenure. Except you. Providence does seem to be the answer here. I'm glad.

From: [email protected] [M. Bane] To: [email protected] [Alec L] subj: the very thought makes me breathless attach: ruleswip4.docx attach: ChairmanMeowFavorites.docx

I am honored you trusted me, Alec. Is that short for Alexander, perhaps? Would you mind if I called you that? It seems to fit the poetic nature of this correspondence.

Ragnor and I have been friends for a very long time, even before we both ended up on opposite ends of campus. It is terribly tempting to go ask him for a description of his interns last summer, except for the fact that I'd be lucky if he remembered the color of your hair. He could probably recognize your writing style within three words, but asking someone else is not how this goes, is it?

You are giving me clandestine operation vibes again, darling. Paper trails. Who says things like that? Spies. In delightfully bad movies.

Oh, oh! Do you have a tuxedo with exploding cufflinks? I have always wanted to see such a thing.

And yes, I am avoiding your questions, and no, I am not entirely sure why.

Or I am, and it's vaguely embarrassing. I think I am afraid that as soon as you know my real name this will stop being some unexpected fairy tale I have landed in, and something will go wrong, and I'll never get another email from you, and that thought is more upsetting than it has any right to be. I trust you too, dramatically, inexplicably, and completely.

I have never wanted to delete anything as much as I want to delete that paragraph. But you sent me all your sincere 2am ramblings, so I must do the same.

You make me brave, my mysterious Alexander.

Our rules list is not so much rules as elaborate flirtation at this point, wouldn't you say? And we've made our way through books and plays and movies, so now have a list of the music I never admit to people I listen to when I'm home alone and dancing for the cat.

My name is Magnus, and I have no real family to speak of, so I am not at all sure what one means by a hedge but I must admit that I want to find out.

And also that I especially wish to see a tuxedo on you, which I am sure is entirely too forward of me and I am quite sure I have just scared you away and I have never been so nervous about clicking that damn send icon in my life.

From: [email protected] [Alec L.] To: [email protected] [M. Bane] subj: forget breathless, I think I've forgotten how to breathe entirely attach: music.docx

I don't think I have successfully flirted with anyone before in my entire life. I feel suspiciously like I might be having an attack of the vapors like the characters from an old romance novel.

Don't tell my sister I read old romance novels. Or that there are showtunes on my music list. She will never let me hear the end of it. And look at me, assuming you want to meet my sister. Did I mention breathing is not really a thing at the moment?

Your cat's name is Chairman Meow? That is the second-best thing I've heard in my life.

First is that this unexpected correspondence means as much to you as it does to me. Or maybe first is the idea of you calling me Alexander. No one does, never have, though I've had to repeatedly correct a few teachers over the years to keep it that way, but I like the idea of it coming from you. I like that very much.

To answer your sort-of question before I get to my actual question, because I am nervous enough I have started this email about five times already, law students talk about paper trails. Especially in their last year when they're trying desperately not to think too much about everything that could go wrong before graduation and how easy it is to fail the Bar.

And here we go. If you were brave I cannot be any less, can I?

It's not a tuxedo, but if you do want to meet the hedge (and me, hopefully more so) Clary's best friend Simon is a musician, and he has a gig this weekend at The Hunter's Moon, if you would like to come and find out...

I don't know, find out if this is a real off the computer screen as it is inside it, somewhere public where it'll be easy enough to make a strategic retreat if necessary.

Or, I think we're past easy retreats, but at least it'll be possible.

I hope we don't have to.

It will be an awful lot of the hedge though, if that's too much? We could try coffee or something first.

I mean, there's my brother and sister and step-sister and Simon and his girlfriend (who also works at the bookstore, we're a tangled disaster) and sometimes my friend Lydia because if I don't drag her out occasionally she's even more of a workaholic than I am. And it would be even worse if our cousin Aline was here, but she's visiting her girlfriend abroad.

They frequently are too much. Because they will, assuredly, every single one of them, make a comment on me inviting someone. Except maybe Lydia. She'll give you a look though. She's very good at those. So. Just. A warning? Hell, that paragraph looks terrifying and I know all of them already. I don't even know what I'm saying anymore, and if I had to talk instead of type I'm pretty sure I'd be stuttering. I kind of am, even here, aren't I?

I am 102% convinced I have just scared you away, but it's better to warn you than drop you in the middle of that. No one deserves that, and especially not someone I am very much looking forward to meeting.

And I really better hit send now or I'm going to give myself a heart-attack.

From: [email protected] [M. Bane] To: [email protected] [Alec L] subj: breathing is overrated

I have, my entire life, always been the one who is too much for someone else. I think it only fair, at our first acquaintance, that you have the opportunity to be too much as well. I would be delighted to dive into the deep-end of whatever this is and start out by meeting your family. We've done everything else out of order, haven't we?

With the caveat that perhaps we meet outside rather than in the middle of your hedge? (Do they know you call them that? Can I call them that? That sounds delightful.) Just in case, as you said.

And to share note by note, and also so you can answer your delightful hedge's presumably nosy questions about who the dashing man you've invited along even is, I am finishing up the second year of my very first real professor job in the drama department.

Not that that is likely to be a surprise, considering Marlowe and Bernhardt.

Also the eyeliner tends to add to that conclusion for most people who have met me in person. I am so very much looking forward to adding you to that list. (Also I'm terrified. Is it alright to be terrified? Should I admit that? Probably not. Too late now!) What's your favorite color, Alexander? I think I shall need the fortitude of getting my nails done before I arrive.

From: [email protected] [Alec L.] To: [email protected] [M. Bane] subj: but I need to survive until Saturday

There's a bus-stop around the corner, on 5th? We can meet there at 8 on Saturday, and then decide if you're willing to come inside with me or not. (I have not ever called the family a hedge before I attempted to explain them to you, and most definitely not to their faces. I highly encourage you to do so, so that I can watch. Is that mean? That might be a little mean of me, I do apologize. Sort of.)

I don't think anyone's asked me my favorite color since I outgrew my moody teenage years and the only possible answer was black, with perhaps the occasional detour into grey. Would it be terribly out of line of me to admit that meeting you makes me think of the sunrise, and thus I am, at the moment, most especially fond of pink and gold?

From: [email protected] [M. Bane] To: [email protected] [Alec L] subj: if you keep saying things like that, I'm not going to survive either

I never knew heart-attacks were contagious, but oh I think you shared yours with me with that last line. You are painfully romantic, Alexander, I am in awe.

But now I desperately need a change of conversational topic or I will fidget myself into a disaster by Saturday night, that's two whole days.

Why law school, if I may be both bold and boring and ask the obvious and impertinent?

I shall answer your return question, why the theatre? before you even have to ask. Or the short version, anyways. It gave me a world better than the one I was living in when I was young, and then it was just so very pretty that I never wanted to leave. Especially when I realized how many other people need that escape as well, and I could help them find it.

That got a bit more serious than I intended. That does keep happening to me, as soon as I start a message to you. I have never failed so entirely at being a light and sparkling and charming personality before. You're remarkable.

From: [email protected] [Alec L.] To: [email protected] [M. Bane] subj: you have rendered me almost entirely speechless

I am not at all remarkable but the fact that you think so has kept me smiling all day. At least three people asked if I was all right, Lydia asked what his name is, whoever he is, (I have not told her yet, but I did re-invite her to Simon's gig, and I think she's definitely decided to come now), and I didn't even mind having to fix the same printer error four times tonight.

And you are easily the most captivating person I have ever (almost?) met.

Most of the time when people ask why law school it's easy enough to fob them off with a shrug, to mention that my father's a lawyer and my mother's a forensic accountant so I sort of just grew into it. Lightwood family tradition. Or something.

But my father's really the reason I almost didn't go to law school at all, and I don't want to give you the wrong impression. It's also a bit of a long story and may quite well ruin the conversation and if I scared you off now I think I might not recover any time soon.

Which is my way of saying hello there terror, nice you're visiting me, too.

I suppose the short version would be that, after Jace (the adopted brother) and my parents' truly disastrous divorce, I'd seen too many cases of terrible situations where no one had a real advocate. So I'm going into family law.

Hopefully. Assuming I don't have a panic attack and fail the Bar. Which is honestly what every other law student I know thinks is going to happen and clearly we can't all be that disastrous, but it's hard to keep that in mind some days.

Most days.

I can tell you the long story, if you'd like, but I have to admit I rather desperately want to kiss you before I say something too depressing and you no longer want to kiss me back. (And don't think I didn't notice you doing the exact same thing with your long story.)

And the 2am inability to think before I type is back. I did not miss you.

I am going to hit send now before I chicken out or die of mortification.

From: [email protected] [M. Bane] To: [email protected] [Alec L] subj: asdfjklgh (how's that for speechless?)

I may have just lost a half-an-hour staring blankly at my screen imagining Alexander kisses so. Priorites agreed upon! Until tonight it is.

#malec #malec fic #shadowhunters #alec lightwood #magnus bane #epistolary #modern email epistolary even #jilly writes #my sh fic #modern au #college au #i am for you

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velvetfxexo · 7 years ago

Text

The Star & His First Love (pt 7)

Characters: EXO D.O./Kyungsoo + OC

Type: Fluff, a bit of angst

Length: 7.2k

Warning: Slight mention of accidents

Whenever EXO goes on interviews and is asked about love, Doh Kyungsoo always gives the same, short, and vague answer. He only fell in love once, and he got rejected. Nothing more, nothing less.

Years later, he meets his first love, again.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 {Part 7} Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Part 7 - Sorry, Secrets, Soon

It was like opening your eyes and seeing the early morning light. You knew it was coming, like it always does everyday, you just weren’t sure what time you’d wake up.

It was like falling into the ocean and finally meeting the cool, harsh waves after walking around the beach all day. It was within your reach, you just didn’t want to jump in just yet.

It was like finding the light switch after fumbling in the dark for far too long. You knew it was somewhere there, you just had trouble finding it is all.

Gaining back my memories of Kyungsoo felt the same.

They were just there, tickling at the back of my mind. I knew he was always there, and it only needed some time for him to come knocking again. Maybe it was the trauma, or the pain that came with the memories that took me so long to open the door. Maybe I was also just scared to find out about everything. Maybe I was terrified that I hurt him. Even when the memories were all scattered, I always remembered the feeling. I did like him, I liked him very much.

Whenever I saw him on tv, on the internet, or even in print ads and billboards, it felt like my heart was being squeezed. That’s him, the guy I used to like. But he’s famous now, and he didn’t contact me anymore. It was hard not remembering what happened during the past 3 years. Did I reject him? Did he reject me? Did I hurt him? I decided to think for myself that we simply just went on our separate ways.

But with all the memories of Kyungsoo that came flooding back, also came the memories of the accident that happened 3 years ago.

The accident that started all of this.

The accident that made me forget Kyungsoo.

All those missing memories came back slowly during the time I was resting in the hospital. It wasn’t overwhelming like the time when I was at our old school, when I suddenly felt dizzy and had the splitting headache that caused me to faint, be locked in the campus at night, have a sudden phobia attack, and get a bad case of the flu afterwards. I can’t believe I was bed-ridden for a week after that.

Everything about that day was a disaster. I could chalk that moment up as one of the worst and unluckiest days of my life. But apparently, it wasn’t the worst, because nothing could top the accident.

Clara had lied when she said I slipped, fell down a flight of stairs and hit my head hard. I knew something was fishy about that, and every time I mentioned it, she seemed much too eager to change the topic. Now that I think about it, they’ve avoided talking about that topic with me for several times already. I’m not even mad or irritated, because I knew they were just worried.

Clara and Dr. Stiles were apparently watching me over the years because I was still in danger of having an internal bleeding in my brain. Which happened for the first time during the accident.

I also found out that Clara was worried sick the day I fainted at our campus – she thought I had internal bleeding again because I had the symptoms, but thankfully it was a false alarm. She was so happy when I was brought to the hospital that day and they found out I only had the flu and was over-fatigue. She was so relieved that she cried again.

Right now, Clara and I will be meeting up at my breakfast bar, so we could catch up some more and that everything can be clarified. We’ve talked a few times over the phone after I got out of the hospital, but we didn’t get to meet up since I had some conferences to attend to and Clara was booked the past weeks. I’ve managed to put up most of the pieces of my memories together during the time I was recovering, and I only have a few more questions left. Mostly they were about Kyungsoo, but he can’t meet up with us today.

Kyungsoo. I wonder how he is now?

At first I thought I was an absolute mess, but right now I can’t imagine what Kyungsoo’s going through, especially with EXO. Apparently, a rumor was spread about Kyungsoo going out in public and meeting up with someone at a hospital for lots of times this month. I realized that the first one was the day when I fainted during our high school get-together, and the second one was when I fainted at our school. But I found out from Clara that the actual first time was 3 years ago during the accident, and Clara herself got dragged into that mess as well. I’ll have to ask about that later.

But that didn’t stop Kyungsoo from visiting me during the second time, the one where I was hospitalized after getting locked in the school. He came by about three times more because he promised. But he had his manager with him and another one of his members - his name was Junmyeon, I think. He and their manager always stayed at the far end of my hospital room, always politely giving space for Kyungsoo and me to talk. Kyungsoo explained that he might not be able to visit because of his schedule, which of course I understood and told him not to worry about it. I didn’t know at that time that there were already rumors, and that his company was probably stopping him from visiting me. Clara said his hospital rumor died down for a bit, because they saw that Junmyeon and their manager came with him during the next visits. People ended up deducing that maybe Kyungsoo and Junmyeon were visiting an old friend or something.

We thought that was over, but another big news about EXO came to light. Out of the frying pan, and into the fire. The thing now with Kyungsoo and his group is that another one of their members is leaving. I’m not that updated with these kinds of events, but Clara told me that it’s already the third member that’s left in two years. They’ve only gotten famous recently, they have a big fanbase now, so they’re the hottest topic everywhere. Clara said the issues are not good and there’s negativity everywhere. I’m not sure how Kyungsoo is holding up, and I’m really worried. At first I didn’t know if I should contact him or not, because I don’t know what stage we are right now, or if we’re even at that stage. I feel bad that I was the reason he got tangled up in those small rumors. I’m walking on thin ice right now, not sure if I should take another step or back. Either way seems risky.

My anxiety got the best out of me, so I tried calling him, but his number can’t be reached. Clara also can’t reach him, and we’re not sure why. At first I was so paranoid, thinking that he’s trying to avoid me or that he hates me now because I caused the rumors again. Clara kept telling me that Kyungsoo wouldn’t hate me at all because he cares for me more than I know, but it still didn’t soothe my worries at all.

But the next day, a delivery was made to my apartment. It was a simple, white pot with soil and small blue flowers planted in it. There was a pale blue ribbon tied around it and a small note, with only the word soon written on it. My first thought was Kyungsoo. Did he send these? If he still remembers, I said back in high school that I didn’t like receiving bouquets of flowers because I feel bad when they wilt and die. I took a photo of the flower pot and sent it to Clara, who immediately replied.

Clara: So is this from D.O.?

Me: Maybe? I don’t like to get ahead of myself, but I can’t think of anybody else

Clara: HAHAHAHAHA ;-)

Me: What’s so funny

Clara: It’s from him alright HAHAHA

Me: How did you know?

Clara: Don’t you recognize the flowers?

Me: I’m not an expert, Clara

Clara: They’re forget-me-nots! HAHAHA

Me: Oh. Lovely. And?

Clara: He’s literally telling u not to forget about him HAHAHA

So I waited patiently from another response or anything from Kyungsoo, but there was nothing aside from the flower pot. I was desperate for updates so I searched the internet for anything about EXO. I looked like a giddy fangirl from an outsider’s point of view. Aside from the hospital rumors and the news about Tao - the third member who left - I also found out that they were going to Hong Kong for their concert tour. That explains why he’s busy or not contacting me. There wasn’t anything I could do about that, so I just continued reading articles about them and watching their videos. I slowly got immersed, and I found out lots of things about EXO by the end of the month. Clara laughed so hard when I called her and told her about it, saying that I’m now an EXO-L.

Almost two months has passed since I got out of the hospital and since I last saw Kyungsoo. They were still on their concert tour, and I’m not sure when they’ll be back. I haven’t updated myself with what’s happening with EXO because I had business to take care of as well. Today was my only free day this week, so Clara and I decided to meet up and talk.

I pushed open the door to the breakfast bar and was greeted by one of my employees at the bar. I smiled and nodded, about to make my way to the table where Kyungsoo and I sat before, but there was a girl already seated there. I was about to turn and find another table but I recognized the girl as a regular customer the past month. I remember her by her strawberry blonde hair and the face mask she always wears. My employee said she comes by almost everyday, staying in that same place. Sometimes she orders a lot of food, sometimes just a milkshake, sometimes just sitting and staring outside, sometimes staying for hours. They don’t have a problem with her though, she always smiles at employees who pass by and she always orders something.

A lot of times she has a face mask on, sometimes she wears a cap or bucket hat. I saw her face the first time without a mask when I came to pick up the bills. She was slurping a shake at the bar. We made eye contact, I smiled at her and she smiled back. She looked young, about 16 or 17. For some reason she kept staring at me as I was talking to my employee at the bar. It wasn’t a menacing stare though, more like she was curious. I just shrugged it off back then.

I was already walking away when I heard a voice call out behind me. “Hi, excuse me?” I turned around and saw that the girl was standing up from the table and had her hand held out in a wave, looking at me. She smiled, face mask down, then walked towards me. She was wearing a cap this time and her hair was tied in a ponytail. She wore simple clothes, just a white shirt and black jeans. I smiled back, quite curious about what she wants.

“Hi, you’re the owner of this place right?” she said in a small, cute voice.

“Oh, yes,” I was a bit startled. “How did you know?”

“Just a guess.” She smiled brightly. She seemed nice, so I just went along and talked to her.

“Well, thank you for coming by always. We don’t usually get kids your age these days.” Now that I’m looking at her face to face, she seems quite familiar, like I’ve seen her even before she became a regular here.

“Really? Well, they’re missing out on a lot.” she said, and she seemed proud that she often came here.

“That’s really nice of you to say.”

“It’s nothing, the food is really good, and I love how homey the place feels.”

I really don’t know her, but I love her already. She’s cute, and I can’t explain it but there’s something in her eyes that tells me she’s wise, like she’s way beyond her years. I still didn’t get why she stood up and called me though. It wasn’t because she just wanted small talk right? I was about to ask when she beat me to it.

“What’s your name, if you don’t mind?”

“Oh, it’s Dana.”

She smiled after I said my name, like she knew something I didn’t. But maybe it was just me overthinking. I suddenly heard a ringtone, and she took out her phone, looking at the screen. She sighed and raised an eyebrow. I realized I didn’t ask her name yet.

“How about you? What’s your name?”

“Oh,” she seemed startled for a bit but she smiled back, then put her phone back in her pocket. “It’s.. Kim. Just Kim.”

“Kim, will I see you again another time?”

“Yeah, I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other a lot more in the future.” she smiled and adjusted her cap so it could hide her eyes. “Dana, it was nice meeting you, but I really have to run now.” I felt a bit sad that she was already leaving, but I just nodded and bade her goodbye, and she told me she’ll be back again soon before heading out the glass door.

My employee cleared Kim’s table while we were talking, and she had already served me food, so I just sat there at the table waiting for Clara. While I was eating, I remembered that time when Kyungsoo and I also sat here during that one morning. I blushed at the thought, it seemed so long ago, and that was so awkward, thinking back. I was so stupid, he hinted at a lot of things but I didn’t realize it back then.

“I know what you need in this place. A mural.”

He was probably checking if I remembered the mural behind the gym, the wishing well.

“I liked that song too. I helped with the lyrics.”

I wanted to slap myself, he asked me what my favorite song was from their albums, and the one that I chose was My Answer, and it turns out it was what he sang to me when he confessed to me back in high school. That’s why he looked so shocked and flustered after.

“I’d like to order something else. May I order your number?”

“Why the hell are you so red?”

I was broken out of my reverie when I saw Clara standing in front of the table, looking at me, a smirk on her lips.

“Oh, shut up.” I said, annoyed at her smirk. She must’ve caught me blushing, and I could still feel the heat on my cheeks. She just smiled knowingly.

“I know you’re thinking about D.O., don’t worry ‘cause I’m sure he’s thinking about you too.” she said. I whipped my head around and checked if there was anyone within earshot. Then I put my finger to my lips. “Shh! Don’t say his name, someone might hear you!” There were only a few people in here, and most of them were adults, but still.

“What, is he Voldemort now?” Clara laughed. I just stared at her pointedly. She just shrugged, borrowed my fork and took a piece from the waffles on my plate. “Yeah, sorry, I forgot it’d be hard for you when people find out you’re his girlfriend now.”

I felt my face turning hot again and I just lightly hit her arm. She didn’t even flinch. “Clara! We’re not even—we haven’t even talked!” But she just rolled her eyes and smirked again.

“Again… so dense, even after he went here in the morning just to see you, after he found you at our school, after he visited you at the hospital, after he only went to our high school reunion just because you were coming—”

I suddenly cut her off. “Wait, what? He went to the reunion because I was gonna be there?”

“Yeah, duh, I texted and invited him lots of times before that, but he never replied. I was starting to think that he changed numbers or something,” Clara said, while taking another one of the waffles on my plate. “Then I texted him that you were coming. That’s the only time he replied and came to the gathering.” She wiggled her eyebrows at me. I didn’t know what to think, I was a bit overwhelmed, thinking that he really wanted to see me even then.

“Did you know he wasn’t even gonna stay the night? He had a schedule the next day, but he slept over because he hadn’t talked to you yet.”

“Are you freaking serious?” My eyes widened at that. I’m finding it hard to believe that Kyungsoo intentionally missed a schedule because of me. “So was he the one that brought me hangover medicine?” I suddenly remembered someone talking to me during that time, but my brain was half-asleep or something.

“Probably. He asked why you were knocked out, and first I said you were probably drunk. He didn’t even believe it, saying you never liked drinking alcohol,” Clara explained. “He didn’t know about your episodes yet, so I said it was probably a migraine.”

“Yet? What do you mean he didn’t know about my episodes yet? Does he know about it now? Did he found out during the times he visited me at the hospital?” I don’t remember telling about it to Kyungsoo. It was never brought up when we talked during those short visits. He just kept asking how I was feeling, if I was eating well, and if there was something I’d want the next time he visits so he could bring it for me. After that they’d left in an instant. All his visits wouldn’t even last for more than 20 minutes.

“Oh yeah, about that..” Clara slowly gulped, then reached for my glass of milkshake and took a sip. I ordered food for her because she already ate half of mine. Then she continued. “D.O. already knew about your episodes before that.”

“What?!” I blurted out almost too loudly, a few heads looking in our direction. “Since when did he know?” I whispered.

“After our get-together. That first time you fainted.” Clara whispered back, moving closer to me. “Remember that time you went to Stiles’ office after that incident? He went there the same day!”

“How did he– why did he– what?!” I couldn’t absorb all the information in one go. Clara slowly explained that Kyungsoo suddenly showed up after my appointment, and asked what happened the past 3 years; what happened after the accident and how it affected me. Dr. Stiles and Clara then explained everything to him, and he was in shock afterwards, constantly blaming himself again for what happened. My heart wrenched at the thought of Kyungsoo blaming himself. It wasn’t his fault, it was mine.

After Kyungsoo and I graduated from high school, I had an opportunity to go to France on a scholarship and study culinary there. Kyungsoo was so happy for me, he even seemed more excited than I was. At that time he wanted to study performing arts but they couldn’t afford it. Luckily he was scouted by someone from a famous entertainment agency after he joined a random singing contest. I was worried at first, because we’ve researched that the agency had difficult training programs. But Kyungsoo wanted to go through with it, saying we should both pursue our dreams. By the time I was about to leave for France, he wanted to come with me to the airport but he had training to do. I told him training was important right now, and that we shouldn’t be getting in the way of each other’s dreams. He understood, and bade goodbye to me at our house but not coming with me to the airport.

Communication was hard when I was in France, calling overseas was expensive, and the letters we sent to each other always got delayed. Still, we kept sending each other letters and photos. I keep telling him of my experience at the culinary school, how inexperienced I felt and how scary the trainors and chefs were. Kyungsoo also told me about how strict the agency was, how he even had to lose a bit of weight, and how competitive everyone was. He was a bit worried at first because some of the trainees had a bad first impression of him just because of his eyes, but they soon became his friends after.

Then I received a letter from Kyungsoo, telling me that he was going to debut in a new group soon. I was so happy for him, because he’d only been training for two years yet he’s gonna be a star! He must’ve worked so hard, and it made me so excited for him that I decided to fly back home to surprise him. I left in the middle of school break, and my parents were in California so I had to go back by myself. When I got home I used my parent’s car to drive to Kyungsoo’s agency. There were roads that were being fixed at that time so I had to go the long way. I got lost while driving, not familiar with some of the new roads, but I just kept going. I also felt sleepy and tired at the time, coming back from almost a 12-hour flight. But I couldn’t wait to see Kyungsoo. I decided to call him that time, it took a few more rings before he could answer.

“Hello? Dana? Is this really you?” Kyungsoo said on the other end of the line. I could hear the excitement in his voice.

“Yes, you dork! Are you busy?” I put my phone on speaker mode and placed it on the dashboard. I realized I’ve been driving around in circles, but I’d have to deal with that later after this call.

“We just finished practicing a new dance.. I can’t believe it, I’ve debuted already!” he said while catching his breath.

“I know!! I’m so happy for you! And wait up, you’re dancing?!”

“Of course, I need to dance, I’m in a group—hey, why are you laughing?!”

“I’m sorry, I’m proud of you! It’s just that I haven’t seen you dance!” I said in between giggles.

“Hey, I’m not bad at it, I actually have some moves in me! I only found out during training. I was also surprised!”

“Well, I can’t wait to see how you dance!”

“You can! They’ve uploaded our music videos already, search for Mama or History! I also have a stage name now, they call me D.O.”

“What? D.O.? Let me guess, because your last name’s Doh?”

“Real creative right?”

“Uh-huh.” I laughed.

“Oh shut up, as if you could think of something better.”

“I’ll think of something, and yeah, I’ll search for your music videos later. I’m so happy for you, Soo! I really am.”

“Thanks, Danes. We also had our debut showcase already. That was one of the best days ever, I can’t explain the feeling. I wish you were there to see it all!”

“Yeah, I really wish I was there too.” then I suddenly yawned a bit too loudly, and my eyes were getting heavy.

“Wow, okay, sorry, are you bored already?” Kyungsoo laughed.

“What? No, no. I’m just sleepy, the flight was 12 hours for god’s sake.” Before I realized what I just said, Kyungsoo had already reacted.

“Flight? What flight? Where are you right now?”

I didn’t have too much energy to deny it, so I just went on and told him that I was back and on my way to him right now. He was so happy he started shouting. I could almost hear other people in the background from his side, asking him what he’s jumping and shouting about.

“You’re really here?! What the hell, Dana! Why didn’t you tell me?! I would’ve fetched you at the airport!”

“I wanted to surprise you, silly! Oh well, surprise!”

“Where are you now, exactly? And why are you on the phone while driving?!”

“I’m not even holding my phone, you dork. But yeah, I don’t know where I am. Is this a new road? I passed some sort of supermarket and there are like, more roads being fixed.”

“What? Why are you there? Turn around, go back to the supermarket. Wait for me there. You’re actually close but going the wrong way.”

“Okay, okay. I’ve been driving in circles and I’m sleepy as hell, I really don’t know where I’m going.”

“Tsk, you should’ve slept first, why didn’t you just visit me tomorrow?”

“Well I wanted to see you!” I said while turning the car around.

“You’re amazing, you know,” he softly said. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, dork.”

I swear that I only blinked my eyes a few times, then I was suddenly greeted by a blinding, bright white light and a very loud, ear-piercing honking. I didn’t know where the truck came from, everything happened too fast. I tried to swerve and avoid it, and I heard a very loud screech. The next thing I knew, I was being thrown in the air, hitting my head on the window of my car. Their was a loud crash and my car was rolling several times. I heard glass shattering, and painfully loud crunching noises. Was it the car? Was it my bones? I only realized I was screaming so hard when my throat hurt and I could feel pain.

There was a big impact, and the car suddenly stopped. My body hurt everywhere, and I couldn’t move. I tried to open my eyes, and everything was upside down. There was lots of red.. on the dashboard, the windows. Was it my blood? I coughed, suddenly smelling smoke and burning rubber. I could hardly breathe.

I didn’t know how long time has passed. I was not moving, I could feel pain everywhere even if I moved the slightest. My head was hurting so badly, I could feel blood still trickling on the side of my face. Am I going to die now? Am I already dead, even? There was nothing I could do about it, so I just closed my eyes, wishing the pain away.

But then I heard it, my name being shouted several times. The voice was getting closer and closer, until I could almost hear it a few feet away from me.

“Dana!! Dana! No! Dana!! Answer me!!”

I knew that voice like I knew my own name. I wanted to answer, but even moving my mouth was painful. Every time I opened my eyes, there was sort of a spinning sensation, then everything was blurry. I couldn’t even turn my head to look at the person calling me. I just heard more shouts, and I felt a hand squeeze my own.

“Dana, god no, Dana.. I can’t get you out.. Please hang on, hang on!!” He was crying, I could feel the anguish and pain in his voice. I didn’t know if it was blood or tears that I felt sliding down across my cheek. I couldn’t do anything. More shouts were heard, and I could hear sirens all around me.

“Please help her!! Please save her!!”

Those were the words that I last heard before I blacked out completely.

I felt a hand on my cheek, wiping the tears that were falling. I blinked and saw Clara holding out her hand, with a very apologetic look on her face.

“You’re crying, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

I shook my head, and wiped my own tears. I didn’t realize I was crying while remembering the accident. “No, it’s okay.. I was just.. overwhelmed.” Clara told me that I was very, very lucky to have survived that accident. After being hit by a huge truck that sent my car flying and rolling away, it was a miracle that I was still in one piece. I had broken bones, but my head received the most damage, and I suffered from internal bleeding. It was fatal at that time, and I lost a lot of blood. But maybe it wasn’t really my time to go, because I was saved. Clara was an intern at the hospital I was brought to, and that’s when she saw Kyungsoo.

“I didn’t know it was you that was being brought to the emergency room,” Clara explained to me. “Everyone was in chaos because you were almost dying. Then I saw him. He was running after you and he wanted to come to the emergency room but of course it was off limits. He was shouting your name over and over, and he was crying so hard. He was a mess.”

I closed my eyes and tried to shove the image of Kyungsoo being devastated like that. I know, I was the one in an accident, but it was heart-wrenching to imagine Kyungsoo in pain as well. Clara continued her story, saying that Kyungsoo was making a scene in the hospital, and that people were starting to notice. Normally, people got hysterical over accidents, but they were starting to recognize him. EXO D.O. is here, making a scene. Crying for someone. When she saw that people were starting to take out their phones, she dragged Kyungsoo from where he was crying on the floor, and took him to a spare room. She tried calming him down, explaining that there were people outside, and that he wasn’t an ordinary person right now. He was D.O., a member of the rising group EXO. He can’t afford to have a scandal right now.

“He was going crazy, I had to stop myself from hitting him across the face,” Clara said. “But he calmed down when I kept mentioning you. I told him you probably wouldn’t have liked it if his career got jeopardized because of your accident. He even said he was ready to give up everything for you.” Clara smiled lightly, and I also smiled a little. This was the first time I’m hearing about their side of the story, so I urged her to go on.

Clara said that he calmed down for a bit, but when they got out of the spare room, people were suddenly taking pictures. “I covered my face that time with a clipboard I was holding, but Kyungsoo didn’t even try to cover his face. He just stared at them blankly,” Clara explained. Her eyes looking outside the window, like she was suddenly visualizing what happened back then. “They started crowding us. Next thing I knew, he was being dragged away from the crowd by someone. He turned around to look at me, like he was gonna say something, but he was already gone.”

“Then what happened? Did the people follow him?” I asked.

“Some of them did, but the others, especially some teenagers, who I think were his obsessed fans, were crowding me and shouting at me angrily. They told me to leave Kyungsoo alone, they were even demanding to know if I was in a relationship with him! When I didn’t answer, they started throwing stuff at me. It was crazy. I locked myself in the spare room. I was there for hours. They wouldn’t leave!”

“I’m so sorry..” I squeezed her hand from across the table and looked at her sadly. Clara just shook her head. “That wasn’t your fault or his. It was the crazy fans. I was stuck in that room for hours, Stiles was the one who got me out. He was also an intern there at that time.”

“Then the rumor came out on the news? But I didn’t see any article about it..” I said, searching my mind for articles I’ve come across the past weeks.

“Nope, you won’t see a thing, because I think the agency covered it up.” Clara said, then took a long sip from the strawberry milkshake I got for her. “But unfortunately, the obsessed fans had photos of me and they posted it in their blogs. Some online entertainment portals wrote about it too, but it didn’t blow up because the agency was good in keeping things neutral. Then the scary part happened, some of the obsessed fans were stalking me everywhere, sending death threats and all. It was all starting to get to me so I moved away.”

“That’s horrible! I didn’t know some fans could be like that..” I softly said.

“You’re too pure for this world. Ugh, that’s why I was also worried for you at that time, I kept thinking what if they found out that Kyungsoo was at the hospital because of you and not me? But luck was really on your side that day, no one found out, and you survived.” Clara said matter-of-factly.

“How did you know about my condition? Is that why you suddenly became close to me afterwards?” I asked. I remember that time when I was moved to a different hospital that catered more to psychological problems, Clara was there checking up on me, also Dr. Stiles.

“I was there when they were asking if you remember anything. You had a severe head injury and they had to check how badly affected your brain was. When they started asking about the car crash, you suddenly started panicking, and that was when you started screaming, saying that it hurts.” Clara shook her head. “God, I almost cried you know! You scared me so much.” I didn’t remember Clara being there, but I remember that it did hurt, and that I was sedated lots of times.

“That’s when we ruled out that you were traumatized about the incident, and had dissociative amnesia. Then you don’t remember anything about high school, you didn’t even remember me at first!” Clara said accusingly. “But you were remembering little by little, and after more sessions I realized you couldn’t remember Kyungsoo, and you felt dizzy when you tried to remember.”

I flinched, feeling so guilty that I had forgotten him. Kyungsoo who was one of the most important people in my life. Kyungsoo, of all people. “Maybe because it was him I was thinking of during the accident,” I said. Kyungsoo was the only thing in my mind during the crash, so maybe that’s why he was the one I forgot the most. I was traumatized too much that I didn’t want to remember the crash, and that’s why I couldn’t remember him as well. “I was back here because of him, and I don’t know if I was hallucinating, but was he also there at the scene of the accident?”

Clara nodded, saying that Kyungsoo was the one who called for an ambulance in the first place. She also said that it was fortunate that he got to me on time, because if he didn’t, I might have died already. Then I was shocked when Clara added that Kyungsoo was also the one who paid for all of my hospital expenses, because they couldn’t get a hold of my parents that time. He paid for everything, until my parents were finally able to fly here.

“Then they took me back to California with them,” I said, bringing the pieces together. “And I forgot about Kyungsoo.”

“Yup, you did.” she simply said. Clara wasn’t there to guide me when I was overseas, so there wasn’t anyone to help me remember Kyungsoo and all other memories. I eventually forgot about him, continuing on with my life. I felt really horrible thinking about it, that I’ve left him alone for three years.

“He looked for you before you left. I don’t know how he got my number. I sent him updates. He knew you were moved to a different hospital, but he couldn’t visit because the issue wasn’t dying down yet with some of the fans. He couldn’t even see you off when you went to California.” Clara explained, tapping her fingers on the table as if she’s on edge. “I didn’t know you had something going on at the time. I only knew you were close in high school. After you left, Kyungsoo and I didn’t contact each other again.”

“Then the reunion was the first time you saw each other again?”

“Well, yeah, I mean, I always see him on TV, but yes, it was the first time we talked personally again.” Clara also said that she kept a low-profile during that time, she was even changing up her look several times so that some obsessed fans wouldn’t recognize her. Luckily, EXO became so famous the next year with their song Growl, that the issue died down on its own.

“I was surprised that you contacted me last year. You were still checking up on me even then?” I asked her. Last year, she sent me an email while I was in California, and asked about my health and if I would be coming back home again. I told her that I was coming back early in January. Then we met up again, and did some catching up, eventually becoming close friends.

“Yes, I was checking up on you. I didn’t know if you and D.O. were talking again or what. He was really affected when you got in that accident, and he didn’t get to see you off when you left. I tried texting him after, but he never replied. I don’t know why but I suddenly felt guilty and responsible, maybe because I was in the middle of it all when it happened.” Clara said. I really felt sorry for her that she got dragged into the mess. She was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. Then again, she got to calm Kyungsoo down during that time, and even helped me recover.

“Then when we you came back here, I tried asking you about Kyungsoo. I laughed so hard back then, because you said Kyung-who?” Clara smiled, recalling the memory. “I thought you were joking, turns out you were dead serious.” I remembered that she showed me a video of Kyungsoo at that time, he was singing and performing. Then I started feeling dizzy, like I recognize him but it hurt too much to think about it. She took me back to the apartment I was staying in so I could rest. That was when she explained to me who Kyungsoo was, and who he was in my life.

Clara could only provide a few details, like Kyungsoo and I were so close back in high school, and that there was a rumor that he asked me to be his girlfriend but I rejected him. She left out the part that Kyungsoo was there during the accident, because she didn’t want to mention the accident at all, since it might trigger my trauma. I cried when she told me about Kyungsoo. I didn’t know why, but maybe the memory of him asking me to be his girlfriend seemed familiar and important but I couldn’t remember any of it, and I felt frustrated so I cried.

At first it hurt, trying to remember things about Kyungsoo. I was constanty in disbelief, thinking that this member of the famous group EXO was an important part of my life. I had doubts back then, thinking that if he was important, why did I forget about him? If I was also important to him, why didn’t he contact me ever again? There were nights when I just cried myself to sleep because I felt hurt while thinking about him, without ever really knowing why. I didn’t know what happened between us. Clara also didn’t know anything and she felt helpless. Every time I struggled to remember, my head and my heart hurt. The pain was just there. I tried to keep him off my mind, to not think about him so that there was no pain. It worked for a while, but he was everywhere. EXO was everywhere.

I remember when I saw Kyungsoo arriving at Clara’s house during the reunion. My head suddenly hurt, but I realized I was just so nervous that I wanted to throw up. What would I say to him? I don’t remember anything. What if he found out I forgot him? Will he get mad? Will he get hurt? Or did I already hurt him?

But during that morning when he visited me here at the breakfast bar, he already knew I forgot about him. He already found out from Clara and Dr. Stiles. He already knew, but he still went to see me. He still wanted to talk to me. Even after everything that happened, he still came to me, and it gave me a sense of hope.

I just stared at Clara, watching her finish her food. This girl is golden, she helped me and Kyungsoo so many times just because she felt like helping. She never asked for anything in return. It was all done in good faith. I sighed heavily, really thankful for her. She seemed to notice the heavy sigh and my meaningful stare, so she raised an eyebrow in question. “What is it now?” she said.

"Do you think he.. wants it to work?” I slowly asked. It was a question I was scared to bring up, but I think I’m just more scared of the answer. Even though there were signs and Clara kept teasing me, I wouldn’t believe it because I wanted it to come from Kyungsoo himself.

“Danes, honey, I know he does.” Clara said. I must’ve looked unconvinced, because she was the one who sighed heavily this time, like she was so done with all that’s happening. She smiled at me and shook her head. “You know what Dana, can you do something for me?” she asked out of the blue.

“Anything. What is it?”

“Just make it work,” Clara smirked. “Talk to him again, and make it work.”

I smiled back at her tone. Because yes, I wanted to make it work too.

I took my phone out and was about to call Kyungsoo when his name suddenly popped on my screen, and I gasped a little. He was calling me! Clara looked over and I showed her my phone screen. She urged me to answer it immediately, so I pressed the green answer button.

“Hello? Soo?” I looked away from Clara and her smirk, and glanced out the window instead. I didn’t realize it was getting dark already. Time flew by fast.

“Uh, hello? Hello? Is this Dana?”

I was suddenly startled because a different voice answered. I looked at my phone screen again quickly, and it was Kyungsoo’s name and his number. It wasn’t a wrong caller. But who’s talking to me right now?

“Yeah, this is her. Who is this? Isn’t this Kyungsoo’s number?”

“Oh, hi! Yes, this is his phone. I’m sorry, this is Sehun, I’m one of his friends and also from EXO.” he explained. My eyes widened at this and I mouthed to Clara that it was Sehun. She looked surprised and even said Oh Sehun out loud.

“Yeah, I know you, Sehun,” I said in a softer voice so nobody around could overhear. “Is something wrong? Why are you calling using Kyungsoo’s phone?”

“I didn’t know who else to call. I think you’re the only one who could help.” Sehun explained. How did he even know me? Did Kyungsoo tell him about me, by chance? But what got me was the sound of worry in his voice.

“What is it Sehun? Tell me.”

There was a small pause before Sehun answered.

“I think.. something’s wrong with Kyungsoo.”

✨ The Star & His First Love

🌟 Story Masterlist

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