#and I rarely dream of fictional characters!
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ok so I'm kinda used to comic strips and fics where Zack escapes with Ray and she asks him to kill her, over and over again, like a broken record. not particularly something I enjoy for their post-canon interaction but you know. it's plausible in a sense.
what I'm not used to is seeing the same scenario play out in my dreams. now Ray's in my head, asking out loud "so when are you going to kill me?" while Zack rolls his eyes and turns away. ugh.
#tbh I liked them better when Zack rolled Ray in a big blanket like a sad burrito bc she was sulking for some reason#it was a nice dream#and I rarely dream of fictional characters!#this post doesn't make a lot of sense does it#just wanted to share ig#personal ramblings
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Today in my dream, Chuuya cracked an egg on Dazai's forehead and instead of the egg cracking, Dazai started cracking till he fell to pieces and then Chuuya sagely said "things fall apart".
#i rarely dream about fictional characters#and my dreams are generally weird#i once dreamt of meeting Siyeon which is a strange thing for me cause of my whole 'never meet you fave' philosophy#but in that dream she at my school for a fansign and I was waiting in line but my teacher called me and told me to get Siyeon a pen#cause she was out of ink#so obviously I decided to ride my bike all the way back hom to get her a pen instead of finding one AT SCHOOL#and somehow I rode across the desert plains a thunderstorm and across several massive hills for a pen#and when I finally got back the fansign was over
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I had a dream Windy was laying his head on my shoulder and I had my head leaning on top of his and was curling my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and he said “Thank you for making me part of your family” and I said “Thank you for being part of it” and I have never been more devastated to wake up
#The context of the dream made it much weirder but I’m choosing to only remember this part because it was SO vivid#I could hear his voice and feel his hair#It wasn’t romantic in the dream but I think I wished it were#seeker talks#this is especially strange for me because for whatever reason I RARELY dream about fictional characters#windy
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had an Undertale dream last night about Sans and Papyrus and some unnamed and unrecognizable third lady scientist character, and I think she and Sans were studying this goopy zombie outbreak that infected monsters through intent-
and all the infected were covered in this like mint-green gel that was harmless after the monster was dead or weakened (they didn't turn to dust for some reason if they got infected) but if a monster that was infected made contact with the strength of will to get you Gooped Up it was pretty much over.
I think the lady was trying to study the goop after the host had died but Sans thought it was too dangerous and left the experiment, so he went back home and warned Papyrus about all of it.
Lady scientist then became infected and the monsters still retained a good portion of their sanity/wits but the goop made them very, very intent on violence and turning other monsters. So she tracked Sans down and found him with the intent to zombify and ultimately kill him (maybe she blamed him for her own infection idk this part was unclear)
And she brought a horde of other zombies (late-stage goopified and mostly just shambling masses of tooth-paste looking goo) and Papyrus and Sans fought them, but after Sans killed the lady and a lot of the others he found out Papyrus had been Gooped a little, but he was able to be saved at that point except for part of his skull being melted and I think he lost an arm
#ut dreams are a rare treat#you'd think with how unwell i am about undertale i'd dream about it more#my brain likes to do deep cuts and input fictional characters like fucking. american dragon jake long. from shows i haven't seen in 10 year#i know for most of this dream I Was Sans (which is usually how my dreams go) but it did start out with me as me#and i remember kittens?? like kittens living in an old farm building??#i think the kittens were the things that got infected before it became an undertale dream and then it was monsters#convoluted. i love dreams#idc if people say “nobody wants to hear about your dreams” i think dreams are fun
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I had a dream that Lockwood and I were on a mission together, him grinning conspiratorially, softly across at me, walking around arm in arm at a high-society party, sitting side by side, knees touching under the heavy tablecloth, the possibilities stretching out endless before us because we could do anything, anything, and man did I hate to wake up
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oh I had a blorbo dream, I never have blorbo dreams. dreams where I either am or interact with varying characters in a way that feels like fanfiction/role-playing? usually I have dreams more like the second half where some possums were fighting over lit fireworks in the yard and I had to send out the dogs to go get em away from the barn before they burnt it down.
#an interesting glimpse into wtf is going on in my head#i can fixate on fictional characters all day yet rarely ever dream about them#this was basically a platonic x reader fic aneuejfkw#there was also a fruit tree theme. lots of oranges
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omg omg I had a dream I met shiv and was so shocked and upset that she was standoffish and not really interested in talking to me
#I rarely dream about fictional characters amd if I do I know they’re not real#but in this one it was like I was actually meeting her#succession#shiv roy#me things
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I had a dream that I was Ethan Winters last night, which is very strange bcoz I'm not into resident evil? I don't go there. The whole plot was that I was playing him as a part of a RE village play which we were doing rehearsals of, and I'd get really into the method acting. Which is again very strange bcoz I don't know a lot about him other than what my friends have told me about their favorite babygirl, I probably mischaracterized him a little bit and thats the part I think will get me crucified.
One part that I liked was when it came time for a break, me and the other actors would still be in character as we ate and had water. Think if it like how mario is often just a play and that all the characters do get along behind the scenes. I was besties with whoever was playing Lady D.
#I need to analyze ethan winters. like a strange bug.#its not uncommon that I dream where I'm playing a fictional character btw. the rare part is dreaming it all.#frankpost#LEAST INSANE DREAM TBH. it was very fun
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Oh lord it’s almost August-
#this month has gone by so quickly-#I was gonna continue to ramble in the tags#but I got distracted because I almost. by muscle memory. tagged this as Guilty Gear.#to be fair it’s all I’ve been talking about-#while I’m here I’d like to say I rarely have dreams that have fictional characters in them#so why has Johnny appeared in my dreams 3 times?#what’s up with that
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JUST got back the dream i had where i was adventuring with bertie and i guess ONLY bertie (rip me) but he kept just disappearing like we were on a bus surrounded by zombies and he just. gets off the bus and goes somewhere so then i had to get off too and zombie dodge to catch up with him because while i wasn't hamid apparently i was hamid.
he went straight into the woods after he got off the bus and I wasn't able to find him. shit got weird for a while with like dark souls type enemies i had to fight or hide from but then i found him again in a dark hallway slumped against the wall and telling me his cell phone was dead so he was done until he found a charger and then just died (which had big oscar of astora vibes but it was still definitely bertie)
#i rarely get Dreams With Fictional Characters#they are special when I do#however i constantly dream in dark souls so that's normal
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Plotting a story -- inductive and deductive plotting
When it comes to plotting habits in writing fiction, there’s a scale. Most people label the ends of this scale ‘gardener’ and ‘architect’, although the terms ‘plotter’ and ‘pantser’ are also in use. If you’re a writer, you probably know this scale, but I’ll briefly explain for those who haven’t and then get into my model.
An architect, or plotter, is a writer who thrives with a lot of planning. Like an architect planning a house, they assess what story they’re telling in advance and what needs to happen to tell it. They assess the materials, plan and measure the acts (if they’re using an act structure), decide on the climax and how the characters will develop and map those onto the plan. Then, with a plan, they write.
A gardener, or pantser, by contrast, writes ‘by the seat of their pants’. Pantsers may or may not know where their story is going in broad terms, but they certainly don’t know in any detail beyond ‘this’ll be a cool scene if I can get it there’. To these people, writing is less like architecture and more like gardening – you can build your beds and plant your seeds, but a whole lot of what’s going to happen next depends on how the plants grow, and all you can do is keep an eye on them and prune or train them as necessary. You can dream about what your garden will look like in the spring, but you won’t know until you get there.
Plotters and pantsers are not two distinct categories of writers, but ends on a scale. The writer who ad libs sentence by sentence with no goal at all is extremely rare, as is the writer who starts from an overall view of the plot and cuts it down and down until they’re planning on the sentence level. Most writers tend towards one end of the scale to a greater or lesser degree, but very few write completely using one method and none of the other.
The plotter/pantser scale is one that many writers find incredibly useful to help them understand their own process. By knowing where you are on this scale, you can better understand how you write and better understand how the habits and advice of other writers may or may not be useful to you. (A pantser trying to meticulously plot their story in advance following some formula they found in a writing advice book is wasting their time.) However, this model has little utility beyond that, which is why I find it more useful to address the phenomenon not as a scale, but as the manifestation of two separate skills, that I like to call deductive and inductive plotting.
In logic, deductive reasoning is when you take broad rules or generalities and apply them to specific circumstances to predict things – you start big and go little. “Things fall when you drop them, therefore if I drop this rock it will fall” is deduction. Inductive reasoning is the opposite – you start with small observations and build them into a pattern to predict something bigger. “I dropped seventeen objects and they all fell; therefore, perhaps when you drop things, they fall” is induction. (There’s also abductive reasoning, but that doesn’t fit into our plotting skill metaphor.)
In my experience, these skills match to the habits of plotters and pantsers. Plotters, or architects, assemble a big picture of the story they want and then deduce their individual scenes and fill in the lines to map to their overall general picture. They are deductive plotters. If you ask a deductive plotter to start writing without an outline, they become lost and their output seems directionless and erratic – how can they know what to write if they don’t have an outline to break things down from? Deductive plotters tend to think of stories in terms of overall structures and themes that can be broken down into characters and events and put on the page.
Pantsers, or gardeners, are the opposite. They’re if-then writers, and build the plot upwards from the individual actions of their characters and create the story from the sum total of those interactions. They are inductive plotters. Brandon Sanderson often describes a pantser’s first draft as just a really thorough outline, and he’s not wrong; a pantser needs the scene-by-scene minutae to know what happens next. How are they supposed to build an outline if they don’t know what happens next? If you ask an inductive plotter to build and follow a thorough outline, their writing often comes out as wooden and arbitrary as they have to force the actions of the characters between the restrictive rails of predetermined plot. Inductive potters tend to think of stories in terms of characters and discrete events that build up into something bigger with a consistent mood or theme. Inductive plotters sometimes complain of their characters having a life of their own and defying the plot – this is the effect of their moment-by-moment if-then reasoning of the character’s next action not matching their initial predictions, and surprising them.
Again, the vast majority of writers have some rudimentary skill in both inductive and deductive plotting. A strong deductive plotter (architect) can usually sit down and infer line-by-line a scene that their outline lists as “the three characters meet in the coffee shop and share evidence, Rosemary sees Harold’s notes and realises where the gun went.” Similarly, a strong inductive plotter (gardener) usually has some idea of where their story is headed next even if they don’t know how long it’ll take to get there or what complications will pop up in the meantime. But I’ve never met a writer who is equally strong in both inductive and deductive plotting; most writers specialise heavily in one, and tend towards one end of the scale. I think this is because there’s such a huge overlap in utility; when we start learning to write, we start plotting in whatever way is easiest for us, and train that specific method over decades. There’s little reason to invest even more decades into getting just as good with the other method when your favoured method already achieves everything you want.
I find that viewing this scale as the result of two skills, inductive and deductive plotting, can be very helpful in understanding specifically how we write. Thinking of myself as a heavily inductive plotter with rudimentary deductive plotting skills has really helped me understand why some methods of writing work for me and others don’t, as well as help nail down specific weaknesses in my writing. I also find it useful to think of writing styles and strategies not as some unchangeable characteristic we were born with (as the plotter/pantser scale is frequently envisioned), but as skills that can be built. You don’t write the way you write because you happen to be a plotter or pantser – you write the way you write because that’s what you learned to do! And it was hard! And you did it! Be proud of your skill!
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I remember everything | j.jh
→burnt-out writer!jaehyun x host f!reader
genre: smut, angst, fluff, summer fling, found home, strangers to lovers to strangers again, missed connection, 80's au
synopsis: jaehyun didn’t think meeting you in that quaint lonesome countryside town would come in between him and writing something hopeful and lively in contrast to all of his gloomy work. in fact it was a blessing to have someone help him navigate the foreign country. yet life always has something up its sleeve no matter how soul crushing.
warning(s): ADULTS ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! mentions/implementations of poor mental health, abusive higher ups, mentions of bad parenting, unprotected sex.
wc: 28.5k+ || soundtrack || ao3
© 2024 YOJEONGIN all rights reserved — DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works on other platforms. reblogs are HIGHLY appreciated!
disclaimer: this is purely fictional; in no way am I condoning this behavior, trying to offend anyone, nor is it meant to place such image on the idol, these are ONLY characters. read at your own discretion.
an: summer is gone and I tried posting this for the past 2 months so here is an ode to the place that inspired it all.
The contents of the box had been sitting unwrapped for what felt like an eternity after recalling last week’s events. The miscellaneous items your family sent were a recurring sight but it was rare that Ollie sent you anything besides his letters.
What disturbed you most is his choice of item. Those bold scripted yellow letters mock you. You weren’t upset with him, you could never be upset with him. You know it’s not his doing, that he was put up to it. What upsets you is the resurfacing thoughts you had hid away in the vault of your memory years ago when you remained naive and to your disgrace revived with one detail.
Courage was the last thing in you. It surged through, more so forcibly, perhaps even masochistically. That seems correct because the second you open to the first page, images you believed you would never see, fly out, reminding you of a life that you can only describe as a daydream.
Every single image had something written in the back of it. You attempt to refrain from reading each note. With no avail, the loops of his handwriting draw you in as much as his piercing gaze and the smile you still dream about – those dimples you can’t forget no matter how much you now look at them on someone else.
There’s a folded letter slotted before the dedication page. It smells like him and you can’t help being transported to the summer you met him. The pleasantly strong cologne you could smell even in the masses of stench when cleaning the pen. Or through the window you two sneaked kisses at night.
You don’t want to cry, you truly try not to, yet the waterworks flow when you finally focus on the dedication page of this damned book.
‘To the life I needed all along… I remember everything.’
Jaehyun remembers with fondness the tranquility of what he considers home. The warmth that filled his chest with every waking moment he spent in that beautiful quaint village. And now looking and thinking back at it, that fondness muddles with the pain in his heart. That’s not what he wants nor needs, that’s not what he came here for.
Jaehyun could get behind it, it was nice. He immediately got used to the cool breeze which felt more like a chilly autumn rather than the grueling summer. He could definitely get used to the smell of wood burning from stoves and chimneys that indicated locals began their day. Similar enough to the rough housing from goats and sheep’s bleats to roosters for them to shut up, that the sun was enough of a wake up call.
Fairly loud, not nearly as much as the city. It was one thing to admire the beauty outside of his temporary residence. Bougainvillea vines, flamboyant and bright, purloining his attention to let him know they were the star of the show, overshadowing any other house around.
Jaehyun needed something and all he knew was that he had to escape the constraints of his overpopulated and 24/7 bustling city that has cursed him to hell multiple times for not giving it a heartfelt ovation. How could he when he’s been shown nothing but hatred from it since he stepped foot in that hell hole?
Things should be different here, he knows that – he’s been shown.
His taxi driver spoke idly about his day. Describing the breakfast his wife had made before he left. His daughter had visited to drop off their grandson while she went to work at the local market but in the process the kid had fallen down the steep steps claiming all he wanted as comfort was to spend time with his ‘Tito’. So there he was making rocket sounds and hammering the glove compartment with the pale sun-eaten toy car that caused his fall. In the process, turning back to Jaehyun asking if he liked dishes he had never heard of before that the kid didn’t like himself.
Jaehyun remembers it well.
How can such a beautiful place bring him agony?
He wanted to stray away from those pessimistic feelings that had shackled him for years, tainting every single one of his pieces. When his publisher and manager told him it would be best to go somewhere he’d know nothing about his world, to have time to think about a new story, he was the first one to say goodbye, muttering under his breath that he wished he’d never see them again. Jaehyun was elated to know he was given a golden ticket out.
The past few launches and expectations had been hectic. Drowning him with stress and though many would think being a successful writer at such a young age was all fun and games, they'd think otherwise when your team is hollering in your ear daily to come up with new content and critics claiming you’ve yet again failed to provide anything meaningful besides pretentiousness.
Jaehyun is tired of that dark monotonous and consuming cycle they’re forcing him to be in. So he’s hopeful and excited to see what this beautiful rural village can bring him. Hopeful that it’ll break those shackles of misery that cling to him until his ankles bruise and bleed. Hopeful to find meaning to this life that he’s been searching for.
Struck with awe throughout his entire trajectory down the cobble and dirt-filled path from midtown to the house, the animal noises he had managed to drown became louder upon pushing open the metal door, growing wary. When he finally crossed the threshold he was met with the image of someone tussling with a ram, enough to get tackled and Jaehyun can only explain that feeling as freight.
That was the first time he met you.
From far away and with his feet grounded in fear, the fear you didn’t have regardless of all those rammings. That must’ve hurt, Jaehyun thinks so. How could it not? The beast came in charging three times, each making the impact seem worse. Twisted horns able to bruise the skin of your thighs.
Every step closer increases his shock. Muffled groans and curses from you mixed with laughter from your grandfather that stood and watched. Neither of you blame him, being the victim of that damn thing at 80 had caused irreparable damage to his hip. There’s nothing he could have done. At best he mangles the rope beside the stake, swinging it in hopes of getting it off you.
Jaehyun felt inutile. He had no experience with animals nor with any labor besides what his father would drag him into. It’s not his fault he became a writing prodigy. His brute strength was useless if he was too scared to jump into the pen to help you.
It was more shocking when a scrawny boy in a simple white tee, dusty jeans, heavy work boots just as muddy had pushed through him. Yelling something he couldn’t understand but later found it meant “Get the fuck out the way!” He didn’t mean to be malicious but he was scared himself. Jumping over the pen’s fence and pulling the damned ram off of you, he slaps its rear as a form of discipline. It amazes Jaehyun how effortless he made it look.
Finally free and things having calmed down, Jaehyun saw the elderly man seize his laughter. Genuine tears slip from his eyes. He was scared, truly scared it could have been your end. Having experienced it himself, he couldn’t help both sympathize and feel guilty. You and the kid reassured him it was fine. It wasn’t a first but your grandpa wouldn’t hear it, sighing as he continued to sob.
Jaehyun later found that he was insanely sensible. Laughing things off to calm himself to eventually break down.
In attempts to ease his pain, you had sent the young boy to fetch your grandpa a coke and some bread.
Nowadays, Jaehyun consumes those items whenever he grows scared
Making your way with a limp that your grandfather mimicked due to his own attack and age, Jaehyun finally approaches you both, voice slightly quivering.
“Are you alright?!” Jaehyun quips, your head turns to him un-amusedly. Cautious but relaxed for whoever’s sake. “Yeah… it’s not the first time.” You try to smile at the stranger who is obviously not from the village inside the premise of your grandparent’s home. It only dawned upon you who he was when you noticed the pristine suitcases in his hands. Holding the handles like a lost victorian count in search of a new start in the bustling dirty city – despite the contrast.
“You’re the new tenant, right?” You ask, limp finally gone after something cracked. Jaehyun winces, amused with the nonchalant tone in your voice; he nods fervently. “Yeah, um, I can pay for a few months up front if you don’t mind.” Neither of you had noticed that both had stopped walking, your grandpa already in the house, leaving you to speak with the young and attractive man before you.
“Months?”
Jaehyun nods. “If you don’t mind or have another tenant.” He feels sheepish; confident in your eyes. “Don’t worry, it’s been open for months.”
It’s amazing to him how you’re acting like you didn’t almost need a ride to the nearest hospital. Seeing the limp gone and crouching down to pick up a bucket full of dry corn kernels like nothing. He could have believed everything he saw didn’t really happen.
It’s recurring if he thinks back to it, how everything felt so fleeting and surreal. He despises and feels it mocking him daily.
Following you around like a lost puppy while you sprinkled the ground with those kernels, he took note of the expression on your face. You’re still in pain, it’s written all over the movements you make. He rules you’re ignoring it to not seem ill before him or specifically to reassure your grandfather.
Jaehyun has a strong image in your eyes. It would crumble with just about anything and you felt comfortable figuring that out. Just like it has done now, with chickens rushing and flooding the area to gobble down their meal. Jaehyun was startled and scared they’d peck him in the process.
You try not to laugh despite the giggles leaving in spurts. Nearing the kitchen door, you stop in your tracks to look at him. “Don't worry about the pay, it won't be necessary.” It troubles him and this time he won’t hold his thoughts. Well, he wasn’t going to but as soon as his lips parted, the sprint door opened, showing a much shorter and pudgier older woman. He reckons that’s your grandmother so he smiles and greets her accordingly.
She accepts it, returning the favor before going back to business in handing you the bowl full of pepper seeds and stems to feed the chickens. That left him and your grandmother alone, inviting him to the kitchen.
He studied the kitchen upon crossing the threshold, admiring the huge chimney in the right corner, soot covered it along the boiling metal bucket of water. There was a chair in front of it, one of those school chairs that cling onto your hair until it’s off your scalp.
A metal cabinet in between the entrance door and the hallway. It’s dusty, showcasing fine china that was never used. He found the cracks above the very tall ceilings the most enchanting, all leading to portraits above the hallway’s threshold. Trajectory and lineage demonstrated through the years. Most recently: one of you with your diploma.
Beautiful. Utterly beautiful, he thought.
“Come, I’ll show you around.”
The tour was simple, the hallway that connected the main room and kitchen was a room in itself. Privacy wasn’t really an option within these walls but it didn’t matter, he wasn’t the one sleeping in the main house.
All he had to know about this house was that it was an old canteen that your grandmother’s father bought for her as a wedding gift. The hallway had a bed your grandfather slept on, a couch he sat to watch the TV propped on top of a dresser in the main room –where he’d join him often– and a door that led to the guest’s area.
Despite the open concept, she didn’t show him the room where you and her slept in. He caught a glimpse of a door to the only restroom in there –restroom with a window he would spend his nights at often–, a vanity you both filled with expired products, and two beds on opposite sides. He figures the one with a pristine Garfield plush was yours.
Jaehyun felt the clarity of finding home within these few minutes. It was summer and the house was freezing without a clunky AC unit, he was in heaven if you asked him. It felt cozy and he liked that it wasn’t stuffy like his apartment back home, it felt like love. Cold, unspoken care and love.
The tour ended by the time both reached the guest area. The door was open after you swept but things never lasted clean here, the entrance full of dust again. Your grandmother looked tired and apologetic that she couldn’t continue, reassuring him his room was fine, warranting her to yell your name and rushing to her side.
She asks you to show him, motioning for him to follow you with your head. It felt like a full circle when you both hopped down the step from the house to the courtyard. He looked at the threshold he entered through, the door was closed now, decorated with flowers made out of dust, crafted by Ollie when he had free time. Your grandfather sat on a chair near the pen with the young man, eating his bread and smoking a cigarette that he pretends to hide.
Following you, Jaehyun took notice of the mountain of rocks and flowers near his room. A monument to a holy being he had only seen a few times. It was beautiful, vibrant flowers in comparison to the rocks. Some cactus and critters roam on small trinkets and a river flows up and down each rock.
Jaehyun finds himself behind a wall of jacarandas which cover the entrance to his room. The door unlocks with a screech, Jaehyun, hopeful it was just as inviting as the home only to be shortly disappointed when it felt warm inside and the walls maintained a darker hue. It was newly made, it lacks love.
Sensing his hesitance, your voice aims to distract him. “It’s not much, the bed is new if you must know. My uncle should bring in the TV but in the meantime you have free reign to the boombox or the kitchen’s.” Apologetic smile decorating your face. “You can open the window if it gets hot, Ollie is fixing up the fan. Feel free to go into the house, we don’t mind.” You hope that will help his decision, you’d hate to see him leave.
He wants to thank you with the words stuck in his throat, something you noticed well enough that intensified the feeling that clogged your own. “Um, yeah… New bed, the lamp and main light work, window opens, and you have your own personal bathroom. Unfortunately, the boiler is still very old fashioned so you will have to warm it or boil some water in the chimney to shower.” You hope that repeating yourself will convince him, restraining yourself from begging.
It has its flaws but he has decided not to care. “I’ll take it. It’s still $130 for the month, right?” He smiles boyishly, putting down his suitcases. It gives you a sense of tenderness and relief. You want to sigh and smile, giggle with appreciation. “Don’t worry about that, the room is yours.” You hand him the key, that’s the best you can manage.
His lip slightly juts out and eyebrows furrow with your words. “What do you mean by that? Please, I insist.” He turns to you, taking a step closer, forcing you to bite the inside of your lower lip. “I can double it if you prefer.” He pleads, head tilting to the side with wide eyes. It’s not intentional, he’s unaware of the effects he has on people. He’s scared you’re tricking him to not keep the room, to give it to someone else. Almost like you aren’t finding his presence enjoyable. If only he knew how much you would love for him to stay.
“It’s not that, trust me.” You walk towards the door, avoidingly. “It’s nice to not be alone. To have someone else around.” Your eyes don’t meet his, he understands. Letting it go, he thanks you in a whisper. “By any chance can I use your phone?” He asks in attempts to change the atmosphere.
Apologies fill your eyes like previous conversations. “It’s off until Monday.” It’s Wednesday.
“There’s a little store a block or two from here, not far at all. You can leave from either side, it’s flamboyantly yellow so you won’t miss it.” His excursion to find this place alone will say otherwise. “The name is painted on with neon green, ‘Gaby’s’ it’s called.” You laugh, looking at the expression on his face. He thanks you and follows behind the exit of the room, parting ways.
Despite the rundown homes and slight deterioration here and there, Jaehyun liked the tranquility and uncertainty in pertinence to the weather. One second he is granted with the warmth of vitamin D, the other he is threatened with the smell of wet dogs. This town had it all, yet none of it interfered with the breeze that calmed him as his hair waltzed around, singing in his ear that he was in the right hands, finally at ease.
You were right about not missing the store. He can laugh now – he did when taking the final corner, being met with what he felt was covered in buckets of highlighter ink. It was almost comical how opposite the owner was from her lively store and home.
“Good morning.” He mutters, “What are your rates for long distance calls?” She looks at him, pulling out a booklet from the phone company, arms working like it’s a chore.
“How far?” “Overseas.”
She looks at him through lashes, sighing, flipping another page.
“$3.56 per minute.”
Jaehyun’s eyes bulge out, nodding frighteningly. The process goes accordingly: she hands him the phone, writes down his name and the location before looking at him to dial on that old dinky home phone. The wires are sticky from tape residue with some edges popping out. It was her mother’s from 1957 but she loves it more than her third born.
He rotates the wheel, hanging up one or three times until he finally gets it. When the other line finally picks up, she starts a timer. “It’ll be quick.” He mentions. “Take your time.” She smiles.
“Hello? Hellooo~.” The voice on the other line calls out, ready to hang up, a pair of blondes far more important than this are waiting for him. “Hyunjoo?” Jaehyun asks, hand clasping the bottom of the phone. “Yeah? Who is this?” His words sound slurred, not enough to call him drunk.
“It’s Jaehyun.”
An eruption of laughter and greetings is heard in the background, smiling at how welcoming it felt, although strange. “Jaehyunie! How are you finding it there? Fun?… You know when Jude showed me the pictures I thought you were crazy for choosing that… place! Do you think you can hold out long?!” He laughs diminishingly, Jaehyun’s smile falters, his heart aching as it usually does when it comes to Hyunjoo.
He clears his throat, standing straight. “It’s great, I really like it so far and I’ve only seen the house.” He musters a laugh. “Listen, long-distance calls are expensive so I think we should only communicate through letters, okay? I just wanted to call to let you know I was fine.” He’s ready to end the conversation here. It didn’t start how he wanted it and a reminder of his actuality is not what he wants.
“No… no, now wait a minute!” It wasn’t Hyunjoo on the line anymore but Jude, his manager who was far more sober than his publisher. Some tussling and grunting here and there on the other line, Jaehyun sighs looking at how quickly he was pushing three minutes already.
Eventually Jude got through, scolding the drunkard. “Now what do you mean you won’t call? Don’t be dumb, I need to hear from you!” He bites onto his cigarette, scolding Jaehyun like a small kid, like the child he pretends is his. “It’s too much, Jude. Plus, the house doesn’t have a phone right now so you can’t reach me.” His foot bounces, scoffing like a petulant child proclaiming independence from their family.
Jude went on a tirade about how it wasn’t good for Jaehyun to go cold on them but the younger one wasn’t hearing it. The entire premise of this trip was to forget about them all so why won’t they let him? “Okay too much time, too much money, bye!” Jaehyun cuts the conversation short, giggling as the yelling got louder. Seizing when the timer hits six minutes and thirty-seven seconds.
“$24.92.” A wide smile decorates the owner’s rotund face, sticking her hand out. Nothing left but to sigh and hand her the money.
Jaehyun takes this opportunity to explore the village, mesmerized by the intricacies of carved ornate decorations onto walls and doors. In awe with the obvious distinctions between newly built homes and colonial ones he found far more attractive. Architecture was not his only interest, not when the mocking tango of scent swirls drag him to the plaza. Taunting him with delectable treats and meals at every corner and hall.
If he wanted to fall further in love, then the market currently taking place should do. Colorful carps and music from corner to corner, swaying him through the fabric made halls. Jingles of welcomings and hollering flood the ears of every passerby. Whether he wanted fresh produce, flavored shaved ice, fruit cocktails, clothes, or even toys, Jaehyun could find it all. It reminded him of the swap meet he encountered with his friends once when living in Connecticut years ago. This was surely far more inviting and lively.
Through his trail around the halls, Jaehyun came to a halt upon seeing you standing before your grandfather on the bench your grandmother’s family had donated. Worry filled your face but the older man’s laughter was far more deafening and comforting. An internal warmth forces your head to turn, spotting him immediately for your eyes to meet.
“Need help?” Jaehyun offers embarrassedly, you deny. Your grandfather is receptive despite your light scolding. “It’s fine, really.” You try but both men insist. “Do you know how to repair cars?” Your grandfather asks, Jaehyun shakes his head apologetically, all which prompts your grandpa to huff and shake his own head.
“The car broke down.” He’s met with another of your apologetic smiles, as if he’s the one being wronged and not you and your grandfather. “I’m just going to finish off the shopping, mind giving him an eye?” You ask Jaehyun, the first favor to be exact and he couldn't be more elated to not feel useless.
It’s shut down by the older of the three, complaining and almost throwing a tantrum over how he didn’t need a babysitter. It wasn’t completely wrong, the entire village knew him so watchful eyes were all around, it’s not like you couldn’t trust him to be on his own. “No, no. Matter of fact, help her with the bags. Go on, look at how heavy they are.” He scolds Jaehyun, throwing away any unfamiliarity out the window. That’s one thing about him, he’s too trusting.
Like a child in between parents having an argument, Jaehyun didn’t know who to listen to. Fortunately you give up and sigh, motioning with your head for him to follow you. He took a handful of bags from your hand, some left in the care of your grandfather that was well situated on the bench.
He gave you both his blessing, shooing you off to embark in an awkwardly silent walk with nothing but the blaring music vendors played to fill that emptiness. He had so much he wanted to ask, to say, to know what you could teach him about the village or if you knew how he could travel to neighboring ones. He was giddish and that’s all that took for you to turn to him with a smile.
“Quite a bad host, aren’t I? I didn’t even introduce myself.” You giggle, stopping at a stand. “It’s okay, I didn’t either, I’m sorry. I’m Jaehyun.”
“Y/n,” You give him a quick glance, taking a bag from a vendor. “What are you doing here, anyways? No one comes here for pleasure.” Jaehyun could tell more words hung on the tip of your tongue, ones you swallow down. He didn’t know how to answer. If someone else asked him, he’d mention how he wanted some inspiration, to see what he could bring into fruition but with you his sincere words threatened to spill.
How could he mutter: “I think I hate my life and those in it, so my manager and publisher shipped me off somewhere I’d be far from that world. I think they just wanted to get rid of me but it’s what I wanted all along…���
“Oh?”
Shit. Just like that.
“I-I… I didn’t mean to say that.” He scolds himself. This had never happened before, what the hell was that?! Your laughter doesn’t help and he’s scared you’re laughing at his problems. He doesn’t want to believe someone like you could be this cruel.
“It’s okay.”
That’s not reassuring. “It’s okay. I hated where I was a year ago too, so I was also shipped here.” That’s comforting– somewhat.
Your shoulders shimmy as you pay for the produce, walking towards another stand. “Granted, my aunt got sick. She was my grandparents' caretaker but it was getting worse and I took the role.” From the depths of your pocket, you pull out some pumpkin seeds, handing him a few for him to crack, not counting with the coating of salt to scald his tongue.
“She comes back here and there to check in and help but eventually she has to go back for constant checkups. I hadn’t found a job right out of college so this was my next best option and I like it – far more so, I think.” A sincere smile adorns your face; this was comforting.
Things went far more smoothly after that introduction. He told you about his books and what he wanted to do here. He told you about how miserable he felt and how abusive the city seemed to be towards him. You told him that you missed your city but the reality of facing adulthood in the area was weighing down on you. He figured this was your reality escape and although grim on your end, he felt ecstatic for himself. He felt like he finally found exactly what he needed.
The conversation went well with a few laughs here and there until reaching full circle with cups of shaved ice in a bag to take home and yours in hand. Bliss was momentarily gone when you reached the bench and didn’t spot your grandfather. Regardless, it didn’t take long for a seller to let you know his nephew gave him a ride.
These instances made Jaehyun appreciate your gentleness for your grandparents. Although aware of how you try to hide your emotions from him, the guard falls when it comes to them. It’s admirable.
Noise didn’t break the bubble of silence you remained in until entering the kitchen where your grandfather was sitting at a table already, your grandmother making his coffee while Ollie tired and sweaty relaxed by the door, munching on a candybar he bought when getting the fright remedy. A token of appreciation from your grandfather for the cigarette.
“We didn’t see you, I almost had a heart attack.” You mock reprimand, a smile setting on your face seeing the older man safe and sound. No matter how hard you try to act angry, seeing him eat the rest of his bread while waiting for lunch calms you down. “I’m the old one here, save the ailments for another sixty years.” he cackles, Jaehyun beginning to find comfort in your grandfather’s ability to find humor in anything.
“I think our guest might want out already.” He teases, sneaking a piece from Ollie’s candy. The boy doesn’t protest, doing the same with the shaved ice you brought. Jaehyun felt his ears warm up, nervously denying it with no avail as your grandpa kept insisting with that same laugh. Dying when your grandma scolds him to leave Jaehyun alone.
Jaehyun giggles quietly, shaking his head. “Please believe me. I think it’s beautiful so far.” Your grandma hums, the one to speak is Ollie. “There’s nothing here. What’s beautiful about it?” He shrugs with a scowl. “He hasn’t seen the other towns, give it time, Ol.” You intervene, forcing him to taste test the rice.
“Well, what if you and Ollie, whenever he can, show…”
“Jaehyun.” You help your grandmother, playfully glaring at the young boy for feedback on the dish. The elderly give each other a quick glance while Ollie makes a mocking thumbs down when he knows the smile on his face says otherwise.
She nods, scooping a spoonful of lard into the pan. “Why don’t you and Ollie show Jaehyun around after your duties. I doubt he wants to stay all hours here.” Jaehyun doesn’t know how to feel. He’s embarrassed, he’s also bashful and feels imposing. “It’s okay, I can manage. I don’t want to overstep.” He nervously chuckles, ears brightening.
“Okay.” You shut him up. He turns to you, silence deafening yet comforting, even when you finally lift your head to look at him, nodding. “It’s okay, just let us know what you want to see.” You’re much calmer than he is, it causes his body to tense despite being thankful with how inviting you are. How inviting you all are, he thinks he can see himself here for longer.
“Thank you.” He meets your eyes with a smile, thankful and glad. It’s reciprocated, knocking down the nonchalant act.
The first outings don’t go past the premises of the village. With planting being the main priority, neither you or Ollie have time to take him anywhere. The younger spent his days working the tractor, taking your grandfather up and down as his mentor despite his own father being there.
Jaehyun tried to help once but was booted by both men and their laughter. He won’t fault them, he almost ruined a row of freshly planted beans and if he was to learn anything throughout this trip, he’d learn that any grain and imperfection was important enough to ruin the entire harvest. Instead he was left to pavement clearing, making sure no rocks or debris got in the way of vehicles.
The following week he had been left to his vices at home. You had apologetically told him they found assistance and he should enjoy his trip at home. Although there was nothing left to do, not for him at least. Your grandmother wouldn’t let him lift a finger in the kitchen and she didn’t like his cleaning style, leaving it to you if she was busy.
Ollie had fixed the fan by now. The new motor made the room freeze, mimicking the room temperature of the home. Cold enough that Jaehyun preferred to leave the window open despite the crawlers that woke him at night. Now he contemplates whether he should turn the fan on or sleep with cotton filled eardrums.
Jaehyun lays in bed, bored and antsy for something to do. The sound of your arguing with animals overpower the boombox next to his head, melodies he didn’t understand.
The fountain pen on his hand never felt far heavier, a sign that he had nothing new to produce. No, the only thing his hand mustered to write was the noises you made. Whatever pertains to you.
“Tutt-tutt.” “Cluth-cluth… No, Constance! Don’t peck me!” “Behhh, behhh! Here, what a cry baby.”
Jaehyun found joy through you and your acts of love.
“Meow, meow, meow! I can do that too! I already fed you, Fina! Gluttony is a sin, you know.”
Days went on like this, it’s repetitious but he doesn’t complain. Past times he’d think what he’s doing now was all he wanted but a mind never rests and his body is antsy for new experiences. He no longer wants to lie and feel the breeze rush through the window to coddle him, forcing the sheer white curtains to dance around for his attention.
Jaehyun tucks away his journal, buttoning up his shirt and slipping on the work boots he bought with only four days here. Full of glee and excitement he bought them to help your grandfather. He reckoned if he was going to get down and dirty then he should be dressed accordingly.
With pep to his step, Jaehyun makes a beeline towards the pen. What used to be barking of unfamiliarity turned to a simple bark for attention, received with wagging tails. He made sure to pat their heads until reaching the fence, looking at you conversing with Camila, the donkey.
“Aha and what else did he do?... No! You should’ve kicked him straight in the leg, Cami. He can’t talk to you like that!.” You nod and hum at her playfully, received with brays and nods. Jaehyun doesn’t know what you’re talking about but he’s glad that you’re having fun.
New hay had been brought in the morning, far more greener and fresh which left the old hay to be moved around for maintenance. In the process of such, strays found themselves near the dogs, enough to crunch under his step. Like a deer caught in headlights, Jaehyun stops, ears reddening by the whip of your head and Camila’s blaring bray.
“Hi…” He mutters timidly, cause of your smile. “Hi.” You reciprocate with the softest welcoming. He takes the initiative to approach you, standing a few feet behind. Neither say anything, amused with Camila’s treacherous ways in leaving you to gain his attention. Head bumping onto his hand to mimic the pats he left on the dogs.
Pleased she throws a kick, sending old hay flying towards the lambs and goats that reproach her action. You share a giggle, forcing you two to give each other a quick glance. “I think she likes you.” You mention, “I like her too.” He replies, petting her ears, as red as his. “Well don’t feed her ego, now. It’s already through the roof.” You teasingly scoff, another airy laugh leaves him.
“Don’t be harsh, I think she needs it. I mean, I don’t know what you two were talking about just now but it seems like she needed her confidence there.” He smiles at you, taking her face into both hands. Your groan makes him wink at Camila, thankful that he’s found something to converse with you. “Her and Ollie–” Camila brays, removing Jaehyun’s touch from her. “They have such an intense hate-love relationship that his name throws her off, so I’m giving her advice on how to deal with it. Right, Mila?” Understandingly, she nods, seeking your attention again.
“Granted it’s all made up, she’s a little jealous but with you here I think Ollie should take the role.” She brays again, aiming to bite your hand. You get away just in time, sticking your tongue out at her. Jaehyun receives the image with laughter, his chest filled with joy.
He shakes his head, petting hers to calm her down. “No, I don’t want to be responsible for their failure.” You nod, picking up a metal rake. “Mind if I help you? It’s getting boring there…” He’s ashamed to admit it. You sympathize with him, after all when you used to visit you often fell in his shoes.
“Alright, a heads up, this will be messy work.” He nods obediently, eyes shimmering with their natural gloss and the sun’s reflection.
Darn him and his cuteness!
Blinking the thought away you hand him a broom and the rake. “Here, hold these while I tie up this maniac.” Your eyes squint meeting those of the ram that tackled you when he arrived. His own mimicking yours, it was on and he knew it.
With rope in your hand, test swings approaching the pen’s door, the beast starts to test the waters. Three…two…one! What ensues is a battle between both, Jaehyun trying his best to help. He envisioned that this rivalry is what Ollie and Camila had, he’d witness it a few days prior. The only exception that you and Whitey hated each other to the core. He never knew why.
After a few falls and tugs here and there, you two managed to get him in the isolation pen. Scoffing and laughing as he settles on newly clean hay. While he relaxes, you both huff and hold onto the fence, wiping away any remnants of sweat. “Ready to work?” You question, Jaehyun felt like this was enough. Unfortunately it’s only the beginning.
With free and safe reign to go inside the pen, you lay out the map of where to go and be careful. The wall to the neighbors cooped the chickens. It was the time they laid eggs so cleaning it would be held off until a few days later. On the opposite side to the street, roosters had their own coups.
“All you have to do is separate the poop from the hay, that’s what the rake is for.” Jaehyun figured you felt apologetic for the task as the look you gave him when presenting the room manifested itself onto your face. If you only knew that he’d never say no to you.
He mutters an ‘alright’ with his brilliant smile, reassuringly. “While you do that,” you watch him struggle, “I’ll clean this one.” Your voice slowed, concentrated on how to maneuver. You referred to the pen around a large cactus. He didn’t give it much thought when you went in, he also felt it wouldn’t be that hard, the livestock discard balls for goodness sake.
He had the confidence that died along the way he swept and raked. For small balls they were pungent and he wasn’t handling it well, the uncovered smell of piss added to it. You try not to laugh when he gagged or turned around so you wouldn’t see him cover his face but it was becoming hard.
Endearing is the word you’re thinking of, even when he perceives it as mockery that his face falls into a pout when he hears your laughter. “Please don’t laugh at me.” He practically begs, head lifting for a waft of fresh air before pushing old disgusting hay into a trash bag.
“I’m sorry,” A laugh escapes. “It’s good I’m the one here, I wouldn’t doubt Ollie tormenting you if it was him here.” Jaehyun agrees, the difference being that he wouldn’t care for Ollie's ridicule, he’d play along and try his best to improve. He cares for your opinion which is far different.
“He did enough during harvest.” “I heard.”
Silence befalls as you continue, the sun seems to have hidden behind clouds for the time being.
“I’m sorry you’re not having a good time.” You broke the peace, his ears perking at the condolence lacing your voice. “I know you wanted an escape and I’m sorry I haven’t been of much help.” He couldn’t believe his ears. Why are you blaming yourself for something that should only matter to him? He has free will and range to get up and take the next taxi or bus to neighboring towns. You shouldn’t blame yourself for his decisions.
Escapism might not have come to him in the way intended but everyday has become a new experience for him. “Don’t… I promise that even picking up droppings is something new for me.” He rebuttals your claim, mirroring the same apologetic look you give him. “Y/n… I’ve been coddled all my life, this entire experience has been a new step for me and I feel like Bambi, positively.” He smiles, widely enough that it’s the first time you notice his deep dimples.
You sigh, unsure if it’s from relief, pash, or in between.
“Yeah, okay… I was in your shoes too when I began to stay as a caretaker. I’ve done all of this when I would visit but it was not as intense as it is now. I don’t mind, I’m here to help. I have to.” It sounds melancholic and he’s not sure how to interpret it.
Avoiding it you look around to see he’s done a good job. You’re actually very well impressed, the words that were meant to leave your mouth surely were appreciative but they’re shoved back down your throat when you attempt to stand up. It’s almost like his presence dumbifies you. Like you forget the world around you, manifesting itself in your careless and clueless actions like resting your open hand on a cactus while trying to stand up just to bring him comforting words.
Instead he’s met with your yelp as you prick your hand, head, and shoulder in the process of standing and tumbling down. Whitey’s karma has served you, he bleats mockingly when you keep on hurting yourself within the premise of his home.
Instinctively Jaehyun rushes to you, concerned and scared of what this could illicit. He isn’t safe of Whitey’s wrath, not when he helped you and has decreed the young brunette is of your interest. Rushing to your aid, Jaehyun doesn’t count on one of the sheep to leave her droppings on the path he’s taking. Fresh and new, it wasn’t difficult for Jaehyun to find himself slipping straight into the cactus that has served your own aches.
They say laughter is the best medicine. Both you and Jaehyun attempt it when your eyes meet but the throbbing is far more intense that you synchronize in wailing. Loud and tuneless, enough to drag out your grandmother from the kitchen and force laughter out of Ollie and your grandfather who were arriving from their daily duties.
Camila doesn’t stay too behind in her own laughter. You fear all the livestock was against you two or perhaps rooting for you in the most vicious way. It’s rotten to know this is the start of your shared misery and ache.
The accident had forced your grandparents to make it up to you both the following day. Early in the morning your grandfather drove you all to a neighboring town. Ollie groggily dragged himself out of his home despite his father’s complaints that he was being a burden. You reassured him he was always welcomed, your grandfather scolded his dad. Yelling at him to stop trying to force ideas in the boy’s head.
Jaehyun had taken in the scenery on his taxi drive although he’s convinced something is different this time. Aside from your grandfather teasing everyone when driving along the edge of the mountains, Ollie clinging to you ready to cry as if he didn’t surpass all of you in height.
It takes roughly an hour and a half to arrive at the destination and almost another to find parking they eventually found was free and available behind a cathedral. Everyone laughs at each other for missing it when minutes prior your grandfather was ready to turn the car around, hangry and annoyed at how this damn town was overcrowded with no parking spots.
For once he felt like an actual tourist, visiting the restaurant you all loved and gorging himself with the most delicious meal he’s ever tasted in his life – besides his mother’s cooking, of course! For reassurance, she will witness how happy he looked while eating through the picture you managed to snap of him.
After the meal, your grandparents attempted to walk for digestion but age made them give up as soon as you all reached the town’s plaza. It wasn’t a rare occurrence, you saw no problem with it, they’re together. All they asked was to bring them those donuts they loved dearly and a soda to share. Ollie took it in his hands to beat you to it. Now there you and Jaehyun stood looking at the elderly couple sat before you.
At the time it didn’t feel like a scheme but looking back at it, Jaehyun is sure you figured it out as well.
Despite the accident, you both went back to the timidness that sheltered you both. Stolen glances and polite smiles when caught, stopping here and there to take pictures of the architecture and culture. He wouldn’t tell you, but a good portion were candids of you. You look so pretty that he could not avoid capturing the only remnants of you he could keep.
Both try small talk, history pointers whenever reaching old buildings – most consisted of luring him away from hustlers. You’d laugh after every successful attempt and reward yourself with street snacks that he’d find too salty or too sweet, still delicious enough to risk getting scolded by his physician if it meant enjoying the wonders of life.
The day might have ended with shy conversations and laughs but both could testify that comfort is what surrounded you most. On his end he felt safe and secure, comfortable enough to laugh at anything you said because in whatever way he looked at it, your presence forced glee onto him. Warmth and comfort is what you would best describe it as and that’s what you have learnt care feels like.
Your grandmother began going easy on you after the accident and outing. You felt like a teenager visiting your grandparents again with how little she left for you to do and how she forced you to go out more often. Encouraging you to enjoy your summer as well while showing Jaehyun around.
Jaehyun is sure this was her way to make both of you appreciate the limited shared time. He’s thankful enough for it but bitter towards himself for losing some weeks at the start.
You began showing him around other towns. On times you went grocery shopping and he’d beat you to paying for it (his form of appreciation), he’d throw in a peach or two. His favorite, you figured.
At the neighboring market, he’d buy fridge magnets, five for the price of a large one. All which represented his favorite snacks he’s consumed during these days. You still remember teasing him for buying a mini replica magnet of a beer bottle. Later at home while rocking on a chair he showed you a layout of how he’d arrange them on his fridge. In the meantime, you helped him decorate the door to his room, enjoying the air the fan blew at both.
When it rained, Ollie forced both to dance under the cold drops. Enjoy life as you should, he justified. At night, he’d dragged you both to the night market. Showing Jaehyun his favorite drinks and laugh when you scold him for drinking like an old man with kidney issues. He would joke about you and Jaehyun being his parents and would even grab your hands to skip in between both when it was so easy for him to drag you down. Damn him and his tall genes.
He’d drag the joke far enough to reach home where your grandparents never missed the opportunity to throw in a “Take your brat with you.” whenever Ollie was available and you were to show Jaehyun around. Neither of you minded, Ollie was silent enough to let you two bask in each other’s presence and playful enough for you two to feel at ease and content.
In another universe, this would reign true and not a fragment of a life you’re all creating that was never to bloom.
After three months the festivities had reached your village and vendors from all around the country settled by the plaza. Intrigued at first and fascinated by what they sold, poor Jaehyun fell victim to one of the home goods sellers. Spending a large amount buying your grandmother some pots, pans, a set of dishes, and stools as a token of appreciation. He went overboard but was happy to help, blinded by the cheap prices. Jaehyun should’ve known something was off, he knows you would have talked him out of it but you had been arguing with another vendor that they took advantage of the painfully obvious foreigner in the meantime.
When arriving home and seeing he had been robbed, you got ready to argue and force them to give him his money back. He protested despite being defeated and sad he was swindled. He convinced you but not your grandparents and Ollie. The three had taken matters into their own hands while you two fetched salt blocks to replace in the pen. By the time you got back, Ollie’s hair was far more ruffled than usual and his face red while your grandfather laughed, taking a sip of his beer, clanking it with your grandmother’s. On the kitchen bar, Jaehyun’s money was laid out. Every single cent and interest returned to him, money he used to invite all to dinner and dessert with a gift of their choice.
Ollie wore his tonight. Gleefully trotting through the threshold of the gate, careful to not scuff the boots Jaehyun gladly bought while singing to gain attention. Jaehyun laid on bed, scribbling his thoughts on his days, one-liners here and there and far more of the noises you’ve made. In addition the lyrics to the song Ollie sang before your grandmother told him to stop before he ate a fly.
Fireworks had been going off all day and neighbor’s music loudened with their gates open. This wasn’t new but it seemed to be far more intense today out of all days. “Why aren’t you ready? You’re not going to the fair?” Ollie questions, out of breath and frantic to see your grandparents sitting on their chairs enjoying today’s weather with a cup of soda in one hand and pastries in the other.
Talks about a fair had not gone in deaf ears throughout the past three weeks but Jaehyun paid it no mind when he saw that no one else seemed concerned – besides Ollie. It seemed to be a big thing when he noticed more carps, games, and rides fully covering the plaza.
“Don’t think we will be going, Ol. Their knees hurt.” Your voice manifests itself, forcing Jaehyun to sit up and put away his journal. You had been doing some chores outside his room. Hanging laundry and watering the plants, the product of everything he’s written and attempted to draw today.
He follows outside, Ollie greets him, a mischievous smile on his lips forming an idea. “Why not? I’ll drive if you want! Do it for Jaehyun, he’s never going to experience this again.”
Ollie’s childish intuition strikes again, this time in the form of a gash against both of your chests.
You both knew it was true but reality is what Jaehyun wanted to escape and you had made sure to enable him. It just so happens that you have fallen victim to it as well.
No matter, he said he wanted to stay months so it should still be far along in the future. You think so… you implore.
Perceptive is a word to describe your grandparents. Despite their ache they figure it is not as big as the one brewing in the depths of your conscious and heart. As best as they can, they agree with the younglin and head inside to get ready.
Ollie is ecstatic, he’s always been a fan of these things but now that he was of age, he could enjoy it more with a drink or two. Not to mention things like these are grounds for finding partners and like any town boy who hasn’t found one, he’s looking forward to it. That’s what he tells you and Jaehyun at least but he knows he’ll spend his night looking after your grandparents, far more giddy about you two together.
He had been smart enough to put cinder blocks early in the morning in a parking spot front and center from the fair, forcing Jaehyun out of the car to move and put them behind the car once he parked so no one would block them. Perfect was his plan that once everyone got out of the car, his friends that occupied a bench scattered like roaches to give their seat to your grandparents. Both elders find it comical seeing right through Ollie.
Arriving just in time for the parade, all queen candidates drove around in their elaborately decorated transportation. Colors flying around similar to their presentation favors, many which ended up hitting both Jaehyun and Ollie in the head. The older of the two made sure to take pictures of it while Ollie complained, claiming he was glad he didn’t vote for whoever hit him. The new reigning queen didn’t appear until the end. It was far more of a social economic competition. Whoever paid more won therefore it wasn’t surprising when a queen from years prior won again.
“You should’ve signed up, you would’ve won, Y/n.” Ollie elbows you, received with an eye roll. “Right, Jaehyun?” That devious brat, always finding a way to make you miserable. You try not to turn to Jaehyun, yet his gaze is so intense that it forces you to do so slowly. His face, decorated with that usually wide smile that emphasized his dimples, eyes squinting in glee when yours finally meet his. Candidness and benevolence lacing his voice.
“Yes, you would have won, Y/n.”
That was enough footing for Ollie to shoo both of you away, promising to take care of your grandparents while you had fun. Your attempts at protest are futile, your grandparents helping Ollie in his mission. Buying the three something to eat in the process before parting ways, promising it’ll be fast.
It’s not fast, it’s a brisk walk that both you and Jaehyun enjoy. Struggling to not lose each other within the masses going opposite or in the same direction. He jokes about feeling like a meerkat in a sea of gazelles, you laugh but he’s sure you don’t find it funny. At least he’s glad you humor him.
You entertain him through food. Buying tornado potatoes, plain and simple. He mentions having eaten these when he lived in Connecticut. You ask him about the state and what it’s like, you’re not too thrilled nor believe him when he says it’s boring. As an attempt to remove the connection, you drizzle hot sauce on one half of the potatoes. Scared but willing to try it, Jaehyun lets you feed him the first broken off bit. It’s enjoyable at first, soon his face blends with the lights behind him. Red and bright as he begins to cough. Now he will only think of this when it comes to the snack.
You both laugh at it, as an apology you buy him a drink. A piña colada for him and a michelada for you, it should work enough to ease both of your bashfulness. He couldn’t eat anything from the drizzled side, leaving those for you whilst he munched on the dry. Giving you sips here and there from his drink to cool down the fire in your mouth. He teases you for choosing a spicy drink when you’re eating far more spice, receiving him with an eye roll and “You don’t know what life is about.”
Finishing that, he dragged you to a game. You’d like to think he found it far more odd because of the mini stripper animatronics in the center of all the glass bottles but he reassures you the life-size gremlin doll pissing on people was more alluring – and disturbing. It didn’t stop him from attempting to win a decrepit pale Winnie the Pooh bear.
He had spent a good amount of time trying for it, towards the end he required your help. You had been nagging him throughout the entire game to not spend more money on the game, that it was most likely rigged but when it was your turn and managed to burst all bottles, then it became a skill issue.
Jaehyun mopped about it, you figured the bear would bring him comfort. He held it for seconds to soon return it with a bright smile. You try rejecting it, he had been fighting hard for it so it was confusing why he didn’t want it. You thought it had to do with the principle of the winner takes it all; it wasn’t the case.
He confessed he had wanted to get it for you and only felt bummed that he wasn’t able to but that you should keep it irregardless as a token of his appreciation and care for you, to give your Garfield some company. The moment would’ve been sweet if the booth attendant didn’t make that stupid doll spritz it’s faux piss your way, forcing you to flee while cursing him out with laughs in between.
That was the beginning of your journey through halls and carps, stepping out here and there to get on children’s rides that warrant glares from parents. Jaehyun joked about dragging Ollie so he could ride the caterpillar rollercoaster with him and have you take pictures of a father with his kid. Jaehyun is now playing along with the fantasy Ollie has created. You don’t know whether to laugh or let the ache in your heart manifest.
You end at the ferris wheel only a few feet away. In the process of calming each other’s laughter, the noises of people and music filled the silence. Comforting as the day you met, walking through the market and buying produce for that day’s meal. It makes Jaehyun think about how far you two have gone. How one little incident with a cactus has led to having the time of your lives nearing the highest point of the ride.
You’ve felt the warmth and softness of his touch. Felt his care and appreciation through every little act yet you yearn and crave for more from him. Your body and soul know there is more both can offer, although frightened that you’ve misinterpreted his lingering gazes and gestures.
“When I was younger my mom had decided that we would spend every summer with my grandparents and aunt. I hadn’t been here since I was five for her grandpa’s funeral so it meant nothing the first few weeks. The first year, even.”
Jaehyun turns, intrigued. “Then when my mom would make the long distance calls and send letters, my grandpa would joke around how I didn’t want to visit them at all – that I hated it here, similar to how he does with you. I didn’t hate it, I think I just wasn’t familiar with the lifestyle in comparison to back home where I don’t have to worry about if there’s hot running water.”
His hand inches closer to you. “In attempts to prove him wrong, I spent my time here helping him with the animals, going grocery shopping with him and my cousins and it drew me closer to this. After the second summer, we spent Christmas here too and the weather killed me but they seemed so happy that I joined.”
Your laugh comforts him. He thinks about the times he’s attempted to help and failed your grandparents, it only dawns upon him that things take time and he shouldn’t dwell on them too much.
“Then in my last summer of college, I had taken an internship that promised a job right out of college– obviously it was a lie, I’m here.” You laugh bitterly. “I missed time with my family and my grandma ended up in the hospital. I felt so guilty the remainder of the year, even during winter break. I felt like it was my fault, that my absence was the small piece of the puzzle that could ruin it all.”
Jaehyun felt and heard the remorse in your voice, he felt the need to find a way to ease it with no avail, feeling as inutile as when the ram tackled you. It’s imprinted in his brain that no matter what, it will weigh on his shoulders that he’s not able to help no matter how much he tries.
“And I think the universe is funny and cruel enough that when the internship dropped me and said all vacancies were occupied, my aunt was the one to fall ill next. Forcing her back home with her own family. It was its way to make it up to me, as horrible as it sounds.”
You share a sigh, he takes your hand in his, reassuringly. You don't want comfort words, he knows that, he knows this is enough for you. “I think what I first felt when visiting is what you feel now with the exception that you actually have so much to do out there…” Jaehyun’s actions halt, lifting his head to look at your sorrow filled eyes.
He shakes his head, trying to convince himself and you. He clings to the delusion everyone helped create in hopes to be good hosts. He still has time, Jaehyun has time, he wants to believe it so please don’t shatter his joy so quickly, please!
“It’s okay, Jaehyun. You have to publish your book, we’ll always be here for you as they’ve been for me.” He’s not too sure how true that is. Life is never consistent nor forgiving, he’s learnt that in harsh ways. People’s care is conditional and based on time and familiarity, he’s been at the end of that stick.
Your hand takes purchase on his cheek, consoling him for what you have just said. You didn’t intend to cause this but you have to prepare yourself for what you’ve known all along. “I don’t think I want to go back and risk anything.” He mutters, eyes softening the longer he looks at you, the ride feels endless.
“You must… All there is for you here is inspiration.” They’re meant to comfort him but it feels more like you’re trying to convince yourself that you’ll be fine when he leaves. Jaehyun’s lips part ready to speak, words muted by the fireworks going off. Midnight has hit, it’s a brand new day and it’s received with pyrokinetic colors that aim to diffuse the pain he feels.
They illuminate your face, a smile forming in awe of how pretty they look. Not as pretty as you, Jaehyun is sure of that the longer he stares with the same smile on his face you adore. “I’ve found the life I needed all along.” His touch on your cheek brings you back to him, dumbfounded with what he meant. Inquiries answered upon feeling his lips softly land on yours.
Hands softly cradle your face, eyelashes tickling your cheek as you get a taste of him. It’s so soft and tender that you want to be here for the rest of the night, drowning the noises around you. If you’ve felt heaven before, it doesn’t compare to being with him like you are now.
The crowded path didn’t feel claustrophobic, like it was just you two in the sea of booths, fluorescent lights and fireworks. The music drowned, his grasp on you doing its best to keep you with him for whatever time is left for you two.
He hadn’t noticed at what point you both had gone back until Ollie stepped in between you two. “So? Did you like it?” The giddy young boy questions, a bottle of beer in his hand, compliments from his cousin – your grandparents with their own as well, watching. Jaehyun nods, glancing at you. “More than anything.” He smiles widely, hypnotizing dimples present.
Ollie giggles, a chant as he jumps near your grandparents telling them something that neither of you manage to hear, distracted by the shocking ice-cold bottle shoved into your hands. Your grandfather had been talking to your grandmother, both laughing about judgments thrown at people around them. Mean, yes, but it’s not often that they bond about things anymore.
The elder’s leg had been bouncing as they talked, cackling in the process of drowning whatever was left in the bottle. Jaehyun took notice of this, turning to the group playing up on stage a few feet away. People around were dancing, some seemed to enjoy themselves, others not too much – the only thing that mattered was the ambient and showing face.
Jaehyun approaches your grandpa, asking if he was having a good time. The older of the two nodded, responding by showing the new bottle Ollie handed him. You scold both of them to not drink too much but they shush you. “It’s a party, Y/n. Liven up.” Ollie laughs, alcohol having gotten into his stream, demonstrated on how clumsily he clinks his bottle with yours and everyone else's. “Come on, let’s dance instead.” Pulling you in for a quick little shuffle. He’s not a great dancer, he knows it. He also knows his joy brings joy to your grandparents and you’ll do anything for them to maintain it.
You entertain Ollie, dancing despite him having already stepped on you multiple times. Apologizing with whines and puppy eyes that make you laugh. You push him off after a while, helping your grandfather up so he could dance with you. He’s overjoyed, finally having the opportunity to do what he loves so much, a pity your grandmother is the opposite. She’s content enough with just watching.
Jaehyun smiles, laughing in glee at how the ambient fuels his emotions. His own body swaying ever so slightly, brain trying to formulate how to dance to music he’s never heard. He thinks he gets it, it doesn’t seem too hard but he could be proven wrong and become Ollie’s mirror.
Your grandmother, ever so insightful, watches with a glint of content with how well he has adapted to the culture. Although, far more interested in the way his eyes don’t leave you. His ears are red, brighter than the light illuminating the stage and the municipal office. Jaehyun may try to hide how he feels, you may try, but she’s older and wiser. She’ll always know when love is around.
“Go ask her for a dance.” She elbows him to catch his attention, Jaehyun had been holding your grandfather’s seat. The mention alone caused his ears to brighten, crimson migrating to his face. He tries not to smile, it so happens to be that his muscles are treacherous and they emphasize the lines of his smile, deepening those dimples you love.
Jaehyun shakes his head. Convince her that it’s okay, that he would rather watch, something she won’t allow. “Don’t coward away. When’s the next time you’ll get the chance?” Jaehyun ignores the heavy meaning of her words, he prefers to ignore the reality that slowly creeps in. Regardless, he nods, taking in the other point of view. He thanks her with a smile, standing up to walk towards you. Sacks of nervousness weighing him down, making his hands sweat.
“Mind if I take her from you?” Jaehyun clears his throat, head tilting, pleading. The older man cackles, pure and utter joy that Jaehyun has made a move. Frantically he nods, agreeing by pushing you towards the brunette who seems just as ecstatic as your grandfather. Given persimmon, Jaehyun takes your hand in his. Awkwardly figuring out how else he should position himself.
You watch amusedly, hiding your smile by pressing your lips together as if your cheeks and eyes were not a dead giveaway. “What makes you think I wanted to dance with you?” You tease, correcting where his hands and feet should go. The smile you try hard to hide slowly creeps in. Jaehyun doesn’t mind exposing his own, giggling when you begin to lead. “What’s this then?” He plays along, moving his feet and knees according to what he had examined. Raising your shoulders in a shrug, you don’t hold back your smile, a giggle following. “A lesson.”
The dance doesn’t go smoothly, you have to teach him between laughs, both yours and his with your family’s in the background but he manages. Even if you all think his dancing is horrible, as bad as Ollie’s, the younger one takes the opportunity to capture you two dancing with Jaehyun’s camera. If there’s something to remember, it is this night and the love that has finally come into fruition.
The flash blinds you, stopping you two from dancing and even though Ollie whines for you two to continue, you both claim your feet ache. It’s not a lie on your end but the coyness from your family seeing you with a potential partner is a bigger deal.
It’s past two in the morning, obvious in the way your grandparents hide their yawns from your view, hoping to not ruin your night further. “Want to go home?” You walk towards them, a hand on your hip and genuine concern on your face. They admit they are tired but don’t want to go home no matter how much you insist. Ollie offers to drive them home while you and Jaehyun stay back longer but you’ve been away from them this entire night that you cannot fathom the idea any longer.
Ollie and your grandparents can try to convince you with the same story about Jaehyun’s limited time but that wasn’t going to work now. No, you stick to your guns and manage to get them in the car. Ollie had drank far more than all of you so he wasn’t apt to drive, instead Jaehyun volunteered, something that had excited your grandfather the most.
After removing the cinder blocks and putting them back in the trunk, Ollie walks towards your window, bidding everyone goodnight. You nag him, worried that he was drinking too much. He receives you with an “Okay, mom!”, the same phrase he’s been throwing around ever since Jaehyun had reached a month’s stay. It managed to get a laugh out of your grandparents, even from you and Jaehyun but it didn’t change that you still lightly swat his hand. “I’m serious, Ollie. Don’t drink anymore, stay back a bit but not too late, Okay?”
The worry in your eyes makes him relent, nodding before kissing your cheek goodnight and shaking Jaehyun’s hand. The interaction forced a smile on his face, every single aspect of your tenderness making him melt more.
As the moon is his witness, Jaehyun has fallen in love with this village and you. Gracious the stars are that once you manage to get your grandparents in bed and meet Jaehyun in the kitchen, the two of you quietly make your way outside with nothing but moonlight to illuminate you.
“Want some coffee?” You ask, fingers familiarizing themselves with the texture of those yellow walls. “Do you not want to sleep?” He laughs, taking those same fingers to familiarize with the tenderness of his lips. The action makes your breath hitch.
“Perhaps…”
His eyes meet yours, inching closer to capture your lips in another tender kiss. His hands find purchase on your waist, your arms wrap around his shoulders. It’s sweet and soft, his tongue managing to slip in your mouth to waltz with your own. The soft muscle forces a delighted sigh, one that he swallows graciously.
When neither can hold it for much longer, you separate, smiling like two fools. “So no coffee, then?” You laugh, one he reciprocates with a nod. “Too bitter, not as sweet as you.” The flirtatious remark is received with a laugh.
“You’re so cheesy.” You claim. “It’s worth it if it makes you laugh – it’s what I like to hear everyday.”
Jaehyun’s expression is serious, the adoration in his eyes letting you know how he feels. He may not pin a word to it but you can see his yearning and longing. You try to be in the same cloud he is in, to ignore the dooming reality but you can’t. You appreciate his affection and you reciprocate it but you also don’t want to become delusional.
“Jaehyun…” Your head drops, avoiding his look. He thinks he’s done something wrong and it aches horribly. “Yeah?” He squeaks meekly, head moving in hopes to see your eyes, to understand how the atmosphere became so somber. “How serious are you about this? You know how things are an–”
“Don’t… Please don’t bring that up.” He begs, eyes shutting, no longer in need to understand what you meant. “You can’t act like you don’t have a life outside of here. You may stay all you want but eventually you will go back – there’s more to life than this for you.” Your head lifts, vulnerability not as heavy as his.
He tries to drown out your words, this night has gone too well for things to fall off already. He doesn’t want it to be bittersweet. Sure he can stay all he wants until it’s time to publish his book but he will come back so why are you being so cruel to him?
“Nothing compares to this, Y/n.” He holds your hands, hoping his warmth lets you know how much you’re hurting him but also how much he loves you. You shake your head, a small smile of unbelievability. “You’ve been here for three months, that’s still fine and dandy. It’s not like truly living here.”
His eyebrows furrow, refusing to listen. “But you still love it here. I don’t know what you’re trying to get at.” His voice quivers, frightened that this is your way of ripping his heart out.
You sigh, squeezing his hands. “I do, I love it but I also think that I’ve been looking at this place through the same glasses you’re looking through. What I’m getting at is that, in the long run you’ll get bored, everyone I know has and they’ve left… Who knows, maybe even Ollie will leave and it’ll leave me here because no matter how hard I try to make a life out there, it doesn’t love me back.”
Jaehyun was perplexed, eyes scanning your face. He knows you’re projecting, that you don’t want to get attached despite already having done so, he hopes you could see inside him to understand that he doesn’t ever want to leave. He doesn’t want to leave you.
His hands cradle your face, kissing your eyelids, cheeks, nose, and lips for reassurance. “I can always come back. After publishing whatever I have in hand, I will always come back. You are the life that I needed all along, Y/n.” His whisper is heavy and sincere, the glimmer in both your eyes, evidence to what both feel.
Words don’t describe what you two feel, no matter how heavy they hang on your tongues. No, it’s best that you share it in another tender kiss that the stars and moon witness. Both end the conversation, convinced that the love you two port is stronger than the universe’s will.
Quick glances and kisses are stolen for the following weeks, everyone knows what both feel but it’s more exciting if you pretend as if this love is forbidden despite the encouragement and approval of your family. Ollie teases you two about the brewing romance, pretending to act like he didn’t say anything regarding it when you correct him that nothing is happening. It’s like a game for all of you, one that you all indulge in for the sake of excitement.
You had all agreed upon visiting a thermal spring this morning, the drive was somewhat long and it was best to arrive before other people did. Ollie was the most excited about it, he had begged his family to let him go for days until they agreed. It just so happens to be that the universe doesn’t often like to see him happy; you don’t appreciate that.
Ollie had arrived with a glum look on his face, saddened eyes when he sat in his usual seat next to the chimney. Jaehyun approached him with a cup of hot chocolate and a pat to his head. Your grandma didn’t take long to question the reason behind his state but he only sighed.
“They moved the pension collection to today. The offices will be closed until next month for remodeling so you two have to go in before the line gets long.” His lip juts out, looking at everyone with puppy eyes.
You ruffle his hair, rubbing his back comfortingly. “We can go tomorrow, Ollie. Don’t worry…” You mimic his pout, his head rests on your hip, pressure tickling your hip bone. “No… Dad is taking me with him out of town for a few weeks to help with the ranch that hired him.” He doesn’t dare look at anyone. It’s not the first time he was taken to different places in the country but when they came back his dad usually kept Ollie locked in for a while until he became unbearable to keep in. It’s as if he relishes in your joint misery.
Jaehyun throws you a look, looking for ways to solve this crisis. He knows you don’t like the news, he hates them too. He’s grown so fond of Ollie that knowing he’s the first to go is causing a small turmoil in his chest. Sure, he may be back and Jaehyun will still be here but one never knows how things may turn out.
“What if you and Jaehyun go? I have to take my grandparents for their pension so you two enjoy.” Ollie wishes things were that easy but his childish intuition fears that time is coming short and if you don’t spend more time with Jaehyun, he’ll feel guilty for whatever ending comes.
Ollie shakes his head, standing up. “No, it’s fine. You and him go. I’m going to take my dad anyway so I can take them too.” He attempts to smile even if he can’t. It dawns upon you that missing the trip isn’t his concern but not seeing any of you for God knows how long is what’s killing him.
You try to deny, shake your head in protest. Jaehyun does so as well, it’s not that he doesn’t want time alone with you but knowing this is his last day with Ollie for a while is killing him. Your grandparents hadn’t said anything up until this point. They weren’t fond of swimming, they never did.
“Ollie is right, you two go.” Your grandmother spoke, standing to grab her purse. “I can’t leave you two, what if you need help?” You attempt and they protest, your grandfather jumping in by throwing in Jaehyun’s limited time. It seems they’re all far more in tune with reality than you two.
You don’t know how or when but they managed to convince you and Jaehyun to go. Both attempted to protest and cancel the trip all together but here you were, in your grandfather’s old and chipped red ford. The seats torn apart, a blanket hiding away its imperfections. The red leather of the dashboard hot under Jaehyun’s touch, its form of showing that you two being left alone was real.
That now you didn’t have to talk through a window in the bathroom to spend some alone time. You didn’t have to climb on the sink and hit your head on the roof just to see his face through the mangled chicken wire and be received by concrete flakes on your lips and eyelashes whenever you attempt to kiss through it. No, here you were able to hold hands and kiss without fear of being caught (even if it didn’t matter – everyone knew).
The roads were messy and bumpy, dirt flew all around which forced you to keep the windows rolled-up despite the sun’s rays being hotter than the actual weather. Worse off is that once he came out of the truck, a gust of cold breeze rained upon him. Showing him everything he had missed while struggling with heat and keeping dust out of your airways.
It was a reward but also mockery, to him at least because you remained unphased, rejoicing on how lonely it was. “Reckon everyone is getting their pension, too?” You ask, hands on your hips, ripping some overgrown grass by your feet to make sure no venomous critters are around.
Jaehyun shrugs, letting his focus remain on his surroundings. It was amazing for him to see how deserted and destroyed this place was. Overgrown yellowing grass that stray cattle eat, ruins of houses from colonial towns signaling the fleeing of whoever had inhabited them before; your grandfather had later explained that the location was a town destroyed in the process of gaining independence.
What was prettier to him was the body of water he was here for. Multiple trees around, so green and alive in comparison to the remaining vegetation. The water is so clear and warm that he could see the steam rise the closer he got.
“Like it?” You question, to his side with towels on your shoulders. Jaehyun’s head whips, a smile on his face upon reaching for your hand, “It’s beautiful.” His fingers interlace with yours, camera in hand positioning it an arms length away when he takes the initiative to lean down and kiss you, capturing it all on film.
You shove him playfully, rushing to a dry rock where you can leave your possessions. He chases after you, removing his shirt and unbuttoning his pants. Your instinct to look away is something he does not miss and it causes a blush to creep up on his face.
He takes in the temperature of the water with his feet. Jumping back when he realizes it’s hotter than what he’s experiencing right now. “It’s not that bad.” You call out, pulling down on the bottoms of your dress swimsuit. Your smile softly falters when he doesn’t respond, rather his attention is set on how pretty you look.
The trees sway, leaving empty slots for the sunrays to seep through, illuminating you. Seemingly purposely done, to put you on a pedestal for him to look at with nothing else but admiration. That blush he had earlier rose again, one he’ll pretend is due to the water’s temperature.
“What are you looking at?” You tease, smile back on. Jaehyun approaches you with a shrug, shirt unbuttoned halfway. His fingers thread over the fabric of the straps, such a pretty lace decorated with satin red ribbon forming a bow at the front. “You.” He smiles, warm fingers touching your arms in hopes to feel closer than he already is in all senses. You don’t respond but he’s aware that the look you give him is fond.
Your hands mimic his, finding their way to his shirt and helping him undo the last few buttons, pushing off the linen to free his flesh and let it be kissed by the breeze – something you can only wish for. Once off you toss it to the pile of clothes and towels, cocking your head for him to follow you into the water. It’s glistening and steaming, soothing once his feet acclimate.
Silent sounds escape both, little by little submerging yourselves – your hands not letting go in any instance. “My mom and aunt loved to come here. They’re hypochondriacs – at least my mom is– always claiming a trip here was healing, holistic. Forcing my grandparents to put their feet in at least so the warmth would take away any aches.” Jaehyun could see how your free hand rubbed at your knees, mimicking their action.
“Pretty sure they take from my grandma but my grandpa was more of a people pleaser so he’d tell them he felt much better just so they wouldn’t feel bad. I don’t really see how this can take away all your aches. I get that it can help temporarily but not permanently.” Your shrug and words may tell him so but Jaehyun can tell that your vigorous rubbing at your own joints was a form of subconsciously believing them.
“Maybe… It seems like a mutual interaction of comfort and understanding. Your mom and aunt try their best for their parents to feel better about their bodies wearing down and in turn they receive praise and appreciation from them.”
Your hand stops its action, looking up at him with a hum. “I guess so.” You mutter, letting go of him to float on your back. “The writer in you just had to make it so philosophical.” he can hear the smile on your lips, your feet playfully kicking some water onto him to which he laughs, responding by splashing you too. Calling a truce when he was winning this battle.
As a way to comfort, he pulls you in for a hug. Your back to his chest, head resting on his shoulder and holding onto a railing to not float away far deeper. If it was for Jaehyun, he’d love to stay like this until it was time to go. For once in this entire trip you two have been truly left alone. No more sneaking kisses and late night talks through the bathroom window. It was just you and him an hour away from civilization with only the cattle as witness to the love you two didn’t speak about but embraced.
There is nothing more Jaehyun wants than to have more time with you. He wonders if things would have been different if he had fallen for you much earlier or if you had. He’s not fully sure how much you love him, he knows you’re stuck on him leaving sometime in the future which is what hinders this from going forward but he truly wishes you could see that he has no intent on leaving soon or for too long.
What if he had helped you clean the pen earlier? That would have meant spending more time with you and more outings with your family, surely. On the other hand, what if he had been useful enough during planting? It’s evident he would have never gotten close to you beside cordiality in the mornings and afternoons for meals and trips to the market.
Jaehyun cannot think of a world where this trip would result in you two not becoming closer. He can’t fathom not getting to know and falling in love with you.
Sensing his pensiveness, you turn your head, looking up at him with a questioning look that he could only interpret as trying to read his mind. He’s noticed that quirk, the way your head tilts and your lips quiver in a way to mutter a “hm” without voicing it. He makes sure to receive it with a smile, leaning in to peck your lips that surely help you abandon your actions.
“It’s a bummer Ollie didn’t come.” He attempts to distract. “Would have been nice seeing him have some fun before leaving.” There’s more to what he had said. Jaehyun wanted to add ‘before I leave’ into his sentence, it’s hanging on his tongue despite how much his brain and heart attempt to keep him wrapped around his delusion of perpetual happiness.
“I think so too.” your body twists within his arms, facing him. “I was thinking of making his favorite meal for dinner once we get back. His dad always returns him skinnier and paler than how he leaves, I need him to keep his cheeks plump, don’t you think?” Your exclamation forces a chuckle out of him, nodding in response.
“Help me find a gift for him too, then?” “Don’t spoil him too much, he’ll be an even bigger pain than he already is.” “Oh come on, don’t be so mean to the kid. Let me, please…” Jesus, if anyone was to hear you two they’d think you’re talking about a child and not a nineteen year old. But that’s what Ollie is to you both. A child you saw as yours or your brother that Jaehyun would spoil while you scold him no matter how much you loved him. You’d reckon Ollie’s presence kept you sane even if he often teased you but his nature was enough to bring entertainment for you and joy for your grandparents. If Jaehyun looks back at it, Ollie reminds him of the young boy he met in that taxi on the way to that village.
Reluctantly (faking so) you agree, rolling your eyes before pushing him off to swim away from him. He doesn’t stay too behind, chasing you for what feels like forever. Overworking your body for hours in such a hot body of water had rendered exhausting for both to the point that you basically had to drag each other out of the water just to lay on the cool metal ramp, gasping for air acclimation to avoid fainting. Jaehyun was far more concerned with you when he didn’t hear you speaking nor felt you moving, calming when you stick your tongue out at him for his nosiness although all you wanted was to see him smile.
“You complain about Ollie but it seems like the real brat here is you!” He exclaims, gaining momentum to swing his legs onto both sides of you. “Cry about it.” You mutter, a smile on your face; his hair hangs off, fuzzy around his eyes and dripping onto your cheeks. “Or… maybe I should do something to correct it.” His hair tickles your face, sticking to your cheeks the more his lips linger on them, testing the waters.
He relents when your arms wrap around his shoulders, leaving him flush over your body with nothing left but your lips to connect. They’re cold and pillowy, soft against your own just like his hands when they find purchase on your waist, holding you near as if the spring water below you will drag you out of his grasp, the last thing he needs.
Jaehyun is gentle in the way he holds and kisses you. His hands knead your skin, warming against it the more they roam around to hold you closer. Your fingers thread through his hair, sending shivers down his spine that causes him to sigh into the kiss, enough for your tongue to slip through and deepen the kiss. The intensity rose, his hands felt much hotter against your skin the lower they went, scalding when one of them grips your upper thigh –avoiding the bruising from whitey’s assault– helping it raise to rest on his hip.
Tongues mingle amongst each other, the taste of the mango juice he drank earlier still coating it to which you enjoy against your own. The thin film of saliva on both of your lips helps them slot smoothly in a far more pleasant kiss. Jaehyun’s fingers knew how to tease you, tips tickling your inner thigh that forced small groans which begged him for more.
More, more, more – Jaehyun would have given you everything if it wasn’t for the faint sound of music blaring and tires pushing dirt through Cattle began mooing, warning you of company joining, spoiling whatever comfort you two had.
You scramble to grab the towels, Jaehyun helps you, drying you off with his own and taking the remaining items under his arm to help you towards the truck, staying guard while you change into dry clothes coming in when you knock against the window. He doesn’t bother changing, claiming the air will dry him well enough upon.
You cross paths with the incoming truck, nodding your heads in acknowledgment before embarking on another long ride. Small talk made here and there, he speaks about how much this road reminds him of Western America: dry vegetation and barely any trees insight but with lively mountains that shield anyone from the sun. You tell him that it seems interesting how he describes that part while detesting Connecticut but he laughs and shrugs.
It’s not long until you stop at a gas station, the truck nearly empty and he still had to change into some dry clothes. He met you inside, walking through the aisles in search of a snack for whatever was left of the ride.
Jaehyun doesn’t share your sentiment. He finds himself distracted by a corner of toys, a bright red truck similar to the one you’re transporting through catching his eye. It glimmers under the sun rays that make way through the window panels. Jaehyun thinks it would be a good gift for Ollie, a menial one for now.
Paying for the items and heading outside with you hand in hand, Jaehyun recalls seeing a photobooth by the bathrooms. He pulls you along with no response to your questions, motioning with his head for you to push through the red velvet curtain. The first image is neutral enough, smiling while looking directly at the mirror, the flash comes in and you two hold each other. By the last two flashes it resulted in engraving the image of you two kissing.
You laugh at him for sneaking in a kiss and having it on film, he shrugs you off knowing that it was an image he’d like to see at all times and he’s hopeful you do too. You still needed to wait for at least four minutes for the film strips to develop, leading Jaehyun to slot in more coins claiming he wanted Ollie to have something to remind the young boy of the two.
Jaehyun truly wanted to say that he hoped Ollie wouldn’t forget that the two loved him. He hoped a flimsy piece of paper was enough of comfort to Ollie as they will be to him.
Pulling out a pocketbook rushedly, Jaehyun manages to scribble his support and appreciation for the young boy. That’s an image of himself alone, handing it to you to scribble something quick before the flash goes off again. The last two flashes are paraded with you two making faces you often made towards him – sticking your tongue out or scrunching your nose, the latter his favorite one.
“Good luck in your journey, you’ve done so well these past months!” “Ollie! Remember to eat all your meals and no buddy-budding with any louse. You’re a good boy!” “Fighting our lovely, Ollie!” Compliments of Jaehyun. “We love you, Ollie. More than you think.” Now that comes from the bottom of both of your hearts.
Jaehyun bought a jacket for Ollie once back in the village while grocery shopping at the market for the voyage dinner. For the first time since he arrived you had trusted him to navigate the village on his own. The everyday route was engraved onto his brain, finding you shortly with the jacket in a wrapped box. You wanted to see it but he told you you’d have to wait until Ollie opens it, he didn’t want to re-wrap this himself.
Your grandparents and Ollie didn’t arrive until a few hours later when everything was set up already. Jaehyun arranged the table outside with a fine china that belonged to you, not the one in the cabinet. He had attempted to help you in the kitchen but backed off when he saw your eye twitch the second he mixed a pot on the stove. There he learnt that getting in your way while cooking wasn’t a good idea so he instead went to feed the pen animals and loiter around to write the letter he’d give the young boy with his gifts.
Ollie could have sworn this was a delayed birthday party. Jaehyun had arrived a week after Ollie turned nineteen, missing any form of celebration. Now he was complete, this had to be a form of celebration and not a voyage dinner, it just had to. Otherwise why would he be crying at the dinner table?
Ollie would like to think his tears represented the impending doom you were all to face one way or another with his absence. Both figuratively and and literally; comically and realistically.
The hands on his back and shoulders try their best to comfort him, whispers of how this was yet another trip meant to minimize the meaning of this but Ollie knew something was wrong, something none of you did just yet. He smiled widely, tears streaming down his face, laughing in order to control himself but your gentle wiping and hugs made him fall deeper into that feeling. His childish intuition as you all call it.
Jaehyun on the other hand decides to pull out his gifts in hopes it would help but it only made Ollie cry harder. The younger spews his thank you’s, hugging Jaehyun for comfort to which the older one takes, his own heart filling with such an aching pulsation. He ignores it, it doesn’t matter what he’s feeling, he wants Ollie to take a good look and remember him in a bright light.
Ollie wore the jacket all night and took it on his trip – along the letter–, never letting anyone touch it. He left the truck with you and your grandparents, he knew it’d be far more safe with you than with his brothers.
The dinner didn’t spoil after his crying fit. Your grandmother had playfully scolded him to get a grip while your grandfather helped him with a shot of liquor. It progressed onto serving them all dinner, Jaehyun helping you throughout all steps while your grandpa complained about the long lines for their pension and all the old people as if he wasn’t one of them. Your grandmother only backed him up a few times, rebutting his claims in others just for the sake of arguing which caused laughs to leave everyone.
It wasn’t anything new, Jaehyun had grown accustomed to their conversations. They may argue right now but other times the tone of their voices sounded harsh when all they were doing was conversing, as peaceful as they knew how. He wonders if this will ever be you two although he’s not sure he could raise his voice at you or vice versa.
Night had fallen faster than any of you would have wanted. Usually Ollie would leave whenever he pleased and no one would bat an eye but in the past hour his father had called nearly ten times and it was bothering your grandparents. You and Jaehyun too but not as much as the elders since they were the ones inside. Your grandmother had been yelling from her bed to tell Ollie his dick of a father was on the line again, in fact by the fifth call no one answered, they just knew.
So when the tenth call had rung, Ollie who had been helping you put away the left overs answered angrily telling his father to fuck off and that he’d be on the way soon, received with some scolding from him that he didn’t finish spewing from how fast Ollie hung up. It didn’t mean your scolding wasn’t on the way with how piercing your glare was.
Like a kicked sad puppy, Ollie goes to you in hopes his affection would soften the blow. “That’s not how I’ve raised you, Oliver! Your dad may be a deadbeat but you still shouldn’t talk to him like that – at least in our presence!” Your fingers nip his earlobe, a yelp leaving his bitten lips and a grunt to follow.
“You know my grandparents don’t like when you talk back so don’t do it again when they’re around, okay?” You say, a hand on your hip like a mother scolding her child. That’s essentially how you saw him and how he saw you.
“So I can talk back in front of you?” A cheeky smile received with a soft pinch to his ear. “No!” Your smile betrayed your words. He giggles at the reaction he got out of you, twisting out of your grasp to take you into a hug.
“I really wish you would just enjoy the present and the time you have with Jaehyun without dwelling on how long or how little he has left here. Enjoy the love he’s giving you and return yours, he needs it too, Y/n. For what is left...”
He sighs, holding you in a firmer grasp. Words don’t quite describe what you want to answer with but you knew he was right despite your initial hostility.
You kiss his cheek, nodding as a response. He mimics your actions before waving and heading over to your grandparents to bid his goodbyes before leaving through the middle room.
Jaehyun doesn’t know why he disappeared after dessert. Perhaps he didn’t want to face Ollie when he left and had to say goodbye, he wasn’t good with those. So here he was, on the roof next to the water tank, filling it up as an excuse to why he was so detached from everyone else. It didn’t matter though, Ollie had found him immediately that when Jaehyun heard the clanking of boots he gifted the boy against the rusted ladder, he felt dread.
He pretended to be people watching, seeing how a guy on the right side cleaned his car (it is meant to rain tomorrow or overnight). In the front, a woman bathes her dogs within the vicinity of her patio, the dog shaking and getting the water all over her. On the dirt filled path, children rode their bicycles, going around any ditches and potholes that would make them fall.
Ollie joins him, standing besides, focusing far more on how the sun was setting. He allows Jaehyun to speak first but frowns when he doesn’t; the faint sound of the phone ringing again makes him shut his eyes.
“Thank you for the gifts, you’ve done far more for me than my own dad.” He bitterly chuckles. Jaehyun turns to him, a small grin on his face that falls when the younger one speaks again.
“You’re avoiding me.” “No.”
His voice wavers, eyes trying to show Ollie he wasn’t. Ollie chuckles again, shaking his head.
“I get it, don’t worry. I don’t want to say bye either.” “I don’t want to say bye.”
Ollie nods, looking at the sights Jaehyun had looked upon. The car was clean despite the sprinkling, a child had missed a bump and fell, and the dog was laying back on dirt.
“Jaehyun, it does mean a lot to me what you’ve done these months. You kind of suck with labor and all but you’ve been of great help.” He laughs, hoping his teasing jab will ease the tension. Jaehyun rolls his eyes, hitting the back of his head softly with a silent laugh. “I’m serious though, you’ve been of great help to Y/n, it’s not easy dealing with the house work and being a caretaker. I think you’ve helped liven her up more. I’m glad you’re able to think about your present with her. I hope it doesn’t change, you make her happy and we like seeing her this way.” Ollie sighs looking at his watch, the sun has set.
“I hope you’re still here by the time I come back home–” He laughs, cutting himself off. “It’s not even my home.”
“I’ve never felt more at home than here, I understand.”
Ollie smiles at his claims, he nods with a final sigh. Before going down he gives Jaehyun a final hug and a tight squeeze. The older man mimics his actions to demonstrate his own affection.
Midway down the ladder, Ollie stops and Jaehyun tilts his head. “By the way, this came after you left earlier today.” He pulls out a wrinkled envelope from his back pocket. Immediately recognizing the ivory color and red wax seal, all Jaehyun knows is that he won’t read it any time soon.
“Bye, Jaehyun.” “Bye, Ollie.”
–
Things didn’t go back to normal after Ollie’s departure, no matter how hard everyone pretended that this hadn’t created a rupture into the atmosphere – a breach to the eco. It goes to say that Ollie helped things feel easy and fun, he was the joy you all needed and now he was gone. Things felt mundane again and to Jaehyun this wasn’t a foreign feeling but one he did not want to have here.
A week and a half without him already feels like an eternity. You and Jaehyun wonder if this is what parents feel when their children finally part ways.
On the brightside, his conversation with you helped you ease into what you felt for Jaehyun. Yes, you still sneaked kisses and affectionate touches here and there out of respect for your grandparents but it was so obvious what you two had that the elders didn’t tease you anymore for the glances and blush.
Mail day has arrived and Jaehyun once again has received a letter, one he thinks about throwing onto the pile of drafts he’s written and discarded. The letter Ollie handed him before he left tucked in between those.
He thanks the mailman, putting down the rake he used to pick up fallen leaves. Your grandfather had taught him to put them in a pile to later be burned. He contemplates throwing the letter in, watching the red wax seal spread as it melts. He can't, though, the bold red letters screaming “URGENT!” make themselves present to him.
Jaehyun sighs, shaking his head wondering what it was now as he opens the envelope. Simple greetings, some scolding and questioning, and a plane ticket. What? That was enough for Jaehyun to ignore his nonchalant attitude and let panic take over him. He took the effort to read over the letter closely without missing a detail.
Why the hell would he have a plane ticket?!
‘Dear Jaehyun,
No, scratch that. What the hell is wrong with you? We haven’t heard back from you since that call and you’re not answering the one letter we sent you. We figure and understand you’re having a great time but it does not mean you’re meant to forget your responsibilities back home. Remember how you’re supposed to send drafts? Right, you haven’t done that and given the changes made while you’ve been gone it’s best you get to it!
We miss you so don’t regard this letter as totally reproachful. Please be sure to be here and don’t miss your plane. We’ll make sure to send a fax before you make it to the airport. Till then, enjoy your time and give us a call as soon as you can.
Sincerely, Jude.’
Well this has severed his plans and mood. Was it not enough to have one departure?
30 AUG 87, 17:30 time of departure, one way only. Red bold letters mirroring the ones that caught his attention to read the components of the letter. If he had known it was for this, he would’ve thrown it in the pile of leaves and act clueless if he was to ever receive an emergency call.
His aggravation was noticeable to you the second he stepped inside the vicinity of the patio. His face sunken, something it wasn’t before leaving to clean outside. Not to mention it seemed like he was biting the inside of his cheeks, holding in his breath as a form of repression. You watch carefully, pretending to not have noticed him while cutting sugar canes near his room.
He sees you and he wants to ask something or at least find a way to begin this conversation. He should tell you, no? He should, he knows it but he’s scared and also a coward who waits for you to throw the first stone.
“Something happened?” Jaehyun stops by the step before the kitchen, facing you with a slight shake of head. “Um… does the phone run overseas calls?” It’s your turn to shake your head, firmly unlike him. “Alright, I’ll be back in a bit.”
He bolts out towards Gabby’s with the ticket inside his pocket, crumbled and wrinkled like the letter Ollie handed him. The older woman seemed to have understood the reason for his visit. The second she saw the familiar face, she pulled that phone she loved so much to the counter along with the catalog and timer, dialing the code before handing it to him. Jaehyun was thankful she didn’t drag it out, he needed answers immediately.
One ring, two rings, “Hello?” Good, rapid enough.
Jaehyun grips the phone, a tight hold that makes his subconscious scared that he’ll pop this heirloom. “I don’t want to go back!” Well, that’s a way to start a conversation.
Hyunjoo laughs, calling Jude over to let him know their golden boy finally contacted them after four months. Jude wasn’t as kind as Hyunjoo, he took the fatherly role seriously and began berating the younger of the three on why he had gone rogue.
“What if something had happened to you? Do you not care for what we feel, Jaehyun. If it wasn’t for this idiot I would’ve sent you letters and even gone to pick you up, so don’t ever pull this on us again! On me, again!” One can only imagine how red he was, up to his receding hairline.
Jaehyun would’ve laughed in the past but now the life he’s built here is soon to crumble and he doesn’t like it. “It doesn’t mean you guys can just force me back! I’ve built something here, I have something going on! I love it here and I don’t want to leave!” He whines, obvious hurt in his wavering voice.
“Yeah, well, whatever you have going on should be finished soon. You know, you only went there for inspiration and to blow some steam off, Yuno. Nothing else, my boy.” If Hyunjoo was there he would pat his cheek reassuringly, unaware of how much Jaehyun hated his little acts of condescension and belittling.
Jaehyun didn’t want to finish what he had here, he wanted to stay forever. He wanted to stay with you, your grandparents, and Ollie. He wanted to be here by the time Ollie came back to greet him with a big hug, a meal, and a trip to the hot spring he wasn’t able to enjoy before leaving. He wanted to build a life with you. Court you properly, date you, travel with you. Even marry you, he doesn’t care how early this is or how late, he wants you and everyone he’s learnt to love these months in his life. Of course his career had to get in between him and his happiness like always.
Jude sighs, massaging the bridge of his nose. “Listen, Jaehyun… There’s nothing we can do, have you read the letter we sent you a few weeks back? That explains it all. Believe me when I say that if it was for me, you could stay there for as long as you want and go back whenever the book is published–”
“That’s the plan.” He interrupts, teeth gritting. Jude and Hyunjoo give each other a look, one that would make Jaehyun feel far more defensive if he could see it. “Jaehyun… things have changed within the publishing house. Go read the letter and we’ll see you Monday, yeah?”
Jude waited for an answer that Jaehyun never gave him. He hung up quite forcibly, receiving a glare from the store owner who muttered the amount. He didn’t stay for his change nor cared for her screams telling him to take it. Jaehyun was in an irritable mood that no one could take away from him today.
Things were definitely not fine. That’s as much as you and your grandpa could decree when Jaehyun crossed the patio straight into his room, closing the door behind him without uttering a word. The elder and you removed kernels in front of his window, under the tree for shade. You could hear him mumble incoherently, his eyebrows furrowing the further he read.
“What bug bit him?” Your grandpa whispers, cocking his head to the open window. You shrug, throwing away the cob into a bucket, fuel for the chimney. “Go ask then.” So persistent and straight to business. “What? No! I’ll wait until he tells me, pa…” But you did want to ask him what was wrong, more than anything. It’s just that your cowardice won’t allow you. The older man rolls his eyes, clicking his tongue in disappointment while feeding the chickens with fallen kernels.
Time and him can only tell what he’s feeling.
‘Dear Jaehyun,
For starters, we miss you dearly. At least I do but find it in your heart to believe Hyunjoo does so as well. We’ve respected your wishes on not contacting you, even through letters but it’s been over three months and you have yet to let us know how you are doing. Do you not care for mine and your family’s well being? I care for yours, I’ve been restless all these months wondering how you are doing. It’s far too irresponsible to not even contact your own family, Jaehyun.
Is the book in the works? How are the drafts? You know we needed drafts mailed throughout your stay, young man. How is the host treating you? I figure well enough if you haven’t contacted us yet. If not then I’ll see myself forced to call the national guard if I don’t hear from you soon!
Regardless, some updates on how things are going on our end. We’ve been able to fake some notices here and there to the publishing house about yours and the drafts whereabouts. If you must know, if you haven’t figured it out already – which is possible, being in such an isolated village… – Mark is in the process of publishing his next book. His last ones have been a great success and been able to knock some of yours from bestsellers therefore things are becoming harsh around here.
The publishing house wants you back immediately and wants your book ready. Hyunjoo has managed to give you more time before it’s edited and the final print is chosen but the new investors are pushing the house and they are desperate for a contender against Mark’s book. So please, cut your time short and don’t miss your plane! I’ll make sure to send the ticket soon when I’m able to obtain it.
Best regards, Jude.’
Jaehyun doesn’t know what to think. He now understands multiple jobs are on the line but so is his happiness. Even so if he goes and turns in whatever he has – which isn’t enough for even a first draft – what guarantees all of them that it will be published by the time Mark’s is? They can’t just publish some nonsensical thoughts he’s scribbled down for the sake of beating another child protege author.
Mark’s work is far different from Jaehyun’s, he’s youthful in the way he writes, his metaphors are far more enthusiastic and fun. He’s great within young audiences and those seeking to remove themselves from melancholia. He’s everything Jaehyun isn’t and in both their brains, they know they can’t compete for something neither are reaching for.
Matter of fact, that’s not his concern right now. His concern is on how to break the news to you and your family. He’s supposed to leave by the end of this week, what are you going to do in such a short notice? What is he going to do in such short notice? Things were finally starting to align, why must bad things always happen to him– you– both.
One thing is for sure, he has to tell you immediately. But first he’s going to go back to Gabby’s and buy whichever pack of beers and some chips, maybe even some bread in case you feel your blood pressure rise (he’ll eat it, most likely). Arriving there and getting the items, he’s grateful the older woman honored the change he had left, even gifted him a chocolate as she sensed that something was off. Jaehyun thanks her and contemplates on saying goodbye but it’s too soon. Instead he nods and waves on his way back.
He doesn’t have the courage to go past the threshold, opting to sit on the uncomfortable and textured concrete bench by the door of your’s and your grandmother’s bedroom. He hears the loud melodrama of her soap operas and the sewing machine she doesn’t leave alone. Another dress for you, he figures she’s making.
There’s the faint sound of music coming from your grandfather’s car, the one he and Ollie worked on often and that Jaehyun began helping with due to his absence. It pains Jaehyun to know that the elder will once again lose the aid he claims to not want but appreciates wholeheartedly.
His sigh elicits company, or perhaps the pop from the beer bottle had attracted it so here you were, standing by the metal threshold that separated you and him from inside to outside. Your head tilts, looking at him as if trying to read the grievances on his face.
“Misery likes company.”
Your voice makes his head snap, eyes glistening while drowning in the sweetness of your company. He smiles shortly, patting the empty spot to his right, the sun is setting fastly.
He takes your hand into his, kissing the palm and fingers before pulling you in for an embrace. All of this was scaring you the more and more he remained quiet and it only seems like your brain was already processing the inevitable.
“Got a letter from my manager…” “So?”
“My “rival” is putting out a book soon according to them and they want me to send in a draft already for the final print.” His fingers curl at the quotation marks, rolling his eyes at how stupid it all felt. “Ah… well, do you have anything to send then?” He shakes his head, apologies on your face. “We can stay this entire week so you can work on it, how does that sound? Pa doesn’t have to check on the crops any time soon and there isn’t really anywhere else we could go, not anywhere near.”
There’s so much pep in your voice that it hurts to think about how short the remaining days will feel. He has to tell you and he has to tell you now.
“I leave this Sunday, Y/n.” “Oh.”
Jaehyun didn’t mean to say it like this but how else was he meant to? He didn’t want to drag it out longer nor agitate you but he also didn’t want to hurt you and that’s all he can read on your face. Hurt.
Misery does love company.
Your body slumps against the adobe wall, harsh against your backbones. The hand he holds falls limp against his touch and all Jaehyun can do as comfort is kissing it before placing the open bottle in your hand, opening another for himself.
He hadn’t had the time to burn the pile of leaves and the sun was far more foreign by now. That shade of blue coloring his face, an obvious demonstration of his feelings from the past hour. Yet it’s you who takes the initiative to take out the box of matches from the apron you wear, forgetting that you were cooking dinner just to check up on him.
The flame catches fast, rising as you whisper your grievances into it, taking a sip of your drink. Jaehyun doesn’t say anything, he tries to take a hold of your hand but he hesitates, fearful that you won’t want it. Instead he throws both letters onto the fire, helping its consumption and anger. At least now you both have let something go.
The morning after, both elders made sure to not ask any favors out of him and let him to his own vices. They understood he’s meant to get his work done so they didn’t want to add stress onto him. But this continued onto the third and fourth day of the week and Jaehyun was aching more and more as his time fell short. He felt just as inutile as his first week, if not more than that week. He also felt his heart ache only having meals to spend with you all but even then he began feeling like the foreigner he was.
Conversations with him were as cordial as before but not as cheery. They asked about his book and what he had ready. They asked if his suitcase was prepared and if he was happy to go back home. Your grandpa did his best to joke around but would soon drop it when he felt his voice tremble. He’s always worn his heart in his sleeve and another one he saw as a son will now leave him again.
Your grandmother on the other hand was the most level headed. She made sure Jaehyun was kept on track with his work and even helped clean his room when he begged her not to tire herself. She’s faced much loss and pain, a stranger leaving wasn’t going to knock her down. If anything, she feels for how you will act once he’s gone.
By dinner time you and your grandfather had bolted out of the kitchen, feeding the animals any leftovers and giving them their own meal. That left him and your grandmother in the kitchen. She was in the process of taking some water from the bucket in the chimney, he did it instead. Pouring it into another container where your grandmother would then add cold water for balance.
She thanked him and told him he should go back to work but Jaehyun didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to be alone, he’s been so for the past three days and it’s corroding his soul. He wants to take away the happy memories, he wants his final days to be fun. He’s begging for you all to not do this to him. He needs contact and affection, he needs it.
“So… you have everything ready?” She tries to converse, passing the soapy sponge over the dirty plates. He nods, rinsing it. “Not excited, I’m guessing.” Jaehyun’s pout is enough of an answer. “Look at it on the brightside. You’ll be able to get it over with and the doors here are always open for you.”
He should know she means it, the problem is that he doesn’t know when he’ll be back. How long will it take for the book to be published? How long will promotions last? What if he’s forced to work on something else straight after? Jesus Christ, he’s not even back yet and he’s already stressing about his reality.
“Yeah?” “Yes.”
Jaehyun smiles at her.
“Will you take care of Y/n for me?” He asks again, putting away the dishes he’s rinsed. She laughs nodding, “She’s taking care of us, I think she’ll manage well.” Jaehyun laughs as well, feeling foolish. “I don’t think you should worry too much about her, Jaehyun. She’s strong and can handle this. As long as you two keep in contact, I believe it will be fine.” She pats his back, leaving a wet hand print that warms his muscles.
He contemplates on taking the advice. Your grandmother has said everything he already knows about you but perhaps he’s projecting his own feelings. He’ll need another source for advice and there’s no one better than your grandfather.
Jaehyun excuses himself, rinsing and drying the few dishes left before walking out to help your grandfather on the car. The older man sat pensive while looking around the vehicle, loud music coming out of it to drown any thoughts.
Hopping on the co-pilot seat, Jaehyun smiles at him, dusting away some stray picked up dust. “It’s looking better now.” He compliments, your grandpa nods, humming with a following hearty laugh. “You’re much better at this than me.” The older one shakes his head, continuing his laughter. “These things take time, you just need to practice more. When you come back I’ll help you with it.” Your grandpa is far more hopeful than the rest of you, that reassures him enough.
“You’ll let me in again?”
“Yes. You make my kids happy and you’ve been of great help even when you didn’t have to.” His laughter subsided, turning into a smile he was struggling to maintain. “It’s a shame you’re leaving so soon.” He hiccups, waterworks on the way. “We’ll miss you, kid. Especially Y/n…” The mention of your name was enough for him to begin his silent sobs, tears beginning to spill.
If there is one thing he can count on is your grandfather expressing what you and your grandmother aren’t able to. Jaehyun sniffles himself, comforting with some rubs to the older’s shoulder before hugging him. Now he knows how appreciated and loved he is and for that he is thankful.
Your grandpa attempts to stop crying, laughing in between to seem like everything was fine. That was always his way of trying to control himself. “You’ll come back, right?” Jaehyun nods, smiling at him while wiping away a stray tear. “As soon as possible. I want a life here.” Your grandfather smiles at him, looking straight to where his headlights shine.
“I’m not from here either. I was born and raised in a city an hour or two from here– you’ve been there, that’s where the airport is.” Jaehyun recalls his first day, the bustling and loud city with historical architecture. It was beautiful, surely, but it doesn’t compare to this village and its own beauty.
“I’ve worked my entire life since I can remember, seven to be specific. By eighteen I found myself here, I was young and my only experience came from the mines and cleaning cars but agriculture is a booming business here so somehow I found my way to a ranch that was hiring to work on machinery. I didn’t know how to work a car let alone a tractor but I was hungry and needed money to send back home. My dad died when I was only three and my mom was left alone with five kids. I had to help her. I lied my way through with the owner and I was young so he took me in.”
Everyone starts somewhere and soon falls in love with the place.
“I stayed at a shack they had built by plots, their own home wasn’t too far so I often went by to ask for a glass of water. That’s when I met Y/n’s grandmother. She’s always been this cold and serious. I would chug the water down and then beg her for more. She would roll her eyes and complain but would always come back with it filled to the brim, ice cold.” He laughs, tears finally gone.
“From then on I kept trying to talk with her even if she pretended to hate it. I’d ask her sisters and sometimes her brothers but it was tricky, I didn’t want them to beat my ass up for thinking about their sister! So, I would have enough with whatever conversations we would have when she brought the workers drinks and food or at dances. One time her own father told me to ask her to dance and since then I never left her alone. With his blessing, then none of her family would interfere and sooner than later I asked her to marry me so here we are, sixty years later and twelve kids.”
“Is this you giving me your blessing to be with Y/n?” Jaehyun half jokes but there’s so much sincerity in his voice that he can’t deny being hopeful. The older man nods and laughs, clasping his back. “As if you needed it… I often went back to my own family but still came back because I love this place and everything it has offered me. Similar to you… I hope your love for Y/n is as strong as mine was years ago. I would hate to see a different fate for you two.”
Jaehyun didn’t know how to respond to that, he truly wished to be back as soon as possible and he would fight tooth and nail to make it possible. Yes, it’s different from him and your grandfather due to the distance but he will make it work because he loves you, he loves you so much that he can’t seem to express it properly.
“Thank you…” “It’s just advice.”
The older man leaves him to his vices and thoughts. With another laugh and a nod bidding him goodnight, he turns the car off, leaving Jaehyun in the dark.
Jaehyun thinks about both conversations all night. He feels a sense of relief knowing he’s had a heart to heart with two of the most important people in your life. It’s good to know they approve of him and the love he has for you. He hopes you’re as understanding and hopeful as your grandparents.
Saturday came as a surprise to him. The roosters weren’t the ones to wake him up, it was your grandpa who excitedly told him to gather all his things. Jaehyun tried to question what was going on but the elder gave him no time. His hearty laugh was enough of an answer, taking the few suitcases he saw in the corner while pushing Jaehyun into the restroom to get ready. He’s not sure what’s going on but he won’t protest, it’s the first time this week that he feels included.
Within half an hour everyone was ready, Jaehyun noticed you too were surprised by the sudden change of plans. You weren’t your usual put-together self and kept yawning resulting in you sleeping throughout the entire car ride. He took this moment to take pictures of the road. Previously he had compared it to his time in West America, he now doesn’t think it’s too comparable. The vegetation is bright and green, most of it coming from incoming crops and lively trees.
Within an hour your grandfather stopped at a town, it was time for breakfast. Both raved about the food despite how spicy it was while you and your grandmother made fun of them. Jaehyun took this chance to take more pictures, candid ones of you and your family with the prettiest decoration in the background. Every memory counts.
Afterwards, you all take a moment to explore the quaint town for a bit, simply so Jaehyun can get some souvenirs. It reminded him of two past towns he’s visited during his time here. One where he had to fight for a seat to be able to eat. Meal which ended up being one of the most disgusting things he’s ever had. He won’t ever tell the rest of you that but you share his sentiment. The second one being where your grandpa struggled to find parking and almost left. He likes that one better.
It’s not to say this town isn’t beautiful, it is. It’s historical, colorful, and calm. Very calm and quiet, something that reminds him of the best village which is where he resided for the past few months. How he loves it there and he’ll hold it to his heart.
Getting his pictures and souvenirs, it was set to take another two hours on the road, only stopping when having to use the restroom which unfortunately due to age is something your grandparents needed often. In those moments Jaehyun would reminisce on the day you two took those photos and bought Ollie’s truck, the one he saw daily perched next to the fine china in the cabinet with a passport picture of him.
“Well here we are, the city I was born in.” Your grandfather’s voice made sure to take away the last bits of drowsiness from you. Your last visit was at fifteen and from the looks of it, nothing had changed. It’s amazing for Jaehyun to tell how different life was between the countryside and the city. The moment you all came to see the skyscrapers and bridges, it felt like a totally different part of the world. It was louder, much more polluted and littered, but for sure not horrendous. Your grandfather made sure to tell him the story of this city like he had done for every village and town visited.
For the majority of the day you all spent it looking around. At the entrance, your grandparents pushed you to ride on the cableway that dropped you off directly downtown. You tried to make them get in it with you both but they excused themselves with being too old and preferring to meet you there with the car. You all knew it was so you and Jaehyun could spend a couple of minutes alone.
“It’s pretty.” “Not as pretty as home.”
Jaehyun smiles at you, taking your hand into his. You return the gesture, squeezing his warm hand in yours.
“Is your city pretty? I’ve heard it is.”
“I’m not talking about where I’ll go back, Y/n. I’m talking about back home. With you, your grandparents, and Ollie.” He wraps an arm around your shoulder to pull you closer. Within you and the colorful buildings beneath, Jaehyun is sure to say the view during his time has always been beautiful.
“Do you truly want a life with me?” You shift, close yet with a distance. It was a simple answer, there’s no reason to lie. His smile, dimples, eyes, and even his reddened ears told you he did. Words are preferable though. “Yes.” leaves his rosy lips, kissing you to imprint the confirmation.
Only time will tell how true to his word he is.
You met your grandparents shortly, both bickering about where to reside when night befalls. The topic fell to deaf ears, prefering to explore more about the city. Murals that he wouldn’t forget, traffic as bad as where he resides with the exception that entertainment began the second redlights turn on. Street food that smells delicious and calls his name within every second.
It’s similar yet so distinct from what he has learned to love. It’s clear to him that no matter how familiar you are to one thing, there will always be more to learn about it.
It was near dinner time and within an hour or two from sundown. That forced your grandparents to argue again about the same thing from earlier. This time you two got to learn that your grandfather wanted to rest in his childhood home with his family while your grandmother wanted to avoid that at all costs. She’ll tolerate a visit but won’t give them the benefit of being their host, that’s her role. Not to mention she won’t forget all their wrongdoings towards her and her husband no matter how much the latter attempts to have a happy family.
Words thrown here and there, you all decree to eat out. Both you and your grandmother brought up the time his sister cooked unhygienically that he ended up having a stomach bug for the following three days. He laughs at this and leads you all to your favorite spot, somewhere Jaehyun yearns to taste again for years to come.
You all do end up visiting his family before the sun falls, a quick in and out situation. Jaehyun didn’t pay too much attention to the conversations, he was more entranced with the portraits on the walls and the cracks of chipped paint that told the story of this home.
“Why do you keep looking at the cracks?”
Your voice forces Jaehyun to turn to you, extending his hand to feel your warmth. “Do you think they’re due to poor care or the house growing old with its inhabitants? Your grandpa said he doesn’t recall the ones from this wall.” Your head tilts, looking at them as if you two were in a museum. Perhaps you should take him there tomorrow before his departure.
“Will you write that in your book?” He laughs, taking you into an embrace. “Okay smarty pants how do you word it normally, then?” You return the gesture. “I wouldn’t even think about it for starters, there’s so many back home. Why would I care about this one?”
“I’ve seen how much care you all give the home, there’s barely any cracks. The question is answered for that house.”
“Then… I guess you can find an answer for this one. We’ve been here for an hour or so and there’s plenty more people living here who haven’t greeted them at least.”
You both turn to your grandparents. Grandma sitting silently and aggravated in the corner with a cup of water that she hasn’t touched. Your grandfather enjoys his talk with his sisters despite their spouses talking over and for them. His nephews and nieces, nowhere seen but heard through these same cracks Jaehyun wonders so much about.
Yes, he has his answer. A house without love crumbles faster.
The sun had fallen sooner than expected and with that your grandmother finally found an excuse to leave. The other elders offered to let you all stay with no avail when even your grandfather told them it wasn’t necessary. He knew of a nearby hotel, clean, and hospitable that you could all stay at and his wishes were final.
Immediately as the doors were closed behind your backs, the ruckus of the other four families living there could be heard. It’s clear as day where their intentions laid and why not a single picture of you or your family was on their walls.
When questioning why he denied their offer knowing other times he’d agree immediately, he only muttered a simple: “They didn’t even greet you or Jaehyun. What kind of hosts will they be?” Jaehyun felt a part of the family.
Room distribution went as follows. Your grandfather and Jaehyun would share a room, each with their own bed. Same thing applied to you and your grandmother, a concept you knew too well. This was the first and final night in which you two wouldn’t share a kiss through the bathroom window. You miss it like you’ll miss him.
The following morning isn’t as kind to either of you. The previous day none of you were able to process the severity that it was his final day with all of you. Enamored with what the city offered and the warmth of feeling loved by everyone within the circle, no one felt the harsh reality that is now overcoming you all. There’s ten hours left of his stay.
Silence is the first thing that you all notice, no matter how hard you all try to erase it. Being aware that time is ticking weighs down on your shoulders. Walking through these streets feels slightly surreal. Like a Dali painting, walking through a sea of melting clocks. A torment is what he’d call it.
He manages to get a few more souvenirs, he’s not sure for who or if he’s trying his best to collect every single piece as a memory, he’ll lean towards the latter. Besides, he snags some final gifts for you, your family, and even Ollie, it’s the least he can do besides memories. He’ll be taking those and who knows when he’ll be able to show them to you all.
Within the fifth hour your grandparents rendered themselves tired and tried forcing you two to go on your own. Jaehyun didn’t want that, as much as he loves time with you, he also loves spending time with them. The two have taught him many things, brought many laughs and anecdotes he cherishes dearly.
To be maintained happy, he invites you all to a final dinner. It’s much earlier than usual but he would miss his flight if you’d have to wait till usual hours. Your grandparents attempt to protest, claiming they’re bad hosts if they let him pay but they’re fighting a losing battle and Jaehyun will make sure he can grant them everything before he goes back to reality.
It’s by far enjoyable and it helps him reminisce on all previous meals within those cold adobe walls he loved since day one. It’s dim in the restaurant, recalling the time it rained so hard the streets became rivers and light went out for the remainder of the day. You all ate under candle light while your grandparents told scary stories of the village.
Dinner was the only condition for you to leave your grandparents to rest. With all the heaviness in his heart, Jaehyun fulfilled their wishes. And while you thought it was best to leave them at the hotel, the two continued their stubborn streak and ended up sitting at a park to people-watch. Naturally, they needed live entertainment.
Three and a half hours left, so little time and so much left to do.
You essentially were a tourist just as him, both experiencing new attractions that you only saw in passing the one time you came by. It led to both jumping from museum to museum. National and independent, art and history, for food and tools. It didn’t matter but it filled the empty space and the forced silence helped neither of you spill what flooded your minds.
“I liked the tools museum better.” You retort, almost skipping down the steps to avoid the sun rays. It was much hotter than it ever had been back in town. “Really? I thought the history museum was really nice.” He covers his eyes, rushing to your side. “Nothing Pa hasn’t told you.” He nods, shrugging with a little shimmy to his shoulders.
He looks at his watch and sighs, there isn’t much time left. “Where to next?” His words form a pit in your stomach, forcing yourself to look at the numbers on it. You ignore it, dawning on you that you’ve never spoken in-depth about his job. What’s your thought process when coming up with your books?”
He hums, “For my first books, they were all inspired by cases I heard back home. Where I was born. They’re bleak but there’s still a sense of hope. On top of it I read a lot of Dostoyevsky and Tolstoy growing up so I felt like a cynic comparing both their work, trying my best to create a middle ground that would represent me.” He cocks his head, it’s a bitter taste to him these days.
“Those two lead to my last two. I’m not fond of them, I won’t lie. They’re rushed and robotic, it’s noticeable in the tone but the publishing house wanted something fast and since they sold well, they didn’t care about how I felt, that’s why I’m here now. They wanted this book to be rushed and as miserable as those but I can’t handle writing anything of the sorts anymore. I would’ve ended up like Plath, Hemingway or Dazai if I wrote about how miserable life is once again.”
Jaehyun couldn’t understand if the look on your face was pity or empathy, he didn’t want to see it. “Don’t worry about this one. I’ve found meaning and great inspiration. I’ll dedicate it to you.”
You laugh against his lips, pulling away to kiss his cheek. “How will I know when it’ll come out?” He shrugs, kissing your hand. “I don’t either but I’ll make sure to deliver the copy straight to you.”
“What makes you think I’ll still be here by the time it’s published?”
Jaehyun was under the impression that you’d be here too. Your grandmother had reassured him they would always have their doors and arms open for him but he never thought that meant without you.
“I’ll find my way to you even if I have to go to the end of the world so I can read the token of my adoration for you.”
‘Of my love’ is what he wants to say, hanging on his tongue yet too scared to dive out. You seem to read his mind, kissing him instead to swallow what neither of you can say just yet.
There was still some time left but nothing else worth seeing. Perhaps it was best to gather all your belongings from the hotel, you had the keys to the car and it shouldn’t take you too long. By this point it would be best to waste time at the airport, as dreaded as it is.
Upon arrival time made itself present. The father clock in the lobby allows its ticking to echo through the tiles that you love. The ones in each room weren’t any better. Screaming far louder than the rest that when Jaehyun finished packing his and your grandfather’s bag to make way towards your room, all he could hear was the ringing in his ears. Dreadful and painful as the feeling in his heart.
He watched you look through the night stands, making sure your grandmother’s medication wasn’t left behind. He had done the same for your grandfather, his medicine case tucked inside his bag. There’s a forlorn look in his eyes, you don’t miss it when turning to smile at him, comfortingly. You want to ask about it but fear it will consume you as well if you dwell on it.
“Ready?”
Jaehyun shakes his head, joining you on the bed and taking you in a tight embrace. In every sense he wasn’t ready to part ways. You try to laugh it off, kissing his cheek and tightening your grip. Your hands caressing his back to bring some type of comfort but it does the opposite.
Jaehyun can now understand why your grandfather breaks down so easily. The weight of one’s emotions are soon to leave when you allow yourself to be free. That may also explain why he’s always so joyful, he’s free of all his grievances but for Jaehyun it will follow him for eternity if things are not fixed as soon as possible.
“This isn’t the last time, Jaehyun… Please don’t cry.” You cradle his face, wiping away his tears that shine like diamonds under the sun rays peeking in through the window. He hiccups, sniffling to control his sobs. “It doesn’t change how difficult it is to say goodbye.” He pouts, lips so rosy and puffed. You kiss them tenderly for comfort and warmth, it’s the least you could do. Words aren’t your forte and you don’t want him to see how gutted you truly are despite trying to hold a front all this time.
Jaehyun returns the actions of affection, holding you for dear life while kissing you like no tomorrow. Muffled words leave him, incoherent to you yet you swallow them. Like the blood of Christ, you don’t let a blood drop if it means your salvation.
“I-I” He attempts to sound what he wants to say, you don’t allow him. Shaking your head fervently, slipping your tongue in the cavity of his mouth to mute him further. You know what he wants to say but if he does, it will make things far more difficult than they already are.
Jaehyun submits to your cowardice and lets the ticking of the clocks guide him. His hands hold your body near him, pulling you onto his lap to feel you closer. He wants more and so do you, God knows when you’ll meet again.
Fingers threading through his hair, sliding down to his neck, kneading the warm skin you love so much. The actions lead to silent mewls to leave his lips for you to take. You’re so appreciative of the gift that you deepen the kiss, letting his hands roam under your blouse to feel you closer and closer. It’s your turn to gift him a sweet sound that he wishes he could trap into a music box for him to wind and listen to it on repeat daily.
Jaehyun decrees that your blouse is in the way. Too thick and cold, nothing like your skin as he feels now. His large hands take a firm grip of the textile, pulling it off. You’re exposed and he can read what your heart has hidden all this time. Jaehyun prefers to kiss it away, his pillowy lips delicately falling against your chest. Kissing it tenderly to create more of those pretty sounds that hypnotize him.
You hold him while he does, kissing the crown of his head. Granting him what he wants while your hips softly rock against his, friction forcing him to become rougher. A soft gasp leaves your lips when he softly nips the goosebump filled skin, nimble fingers undoing your brazier. One hand covering one while his teeth take your nipple in between them.
“Jaehyun…” It’s all he wanted to hear. His tongue is warm against your tit, kissing it like his life depends on it. Perhaps it does, neither of you are sure but prefer to act like so. You on the other hand work on unbuttoning his shirt, the cool linen doing no justice to the warmth of his skin that you crave. Little by little you both feel closer to each other.
He gently lays you down, between the warmth of your bodies and the sunrays witnessing your farewell ritual, the cold had nothing against you. You watch him, admiring every crevice of his body while pushing off your bottoms, leaving you bare for him to gawk at while unbuttoning his pants.
Your giddy smile teasing him to hurry, giggles reinforcing the sentiment. Taking his shaft in between his warm hands, Jaehyun begins to pump slowly. You attempt to replace his hands with your own which he denies. Your touch will send him overboard without even beginning.
Instead he crawls on the bed and over you, kissing you like he always does. With sweet adoration and love, one you take thankfully. You make sure to cradle his face, his upper body in contact with yours as his fingers thread closer in between your legs. The digits waltz around your inner thighs, reminiscing on the path you and him often took to the plaza and market for your daily shopping trips.
He smiles into the kiss, the memories of all he’s experienced with you consuming him. The position alone brings him to that day at the hot spring where you two began this but never got to go further. The wait was over and he had you here. Caged between his arms, flesh against flesh, warmth radiating and your pretty sounds that he couldn’t get enough of.
Slowly his fingers intrude the cavern between your legs, a gasp leaving your lips that helped him deepen the kiss. His tongue enters your mouth, finding yours immediately to participate in a waltz where the two could share the words that neither of you were strong enough to share. His fingers curl and pump languidly within you. The action is so foreign and long forgotten that you feel like putty beneath him.
His name falls from your lips like a prayer, warm breath danced across his skin. Lips perfectly wrapping around the flesh of his red earlobe. He’s so sweet and easy to digest, you wish to swallow him so he never leaves you but you know that can’t be so you will make do with what these few minutes can bring to you.
It’s not far off that he takes his fingers out of you, sticking his tongue out to savor you. Just as sweet as you find him. He moans in delight, rubbing off the dripping essence on his throbbing cock that had earlier been rubbing up against your leg. Jaehyun looks directly at you while pumping himself once again. You no longer look playful but rather hungry and desperate. You needed him like one would need air. Like an addict needs their fix and you fear yours will be taken away from you once you’re both done. The ticking clocks are making it boldly aware.
His eyebrows turn up, eyes softening as if asking if you’re ready. You nod as a response, replacing his hand and continuing his strokes, dragging him downwards slowly in the process. He knew if you touched him he would be thrown overboard, he’s near it but he’ll try to last just for you. And for the sake to excuse being together for longer.
Jaehyun fixed his position above you, nudging your legs minimally to fit between them. He went in slowly, bit by bit. Avoiding any discomfort that he could bring you. You pay him with pleasured moans and kisses to shut yourself up, he graciously takes them.
“I–” he wants to say it, he wants to tell you how much he loves you. This feels like the perfect time. You shot him down again with that sweet smile of yours, shimming your hips to which he responds by beginning his thrusts. They’re gentle and steady, enough to make you feel something that you’re only able to describe through silent mewls. He holds you tightly, pulling one of your legs above his hip. Jaehyun tries everything to feel you closer, he wants to go deeper and deeper to no avail, his thrusts can only go so far and it makes him yearn for the possibility that he could have more of you but so little time and resources to figure it out.
Jaehyun can’t believe this is it. He’s thankful this is the memory of you he’ll take with him, he’ll cherish it with every fiber in him, treasuring it like one would the eucharist. All he could think about was how wonderful you felt and how perfect your body molds to his. If this isn’t a sign that you’re meant for each other then he doesn’t know what is.
He worships you in these moments and will continue to do so when he’s gone. He now understands the feeling devotees feel when finding their God and as sacrilegious as it is, Jaehyun’s mind won’t change. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you…
And most of all you feel his love within you. It manifests itself through tears streaming down your cheek, moans muddled with sobs that he can’t decipher to stop and comfort you or continue his thrusts. You answer for him, begging him to keep going, that you’re so close but he knows there’s more to those words besides lust.
He prods, kissing you, being the one to beg this time to let him know what was wrong but you smile and kiss him along. Leaving a trail of kisses along his jugular and shoulders, hands grasping to his flesh for dear life.
“My sweet girl.. Please tell me what’s wrong? Y/n, I lo–” “I love you, I love you, I love you! I love you, Jaehyun.”
Jaehyun’s thrusts speed with every repeated word, elated to hear you say what he has wanted to all this time. To hear you spew the words he finally had the courage to let out. For you to hear and engrave in your heart and brain the way he has done so with your own.
He smiles, kissing you with a final thrust. Pulling out to place the proof of his love on your cramping stomach, the pain leaving when you, yourself release. Without a care for the mess, he lays on you, craving your warmth and touch.
“I love you too. More than you’ll ever know or understand.” The whisper pollutes the room, kissing you to cement the sentiment. You sigh, kissing the crown of his head, cradling his body against yours. If it was up to you, you would not mind dying like this. With the city’s racket as background noise, your heart palpitating against his ear, and his breathing the anecdote to tranquilize you.
Time wasn’t forgiving, his departure time was coming sooner than ever. Reluctantly, both pull away for a quick shower. It felt surreal how slow time felt when enthralled within the love you both had for each other but when reality hit, it rushed you all through the motion. Picking up your grandparents from the park, driving in silence to the airport while dealing with some traffic and the static of the radio. All of this just to arrive at the airport with minutes to spare and for the universe to not understand the pain you all felt.
It’s surreal how cruel and love can be.
“I guess this is it, huh?” Jaehyun is the first to break the silence, holding back his sobs, the redness of his nose and ears give him away. Your grandfather laughs, nodding as he takes him into a hug in which both men break down in a fit of cries. Your grandmother gives you a look, she wants to say something snarky but her tough exterior proves futile when even she feels a weep stuck in her throat.
“You’ll contact us, right?” Your grandfather wipes his nose, sniffling while smiling warmly at the younger. Jaehyun nods, taking out his pocket book, scribbling his address for you all to send him letters. He doesn’t need yours, he has it saved by memory.
Your grandmother is second in hugging him, slipping in a bill for him to buy something back home. Both know it’s useless where he’ll go but he’ll cherish it as a memory from her just like the box of cigarettes your grandfather had gotten him. He doesn’t smoke but a token of love is a token of love.
The elder woman pats his cheek, smiling at him tenderly. She hopes this isn’t the last time she’ll see him but she more so than anything hopes he doesn’t disappoint you after this departure.
“Take care.”
It leaves you at last. No more to say, no more actions to show. You just hope he comes back to you as promised.
“I’ll miss you.” Your fingers fiddle with the paper in hand, his pretty handwriting hypnotizing you to believe this moment isn’t real.
“I love you.” That��s enough to call your attention. His palm cradles your face and he steals a quick tender kiss. Embarrassment of having done so in front of your grandparents floods you, you only hope they understand which they do.
“I love you too…”
You had all drowned the calling from the greeter at the door earlier on but things had to be done and reluctantly you both let go. Watching him enter that path had taken a piece of you and when he was out of view, your entire body felt like it would crumble.
You tried your darndest to not cry. To not show your grandparents how much his departure was hurting you. Futile is what they would call it, your sobs were becoming louder as your grandfather drove back home, hoping to get there before night caught up to you all.
Nothing good ever comes out of crying. You’ve known this for a while, for you and your grandmother crying only continues to further make you miserable. Not like the relief it brings your grandfather and Jaehyun, that’s something you think you’re both cursed on.
It wasn’t too far on the road that you kept missing him. Regretting not carrying the film strip with pictures of you both to look at him at every moment now. Your only token of his existence came from the piece of paper between your fingers. Flapping around with the harsh air coming in from your grandfather’s rapid driving.
You believe it smells like him, Jaehyun’s soft musk that you love with all your being. It’s even warm from his grasp, and his pretty handwriting taunts you, letting you know it was permanent on it unlike with you. The paper will remember Jaehyun’s actions against it, it has proof, not like you who will rot at the fact that his actions can be erased easily. What’s worse is that the paper continues to torture you, freeing itself from your fingers and flying out of the car at a rate that even if your grandfather stops you won’t catch up to it nor find it.
“No!”
Your words are useless and frightening to be heard from the elders who question what happened. You tell them between sobs, losing all composure. Hunching over yourself to cry against your knees. This was it, you knew it was too good to be true. Your only hope relies on the letter Jaehyun will send you.
Letters that will never arrive.
Questions. There’s plenty of those that have plagued Jaehyun’s mind since he left. He remembers leaving on great terms but as the months progressed his letters were left unanswered. If he had taken in the home phone number or Gabby’s he’d call for them years ago. Instead he found himself at the front door of the place he once called home with a panic rushing through his blood stream but hopeful nostalgia in his heart.
There was a doorbell outside of the patio door, it had been painted orange. Very fluorescent, it reminded him of Gabby’s store. He had passed by it on his way here, buying a few beers like the day he learnt he had to go back. She didn’t remember him and he made no effort to remind her. Some things are better left in the past.
He didn’t hear many animals inside and it worried him, scared of how much change had been done. It took a couple of minutes for the door to be answered. Received by the presence of a kid he didn’t know but seemed to be around three years old.
“Who?” He looks at Jaehyun quizzically, tilting his head like Ollie used to do. “Um… is Mr. and Mrs–” “Don’t open doors, how many times do I have to tell you that!”
Well there’s a voice he recognized. Jaehyun stood up straight, looking up from the kid to the owner of the voice. When both took in the image of the other, Ollie was the first to take Jaehyun into an embrace. So much giddiness and joy in his squeal that he felt like that nineteen year old again. Even his grasp is childish and brute, shaking Jaehyun around. Jaehyun laughs, squeezing Ollie in return.
“I didn’t think you’d ever come back! When did you get here?” The patio looked the same. Fewer sheep and goats in the pen, Camila was gone and replaced with a pig. The dogs were strangers to him and the cats seemed to have forgotten him just like the chickens.
Ollie led him to the kitchen, at least that remained the same and he felt comforted by that fact. The two took a seat not far from each other, firewood crackling in the chimney to bring them warmth. Jaehyun handed him a beer bottle, cheering for his return and Ollie’s growth.
“Why didn’t you think I’d return? I promised you all I would.” Jaehyun smiles, wiping away the alcohol residue from his lips. Ollie shrugs, doing the same. “You never kept in contact so after a few months of not getting your letters we lost hope. I was really mad at you for the longest time… I thought you had just abandoned us… Y/n.”
Jaehyun is aware of the spite in his tone but he can’t help but feel vindicated for something that isn’t true. His eyebrows furrow, leaning over the table for Ollie to feel his confusion. The younger one tilts his head like the boy from earlier.
“Ollie, I kept sending letters nearly every week for the past five years. I thought you all were the ones to leave me in the cold. What do you mean I didn’t keep in contact?” The roles seemed to have reversed. Ollie mimicked Jaehyun’s stance, elbows on the table while downing the remains of his drink.
“We never got a single letter. Pa was so disappointed he cried often about it. Ma didn’t but it was obvious in the way she took care of her plants. Your departure was enough but you really hurt them after that, they saw you as a son, you know.” Ollie shakes his head, swatting a fly away to avoid looking at Jaehyun.
“And Y/n… you really ruined her, Jaehyun. She would spend days in your room hoping to find an address or a phone number. At least to reproach your actions but instead she would cry herself to sleep in there. Her parents had to take her back home after a year, so she found a job and Ma and Pa were taken in by their daughter. She was doing better by then but still had to stay in the city just in case. They left me to take care of the house but it’s not the same.”
Ollie’s voice is no longer harsh, it’s hurt. Jaehyun can’t help but blame himself with how things unfolded but he was sure he wrote those letters. He kept copies of them to recall everything he once said to you and them and if he had known you never received them, he would’ve bought them.
“I-I…” He sighs, “I promise I sent the letters! I made sure to drop them off at the publishing house’s mailing room. I can’t believe this…” His hand comes to his forehead but Ollie shrugs, picking at some peanuts he had laying around. “Beats me then. Why didn’t you visit in that case? We waited long enough.”
Reality is that there will always be evil lurking around and seeing how this place brought you joy and peace, the publishing house did everything in their power to yank it away from him. Jaehyun isn’t a bubbling author full of life and hope. No, Jaehyun is a bleak cynical writer who dwells on the hatred he has for the house and manifests it through broody characters that find no meaning in life. If they had to bring that back, they would. He can have his one train wreck of a joyful book but newcomers have to go back to what they were.
Jaehyun’s head hangs low, all excuses feeling useless. “Manger and publisher didn’t let me. We spent two years editing the final draft and by the following, publishing was in the works but the investors tried everything to change it that we had to fight for another year or so. I wasn’t even allowed to visit my parents, they had to come to me. Isn’t that insane?”
Ollie nods, sympathy and pity muddling on his face. Cruelty at its finest.
“We only traveled for promotions at the end of last year once it was published and some months after this one but I ‘escaped’ if you will and here I am.” His smile twists to the side, dawning upon him that misery will accompany him everywhere he goes.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what? It’s not your fault.” Jaehyun hands him another bottle. Ollie nods, “I know, but things could’ve been different if you didn’t work in hell.”
The two laugh, clinking their bottles again. All was lost but one thing and that was the hope of Ollie helping him connect with you and explain it all. He didn’t want you to have such a bad image of him when all he’s ever done is show you how much he loves you.
“What have you done with your life then?” “I got married and had a kid. The brat from out there.”
The kid had been playing with the hens outside the sprint door. Cats surrounded him and reminded Jaehyun of Ollie when he used to play with the animals while pretending to be doing labor work.
“Looks just like you.” The younger hums. “He’s just like me too.” The two laugh heartily, reminiscing on your grandfather’s laugh.
He hesitates for a moment but ultimately asks. “How’s Y/n doing?” There’s longing in his voice but the look in Ollie’s eyes tells him something isn’t right. The fact that he’s holding back a cough, a grave clue. The younger one wants to stall but knows that eventually he’ll find out if he keeps looking.
“Y/n is soon to get engaged…” Like a bucket of cold water, Jaehyun feels his arteries clog and his body run cold, turning stone hard. “She’s been seeing a guy from work for the past two years, they relocated him to somewhere in Maranello, and now they’re living there. He sent a letter asking me to be there for when he proposes… I got the letter yesterday actually.”
Ollie handed him the letter still inside the envelope. “He’s a nice guy but lacks some sense. He treats her well and provides for her but I’m not sure if it’ll thrive.”
The now father stands up with a bucket of corn kernels, calling his child to feed the chickens while they’re all huddled together. He gives Jaehyun one last look with a mischievous smile plastered on his face.
“You’re welcome to stay, in your old room or here.” Jaehyun thanks him. “Landline has long overseas calls now, do with that as you will.” A toothy reassuring grin, Ollie walks out of the home leaving Jaehyun to his vices.
He gives the boys one last look, gaze dropping to the letter and reading over it around four times. It lacks emotion, it’s formal and only demonstrates excitement when describing your work on the garden. The only thing that reminds you of this place now that you’re miles away. Behind it is a letter written by you.
‘Very well, I’ll send you a care package later, Ollie. I wanted to remind you that we have a new phone so I’ve written it down. Don’t forget to write it down in the contact book or you’ll have to find a way to call me this time!
I love you, Gremlin, take care!
Sincerely, Y/n.’
If the angels weren’t clear as day, then he was stupid if he didn’t take the opportunity.
Jumping out of his seat to the bar, Jaehyun stumbles to grab the phone, nothing like Gabby’s old dinky phone. He dials the foreign numbers, fingers tracing over your written name to feel the connection you did with the paper that lasted you a measly few hours.
“Hello?”
That sweet voice transported him five years to the past. Trembling within the walls of his brain and heart, waking up whatever joy he once felt before leaving this wonderful place. Even when your voice seemed aggravated from the silence on his end while garnering courage, he felt alive again.
“Hello?!”
He sighs, clutching to the phone for dear life, facing the outside allowing the sun rays to fall on him like the day he rested over your exposed body to feel your heart and soul envelop him in the love you once –and he hopes you still have– had for him.
“Y/n���” “...”
The hesitance hurts, old feelings swarming in like a desired plague. You won’t ever forget that voice.
“Jaehyun…” “I remember everything.”
#kwritersworldnet#kdiarynet#kvanity#jaehyun smut#jung jaehyun#nct smut#jaehyun#jaehyun x you#jaehyun x reader#nct u smut#nct 127 smut#nct 127#nct#nct fic
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I think I've dreamt of her more times this past week than I have dreamt about all fictional character Ive liked over the past 5 years
neve gallus....
#i cant stress enough that i do not have dreams about fictional characters#which makes the rare dreams i do have memorable#so u can see why this is fucking insane#how the FUCK am i meant to switch to arcane tomorrow
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Bittersweet Devotion pt.2
Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader
Cw: angst, heartbreak, mention of cheating, mention of death, no happy ending, apology, tell me if I missed any. wc: 9.3k
Previous
Your universe, Earth-XXX, was a parallel one to Earth-616 in some sense. You had a Peter Parker, a Gwen Stacy and a Mary Jane Watson, it had everything down to the death of Ben Parker and the devastation it brought to your friend. It was the same year as Spider-Man 616’s world, it had the same political standing and same history. Your world, like many others, was a near carbon copy of 616, down to the smallest things; but like others in the spiderverse, you had differences. Some were minor changes in the course of its canon story, others were major changes in the characters and the era.
You - like Miguel, Miles, Jess, Hobart (he liked going by Hobie), Patrick and Patriv - were one of those major deviations in the original canon. You didn’t exist - or so you thought - in Peter B. or Peter’s universe even though you lived in the same year. The reason might be that in the reality, the sum of all potential universes that paralleled each other, created the multiverse - the Spiderverse.
The concept of it seemed strangely unlimited, the infinite possibilities to a different ending or a different start for its world. The multiverse was, in some sense, as old as time, a culmination of everything made imaginable by man. Found in ancient texts - the Puranas, ancient Hindu mythology - that expressed the infinite number of universes with their gods and principles. Whereas Persian literature - tales - touched the idea of learning about alternate universes that were similar, yet distinctly different from theirs.
Misconstrued by many, the strangeness of it was deemed a danger, the unknown possibilities were feared by people of older age, but venerated in the past as it was in the present for the unfathomable possibilities. It exists in fiction, where they borrowed the idea of many worlds within a reality from myths, legends and religion. Heaven, Hell, Olympus and Valhalla were all reflections of a familiar world, a material realm for the blessed, the sinful, the gods, and the worthy. The similarities sometimes frightened you, how close the people were to knowing of the reality you all lived in. The tangibility of crossing worlds and bringing about chaos to every string, every realm, every material form of the multiverse.
They, after all, were real, Hell as much as Heaven in your universe. Gods from every religion, either monotheistic or polytheistic, some you’d personally seen are Thor and Loki, brother and sons of Odin the Allfather, and the God of Thunder and Mischief respectively. Another was a big crocodile lady, Ammit, from what you’d heard from the all-knowing Dr. Strange. From God to Norse and Egyptian gods, from angels and demons, and from humans to mutants, your plane of existence was as wide as it could go without drifting off the edge and causing a mass domino effect within the multiverse.
You were curious, naturally so for a scientist, exploring the worlds that felt familiar to you but you hadn’t truly grasped - different, yet similar. You hadn’t given a second thought to exploring yours. After all, why explore yours when your horizon was as broad as you imagined it, unperturbed by any limits when it came to the multiverse? The eternal and unlimited growing number of realms in your expanding reality.
Perhaps that was the reason why you hadn’t known your universe had its own Miguel O’Hara. You rarely came back for anything, you had everything you’ve ever wanted in Nueva York, Earth-928. You have friends who could truly understand you, people who stood beside you when you fought, youngsters who looked up to you for mentoring and a dream- or it was a dream. Dreams, not dissimilar to wishes, were hopeful, naive in a way, they came and went. Some dreams would come true, while others fell, like the fallen stars that crossed the night sky.
Yours simply happened to be a fallen one, one not meant to happen and become greater. You let it go after he dropped you, after he turned his back and let his mouth run unperturbed. He brought her up, someone he swore he would remember but left in the past. A new chance to become something, to become whole again, and Miguel took it. He wanted to start anew, fresh with someone he never met, you wanted the same; you both had what you wished for, until he put his foot down, cutting the thin web that connected both your lives.
It broke your heart. Months of patience and anxiously stepping around each other, nervous about breaking the trust freshly built between you both, lost in a few weeks. You were brittle, heart fractured and threatening to fall further apart if someone was any crueller to you. The smallest glare, the tiniest scoff or the weakest remark would send you reeling into the abyss of heartbreak and the throes of anguish. Yet somehow, you found yourself being led away by a copy of the Miguel you loved.
He mumbled apologies as he held you tightly, his arm over your shoulder as he cradled you under his umbrella, hastily urging you to follow his guidance. If it were any other person, you would’ve been wary, cautious of any strangers that touched you so closely and chaperoned you so quickly; but this was Miguel, a man you trusted and that you still trusted wherever he came from. Earth-XXX’s Miguel O’Hara was still similar to the one you knew, someone you could trust. You did.
He led you to his flat, someplace near Alchemax’s building in Manhattan, a safe neighbourhood for the richer citizens of Manhattan. A cozy place of neutral tones and muted colours, yet warm as he welcomed you - a stranger as of yet - into his home. He had machinery strewn around, reports stacked on his coffee table and smaller things he had been tinkering about decorating his home. As a geneticist, he liked to play with machinery, having drawn his designs and models, built his creations from scratch and worked from the base programming to make something better. At least Miguel from Earth-928 did, and it seemed this one did as well.
You stood in his shower, where he left you in a frenzy to bring you dry clothes, drying out your hair with the towel he motioned you to use. You doubted that he had anything your size, his broad shoulders and his towering height, nothing he had in his draws - and the boxes he stowed away in his closet - would fit you. They would drag down your ankle and sit low on your collar. Granted, you were soaked down to your socks and had no temporary clothes to cover yourself with during your stay.
You had stripped from your soaked clothes and patted down your wet skin, shivering from the cold that clung to your bones even after Miguel had increased the heater in the small confines of the bathroom. It was small but big enough to move around and stretch your arms comfortably. You hadn’t felt the cold until he brought you to his bathroom, the numbness of the past months weighing heavily on your shoulders and the bleeding of your heart made everything seem so meaningless. The colours draining from the world around you, a once bright New York turned grey, the monochrome tones of black and white mixing and interlacing to form even more boring shades.
The vibrancy and life you once saw around you dulled and died suddenly, like the winters brought by Demeter’s devastation and sadness when her daughter was taken from her, stolen from the berth of flowers she liked frolicking about. How Demeter doomed the world to see her pain, to feel how she felt in the moments her daughter had to return to her husband than stay with Demeter. You felt laden by your faults and his actions. Doubtful of your relationship, of what led you both to such an ending. Had you been clearer or more forthcoming about your emotions, or had you confronted him for his behaviour, would you still be in his arms?
Were you at fault for missing something you had relied on as comfort and safety? Could you be blamed for his reaction to your meddling in his affairs in the Society? Could you blame him for dropping those words on you? After all, being reminded or compared to a past lover was anything but gentle, the gut-wrenching envy and betrayal you felt flash through you was nearly drowning. It made you feel lacking, to be reminded of his old flame, the one he was about to marry and the person he seemed to love before all. Could you even compare to what she was; what she did? (Dina had cheated on him, you knew that, but he was truly happy in their moments of pleasure and domesticity. They were a family until she died.)
You were drowning in your self-made sorrow when his voice called you, grounding you to the room. Standing before a door, naked and shivering, arms wrapping the damp towel around your shoulders. He called again, cracking the door open to pass you the - his - clothes he thought would fit you. He coughed as you took your temporary wear, your cool fingers brushing his warm ones. It was a sudden and jerking contact, you pulled back jerkingly, a shamble of an apology and a thank you flew from your tongue. His chuckle was a reassurance in the complete quietness of the flat, his low voice reminding you of better times.
The sweater hung loosely around you, dipping down your collar to expose your shoulder. It was warm, the cotton used to make it still soft after being stored away and the soothing scent of spice and pine deeply integrated into the fibres. The pants were stretched around your hips, the tight fabric thin and flexible under stress, hidden under the long shirt. The legs, however, swayed loosely around your limbs, too big for your calves, but tight enough to hug your thighs. He had certainly made sure to bring you clothes that would fit your frame. You hadn’t attempted to smell his pants, you thought it would’ve been too intrusive and disgusting to do so if only to smell a remnant of Miguel on his as you did on the sweater.
Miguel was waiting for you in the kitchen, his back turned to you as you ambled towards him. His shoulders loose and back relaxed in the presence of a stranger made you appreciate how good-natured he was in most universes you’d been to. He turned his head, gesturing you to sit on the chair facing him on the island as he returned to something he was making while you changed.
“I hope you don’t mind hot chocolate,” he started, voice light and hopeful as he turned to you, cup in each hand as he moved to stare at you. “I’m not one for tea.” He slid the warm mug into your hand, eyes watching your expression as he slowly sipped on the hot beverage.
His eyes squinted slightly when your lips curled upwards, a smile hidden by the steaming mug. You cupped the mug, feeling the warmth of the freshly brewed drink, the steam rising in soft curls and melting in the cooler atmosphere. Tentatively, you brought the rim to your lips, slowly tilting the cup. The powerful taste of chocolate hit you strongly, the sweet and dark liquid melting the tension in your muscles until you could curl over the table with an appreciative sigh.
“Thank you…” you knew his name, wanting to call him, but his reaction would be unwanted, the shock, fear and suspicion that would fill his beautiful, brown eyes. So you slurred your words, dragging out your voice until he could tell you his name himself.
“Miguel. Miguel O’Hara, ” he nodded, cocking his head upwards, pointing at you with his chin. “What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you Hey every time I want to call you.” His lips broke into a cheeky smile, teasing you when he saw that you’d comfortably melted into the drink and his island chair. He wanted to ease the tense atmosphere from before into something much calmer, to help the accumulated tension in your shoulders to fall like the rain that clouded the streets of New York.
You let out a hoarse chuckle, your throat still fresh from crying, and told him your name, trying to stabilise your shaking tone. His cheeky smirk tugged at your heartstrings, you hadn’t seen Miguel laugh or smile this freely in months. You missed it. The casual banter you shared and the on-and-off insults you’d hurl at one another, all good-natured insults meant to rile him.
“Thank you, Miguel,” you nearly choked when you uttered his name, the wound still so fresh and bleeding it slip from your tongue easily. It brought up so many memories, both painful and joyful. Your eyes glazed over, tears threatening to fall once again, to paint your cheeks with agony that you - him, or perhaps both of you - had brought on yourself. “Thank you…”
Miguel hummed sympathetically, eyes staring down at his drink, deep in thought. Perhaps he was thinking of a way to invite you to share your problems, to tell him why you broke down on the street in stormy weather. Or maybe he was thinking of the fastest way to kick you out, to get rid of the mess you became. The silence, however, was reassuring, calming the nerves that followed the eerie calmness of Miguel’s den or the loud, hectic atmosphere of the Society. His warm, worrying gaze grounded you, the softness behind his concerned stare was heartwarmingly nostalgic.
“Difficult breakup?” His words seemed hesitant, unsure of his conclusion to the cause of your appearance. Unknowingly, he had struck gold, pinning down the right problem in your life with a few observations. Of course, he was observant and aware of his surroundings, why else was he so willing to bring you into his home?
“How’d ya know?”
His sigh was telling, the deep, concerned and tired breath was only used when he knew that you wouldn’t tell him what ailed you, like the groan of a disappointed, yet worried father.
“Because I know how it feels,” he says slowly, pensive over his words, picking them carefully to not damage you further than your ex had. He knew the pain of a harsh breakup, the pain and sorrow that followed, like a dark cloud that hovered over you whenever you were awake.
“Why?” You croaked.
“Why?” he parroted, frowning at your question.
“Why did you invite me in? I’m a- a stranger to you, you don’t even know me. What if I’d been acting to mug you or potentially kill and steal from you? What’d you do then, Miguel?”
“I know the risks, but you didn’t, didn’t you? And wouldn’t, you don’t look like the person to harm another.”
You scoffed at his words. Didn’t and wouldn’t didn’t mean you would not do it later after gaining his trust, to stab him in the back after he helped you and nursed you. The simple, naïve idea that you didn’t look like a violent person was mind-blowing, it was stupid. How could he know if you didn’t mean harm later on? Like how Miguel never meant to harm you - he loved you - and yet in the end, he had.
“That’s naïve,” you muttered, eyes closed as you drank the cooling beverage, the sugary drink trickling down your throat.
“I’m confident in my ability to read people.”
He did seem confident in his ability, the straight back and the strong gaze in his eyes showed; and, maybe because you knew from experience that Miguel was observant and careful, he hadn’t gotten where he was by simply trusting people and following the herd. He tested and made mistakes, he learned from them each time and found a way to use it to his advantage. The Miguel you saw in every universe was similar in some ways, their good nature, their cunningness, their bravery and their intelligence. All aspects known to characterize Miguel O’Hara in all universes he existed in.
You conceded to his will, head bowed and shoulders slack. You breathed shallowly, swallowing the lump in your throat:
“Yeah, what gave it away?”
You thought it would be the last of him you’d see in your life, you wished it wouldn’t, that you’d see him over and over, to feel what the Miguel from your universe had to give, but you knew it was wishful thinking, a wish thrown to the stars. Logically, he had no reason to call or text you after exchanging numbers days prior. He promised to call you, and he made you promise to call him if anything ever resurfaced, be it pain, anger, heartbreak or hate. You, instinctively, believed his word.
You hated yourself for falling so easily to another Miguel, how you bent to his words and the sweet promises he uttered that night. There was no sign that he would keep his word, that he would see you again after your breakdown, except for his words and your belief in him. Then it wasn’t misplaced, all the trust and belief you had, since he called you, asking to meet up at a cafe. Miguel had set up a place and time for you when you replied with a croak, still feeling down. He had whispered reassuring words to you, urging you to meet him - he explicitly told you he’d feel offended to be stood up - and spend some time outside. The air was fresh and cool for an autumnal month, it wasn’t too cold that you were forced to wear a thick jacket, but it wasn’t warm enough for you to go out in a simple shirt.
You were hesitant to take him up on his offer, knowing how easily you could rebound. You’d crash into Miguel’s open arms, searching for the love and affection he fed you like a lovesick puppy, but, then again, Earth-XXX’s Miguel was similar, yet different from his variant. It would be a lie if you told yourself you didn’t miss him, the soft smiles, the gentle touches and the affectionate words. You had spent so much time as his right-hand Spider that it felt odd not seeing him the following morning. It was a routine you’d formed: waking up in his bed, kissing him good morning, getting to work together and eating together. Everything you’d done in the past years was with Miguel from Earth-928 the routine, the rigidity, it was grounding, it was the only semblance of normalcy in the world you lived in.
Now, you had to face the possibility that you were too broken to see another Miguel, to hold a casual conversation and form coherent and normal sentences. The purposefully slow steps you took to the cafe picked after having a moment outside the glass front were telling in itself. You swallowed the little amount of saliva in your throat to soothe its dryness and walked through the doors of the quaint establishment. It was painted in calm, brown tones, rustic in design with a warmth that rivalled the comfort of your bed. It lifted a bit of the tension you had, shoulders slumping slightly as your eyes searched for a familiar mop of brown hair.
Laying against the brown sofa, he stared out of the wide window from his booth. The warm, morning lights caressed his cheeks, lighting up the sharp edges of his jaw and nose. He was sculpted in perfection, like the youthful beauty of Adonis, crafted with the meticulous and attention-catching hands of an artist that created what was thought to be a god’s beauty. You could spend your days watching him, catching every little detail of Miguel’s face under the changing lighting, but you were standing near the entrance and he was waiting for you. His words echoed in your mind: “Don’t forget about next week, I miss seeing you.”
His eyes flickered to you, blinking as he turned to you, flashing a smile. You returned the sentiment, a shaky smile lifting the corners of your lips. You sat across from him, eyes wandering the cafe to stare at anything but him, lest you wouldn’t be able to stop the rush of emotions that would light your face in a flush. He uttered your name, greeting you in a friendly manner. You nodded back, muttering his name, pushing down the wince whenever you said it.
“Chocolate.”
The still-warm cup stared at you, light steam wafting over the reflective liquid. It was full, unlike Miguel’s cup, and drank down to the middle of the container.
“Thank you.”
He probably wouldn’t let you repay him for the hot chocolate he bought you, the smile he gave you told you as much when your eyes flickered between his and your cup. The hot chocolate was a reminder of your night in his flat, where he lent you his shoulder to cry and his ears to listen. Embarrassment seemed to flash whenever you recalled the memory, how vulnerable you were to him, your walls broken down and your heart open. Though, Miguel didn’t seem to mind your fragility, giving you as much time as you needed.
“How are you? I wanted to give you a few days to think before meeting again, I thought you might’ve needed the time alone.”
You nodded lamely, fingers curling around the warm porcelain, back slumped into the booth to hide from his knowing eyes. He was right, you had needed the time alone to clean yourself up, scour through your memories and tend to whatever mess you made of yourself. You were thankful. The last few days had brought revelations, how - both of - you had ignored the signs of a rupture in the relationship and continued to push on, like crossing a crumbling bridge.
“‘M doing better. How- and how are you?”
He smiled at your attempt, you were trying on your own after a few - forced - encouraging words from Miguel. Maybe you’d learn to live with the pain, coexisting with the numbness that filled you until it dulled to a point where it would be barely acknowledged by you or anyone in your vicinity - where it wasn’t painted on your face with bright colours. Or the pursuit to forget it, pushing it into the farthest corner of your mind and heart, painting over the crack with glue. As long as you wouldn’t drown in your sorrows, ending up playing with dangerous substances to stay afloat while your mind sunk deeper into addiction and denial.
He wouldn’t let you get that far, Miguel understood you and he lived through it as you did. Although his was a more violent breakup - she had cheated on him, his explosive reaction was natural - than yours, he hadn’t relied on anything but self-meditation and a lot of thinking. Like a friend - you were one by his standards, he’d invited you to his flat, you’d seen his organized chaos and ranted about your life while he comforted you with his shoulder and a cup of hot chocolate - he would stay by your side, hoping his support would be enough to help you.
“Great so far.”
His grin - somehow - grew even larger, enthusiasm gleaming in his eyes.
Oftentimes, Miguel would be the one to call you, your phone ringing in the afternoon of the day prior with his soothing voice on the other end of the line. He spoke easily, finding the time to invite you out for the simplest reason, to talk, to make a drink, to have fun, and - your favourite by far - to see you. His initiative had you trying to double your efforts to heal, reaching outside of your boundaries and texting Miguel whenever you had a moment to yourself. You felt guilty that he was always the one to plan these outings, so you promised yourself that you’d become a better friend than you currently were. You even remembered his teasing tone when you called him for the first time:
”Aye, finally. I thought you’d never call me, chica. I felt neglected, thought you had forgotten about me for a second there.”
It started with the first coffee date, bickering about who would pay, pushing your card before the other while still seated at your table, frowning stubbornly and throwing promises about letting the other pay next time. Either way, Miguel rarely let you pay, coming atop as the winner of your little fight with his strength and height (you couldn’t exactly put all your force into your push, it could break bone and bruise the skin.).
Then it would be random meetings on the streets that would lead you to a random bench at the park, basking in the other’s presence, retelling your day and him nitpicking anything he could with a ridiculously criticising frown. He was playing, you knew he was. You did the same after you’d gotten more comfortable talking to him, it became easier to see him as a different - as his own - person. A few hits on the shoulder left and right, but it was mostly laughter at ridiculous expressions made to emphasize your disdain for a certain event.
The months that followed were a blur to you. Rather than going to a cafe or the park, you went to restaurants and crashed at one of your flats, yours if he wanted to play games and lounge about with food and drinks, and his if you wanted to watch movies (he had the best television you’d ever seen, such high definition and speed.) and tinker away at his inventions and theories. He was certainly happy that his new friend was another scholar in the field of genes and engineering (you were mostly into engineering than genes, but you knew a few things that you’d found interesting.). You could both gush - scientifically - about the possibility of gene splicing and lab-generated mutations in humans, like the mutant superheroes.
You’d taken some liberties and went drinking, meeting at the same bar biweekly to relax after a few hard days at work. It served to loosen your nerves until either of you felt comfortable to chat up a storm about the most random subject. It’d been about the odd dent on the rim of his glass; then it’d be about how the sky was grey this week, there weren’t any warm, yellow rays blaring down on you when you went out; or it’d be about the distasteful cut of a man’s moustache. Drinking loosened your tongues, some words were said and some sentiments were shared, but none were truly taken seriously knowing you were tipsy - nearing drunk - those nights.
Every time you saw Miguel, you felt like you were rediscovering a part of yourself as well as him, the thing that made him so distinct and loveable. Miguel was expressive and honest, he slowly and gently let you down from whatever high you were, the pillar you needed to stand again after falling. He was so much different. It used to pain you how much they looked alike, but character-wise, they were like the two sides of a coin. It made you appreciate the delicate intricacies that made the multiverse.
You won’t - can’t - deny that you’ve grown fond of this Miguel as you did with the other one, but you couldn’t let yourself love him. He didn’t deserve someone broken and hashed into many lives: the masks you wore, the things you did, the secrets you hid, and the things you could do. He didn’t deserve someone who could bring him to his death; dying simply because he was connected to Spider-Woman; beaten simply because he knew Spider-Woman; kidnapped simply because they deemed him useful as leverage. All things that could go wrong haunt you. Miguel was human, he wasn’t a Spider, he wasn’t a superhero, and he wasn’t a vigilante. He was Miguel O’Hara, the geneticist working at Alchemax, with a brilliant mind and a kind heart.
You cherished every part of him. That’s why you can’t let your heart lead, dedicate how you’d react to Miguel after the months you spent together. He was so close, yet so far; he was touchable, you could hold him, kiss him and hug him, but he was unattainable, you couldn’t tell him how much you loved him. You watched him with hidden love, showing your affection as platonic, a friend watching another. You had hardened yourself to your heart’s cries, for loving Miguel was a dangerous game-
“I- what?” you gawked at Miguel, wide eyes and mouth agape. You were shocked at the words that left his mouth, his soft, wet lips moving as he repeated the words.
“I love you.”
His cheeks were flushed, burning a soft red, it trailed to his ears and nape. His open collar - his jacket hung on the back of his chair and his shirt clung below his collar, a skin-tight shirt that hugged his sculpted chest sinfully, it hid little to the seeing eyes of the crowd and your drunk self. His sudden words had all but sobered you, shaking you into clear lucidity of his confession.
“You… love me?”
He blinked dumbly at you for a second, as if taking the time to absorb what he told you and what you repeated. Miguel was tipsy, not drunk. He smiled and nodded, a bashfully affectionate grin on his beautiful lips.
“Yes, is it so hard to believe, chica?”
He often called you chica, you thought it was a friendly term of endearment between friends (truthfully and regretfully, you knew little of Spanish, even with being in a committed relationship with an Irish-Mexican.). You just realised it was his pet name for you. All this time, he had given you his heart, and yet, you had denied him of yours. He was more playful and less burdened by life, it made him more teasing and smiling. The term chica somewhat made sense, a cuter and more playful way of calling someone you loved than the deep-meaning ones like mi cielo and mi vida, a play of words like a small secret between you. This secret hid behind names given between friends, a well-kept one, close to his chest but gifted to you.
It might’ve once been - started - as friends, but it grew and festered in his heart until he found the time to express himself, to tell you how he truly felt for you - how he grew to care for you. He deemed this moment fine, bordering tipsy and nearing drunk, he’d be open, brutally honest but still aware of the words that left him. He wasn’t a lightweight anyway.
You wanted to tell him you also loved him, but you couldn’t do it, mouth slightly open and eyes glazed with heartbreak, you simply stared at him in hesitancy. You opened your mouth once to reply and closed it, open and close, again and again until all you could do was stare at him. How were you supposed to answer him after the bomb he dropped?
”Yes! I love you too!”
”Oh, Miguel, I love you too.”
”I- I love you as well.”
There were so many ways to express your feelings to the man who confessed, but none seemed to convey the true emotions that lay in your heart. You wanted to tell him you learned to love again thanks to him, that the time spent with him had made you open your eyes to the beauty that you were blinded by the pain and you slowly grew to care for - love - him as much as you did with Spider-Man 2099. He had the same smile, the same mind, the same heart, but he was more innocent, less burdened by disaster and happier.
So you simply nodded. It made his smirk grow.
“Aye- would it be better if I called you ‘mi tesoro’ instead? It’s more straightforward, no?”
Even now, his words were light and playful, his tone affectionate as he leaned closer to you. You could see the mischievous glint in his warm, chocolate eyes (you thought that was why he liked serving you hot chocolate, it reminded you of his eyes.) and the curve of his lips as they moved to form words. You were transfixed by his beauty, mesmerised by the comforting hues and the sharpness of his cheeks, missing how close he was to you.
“Or maybe-”
Softness caressed your lips, a plush, warm feeling that made you flush. He was kissing you, those pretty lips on yours. Your breath stuttered and you froze, but it didn’t stop Miguel’s initiative, a hand cradled your nape, holding you in place as he pushed himself closer to you. He moved against you, tongue slipping from his mouth and tentatively laving over your bottom lip, asking for something.
He was so warm, so caring. You could just close your eyes and follow his lead - you did. He pushed harder, yet the kiss stayed soft and passionate, he lightly nipped your lip and soothed the stinging with his warm tongue, beckoning you to open your mouth for him. Your lips parted, opening up for Miguel to dive in, muscle meeting yours halfway and curling over yours. He still cradled your head, fingers running through your loose hair and tilting your head backwards, giving him more space to show you how much he loved you. Your arms, somehow, found themselves wrapped around his neck, pulling him as close to you as he was pushing himself against you.
His kiss was loving, his hold was careful and his touch heartwarming. You almost regretted having to pull away, but you had to breathe, your lungs starving for air after having been devoured by Miguel’s adoring kiss. The moment you opened your eyes (you didn’t know you had closed them while you kissed), his smile greeted you, a lovesick one bubbling with unending joy. You almost choked from how it fit so well on him.
“That’s- that’s one way…” you spoke between breaths, chest swelling with every erratic pant, matching his similarly worn-out breathing.
That was all he needed from you. Your kiss was enough for him to know you loved him the same, a patient and gentle love he was willing to give you. Your heart pulsed strongly, lips curving and eyes squinting, you pushed yourself closer to his heat, his all-encompassing warmth that wrapped around you when you wanted to feel safe and loved. Your world couldn’t be any brighter, like the vibrant colours of blooming flowers when Persephone was given to her mother, where the snow melted and colours washed over the lands once more, painting the blank white and dead grey in joyous tones. It glowed brightly and warmed you like the summers that followed the melting ice, the clear, blue skies of Olympus and as freeing as the soaring hawks and skipping elks.
Letting go was far harder than loving. To let the person who you let in leave felt emptying, it left a gaping hole in his heart. Where it was once calm, struck a raging storm of rejection and regret, crashing waves the size of Poseidon’s rage and violent storms the strength of Zeus’ retribution. It hurt watching you walk beside a variant of himself, a happier and lighter version of him without his mutations or duty. You were the Spider-Woman of your universe so there wouldn’t be a second one unless there was a catastrophic canon divergence.
He hadn’t followed you at first, respecting your wishes of being left alone. He had to give you that much, at least, after those months spent beside his ignorant ass. He hadn’t seen it until it was too late, lost under the weight of his duty and fears that he’d forgotten he had people who cared, who felt, who loved. It was too late, it was always too late with him. If he couldn’t fix his first mistake, who’s to say he could fix this? He couldn’t save his first daughter or his second’s universe because it was falling apart. He couldn’t save anyone because he hadn’t realised his mistake in interfering in canon events, and he lost you because he couldn’t stop his vitriol, his violent temperament that had pushed you away. He always took things for granted until they were lost to him.
Was it two or three weeks before he decided to check up on you? He didn’t know anymore, the weeks blurred until he finally amassed the courage to go against everyone’s words. Through the flat hologram of his orange screen, he watched you lament on your own, body curled into itself and shoulders shaking. Your sobs were heart-wrenching to watch while he had no means of contacting you; you would’ve reacted more strongly and aggressively if he’d contacted you after leaving.
So he watched.
You stared vacantly from your window and left only for the bare necessities or to act as Spider-Woman. Crime never slept so you couldn’t stop even in your time of need. You swung from building to building so gracefully that Miguel was hypnotised by your grace. He watched these moments as a reminder of the missions he took by your side, webbing and catching anomalies all across the multiverse with fearsome speed and accuracy. You both had made a fearsome team, but that time was over, it was a memory long forgotten.
So he watched.
Your flat was cold and empty, the space filled with spectres of memories, the cool rooms vacant of life that used to fill them with warmth and happiness. It was saddening from his perspective - the observer, the watcher and the reader of your story - of your time spent alone. He wanted to tell you that you weren’t alone, that he was watching you from afar, a silent protector that would only act if you were in imminent danger - as long as it wasn’t part of the canon.
So he watched-
Besides you was Miguel - not him, another one - and he looked much too comfortable by your side for his liking. His variant seemed much too close for a friend, moving from sitting before you to beside you, arm slung over your shoulders and leaning back and, sometimes, towards you at a breath’s distance. He turned green with envy, a vicious monster brewing inside his body with the threat of bursting out, clawing at his chest. The other was too close to you for his liking.
He watched as his variant bought you drinks - always, however long and loud you’d complained and fought, he never let you pay in the end - and paid for your dates. He abhorred it. How happy you looked with the other him. How calm and satisfied your smile was. How close his variant was to you. He wished he was at the other’s place, taking his rightful place beside you. He would kiss you, smother you in love and give you whatever you wanted, whether it be a hug, a kiss or his time, he would’ve given them to you. He wouldn’t dance around the edge of your affection and his love like he was doing, like a man unsure of his feelings and anxious to act on it.
He thought the other Miguel was a coward - though he knew he wasn’t. He wanted to blame his variant and find fault for anything he did, but they were still the same person. He was Miguel O’Hara as much as he was. He wanted, but couldn’t, especially after seeing how both loved you the same, having a similar type. They were so much alike that he could’ve replaced his variant, yet so vastly different in other manners that he would’ve stood out. His history, his trauma, his curse, the other had none of them. He was normal while he was Spider-Man, a stronger, more brutal version of Spider-Man.
Granted, he loved you with every fibre of his being, but he had never showered you with as much love and affection as the other, having his character muddled through long hours of work and long-lasting tragedy. You were another of his tragedies, where he found love again and lost it by his own making. He would have left too if the Society didn’t depend on him, leaning towards him for support and help in protecting the multiverse. It was something he couldn’t sacrifice for his whims.
So he kept watching and let his heart crack and envy fester.
He watched you grow even closer to him, shoulders and hands occasionally touching, making you jump and blush. He watched you move from simple coffee dates to full-blown restaurants and bar dates, drinking and eating at your leisure - something he could’ve never provided you. He watched you wobble around when you were drunk, your arm over his shoulder and his around your waist, supporting your drunk weight. He watched you kiss, the other pressing your bodies together and you reciprocating the loving embrace you had once given to him.
He felt like crying. He was crying, silent tears rolling down his sharp cheeks in slow, thundering waves of his heartbreak. He clung to the desk, claws unintentionally popping out and bending the metal under his fist. The sound ripped through the silent room like the image that ripped through his heart. He was alone in his grief, shoulders slumping and arms shaking with the intensity of his emotions. He had locked the door, barricading it with a busy, do not disturb sign, warning the others that he was occupied and wouldn’t be reached unless there was an emergency.
“Miguel…”
He’d forgotten Lyla was here - she was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, with your help he had given Lyla an upgrade in her system that gave her access to every Spider that had the watch. She had access to every file in the database and his secrets. Lyla was loyal to him as much as she was to you, respecting your words with a promise of her own to leave you alone. That, however, didn’t mean that she wasn’t privy to his pains, watching him while his eyes were stuck to your universe’s screen, giving him some comforting words that were meant to lift his spirit. It never worked but the intention was there.
He couldn’t look at her, still facing the hologram of you kissing. He felt the surge of too many emotions to be able to think clearly, his self-control tethering on a thin line of fragile web. If he turned, he would explode on Lyla, giving her the brunt of his suffering even though she didn’t deserve it, she felt and laughed as much as any other human. He remembered programming in emotion with you, laughing about how much she would be as teasing and annoying as you. Lyla was another gift to him by you, so it would hurt him more.
“Miguel-”
“Don’t- Do not say another word.”
For a man in tears and pain, his voice was curt and stoic, playing the leading figure he’d taken for so long. It betrayed his shaky figure, fingers crushing the metal loudly and shoulders jerking with ever-wrenching choked sob. His world was crumbling around him, rippling and cracking from the seams and folding into itself. The control of his state was failing miserably as he kept staring at your mirthful smile after the kiss. It tore him apart knowing he pushed you further away and into the arms of another. It hurt him deeply.
Through everything, he heard Lyla whisper a small sorry before she popped out of existence, her small holographic body vanishing along with her orange light. Gone was her familiar light, gone was the nostalgic memory of programming her, and along her, was the support of another person. He was truly alone in this moment, to fall on his knees and let himself drown under the weight of everything.
If your love was a tangible thing, he would’ve cradled it between his warm palms, holding it tightly to his chest to feel the soothing effects you had on him. Like a balm to burns, you cooled the searing pains that the world inflicted upon him, the warm blanket that covered him when he needed rest and the pillar that held him when he fell. He’d lost something he couldn’t gain a second time, clutching his head in his misery, drowning and howling.
It felt surreal until it wasn’t until it all sunk in. He truly couldn’t grasp the utter loss and betrayal he felt. The realisation that he truly lost you to none other than himself. The irony of it all slashed deeper, how he drove you closer to another him by his own doing, making you love a Miguel with more gentleness, more kindness and time than him, Miguel O’Hara, the Spider-Man from Nueva York, Earth-928. Everything he had was lost in time, his spiralling thoughts of loss and misery clouded his vision, bringing tears forward in bigger waves.
Was he doomed to lose everything he cared about? Was he bound to love and lose? Why couldn’t he have a happy ending like everyone else? Was it because he was different? Perhaps it was, there were other O’Hara Spider-Man, but none were mutated like him, a product of self-infliction and sabotage - none had their DNA spliced and mixed with a spider’s. He was simply too different from the others, they were lean but still had a strong musculature, muscles tightened to create more strength and defence; none were big and broad as he was, with rough edges and mean streaks. They were nice and happy, faced losses of their own, but always came out on top (there were some minor - sometimes major - variants of Spider-Man here and there, but they all had some similarities in their stories of becoming.). He saw the devastation and grasped onto the thinnest silver lining he could find, holding onto it to stay afloat while others thrived where they were.
Maybe it was truly because of him. He was realistic - near cynic - he couldn’t see things optimistically, life had made him that way. The silver lining he saw in things was small, nearly extinguished by his near-pessimistic way of life. Did that have an impact as well? It most likely did, at least partly. Fate had given him a bad hand in things, he couldn’t be completely blamed for how things turned - or so he thought, hoped. A man wasn’t only the result of what he’d done, but also of what he was given. When push comes to shove, Miguel acted in a way he thought meant well for him and the others even if it didn’t seem like the right decision at first. He rarely doubted his actions while he did them, only after, could he let himself face the consequences of what he’d done. Miguel simply didn’t have the pleasure of waiting. He needed to act when it was called.
If he had waited, if he had been patient and sought out others for support, if he had spent time thinking before acting, would he still have his little girl beside him? Would he still have you in his arms? If he had shown you more affection, would you have still loved him?
Did you still love him?
Miguel didn’t know what he was doing. Standing before your apartment door in civilian clothing and a bouquet of twelve, beautiful white tulips - the meaning not lost to him. It was an attempt at apologizing for his mistakes, a desperate one led by heartache. He brushed his hair back, trying to look as kept as he could in his situation: dark bags and sickly skin, tense muscles and sore back. This was a daring move from him, it would end up catastrophic if the Miguel from your universe saw him at your front door; but he checked, making sure his variant was elsewhere before opening a portal to your place.
He hadn’t moved in a while, listening to you move around your flat, the sound of your soft steps shuffling from behind the door, a wall between you and him, reminding him that he wouldn’t be able to cross it unless you welcomed him. He held the bouquet in one hand and knocked with the other, his knuckles hitting the wood softly and hesitantly. There was a pause between every knock, drawn by his nerves and the anxiety that gripped him.
You moved and closed in on the sound at the door. He saw your shadow dance under the small gap on the floor and pause. You knew. You knew it was him even without peeking through the peephole, your spider-sense aiding you in recognizing the unknown. Although your hand rested reluctantly at the knob - perhaps still too raw from your break as he was - you opened the door for him, figure small and apprehensive.
“Miguel,” you muttered his name, greeting him with a slow nod. You stepped back and opened the door wider for him, he took it as a good sign that you let him in rather than shut the door in his face.
He nodded back, saying your name. He took a step forward, foot breaking the barrier to your flat. The second one ensured he was fully invited, both feet strongly rooted on your side of the door. He wanted to make himself smaller, to appease you, but he knew you wouldn’t have liked that. He squirmed under your stare, a mix of curiosity and concern.
He nearly sighed audibly when you gestured at him to sit and he moved to the sofa he remembered sleeping on with you, cuddling under a warm blanket while you watched a movie. He knew your home by heart like you knew his, the memory washed over him with melancholy. You sat on the armchair to his left, your back to the kitchen. He swallowed thickly and handed you the bouquet, freshly cut tulips glistening with pearly drops under your lights.
Your shoulders shook as you leaned in to take the bouquet, jolting back when your fingers grazed him. Feeling your skin felt invigorating, it breathed back life into him, even slightly. You thanked him with a slow nod, seemingly unsure of what to make of it. Was it a gift? Was it an apology? Was it a farewell sign? He figured your mind was running in circles trying to understand the meaning of the pretty bouquet he handed you. You were always an overthinker, but your mind worked brutally well. That’s something he always appreciated about you.
“I-” Miguel started, seemingly stopped by something that he couldn’t get out of his throat. Maybe a ball of dread or needles of anxiety, but it held him from giving you the words he spent nights thinking over, to give you the message he built from the deepest crevice of his heart. “I’m sorry, (Name).”
You stared at him, understanding that he needed a moment of silence to truly convey his feelings. You hadn’t uttered a word since he first started, expression neutral, not betraying whatever brewing storm you locked inside of you. He was grateful, truly.
“I know- I know it doesn’t mean much now, but I’m really, really sorry, mi vida.”
He sensed you tense, the muscles of your back contracting and rippling under your shirt. Every unseen fibre moving was bare to him, he could see and feel better than most, if not, everyone else.
“I acted out of anger and lack of sleep, but that doesn’t mean you deserved that- never. I just, my mutation makes me more animalistic, more… aggressive than the other, and I hurt you. You didn’t deserve any of that and I can’t always blame it on my mutations. I should’ve been able to control myself. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you in those ways.”
He lowered his gaze to his hands, the calloused pads of his fingers rubbing his palm, trying to coax himself into relaxation. Although your breathing softened, a calm breeze in an atmosphere thick with tension, he didn’t dare look up and see the face you were making.
“I was a bad boyfriend and a horrible friend. I’m- I’m not asking you to forgive me, I don’t want you to forgive me, but- I just needed to tell you how much I regret hurting you. I want to apologise, I don’t know what else to do, I don’t know how to fix this.” He breathed deeply, collecting every ounce of confidence and honesty to brave your reaction. “I’m sorry, mi cielo.”
He shuddered, body rippling with his pained breath. He hadn’t realised how painful it would be to face you with his fears and confession, with the threat of abandonment and rejection fresh in his mind. He was a man of pride and strength, rarely facing anything with trepidation and hesitance.
“I’m really sorry, mi cielo. I’m so, so sorry.”
He sat in silence, letting it hang over him like the blade of a guillotine, silent and brunt. Perceiving the flash of the sharp blade before it fell on his neck, sentencing him to a quick downfall with a long, lasting agony that would sting his neck as long as it would hurt his heart. The French used it for executions, the thing that spelled people’s end. At its height, it was used as an apparatus to behead traitors or people who were deemed dangerous to the people of the new republic. Down the blame went and off the head popped, like it would happen to Miguel if he wasn’t prepared for it. He truly didn’t know whether he had prepared for his rejection, for the death of his heart, to watch the flickering sparks of his flame wither out.
“I’m sorry too, Miguel-”
The rope strained, knots twisting and rippling in the tightness of the pull. It shook, whipping in the air as it straightened completely, held closely by the hand of the executioner. The wind blew but it was sturdy, withstanding the violent gales that slammed against the body of it.
“-it means a lot that you came here to apologise- ”
The crowd was filled with silence, the emptiness of the area a mock of a ghost town. Abandoned to be sentenced to death without anyone to witness. They deemed him not fit for their acknowledgment before his death, before the sparks of his life extinguished. His fate wasn’t worth their time, unlike the poorest criminals who stole for money, unlike the richest pigs who fed from the poor with their silver spoons and golden crowns, unlike the cruellest killers who gutted and left men, women and children to bleed out, and unlike the guiltless innocents cursed for something they hadn’t committed.
“-but, I can’t.”
The rope was let loose, its tail flying and whipping in the air as the blade descended with its weight. The wood chafed against its support beams, yet it flew gracefully and rapidly, singing the doom of its prisoner. The blade gleamed under the moon’s bright light, the silver whispers of peace and sleep deaf to his ears.
“I can’t love you anymore.”
It cracked down on him, his life flashing before him as it cut into him. Severing his control over his body, putting out the dying embers of hope. He clung to desperation in his last moments, wishing to relive the moments of happiness, bright oblivion and cherished love.
He wished that he could’ve seen your shadowed figure hidden in the darkness, tears lining your cheeks as you watched him take his last breath. The only person who came to see him leave, the one who he would’ve burned the world for. In the end, after everything he’d done, you still gave him a small moment of your time to witness his fall, you deemed him worthy of such an act. You offered him your kindness.
My extensive tag list of extremely patient people pt1.:
@iseizeyourmom @raynerainyday @etherealton @sciencethot @coffee-obsessed-freak @thesecretwriter @beepboopcowboy@bontensh0e @aikoiya @allysunny @fandoms-run-my-life @brittney69 @aranachan @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @konniebon @starlightaura @redwolfxx @aniya7 @alicefallsintotherabbithole @bvbdudette @wwwelilovesyou @wwwellacom @akiras-key @bobafettbutifhewasgay @opiplover @rinieloliver @uniquecroissant @yas-v @xrusitax @blkmystery @darherwings @ariparri @notivie @vr00m-vr00m @battinsonwhore05 @irishbl0ss0mz @mivanda @saint-chlorine @livelaughluvmen @battinsonwhore05 @notivie @lililouvre @giasjourneyblog @ykyouluvme @skullywullypully
#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara imagine#miguel ohara#miguel o hara#miguel o'hara#atsv miguel#miguel spiderverse#spiderman 2099#miguel x reader#miguel o’hara x fem!reader#miguel o’hara#miguel o’hara angst#across the spiderverse#atsv x reader#spiderman atsv#atsv#atvs spoilers#spiderman 2099 x reader#accross the spiderverse#spiderman 2099 x you#x reader#angst
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a good time with shortform manga
Couple things I read in the last few months and liked!
My So-Called Artist's Journey by Akiko Higashimura (34 chapters)
This is on paper Akiko Higashimura's semi-autobiographical account of how she became a mangaka but also a story about being 40something and reflecting on significant mentor-mentee relationships you had when you were a teenager and an idiot and also about grief and regret and making art.... the protag is an ALL TIME flavor of selfish, silly, vain, and irresistibly charming and I love her with my whole heart.
Little Forest by Daisuke Igarashi (33 chapters)
I am a huge huge sucker for stories that feel hyperlocal and this is one of the MOST About A Specific Place stories I've read in a minute. It's a fictionalized account of the author's experience subsistence farming in rural northeast Japan. AND it's a cooking manga. Just an extremely lovely, meandering, recipe-a-chapter portrayal of day to day life (I am also a huge fan of stories where you can really FEEL the passage of time and this has got it in spades), with a healthy dose of "competent home cook just fucking around!" that I really enjoyed.
Girl's Last Tour by Tsukumizu (42 chapters)
GLT is pretty well known I think? End-of-the-world slice of life with two girls wandering through the ruins of an enormous postapocalyptic (very Very Blame!-flavored) city. I think Tsukumizu does such a good job keeping the tone chill and even while the characters are moving through desperate, scary, weird, and funny beats -- the vibes are like, "lighthearted hopeless" where the camera never lingers and things are rarely resolved. Had an extremely good time!
An Invitation From A Crab by panpanya (14 chapters, short story)
I THINK SHAUN TAN APPRECIATORS SHOULD READ INVITATION FROM A CRAB. Each chapter is a short story and they are funny and offbeat and weird and also basically never have a resolution. One part "hey, wouldn't it be fucked up if--" one part "here's a dream I remember like 2/3 of" one part just fun jokes! I immediately ordered a physical copy on finishing.
#thsi would have died in my drafts but i want to recommend invitation from a crab SO strongly#i loved all of these but it's so short and good
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Journey to Myself - Help Get This Manga about Gender Identity Licensed
Over the past decade, publishers like YenPress and SevenSeas have allowed us to see a greater diversity in manga titles that get licensed. Both in particular have sizeable LGBTQ+ libraries which have led to some incredible works being available in English, such as Adachi and Shimamura and Our Dreams at Dusk.
Unfortunately, many LGBTQ+ stories still remain unavailable in English. One such manga is “Ore ga Watashi ni Naru made.”
Summary:
Ore ga Watashi ni Naru made (roughly “Until He Becomes Her,” “The Girl He Would Become,” or “Until I Become Me”) is a “gender-bender” manga written and illustrated by Satou Hatsuki. It is a coming-of-age story focused on Fujimiya Akira, a young second-grade boy who bullies the girls at school before waking up one day as a girl due to a rare affliction. The boys in class immediately turn against and abuse Akira, while the girls he once harassed shun him completely. With no friends left at school, Akira is forced to move away and live as a girl. Initially resistant to her new life, a budding friendship leads Akira on an emotional journey towards growing up, forming bonds, and learning to be kind while understanding who she wants to be.
For those unaware, “gender-bender” is a genre of fiction wherein a character, through some means – bodyswapping, magic, etc. – becomes another gender. Many of these works do not depict the trans experience per se, but are based in the perspective of tying gender to sex and play around with it in more crude or simplistic terms. They can play into foibles like gender essentialism, but also offer a space to break down societal ideas of identity. As such, some trans people may sometimes see their experiences reflected in these works, while at other times finding them distasteful or overly simplistic in their portrayal of gender and identity.
OreWata is, despite its inciting incident, very grounded in its exploration of gender identity. Early on in the story Akira is told that if she wishes to return to being a boy, she could start puberty blockers and later on use hormones to transition. The acknowledgement of not only gender dysphoria but medical interventions to alleviate that dysphoria are rare in stories in general, and a refreshing inclusion in a series such as this. As Akira adapts to her new life and grows into adolescence, she learns joy in being called cute, wearing skirts and dresses, and being able to express her emotions more vividly with her friends. Meanwhile, she also struggles to tell her mother about these feelings, afraid of her family's expectations and uncertain how they'd react to her desire to remain a girl. These aspects end up feeling deeply resonant with a trans experience, and we wish for more people to be able to read it.
How to help:
YenPress can be contacted via either Twitter/X (@YenPress) or via Email ([email protected]).
1. Contact via Twitter
If using Twitter, be sure your message is being sent via a public account. Include a picture of the volume 1 cover as attached above. Additional anecdotes help, but are optional. (Special thanks to BehindTheManga for base templates!)
Templates
Hello! I'd really love to see オレが私になるまで (Ore ga Watashi ni Naru made) by Satou Hatsuki licensed in English! @yenpress
Hello. A friend of mine recently recommended a manga to me, but it’s not available in English. The manga is オレが私になるまで (Ore ga Watashi ni Naru made) by Satou Hatsuki. Is there any chance we could see it licensed? @yenpress
Hello! There’s an LGBTQ+ manga that I’d really like to read, but it’s not licensed in English at all. It’s called オレが私になるまで (Ore ga Watashi ni Naru made) by Satou Hatsuki. I would really like to see it in your catalog, if possible! @yenpress
2. Contact via Email
If possible, it could help to add additional writing or anecdotes are encouraged. This is optional, though.
Basic Template
Subject: Manga Request
Recipient: [email protected]
Message: Hello, Yen Press. I have a manga title I wanted to submit for your company to request.
Title: オレが私になるまで (Ore ga Watashi ni Naru made)
Author: Satou Hatsuki
Japanese Publisher: Kadokawa Shoten
Templates for Extra Messages
As an LGBTQ+ reader, I really appreciate your wide selection of stories highlighting experiences of those like myself. It is important to me that stories like this are accessible to as wide an audience as possible, and given the quality in your releases of other LGBTQ+ works like “Adachi and Shimamura” and “I Want to Be a Wall,” I believe your company would be a great fit for bringing this manga to overseas audiences.
I have a lot of transgender friends, so I’m really interested in seeing more manga on the subject of gender identity. A friend recommended this story to me, but it’s only available in Japanese, so I’m not able to read it. I’ve enjoyed your other releases that play with gender in the past, such as “Magical Girl Incident” and “Miss Savage Fang,” so I believe your company would handle this manga with the care required for it to reach a wider audience.
This story has resonated strongly with me, but when I talked about it with some friends that seemed interested in reading it, we sadly found out that it had not yet been licensed in the US. I have read your releases of LGBTQ+ series’ including "Kiss and White Lily for My Dearest Girl" and enjoyed it, therefore I think you would handle this manga well too.
(Please change or add other works if there are other titles you feel strongly about, and expand messages if you have more to say. These are just examples, and we want to avoid spamming identical messages.)
3. SevenSeas Survey
Manga can be requested to SevenSeas via their monthly surveys available in the right sidebar on their website. https://sevenseasentertainment.com/
Under “What non-licensed *MANGA FROM JAPAN* would you like us to license and publish in English? Type it here,” fill in with “オレが私になるまで (Ore ga Watashi ni Naru made) by Satou Hatsuki”. Complete the survey, filling out the rest however you see fit.
How else you can help:
If you could share this post to your friends, especially other LGBTQ+ folks who might be interested in the manga and ask them to participate and share as well, it would be greatly appreciated! The important thing is that the publishers need to know there’s an audience who really wishes to see this published in English, both so that we can support the creator and so that this story may reach a wider audience and get the love it deserves.
Thank you so much for even a small amount of help. We hope that with your support, we can see an overseas release for this story.
#ore ga watashi ni naru made#until i become me#trans#manga#transgender#coming of age#gender bender#オレが私になるまで#orewata
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