#also this is only 3 guys but the double timeline curse . sad

[tronlightcyclerun]

IF I HAD A NICKEL FOR EVERY TIMELINE WHERE I GOT KILLED BY MY SIBLING ID HAVE 5 NICKELS .

[brokcnbutunbowcd]

she laughs like god (her mind's like a diamond)

Alright, so here’s the first part of the Meda Wayne story I was talking about writing! I had so much fun with this, and I really want to know what you all think so please do let me know, and feel free to reblog this if you like it! Just some notes about this story:

1. For the purposes of this story, I've aged James Gordon, Jr. from an infant to about eight years old. I have a very firm timeline for this story, and this is something that just made it work better.

2. In this story, Barbara Gordon is James Gordon's biological daughter.

3. I got the math wrong, so I'm just pretending that Anastasia came out in 1998 because I really like that theme for this story. Meda was born in 1993, which would've made her five in 1998.

4. Right now, the story contains elements from Batman: Year One, as well as Catwoman: Her Sister's Keeper and Batman Annual 13: Waiting in the Wings, if you want to read along.

I also cross-posted this to AO3, which I’ll link at the bottom if you want to check it out there!

It was a chilly December day before the night that Meda Wayne’s life was set on the course that would define it. Only, she wasn’t Meda Wayne back then, you see, Gotham’s beloved daughter and heiress to the Wayne family fortune. No, she was just a little girl named Meda Carter, and although she knew she didn’t have very much, she was happy. Her mother and father were the kindest, best people in the world in her eyes, and even though they lived in a small apartment in the Narrows, (which even at five, Meda could understand meant a not-very-nice part of Gotham) she knew herself to be very lucky.

On the particular morning our story starts, Meda was sitting on the couch in what could charitably be called her living room, bouncing up and down in anticipation. It was the first day of Christmas break, and her father had brought in enough money from his odd jobs around the city to take the little family out to the movies. The little girl had been wanting to see this particular film for weeks now, and she couldn’t believe she had to wait all day before they could leave. Her mother had suggested she distract herself by turning on the television, and so there Meda was, flipping through the channels when she stopped on something curious.

She recognized one of the news programs from the blue ribbon wrapped around the bottom of the screen, but instead of the usual flashing lights and crime scene tape that she’d come to associate with the news, the camera was focused on a man, walking through what appeared to be an airport. He was young and handsome, with dark hair and striking blue eyes. He was surrounded by reporters and cameramen, and a curious Meda turned up the volume on the television to hear what the reporter was saying about him.

“The twenty-five year old heir to the Wayne billions declined to comment on the rumors of romance in his life, or on his plans on his return to Gotham after twelve years abroad,” a woman with a short brown bob was saying.

“Who’s that, mommy?” Meda asked as her mother entered the room from the bedroom.

Eliza Carter glanced at the TV and blinked in surprise. “That’s Bruce Wayne.” She took a seat next to her daughter on the couch and stared at the screen intently. “Wonder what brought him back to town.”

“Probably got bored of running through his trust fund in Europe,” James Carter said as he came into the room. He leaned down to give his wife a kiss on the cheek and his daughter one on the forehead. “Morning, girls.”

“What’s a trust fund?” Meda asked curiously.

“It’s a big bank account that rich people have,” her father explained, lifting her up and settling her on his lap. “You know the big tower in the middle of the city?” Meda nodded, “That’s his family’s company. He owns it. And he lives in a big house on the outskirts of Gotham City that our apartment could fit in over a hundred times.”

“No way!” Meda exclaimed.

“Way!” Her father confirmed, then sighed. “And it all belongs to that one lucky S.O.B.”

“What’s an S.O.B?” Meda asked, confused.

“James,” her mother chided, with a glance in her daughter’s direction. “Be nice.You know what the poor man’s been through.”

“Bad things happen to people every day in this town,” her father countered. “The rest of us don’t have a mansion and a billion-dollar fortune to fall back on.”

“What bad thing happened to him?” Meda asked, pointing at the screen.

“Don’t you go giving a thought to people like Bruce Wayne, sweetheart,” her father said dismissively. “Lord knows he doesn’t give a thought to people like us.”

______________________________________________________________________________

Meda Carter had no way of knowing, but this day was significant for more than just Bruce Wayne’s return to town. It also marked the arrival of one Lieutenant James Gordon to Gotham City. He was met with far less fanfare than Bruce Wayne was, taking the train into the city and being joined by only one detective, Flass, before his meeting with Commissioner Loeb.

He’d had a bad feeling about the department from the moment he met Flass, and now he knew his first judgement to have been the correct one. After watching the detective brutalize a teenager for no reason other than standing in his line of sight, Jim knew this shouldn’t be the place he was raising his family. Still, he reminded himself that this was his best shot. After what had happened in Chicago, he needed it. His family needed it. And if all this fresh start required of him was that he keep his mouth shut, then he could do that.

He hoped.

He was called out to his first crime scene that night. Double homicide, the Narrows. Typrical, according to Flass as they drove their way to the scene.

Getting out of the car nearly before the car had even stopped, Jim approached the responding officer and asked, “What’ve we got?”

The officer looked young, and a little green. The violence that was so prevalent in Gotham must not have jaded him yet. Jim felt sorry for the poor kid. “We’ve got a double, sir, husband and wife shot in what we think was a botched robbery. James and Eliza Carter, both twenty-four. Husband worked as a handy-man around the city, wife was a store clerk.”

“Who called 9-1-1?”

“The neighbor, sir. She’s a hooker, was with a john when it happened. Didn’t see the guy before or after. She called the police when she heard the witness screaming.”

“Witness?” Jim was surprised. That hadn’t come through over the radio. He turned to look at Flass, who shrugged in a what-can-you-do type manner. “What witness?”

“Couple’s daughter.” The officer pointed to the crowd of vehicles with flashing lights surrounding the scene. There, in the center, was an ambulance. A small child was sitting in the back, shivering, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. “Looks like the family interrupted the perp when they came home. Place is ransacked.”

Jim cursed. “How old is she?”

“Five, sir.”

Jim sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. “Want me to take her statement, Jimmy?” Flass asked.

“No!” Jim said too quickly. Clearing his throat, he said more softly this time, “No. I’ll do it.”

“Suit yourself.”

He let out one more sigh before steadying himself and making his way over to the ambulance. As he approached, he got a better look at the girl. Her hair was plaited down the back in two neat, black braids, and her green eyes were filled with tears. Her jeans were covered in blood. She looked up as he approached, still shaking. Nodding to the paramedics, he took a seat on the back of the ambulance next to her, careful to leave enough room so as not to frighten her. Scared children were a bit like scared animals, he’d discovered. You had to work to earn their trust.

“Hi there,” he said gently. She said nothing. “Can you tell me your name, sweetheart?” She mumbled something that he couldn’t entirely make out. “What was that?”

“My name is Meda Carter,” she said, a little louder, with the pride that only little children could show for their own names.

“Meda,” he repeated it to himself. “That’s a beautiful name.” She murmured her thanks, and he had to smile a bit. Even after what she’d seen, she hadn’t forgotten her manners. She must’ve been raised well. “Can you tell me what happened tonight, Meda?”

She was quiet for so long that Jim wondered if she would speak at all, when finally she said, “We were coming home from the movies.”

He waited for more. When none came, he asked, “What movie did you see?”

“Anastasia.”

“Was it good?”

She nodded. “It was sad, but it had a happy ending.”

He hummed in acknowledgment, then lowered his voice. “What happened when you came home?”

Tears flooded her eyes anew and she started to sob. Jim instinctively put an arm around her and pulled her into his side, making soothing motions on her back the way he had with Barbara and James when they were very young. She wept into his chest for a long time, until she seemed to be all cried out and pulled away.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I got tears all over your shirt.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” he told her. “Don’t you worry about a thing. If you’re not ready to talk tonight, we can wait. We can-”

“No,” she said, surprisingly firmly. “You need my help, right? To find the man who hurt my parents?” Her voice quivered, but she met his eyes steadily.

Jim hesitated. “Yes, we do.”

Nodding, she took a deep breath before beginning. “We were coming home from the movies,” she said again. “When we got home, there was a man standing in our living room. He had a gun in his hand. My daddy went to stand in front of us, and then there was a really loud bang, and he fell to the floor, and then mommy screamed, and she fell to the floor, and he just looked at me and ran out of the room.” She said all this in a rush, as if to get it all out before she dissolved into tears again.

“That’s great, you’re doing real great, sweetheart.” Jim encouraged her. “Can you tell me what he looked like.”

She sniffled and wiped at her eyes. “He was young. Younger than my daddy, I think.” That was promising. Jim made a mental note of it before turning his attention back to Meda. “He had brown hair, and eyes too I think. I don’t really remember that well.”

“That’s okay. Just tell me what you can remember.”

“He was tall,” she continued. “And real skinny.”

“How tall? Taller than me?” Jim stood to his full height.

Meda nodded. “And skinnier than you, too.”

Jim laughed. Meda didn’t seem to know what it was she’d said that was funny, but she gave a watery smile nonetheless. “Lots of people are. Tell me, was he taller than Detective Flass over there?” He pointed to the tall blonde detective, still speaking with the responding officer.

She thought about it, before shaking her head. “About the same height, I think.”

“Good. That’s perfect, Meda, you did a wonderful job.” The adrenaline seemed to have drained out of her, and she slumped against his side.

“Lieutenant Gordon?”

Jim looked up to see a dark-haired woman looking at him expectantly. “I’m with Social Services. If you’re finished with Meda, we’d like to take her for the night, now.”

Meda started shaking again at the woman’s words, and Jim held up a hand to give him a moment. “Meda,” he said softly. “I’m going to go talk to this woman for a minute, and then we’re going to take care of you, alright? I promise.”

She still looked petrified, but she nodded bravely, and Jim gave her shoulder one last squeeze before getting up and leading the woman a short distance away. Lowering his voice to make sure the little girl couldn’t hear, he asked, “You’re taking her to a group home?” The woman nodded. “She’s just been through a massive trauma. She should be with family.”

“I agree,” the woman said, not unkindly. “But she has no family. We checked. Both parents were only children. Her last grandparent died last year. The Carter’s were very young, and seemed to have lost touch with a lot of their friends. There’s simply no one to take her in.”

“Lieutenant Gordon?”

Jim turned to see an older woman with graying hair and a warm smile standing behind him. “Yes?”

“I’m Dr. Leslie Thompkins. I run the clinic down the street. The Carter’s and their daughter were patients of mine.” When he nodded, she continued on, “I couldn’t help but overhear your discussion, and, well…”

“You’d be willing to take her in?” Jim asked hopefully. “Just for now, until we figure something out?”

“Not me, no,” Dr. Thompkins said. She smiled. “I think I know someone even better.”

______________________________________________________________________________

It was clear to even the most sheltered passerby that Bruce Wayne did not belong there. Everything from his salon-styled hair to his designer boots was stood out in this run-down, hopeless place. As he strode through the people in uniform and the paramedics, each one, without fail, stopped to stare. It was a good thing he’d driven his own car. He expected being chauffeured by your butler would’ve made him look even more spoiled and pampered.

He sighed. Another complication.

If he was going to go forward with his crusade, (and he was going forward with it, no matter what scheme Leslie had cooked up to dissuade him), he needed to be someone other than Gotham’s young prince. Too bad he couldn’t figure out what that was.

He pasted the careless smile on his face that he’d been honing to perfection as he made his way past the flashing lights and sirens to the ambulance where the little girl still waited. He turned to one of the officers posted on the street and asked, “Is that her?”

The man gawked at him. “Uh, yes, sir.”

“Great.” Bruce flashed a grin and strolled off towards the child, his careful mask slipping when he caught sight of her knees, painted red. And suddenly he was transported to another night, another street, another child kneeling in a pool of his parents’ blood.

The memories. He couldn’t escape them.

At his approach, the child looked up and stared at him with wide eyes. Whether she was frightened or in awe of him, he couldn’t tell.

“Meda?” he asked gently, getting down on his knees so he could be at her level when talking to her. “I’m-”

“I know who you are,” she cut him off. So she did recognize him, then. “I saw you on the news this morning.”

He gave her a small smile that she didn’t return. “I just got back into town. I heard…I heard that something really bad might’ve happened to you tonight.” She looked down at her feet and didn’t reply. “You know, when I was about your age, just a little bit older, something really bad happened to me, too.” She looked up at him then, head tilted in curiosity. “You see, a very bad man hurt both of my parents, too.” Her eyes widened.

“Did they die, too?” she whispered.

“Yes,” he said, ignoring the stab of pain he felt at talking about it. “Dr. Thompkins is a friend of mine. You remember her, right?” She nodded. “She thought…that is, she felt it might be good if you came to stay with me for a while. With someone who understands.” She continued to look at him, face impassive. “You don’t have to, of course. But is that something that might be okay with you?”

“Yes,” she said, surprisingly quickly.

“Are you sure,” he asked, startled by the rapid response and her quick trust in a stranger after what had happened to her. “Because-”

She looked up at him through tear-filled eyes. “I don’t have anywhere else to go, do I?”

Biting his lip, he shook his head. Meda let out one final sob, and looked up at him, her gaze suddenly steady.

“Then yes.”

AN: Next up is Meda's first introduction to Alfred and the Manor, so stay tuned for that! AO3 link is https://archiveofourown.org/works/29648013

[kettlewrites]

bad boy!han (jisung) [negative utopia!au]

thank you to the anon who requested this! [totally inspired by nosedive from black mirror]

warning: min. profanity! (no proofreading) [2.9k words]

also,, it’s a bad boy who is not really a “BAD” boy au

jisung has always been viewed as a “bad” boy, it was never his intention but in a world that is based on “stupid” star ratings and fake interactions,, he had no choice but to be viewed as an outcast.

after dropping below a 3.0 rating from protesting these views he held

he was disowned by his own family, but luckily was picked up by a few guys around his own age and have been with them ever since.

and now it’s been three years since chan and changbin offered a place in their run down cabin to jisung,, all of them not accepted by the world of fake smiles and friendships.

throughout the years, the three of them went along in their lives to discover the true meaning of life that was hidden by the government,, finding that there was more to the world than a swipe of 5 stars

jisung had the lowest score out of them,, still running around with that 1.4 rating above his head that created on-lookers who were complete strangers to continue to drop his level down

and this is where you come around

you were from a family of high 4.0s,, you being a 4.7 who had never gone below a 4.5 in years

you had always been used to the artificial interactions you come across in your everyday life,, whether it was given something on the house for an easy 5 star rating or someone who complimented you with their full pearly whites, smiling so hard and wide that their botox was seeping out of their pores,, you became numb to it and would respond back with the same disingenuous smile before swiping your thumb to the five star option

it was your everyday,, and almost everyone else’s in the small bubble you associated with so you never felt odd or out of place with your routine

it was something that you could expect a mlle away,, probably even in your sleep

“good morning, y/n.” jennifer says with a giant smile, “would you like a croissant? they gave me an extra one by accident.”

you smile back, although on the inside you were frowning in disgust, “no thank you.”

‘a little try-hard aren’t you? just for a five star, yuck.’ you mentally groaned as you slid through her timeline, full of pictures of her dogs

you couldn’t lie, you had a soft spot for cute puppers which raised her score to a mediocre 3 star rating

funny how she was acting all nice then immediately curses you out once you left the elevator as she saw her level ding down a few decimals

you walked out of the apartment complex, mindlessly scrolling through the timeline that was projected on your phone not paying attention to the world around you

that was when you bumped into him,, your eyes widened as you laid eyes on the blond boy who had a flashing 1.4 at the side of his face

“s-sorry.” he mumbles, “i should’ve paid attention to where i was going.”

you furrow your brows, pondering how someone like him was able to get such a low score

“the 1.4? yes, it’s low. no, i’m not on double-damage. yes, i’m perfectly fine at where it is.” it was as if he had read your mind

you smile, almost genuinely the feeling quite odd to you, “i hadn’t even said anything yet.”

his smile was radiating, sending a pang into your chest, even if it was just a small half smile it was one of the brightest smiles you have seen in a long time

his hand was on the back of his neck as he laughs off your statement, “i just know that look. i’ve gotten them almost every day for the past three years.”

he was intriguing, everything about him sparked your curiosity, from the way he felt so genuine to the story he held behind that flashing score

“what’s.. your name?” you ask, putting your phone aside, your heart wanting to interact with him face-to-face rather than letting you find out his every detail by yourself from your phone

“do you not want to look yourself?” he asks, that same half smile on his face, “a 4.7 actually wanting to have a conversation with me?”

you shrug, cocking your head sideways, “there’s just something about you.” ‘that makes me want to learn more and more.’

“the name is jisung.” now your chest was twisting when he smiled widely, it had looked the same as every smile you’ve seen but how did his make you feel so differently?

the way his eyes curled into crescent moons and his nose crinkled. the way his smile felt so warm and at home unlike all the other ones you’ve seen that were cold and distant.

“jisung.” the way the name rolled around your mouth made you giddy and warm, “i like it.”

his laugh was hearty, bouncing off of his chest and the way he threw his head back as he laughed made you want to laugh but you didn’t know how to sound as genuine as he did

you subconsciously heard that awful sound of his level dinging down every minute he spent standing outside with you as yours was ringing up causing you to scrunch your face in uneasiness

“it’s okay, i’m used to it.” jisung mumbles, nothing about his tone was sad or disappointed

you looked around at the people around you, how they were looking at you and jisung differently although you both were doing the exact same thing

the only difference was his low score and your high one

“i should probably get going, i wouldn’t want you to ding down.” his smile was still radiating, how was he able to be so positive in a world that treated him so poorly?

“i’d love to see you again one day!” it was one of your automated goodbyes, but this time saying it felt so authentic to you

“you can always find me with that phone of yours.” he says before waving goodbye

‘phone of yours? what could be possible mean by that?’

it had been a few days since your encounter with jisung

he was wrapped around your everyday thoughts, something always leading you back to your short conversation that you held with him

you were sitting at the breakfast bar in your family home, mindlessly scrolling through jisung’s feed for the tenth time in hopes that he would give an update

you were hesitant to send him a message, scared that he would ignore you

your father places a hand on your shoulder, giving you a startle

you instantly shut off your phone and turn to look at him, that fake smile wrapped itself onto your lips once again

“i talked to your reputelligent therapist.” he started, taking a seat beside you on the empty stool, “he showed me your conversation with that 1.4 kid.”

you gulped down, now feeling extremely nervous which was also a new feeling

“i don’t like that kid.” he says outright not hesitating anything he says, “you know what means, I shouldn’t have to hear about him again the next time i talk to your therapist.”

“therapist.” you scoff, “a fucking therapist? you call him a therapist? dad, he looks at how i swipe my finger i’m pretty sure that’s not a therapist!”

you anger was boiling, you’ve never been so upset at anyone like this before

“do not speak to me in that tone.” ironic as his was just as harsh and cold as yours was, but what was the point when everyone spoke that way towards each other in this house.

“then don’t judge a book by it’s cover, or in this case a person by their number.” you snap, before hopping down from the stool and heading to your room

as you were almost at the end of the hallway you heard that disgusting down-voting sound that you heard when you were with jisung

you look down to see that your father had given you a single star rating which caused you to,, loosen all of your held up aggression

“you would do that to your own child?” you were screaming at this point, your face was red and your knuckles became white as you gripped your phone tightly, “all of this is just a game to you isn’t it?”

he huffed, furrowing his brows and crossed his arms across his chest to close himself away from your attacks, “you deserved it.”

“even the conversations you have with your own children have to be rated? do you even know a life where you don’t rate every interaction?” your tone was bitter, but you were speaking from your mind

something you hadn’t done in years

“stop it now, y/n.” he insisted. 

“all this life is to you is holding that stupid 4.8.” you pointed at the flashing number beside his face, “i guess genuine isn’t in your vocabulary anymore.”

and with that, you walked past him towards the front door, another down-vote sound ring from your phone,, you don’t even bother to turn around since you felt his eyes boring through the back of your head,, all you did was raise your arm to flip the bird at him.

the outside world felt different to you,, trying to distract yourself from the flashing numbers beside everyone’s face

you had that urge to rip out your eye-implant that allowed you to see it

the bubble in your throat was threatening to become into a sob, the overwhelming feeling rushing through your body after releasing all your pent up anger

you felt a ring coming from your phone, it wasn’t a rating this time but a text

‘two one star ratings? ouch.’ you read the message summary from your notification screen, the name sending your mind into a whirl

jisung

‘you’ve been watching my score? you don’t seem the type.’

‘and you’ve been watching my feed so you don’t seem like that type either.’

‘touché. we should talk.’

‘i can meet you by the old library?’

jisung had ran the library after you agreed,, his heart was racing and some of his strand of hair stuck to his sweaty forehead

you were sitting at the front of the building, looking at the scenery around you instead of putting your nose into your phone

“what was it,, being rude to a cashier or being too loud in the back of a taxi or was it both?” he was already smiling, not bothering to greet you with the usual hi, hello, how are yous

you chuckle, "you won’t believe me if i told you.”

“try me, i’ve gotten a one star for almost everything you could possibly think of.” he sat beside you, leaving inches between the two of you

“defending you.” your voice was soft, but you turn to look at him.

his eyes widened and the confusion was written all over his face

“defending me? you’re kidding right?” his tone had changed, his smile faded into a thin straight line.

“i was right. i knew you wouldn’t believe me.” you laughed again, it was more of a in-your-face-i-told-you-so laugh

the feeling between the two of you changed,, it was tense and the air was so thick you could cut it with a knife

“why would you ever defend me? you don’t even know me.” he sounded rather upset and it struck you in the wrong way,, why would he be upset for you helping him?

“jisung,, just because i don’t know you well doesn’t mean i shouldn’t stand up for you from people who judge you just for your number.” your eyebrows furrow in frustration,, you didn’t have the words to express your emotions

“who was it?”

“my,, dad.” you hesitated to answer, you were still trying to process the argument you had with him earlier

“are you a fucking idiot?” his tone was harsh, just like the one you had heard come from your father. his body language went through the same process, closing himself away from you.

“excuse me?” you asked,, taken aback by his reponse

“are you stupid? why would anyone in their right mind defend a 1.4 especially you,, a person with a 4.5.” you could tell his stance was getting more serious, he had turned into someone you’ve never seen before

granted,, you’ve only seen him once and stalked his feed but more so you’ve never expected such a happy-go-lucky guy be so serious and upset

“so what you’re saying is that i should have let him bad-mouth you?”

he shrugged, “what’s new? it’s not like i don’t go through it everyday anyways. one more person doing it wouldn’t hurt me.”

“jisung,, just because people do it all the time does not mean it’s okay!”

“i don’t want you the end up like me!” he finally screams, “as happy as i am with where i am in life,, i don’t want you to end up being mistreated like i have. you’ve been so sheltered with your score... there’s so many things people do to you just because of the number of your score.”

it took him a minute to calm down,, and he leaned against the wall of the building before looking at you again

“i was disowned by my family after protesting against the reforms..i see them in town and they won’t even blink an eye in my direction. everywhere i walk in town i get cursed at or tossed around,, i’m seen as a bad guy and i really don’t want that to happen to you.”

“but you’re happy.” you acknowledged, “you’re happier now than i would ever be if i stayed in my home and i want that happiness in my life jisung. i’m so tired of all of the artificial interactions.. of all the fake smiles and the fake friendships.”

your eyes began to water, “even if means that i have to give up my family and my privileges of having a high score to be happy,, i would do it.”

jisung looked at you, watching the tears stream down your face. his heart twisted in his chest,, looking at you reminded him of himself three years ago

“you’re not a bad guy.” you whisper, still choking on the sob you were trying to keep in, “everyone in this town doesn’t even know what a real interaction is anymore and it’s sad.”

“you really want to leave everything behind.. for me?”

that’s what made you laugh,, you knew he was teasing you as well from his emphasis on ‘for me’

“shut up.” you laugh, his teasing helping you feel better, “i’d give everything up if that meant i could be happy and if you happen to make me happy in the long run then yeah for you as well idiot.”

so,, you never ended up reconciling with your father. you avoided him when you had gone home that day after meeting with jisung.

jisung had told you to give a thought for a bit before jumping into a big decision over fresh anger

but you,, knew it was the best decision you could make as once you got home,, your brother and mother were both ignoring you already as if they all made a silent agreement to not see you as family anymore

that night you packed a bag and jumped out of your window,, not even bothering to leave a letter goodbye

you messaged jisung about your actions as you were walking back to the empty library with a duffle on your side,, he was already there when you arrived

jisung had convinced chan and changbin to make room for you,, as you really didn’t have anywhere else to go. they decided to use your score to their advantage until it went down in return for housing.

you didn’t object to it,, jisung and you were assigned to go around running errands and that’s when your score started to spiral down to match jisung’s

word had spread quick that you left your family

after a year of being free,, you couldn’t ask for anything different. you were happy.

now whenever you looked back to your first encounter with jisung,, it all made sense of how and why he was so happy.

“so you did do it for me.” he teases, holding your hand as you both walked downtown to the grocery store

“not really for you when we weren’t even dating when i left everything.” you joke back, wrapping your arm around his still holding into his hand

“that’s only because you wouldn’t admit you liked me until six months ago!”

“as if! you’re the one who couldn’t ask me out until changbin told me you were trying to so I asked you!”

“but you wouldn’t change it for the world right?”

“hey that’s my line.”

and he was right, you definitely wouldn’t change it for the world.