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seitmai · 3 months ago

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Once again, more under the cut

Dani rolled her eyes. “First of all, Boone, no one made you sing that song. You picked it yourself. And if I remember correctly, you barely needed to look at the lyrics.” Turning to Tyler, she added, “But they’re right! Tonight, you are getting on that stage!”

Haha not Boone’s song of choice being from Frozen haha

Leaning back in his seat so he caught a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye, Tyler answered, “I say the same thing I say every time: I don’t sing.”

It's giving:

As promised, it only lasted three minutes, but the moment the music ended, Tyler wanted more. Not of him singing—that he would never feel comfortable with—but singing with you. It was electric! The way you stared deep into his eyes, never once needing to look at the words. How your energy transferred to him and he found himself jumping up and down alongside you as you both belted out the song. He had never wanted you more.

He's down bad 🤭

From that day forward, every time the Wranglers stopped by your bar, the same series of events would occur: You would welcome them in and serve them drinks. Tyler and you would sing a duet (the same song every time). You would take him back into your office and the two of you would fuck each other’s brains out. Afterward, you would sometimes come sit at his table and talk with the other Wranglers (often sitting on Tyler’s lap). No one knew exactly what your relationship was—hell, even Tyler wasn’t sure—but it was obvious to everyone that something had happened after Tyler’s first performance, and, thankfully, no one questioned it.

Great routine 😌

Tyler held up his hands, pleading innocence. “I didn’t do anything!” “Well, obviously you did something based on that response,” Lily said. “So, what was it?”

Lily knows instantly lol

Three pairs of eyes scanned the table…only to land on Dexter who had sunk low in his seat. Dani slapped the older man’s arm. “How did you not tell me!” “It’s Tyler’s business. I figured if he wanted you to know he would tell you.” Dexter lifted his eyes to look at Tyler. “I’m still sorry I got involved in the first place. I didn’t mean to—”

Poor Dexter 😅

Staring down at the table, Tyler fidgeted with his hat. “I haven’t talked to her since.” “What!” Boone, Dani, and Lily exclaimed at once.

They are gonna slap him, I can see it lol

"When I talked to her, she seemed okay with the whole thing, all things considered,” Dexter said. “I think she was so afraid something had happened to him that it was just an extra shock to find out the truth.”

Understandably!

“So, what does this mean?” Boone asked, looking from Tyler to Dexter to Tyler again. “Are we not gonna be able to come here anymore? Because this is the only place we go to that doesn't kick me out when I get drunk and start singing.” All the other Wranglers stared at him like he was the biggest idiot in the world.

He kinda is lol

The younger man’s eyes grew wide as he choked on his beer, sputtering and coughing at the proposition. By this point, everyone knew that your duet was always followed by an encore performance in your office. And if you wanted Boone to replace Tyler there as well as on the stage….

Haha Boone is not ready 😅

“What if I don’t want a life outside of us?” he whispered, his eyes boring into yours. “What if I just want you?” All of the fiery attitude you had seconds before faded until you stood before him more vulnerable than you had ever seemed. Swallowing, you murmured, “Then you just need to tell me that and I’m yours.”

🥹🥹🥹

And then, he saw three fingers poking up through the rubble. Grabbing them, he squeezed them tightly and was flooded with relief when they squeezed back. After another few minutes of digging, his knuckles hit something wooden, and, with a start, he realized he had found your desk. When the storm hit, you must have hid under it for protection. His brilliant girl.

Not the desk 💔

When your eyes adjusted and you saw him, you let out a shaky chuckle. “Ty…you actually answered my call this time.” Tears streaming down his face, Tyler grinned. “You know me. I wouldn’t miss our duet for the world.”

🥹🥹🥹

“It’s okay now. You’re gonna be okay,” Tyler murmured as he continued to uncover your body.

This is usually not a good sign🫣

Smiling sadly, you whispered, “I’m sorry. Piece of the stage broke off and went all the way through from my back. I knew it was over before I made it to the desk. But I had to try. I…I knew you’d look for me and I—I didn’t wanna be alone when it happens.” Tyler’s tears of relief turned to tears of sorrow. Staring at your blood still coating his hand, he choked out, “MC…I…” “It’s okay, Ty. You found me. You came through when I needed it most.” There was an odd peacefulness to your face as you stared at him, as if you truly had accepted what was about to happen.

Happy Together

AI-Less Whumptober 2024: Day 16. Hostile Environment Fandom: Twisters, Tyler Owens, f!reader Summary: From the moment Tyler met you in your karaoke bar, he was smitten. However, he's terrified to tell you how he feels even as you start a friends-with-benefits situation. Will he find the courage before it's too late? Word Count: 4906 TW: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Whump, Storm Damage, Storm Injuries, Undefined Relationship, Friends with Benefits, Implied Smut, Communication Issues, Love Confession, Character Death, Language, Tyler's POV Notes: Part of @ailesswhumptober's whumptober event.

Whumptober 2024 Masterlist

“Come on, Ty!” Lily whined, pulling at his arm. “We’ve been coming here for months and you’re the only one who hasn’t sung yet.”

“Yeah, T!” Boone nodded his agreement. “If they made me sing that song from Frozen, you can at least sing some George Strait.”

Tyler shook his head as he rested the mouth of his beer against his bottom lip. “Not gonna happen. When I first agreed to come here, I told y'all that it was only on the condition that I don’t have to sing. Ever.”

His friends looked like they were going to continue arguing, but then Boone perked up in his seat. Calling out to someone behind Tyler, Boone said, “Hey, MC!”

Tyler froze, nearly choking on his beer, as he heard someone approaching the table. The person stopped just behind his chair and he caught a faint whiff of cinnamon and vanilla. It was a smell he had come to both crave and loathe these past few months.

He’d been flirting with you since the first night the Wranglers stumbled into your karaoke bar, but so far he’d only ever struck out. You always seemed super receptive to it, often returning his advances and even upping the game. Yet, every time he was just about to move in for a kiss, you would turn and sashay away.

You stopped just behind Tyler’s chair and your melodic voice—always containing a smile—rang out, “Howdy, Wranglers. How can I help you guys tonight? Anyone wanna sign up for a song?”

“Tyler!” Dani, Dexter, Lily, and Boone all said at the same time.

You chuckled and nudged the back of his head. “Well, Mr. Owens, it sounds like your crew has spoken. What do you say?”

Leaning back in his seat so he caught a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye, Tyler answered, “I say the same thing I say every time: I don’t sing.”

Your eyes narrowed and he instantly knew he was in trouble. Quickly scribbling something on the notepad resting on the tray in your hands, you ripped it off and slammed it down on the table. “Well, sorry to have to tell you, but we have a new rule around here.”

Everyone leaned in to read the paper. It had Everyone sings by their 5th visit. Refuse and you’re banned for life scrawled across it. Tyler’s stomach sank as everyone else snickered at the dread on his face.

Giving him a dazzling smile, you said, “If I counted correctly, you’re well overdue for a song. So you either get up on that stage tonight, or you don’t come back. What’ll it be?”

The thrill-seeking part of him wanted to call your bluff and refuse to sing just to see what would happen. However, he had gotten to know you well enough these last few months to know that there was a very good chance it wasn’t a bluff and you would indeed ban him. And this had become one of his crew’s favorite places to stop while on the road so he couldn’t jeopardize their fun just because he was being stubborn.

So, reluctantly, he sighed. “Fine. One song.”

The Wranglers all cheered, and you patted his shoulder. “Atta boy. And, hey, since I’m feeling generous, why don’t we make it a duet? Me and you, and you and me. I’ll make sure to take care of you up there.” You winked at him, and most of the annoyance that had been building in Tyler’s chest towards you melted away. He just couldn’t stay mad at you however hard he tried.

Giving his shoulder a quick squeeze, you looked over at another table. “I gotta go, but I’ll meet you backstage a few minutes before the start of the show.”

You turned to leave, but Tyler grabbed your wrist. “Wait. What do you mean ‘the start of the show’?”

Your smile took on a slightly more mischievous edge. “Don’t you know, cowboy? I always sing first.”

And just like that, his annoyance returned.

Half an hour later, Tyler found himself behind the curtain that was currently closed across the stage. He kept wiping his hands on his jeans as he peeked through the crack in the middle where the two sides of the curtain met. It was a full house tonight which meant he was about to make an absolute fool out of himself in front of more than a hundred people. He couldn’t do this.

But as he turned to flee, he crashed into you as you skipped up onto the stage. He grabbed your arms to steady you but you just laughed. “Where you running off to, partner? It’s showtime!”

Tyler shook his head. “I can’t do this, MC. I’m sorry. I really did try but singing…it’s just not my thing. Not even in the shower when I’m alone, let alone in front of all these people.”

“Didn’t you used to be in the rodeo or something for a long time?” you asked, your brow furrowed causing your nose to scrunch up adorably. “And you have a world-famous YouTube channel where you drive into deadly natural disasters! Now you’re telling me you can’t stand in front of these people for three minutes and sing a little song? Come on, Ty. You’ve heard some of the people that get up on this stage after three or four too many drinks. However bad you think you are, they’re worse.”

Tyler looked back at the curtain, his jaw clenched. Placing a soothing hand on his arm, you cooed, “Hey, it’s okay. I picked us out the perfect song for beginners. Everyone knows it. And you don’t even really have to sing. Just say the words, use the monitor if you need it, and, when it gets to the chorus, yell it at the top of your lungs. Trust me, they’ll eat it up.” The spotlights turned on, illuminating the center of the curtain. You gently shooed Tyler off the stage and whispered with a smile, “You’re gonna do great!”

The curtains opened and you strutted out to the middle of the stage. “Hello everybody! Thank you for being here! And welcome to another night of music and drinks at The Crooning Cowboy! I’m your lovely Mistress of Ceremonies, but y'all can call me MC.” You gave an exaggerated wink to the crowd who went wild. It was the same intro you gave every night to a room of mostly the same regulars, and yet, it brought the house down every time. There was just something about your confidence, your spark, your attitude, that made it impossible for people to not fall under your spell.

And Tyler had fallen. Hard.

He watched you play it up for the crowd, telling a few naughty jokes and poking fun at a few familiar faces. And soon, he was so engaged in your act, that he forgot to be nervous.

That was until you held out your hand and gestured for him to join you. Suddenly, all the nerves and fear came surging back. But Tyler stepped out from behind the curtain and grasped onto your hand. He knew his was sweaty and warm but you didn’t seem to mind. You just handed him a microphone and pointed at the monitor.

Then, the two of you began your duet.

And you must have felt the same because you grabbed his hand and dragged him off stage as the next performers set up. Leading him into your office, you shut the door and lunged at him, your lips slamming into his. Immediately—hungrily—he kissed you back just as he had dreamed of doing for the past several months. His hands grabbed your hips and he pulled you flush against his body. You groaned into his mouth as you felt him hardening against you and you broke away only long enough to swipe everything off your desk (something Tyler thought people only did in the movies). Then you hopped on top of it and crooked your finger at him, beckoning him over. And he happily obliged.

Afterward, you would sometimes come sit at his table and talk with the other Wranglers (often sitting on Tyler’s lap). No one knew exactly what your relationship was—hell, even Tyler wasn’t sure—but it was obvious to everyone that something had happened after Tyler’s first performance, and, thankfully, no one questioned it.

For almost a year, this continued. Even when the storm season was over and the Wranglers had returned to Arkansas, they would all make a road trip to The Crooning Cowboy a few times a month to have some fun and to see you. It seemed like a perfect arrangement….until it wasn’t.

“Well, well, well. It looks like the Wranglers are back in town,” you smirked as your latest patrons filed into the bar.

Tyler grinned and placed a soft kiss on your cheek. “How you doin’, sweetheart?”

“Fine. But you’d know that if you ever answered any of my calls,” you said, placing one hand on your hip while the other balanced a tray full of beers.

Tyler’s face grew hot, knowing what you were referring to. “I’m sorry but you know this is our busiest time of year.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, rolling your eyes. “I’m sure that’s it.” You turned your back on him to address the rest of his crew. “Your usual table should be open and I’ll be right over with some drinks.”

“Thanks, MC,” Boone said as he gave you a side hug, narrowly avoiding knocking the tray from your hands. Dropping his voice, he muttered, “Sorry T hasn’t been keeping up with you. We really have been having a busy season these last few months.”

Smiling, you patted his cheek. “Oh, honey, I know exactly what Tyler’s problem is. And until he decides to do something about it, I don’t give a fuck what he does or doesn’t do.” Tyler dropped his eyes to the beer-soaked floor but you didn’t give him a second glance as you said, “Now, if ya’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta drop off these drinks before I get a table of thirsty bikers on my hands.”

As soon as you walked away, all eyes turned towards Tyler with annoyed glares. Dani crossed her arms over her chest. “What did you do?”

Tyler held up his hands, pleading innocence. “I didn’t do anything!”

“Well, obviously you did something based on that response,” Lily said. “So, what was it?”

“Can we at least sit down before we get into this? Please?” Tyler asked, looking around the room to find where you were. He couldn’t see you on the floor but you could return at any minute and he didn’t want this conversation to turn into a huge thing in front of the whole bar.

Still giving him the stink eye, the rest of the Wranglers agreed and they went to settle into their favorite table on the side of the room. It still provided a great view of the stage and the performances but offered more privacy than the tables in the middle of the room.

Once they were all seated, Tyler placed his cowboy hat on the table, then sighed as he ran his hand through his hair. “So…MC found out about me and that girl in Enid a few weeks ago.”

Boone, Dani, and Lily all exchanged a look. Then Dani asked, “That’s it? I mean, I didn’t think you guys were exclusive so why does it matter.”

“It matters because I had a video call planned with her that night and I forgot to cancel before I took that other girl back to the motel. I turned my phone off so I never saw her calls. After an hour or so of getting sent straight to voicemail, MC got really scared that I had gotten hurt on a chase or something. So…she called someone who would know what had happened.”

Three pairs of eyes scanned the table…only to land on Dexter who had sunk low in his seat.

Dani slapped the older man’s arm. “How did you not tell me!”

“It’s Tyler’s business. I figured if he wanted you to know he would tell you.” Dexter lifted his eyes to look at Tyler. “I’m still sorry I got involved in the first place. I didn’t mean to—”

Tyler held up his hand. “It’s not your fault. I messed up. I still don’t know what this is between me and MC, but I should have let her know something came up instead of just ghosting her.”

Boone nudged Dani in the side and muttered, “Something came up alright.” The two of them snickered as Tyler rolled his eyes.

“Haha, very funny.”

“What did MC say when you explained everything?” Lily asked.

Staring down at the table, Tyler fidgeted with his hat. “I haven’t talked to her since.”

“What!” Boone, Dani, and Lily exclaimed at once.

“I was embarrassed! I didn’t know what to say. So…I had Dex call her back the next day.”

“Tyler…” Lily covered her eyes with her hand, letting out an exasperated sigh. “I’m surprised she let us back in here.”

“When I talked to her, she seemed okay with the whole thing, all things considered,” Dexter said. “I think she was so afraid something had happened to him that it was just an extra shock to find out the truth.”

Tyler sighed, picking up his hat and placing it back on his head. “It means we just see what happens and act accordingly.

A few minutes later, you came over with a tray full of everyone’s usual orders. The air was tense, no one was sure where to look or how to act now that they knew what they knew. But if you noticed, you didn’t react.

Instead, you smiled at Tyler and asked, “We singing tonight?”

Tyler leaned back in his seat and peered up at you from under the brim of his hat. “Oh, I don’t know. I’ll think about it.”

All the other Wranglers stared at him like he was the biggest idiot in the world. This kind of banter and teasing was common between the two of you, but after what happened, he should be groveling at your feet instead of playing coy. Tyler realized his mistake immediately but it was too late to take it back.

You pursed your lips as your fingers drummed on the back of Boone’s seat. “Ty, I have fifty guys in here right now who would trip over themselves to get on that stage with me. So if you don’t want to—”

You turned to leave but Tyler grabbed your arm. You raised your eyebrow at him and he held up his hands with a sheepish smile. “Okay, okay, point taken. You know I wouldn’t miss our duet.”

“That’s more like it.” You walked away, calling over your shoulder, “Be ready at 9 or I’ll have Boone take your spot.”

Luckily for all involved, Boone was not needed. Tyler took his usual place next to you on the stage, and then on top of you back in your office. Everything felt exactly like it always did and he should have just let things be.

However, Tyler once again decided to put his boot in his mouth and decided to poke at the wound instead. As you slid off the desk to get dressed, he sat up and asked, “So…we gonna talk about what happened?”

With your back still towards him as you put your bra on, you said curtly, “Don’t see why we need to. Apparently, it wasn’t important enough for you to call and explain yourself. Instead, you had Dexter try and smooth things over.”

“I’m sorry. I just didn’t know what to say.”

“How about ‘Hi. I’m not dead. I was just banging some chick I picked up and forgot I was supposed to call you.’” Your head emerged from inside your blouse and you looked over your shoulder at him. “I don’t see what’s so hard about that.”

Thinking about it for a moment, he asked, “And you would’ve been okay with that?”

You sighed, putting your hand on your hip. “Ty, I see you two, maybe three times a month. What do you think I’m doing the rest of that time?” Tyler shifted uncomfortably on the desk. He had never given much thought to who you might be spending your time with or what you might be doing while he wasn’t around. “I didn’t have an issue with the girl. I had an issue with the fact you didn’t respect me or my feelings enough to even send a text saying you were busy. That’s all I needed but I guess I don’t even warrant that in your eyes.”

“I’m sorry. I should’ve handled the entire situation differently. And I promise to work on my communication.” He handed you your skirt where it had fallen behind the desk. Then, tapping his finger on the wooden desktop, he asked, “So is what you said earlier true? You’ve got fifty other guys hanging around who you sing with then bring back here? I thought what we had was special.”

You rolled your eyes as you tucked your blouse back into your skirt. “How special can it be when I only hear from you when you’re walking in the door to my bar? What did you expect? That I would be pinning away for you, just hanging on to the hope you might grace me with your presence again?”

“No…That’s not…” Tyler slid off the desk and took your hands in his. “Sweetheart—

“No! Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me!” You ripped your hands away as your voice began to rise. “Tyler, I have never once asked you to define what this is between us or pressured you into giving me more attention than you do. But you better believe I’m not just sitting here on my ass, twiddling my thumbs waiting for you to show back up. If you’re allowed to have a life outside of us, then so am I.”

“What if I don’t want a life outside of us?” he whispered, his eyes boring into yours. “What if I just want you?”

All of the fiery attitude you had seconds before faded until you stood before him more vulnerable than you had ever seemed. Swallowing, you murmured, “Then you just need to tell me that and I’m yours.”

There was a long pause as you gave him a chance to speak. But he couldn’t. He had stared down 1000-pound bulls and driven head first into some of the deadliest storms imaginable, however, none of that ever scared him as much as the depth of his feelings for you. Even now, the words sat on the tip of his tongue begging to be set free, yet try as he might, he couldn’t open his mouth to release them. You deserved more than someone who could only give themselves to you a few days a month, and he would rather disappoint you as a fling than as a boyfriend.

When he remained silent, you set your jaw, straightened your shoulders, and nodded. “Right. Well, until then…I guess I’ll see you the next time one of your storms blows you into town.”

You walked out of your office, slamming the door behind you.

“Tyler! T, be careful! You can’t just charge in there until we know it's safe!” Boone yelled, scrambling out of the truck after his best friend.

But Tyler barely heard him as he tore down the road, jumping over debris and dodging the wreckage of the once vibrant town. All he knew at that moment was that he needed to get to you—now. Nothing else mattered until he was holding you safely in his arms.

Everything that could have gone wrong today did. First, he had woken up with a hangover and a world of regret from how he handled the situation with you the night before. He wanted to tell you how he felt—he needed you to know—but he just couldn’t. Then you were gone and refused to speak to him the rest of the night. So he drank…a lot.

At first, the hangover didn’t seem like a big deal considering the storm he was chasing was only supposed to be an EF1, EF2 at the worst. Yet the moment he spotted it on the horizon, it was clear to Tyler that the storm was much bigger than that. Then, the storm changed paths, putting it on a direct course for town. Tyler had tried calling your phone and then the bar, knowing you’d be in by now getting everything ready for that night’s customers. But the call never went through. He was on the other side of the storm and couldn’t make it in time to try to warn you in person. Instead, he and the other Wranglers were forced to watch as the town that had become a safe haven for them on their chases was decimated.

The moment the storm had finished its destruction, he floored the gas and weaved in and out of debris as he tried to reach your bar. But eventually, he reached a point where even his modified, reinforced truck couldn’t make it through. So, he threw it into park and took off running even as Boone called after him.

He was just a block or two away but the utter devastation around him made it hard to maneuver. He felt horrible running past these places where he knew people may be trapped or in need of help, but nothing and no one mattered until he knew you were safe.

As he rounded the corner, he stumbled to an abrupt stop.

In the place where The Crooning Cowboy had stood the night before, there was nothing but a pile of rubble.

As Tyler’s legs almost gave out beneath him, the only thing that kept him standing was the near-impossible hope that you might still be alive under there somewhere. Waiting for someone to come to your rescue.

He surged forward, screaming your name as loudly as he could. When he reached what was left of the bar, he dropped to his knees and began digging through the debris. Broken glass from windows and bottles sliced his fingers and wrists, twisted nails stabbed into his palms, and splinters embedded themselves deep under his skin—yet none of that stopped Tyler from searching.

He dug and dug and dug and dug but there was no trace of you, alive or dead. The area he would have to cover in addition to how deep the layers of wreckage were made this a nearly impossible task. Without some sort of clue of where to look, there was no way he could find you in time.

Collapsing to the ground, Tyler buried his head in his hands as tears began to stream down his face. This couldn’t be happening. You couldn’t be gone. Not like this. Not after he shattered something that meant the world to him and he hadn’t had the chance to try to put it back together again.

How could that have been the last conversation he ever had with you? How was it possible he would never get to tell you how he really felt? What you really meant to him?

“...matter how they toss the dice, it had to be.”

Tyler’s head bolted up, tears still clinging to his eyelashes, making his vision blur. Was that…? Holding his breath, he closed his eyes and listened.

“The only one for me is you, and you for me. So happy together…”

“MC!”

Tyler was certain now. That was your voice singing your song—the only song you ever managed to get him on stage for. Your duet. You were calling out to him.

At the top of his lungs, Tyler shouted, “Sweetheart, keep singing! Please! Help me find you!”

For a moment, there is only silence. Then…

“I can’t see me lovin’ nobody but you for all my life…”

It was faint—not just from the distance or debris, the voice itself was weak—but Tyler heard it coming from off to his left. Nearly sobbing, he scrambled towards the sound.

“When you’re with me, baby, the skies will be blue for all my life…”

When he thought he was right above the sound of your voice, Tyler began to dig with everything in him. Glass, wood, and concrete were thrown to the side as he prayed to anyone who might hear him that he would reach you in time.

Finally, he moved a large slab of concrete and he saw your face, eyes blinking in the bright sunlight. There was a large gash on your forehead that was leaking blood, and you were covered in dust, but amazingly, you seemed relatively okay from what he could see.

When your eyes adjusted and you saw him, you let out a shaky chuckle. “Ty…you actually answered my call this time.”

Tears streaming down his face, Tyler grinned. “You know me. I wouldn’t miss our duet for the world.”

You smiled but then gasped in pain. Tyler’s face fell and he moved some more debris to try to get you out. As he worked, you muttered, “I don’t know what happened. One second everything was fine, the next, the building was falling down around me.”

“It’s okay now. You’re gonna be okay,” Tyler murmured as he continued to uncover your body.

A piece of debris laid across your chest and Tyler grabbed it to lift it off you—only to immediately recoil as his fingers touched something sticky and wet. Trembling, he looked down at his fingers to see dark, crimson blood coating them and dripping steadily from the tips.

Tyler’s tears of relief turned to tears of sorrow. Staring at your blood still coating his hand, he choked out, “MC…I…”

“It’s okay, Ty. You found me. You came through when I needed it most.” There was an odd peacefulness to your face as you stared at him, as if you truly had accepted what was about to happen.

But he hadn’t. There was so much he still wanted to say to you. So much he wanted to do. He had wasted so much time you could have spent together all because he was too scared to tell you how he felt.

“Ty?” His eyes darted to your face and he saw blood slowly dribbling from your lips. “I need you to know…after the night we had our first duet, I never wanted to sing with anyone else ever again.”

Tears streaming down his face, Tyler cupped your cheek in his hand. “I felt the same, sweetheart. I would have sung with you for the rest of my life. And only you. I’m…I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. ”

You smiled as you leaned your head heavily into his palm. “I’m just glad you finally did.”

As your eyes fluttered closed, you whispered, “So happy together…how is the weather…… so happy together……. we’re happy toget……………”

In case anyone was wondering, their song is Happy Together by The Turtles

Tag List: @green-socks, @mayhem24-7forever, @nerdysuperchick, @ohtobeleah,

@blue-aconite, @hederasgarden, @writercole, @ryebecca, @slightly-psycho-multifan

@xoxabs88xox, @phoenixhalliwell, @superchatnoir07, @mysticalfuncollectorus

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the-yoru-whoru · 3 years ago

Text

Yoru x reader | Yandere au ( tw broken legs ) ( nsfw ) ( noncon ) ( dead dove: do not eat ) ( was gonna be a lot more fucked up but I decided against it lol )

“I told you not to run.” His voice was shaky as if he was holding back from yelling, “I—I fucking told you not to to run.”

You’re crying, crawling on the ground pathetically, the burning in your legs unbearable, and the man above you terrifying.

Yoru steps onto your arm, the on that’s gripping at the floor and pulling you forward.

The heavy bat in his hand is then suddenly resting on your head, and the blunt end of the wood smells like copper.

“Please, Yoru I—” You try to plead with him, but you flinch when he raises the bat above his head.

“Don’t call me that! ” He roars, and he swings the bat down against the ground next to you, the wood snapping in half and spreading splinters everywhere.

You are shaking as he kneels down close to your face, eyes wild and unfocused.

He looks like a crazed man when he starts to caress the side of your face, softly stroking the curve of your cheek.

“I told you to call me Ryo, remember?” He says quietly.

You can only nod numbly.

His loose hold on your face suddenly tightens, and he grips at your face with a large hand.

You whimper and you see his pupils dilate, as if he likes it.

You don’t dare talk but it feels like an eternity as he examines your face, turning it this way and that as if inspecting it.

Your cheeks are sore, and you don’t have to look down to know that there’s no way you will be able to run anymore, let alone walk with the state your legs are in.

He had swung his bat down on them so many times, the crunch making you scream out in pain and agony every time until all feeling went numb in your legs.

You had been so close; hand wrapped around the handle of the front door, calves ready to start sprinting as soon as they got the chance.

But a muscled arm had suddenly wrapped around your throat, yanking you from the door and jerking you back into the hallway.

You barely got the chance to react before he was heaving you over his shoulder, shouting words in a language that you couldn’t understand, holding you in his grasp so hard that it hurt.

What followed afterwards felt like a nightmare.

Even after kidnapping you, Yoru had always been always calm.

When you beat against his chest he paid it no mind, when you refused to eat he’d pry it into your mouth with an infinite amount of patience.

He never hurt you, never touched you sexually, and the binds he used to tied your hands together were made of the softest material, as if he wanted you to feel nothing but comfort.

But the pure fury on his face when he realized that you had almost gotten away was enough to send a full shiver down your back.

And something must’ve snapped because next thing you knew you were being beat bloody in every way possible.

Yoru finally let go of your face, but didn’t pull away.

He sighed tiredly, “I didn’t want to do this, you know,” You felt his hand push into the locks of your hair, “I never wanted to hurt you. My only goal has ever been to protect you, to keep you safe.”

You felt a stinging in your scalp as his hand tightened and pulled your head up by the strands, “You forced me to do this. You made me so, so, so, so so so so so—”

He sounded insane as he repeated the same word over and over again, “Upset.” He eventually finished.

You feel like you can’t try anymore but somehow more tears keep coming out.

The stinging is unbearable.

“Ryo I’m sorry,” you beg, “Please don’t h-hurt me anymore. I’ll never disobey you again I p-promise!” Your voice breaks off into a sob.

You feel him tense up over you, before he legs go of your hair and scoops you off the ground and into his arms gingerly.

“Shhhh,” he soothes you, patting your back gently and avoiding the areas with bruises, “I’m here, I got you. I forgive you. Don’t worry.”

You can’t help but grip at his shirt as you openly sob, his warmth bringing you comfort.

Suddenly you’re on the ground again, and he’s above you, hands pinning your wrists above your head as his legs carefully avoid the broken bones of your lower legs.

You barley have time to react before he’s kissing you, lips hard and bruising against yours.

He doesn’t seem to care that you aren’t kissing back, but only when you feel a hard bulge grind between your legs do your actively start pushing at him, your weak struggles doing nothing to him.

Broad shoulders trap you beneath him, and you hear him breathing heavily against you, like a man desperate.

He pulls away to quickly tug his pants off, movements frantic and face flushed a deep red.

It’s not a moment before he’s trying to press inside of you, his hard cock twitching against your hole.

“W-wait! Nonononono please! Don’t!” You cry out, every little movement feeling like agony to your sore body, but mostly in your broken legs.

He doesn’t stop, but he does become more agitated the more he tries to fit inside you.

You were just too small, and he was just too big.

Finally he got sick of your squirming and pushed off of you, dick still uncomfortably hard but there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

You lay there pitifully, wondering why this has happened to you, what did you do wrong?

“We’ll keep going another day,” he concluded, although a bit disappointedly, “I’m gonna need you to keep still okay?”

You nodded; anything for him not to become angry again.

You stare blankly at the ceiling as he rummages through some things, before you feel something touch your leg.

You can’t stop the whimper that comes out of your mouth, but you simply clench your teeth and bare the pain as Yoru slowly bandages the broken bones, the damage way beyond repair to the point that you knew the bandages weren’t going to help.

After he finishes, he picks you up in his arms again, his body smelling like blood and sweat, and your trembling figure feeling tiny in his thick arms.

The rest of the night he doesn’t lay a malicious hand on you again, only to bathe you and disinfect your wounds.

And when he tucks you into bed and climbs in next to you, sheets soft and warm, your clothes feeling clean and fresh, it feels like instinct when you cling to him and curl into his arms.

He holds you so gently, kisses the top of your head with such love. His previously enraged expression is all but gone, replaced by his usual calm and loving face, eyes closing in what looks like pure bliss in your presence. He murmurs sweet nothings into your ear, mostly “mine”s and “I love you”s.

And for a sweet moment you can forget that he’s your kidnapper and abuser; right now all you can see is Ryo.

#yandere #dead dove do not eat #Yoru #yoru x reader #kidnapping #reader insert #reader #valorant #imagine #writing #n*fw

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sweetiecutie · 2 years ago

Text

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader (gender not specified)

Summary: Eddie teaching you how to play on his guitar

Warnings: none, a few swearing words

A/n: I have absolutely no idea how to play guitar, I’ve never even held one, my brother never allowed me near his ‘precious girl’ lol. All of the info is from wikihow, so if there are any real musicians reading this - guys I’m sorry

Eddie is sitting right behind you - your back is pressed flush against his warm chest, his mighty thighs caging yours, chin resting on your right shoulder as his long wavy hair tickles your cheek and the side of your neck. His arms are draped over you, hands resting on top of yours, leading your fingers gently as he teaches you the very basics of guitar playing

The sleeves of his pullover are rolled up to his elbows, you can see his muscles flexing with every slightest movement in a soft light of a nightstand lamp, his numerous rings sparkling and clinking against each other occasionally as his fingers fumble skillfully with the strings

Eddie’s voice is soft and deep, a bit raspy from smoking, as he patiently instructs you, not even a smallest hint of irritation or anger in his tone as he repeats the same thing to you over and over again, visibly enjoying every second spent in a company of you and his guitar (two things he cherishes the most in this world)

- Not that hard, right? Now you’ll try to play it yourself, without me, okay? - Eddie mumbles against your ear in a soft velvety voice, placing a short kiss to your ear shell afterwards. His hands snake down your arms, making their way to rest on your waist; his nose is buried in the hair on your temple, inhaling your scent deeply, hot lips grazing your cheekbone

You take a sharp breath in, bracing yourself, running through the combination of chords you’ve just learnt in your mind. Your confidence completely disappears without Eddie’s fingers on top of yours, leading you in the right direction

You start playing the simplest melody, inexperienced fingers fumble with colorful plastic pick as it almost falls out of your shaky grip; the fingers of your left hand run up and down the neck of the guitar - your fingertips already feel sore - fretting the strings clumsily. Pressing the strings to the fretboard, a melody coming out not even remotely close to what it’s supposed to sound originally

Frustration grows within you, soft pink hue creeps up your cheeks from the diligence and effort you put into playing. You huff, too concentrated on the task to notice Eddie’s lips scattering small butterfly kisses all over the expanse on your neck, arms wrapping tighter around your abdomen

- Fucking shit, - you hiss under your breath as you mess up the accord once again, sound coming out slurred and shaky; at this point you’re not even sure if you remember which chord follows next, forgetting everything you both had spent a previous hour on. Eddie’s breath hits your flushed skin as he chuckles quietly, his hands running up and down your sides and only now you realize how actually stiff your whole body is

- Relax baby, it’s just a guitar. How about we try again tomorrow, huh? - Eddie suggests, his voice is light and crinkling with amusement. You heave a deep sigh, nodding at man’s offer, slumping backwards into his welcoming embrace

- It looks so easy when you do it, - you pout, fingers fidgeting with a pick as Eddie continues his attack on your neck and shoulder. You lean into his touches, rising your right hand to tangle it into male’s mane

- Don’t worry sweetpie, you’ll be good at it too, I’ll help you with that. Just a bit of patience and practice, yeah? - Eddie utters, his calloused hands running up your arms, caressing your body lovingly

You heave yet another sigh, putting a guitar aside carefully before turning around in his embrace, lips meeting in a soft kiss full of love and adoration for each other

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated, they inspire me on creating even more content for you💖

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x you

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caramelcal · 4 years ago

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His Favorite Girl

a/n: HELLO. (sounding like the guy in the cinema cba lol) anyways I have returned for a brief period of time to share this update with you guys. It’s based off of this request here: “ Do you think you could write a Luke x gang again where maybe he has to leave for work during sex and the reader touches herself out of frustration and he comes back and finds her ?”

STOP BECAUSE THIS IS DEFINITELY NOT WHAT THE REQUESTER WANTED BUT ILL WRITE SOMETHING AGAIN BUT LIKE JUST TH REQUEST IF THATS WHAT YOU GUYS WANT SDGHGDFGBH but this is kinda a part 2 to the Bambi/His Favorite Secret series thingy cause a few people wanted that! thank you guys so much for all the love mwah

i should literally be studying rn but im not so <3 im very sorry for this abomination lol

sorry for the long a/n guys! :( enjoy x

word count: 3.4k

warnings: smutty stuff (fucking, fingering, anal and all that...ive never written this before so PLS PLS PLS give me feedback omg) uh choking, doesn’t have a daddy kink in this but sir is mentioned. talks of being tied up and being tied up? talks about overstim... he calls her little girl at one point...

“Luke! Stop moving!” She lightly slapped her boyfriend’s hand, to which he groaned in return. Her tongue stuck out slightly from between her lips in concentration, eyebrows furrowing as she returned to the task she had firmly put her mind to. That was, until the blond giant moved again, “Luke!”

“Bambi,” Luke echoed lightly, using his nickname for the smaller girl in front of him who looked up at him with an unimpressed facial expression.

“You’re gonna ruin it,” She mumbled lightly, pointing back down at her artwork which Luke only then first looked at. It was safe to say, although he shouldn’t have been, he was thoroughly shocked.

His nails, which his girl had somehow managed to convince him into painting weren’t black, or blue. No, they were bright, blasting, hot pink. He groaned lightly, wondering just how exactly she had managed to rope him into this and just how he was going to hide his nails from the rest of the gang later on tonight when he -they- met up with them tonight.

She was a bundle of both nerves and excitement, finally getting to meet Luke’s closest friends. It had been about a week since their argument, and now she was meeting his friends. It seemed like everything was moving in the right direction, thankfully. She couldn’t wait to be honest, very much looking forward to being able to hear more about Luke from his friends, and just meeting them in general.

They seemed fun.

Well, as fun as gang members could be. She probably should have been more cautious surrounding them, but Luke got her guard down so quickly and she was yet to regret that. How scary could they possibly be considering the man in front of her, soft blond curls held back by her bunny bath headband, nails painted hot pink, was supposed to be the scariest man in the whole city.

“Cal’s gonna rip the piss outta me for this, Bambi,” He complained softly, with no plans to take the polish off of his nails as he looked at his girlfriend, between his legs, small hand wrapped around the bottle of nail polish with her other hand laying against his knee.

She couldn’t help the small upturn of her lips as she blew softly against the nail polish on his fingernails, not patient enough to let it airdry despite it being a fast-drying polish. She shrugged lightly, head flopping to the side adorably as Luke stared down at her, resisting the urge to run his hands through her hair; another issue he had with the wet paint on his fingernails.

“I think it looks great, we’re matching,” She then flaunted the bright pink color that coated her own nails, and Luke’s lips twitched into a grin, careful not to ‘aww’ at the cute words that came out of the smaller girl’s mouth.

He hummed lightly, leaning back against the couch but his baby blues never leaving her face, “They look a lot better on you than they do me, Bambi.”

“I think they’re cute,” The girl climbed onto his lap, making Luke take a deep intake of breath as she sits barely an inch away from a rather sensitive area of his. She, however, seemed to pay no attention to the risen area of his jeans as she leaned against his chest, face hidden in the crook of his neck, soft breaths from her mouth fanning against his neck.

He twisted to give her a small kiss on the forehead, to which she responds by kissing his neck softly, lips staying against his neck as her hand traveled up his stomach up to his neck, holding him close as she began to kiss the base of his neck more.

“Lu,” She whispered softly, “How much time have we got?”

“Like an hour, baby. Why?”

However, the girl never replied verbally, and instead repositioned herself carefully, Luke’s neck void from her warmth before her hand started to travel down, painfully slow, until it landed right above the tent in his jeans. His eyes traveled up to meet hers, eyebrow raised as she dropped her hand down barely, lips struggling to pull the smirk away.

He lifted his hands to her back, going to reposition her before she shook her head, “Your nail polish, Lu. Hands down.”

His hands didn’t move, frozen in place around her clothed waist. His nails were long since dried, she knew that, but she liked this. She liked the intake of breath he took when her hand ghosted over the hardened cock in his jeans, the way he couldn’t lift his hands; scared to smudge the pink on his nails.

He was restricted. Oh, how the tables had turned.

Her hand gently palmed against his hardened, clothed cock, causing a grumble to emit from his throat. It was a deep rumbling sound, -something that the girl had heard numerous times but would never get used to.

To her, everything about Luke was perfect, even his moans.

“Bambi, you know the rules about teasing-”

Her lips attached to his, cutting him off rather efficiently, pressing softly as she continued to palm him through his jeans, gently rocking on his thigh. He moaned into their kiss, her tongue, as a reflex, finding its way into his mouth. Their tongues pressed against one another, lips still pressed together as her spare hand crawled up to the back of his neck, playing with his soft curls.

Her palm pressed into his fully hardened cock now, his tongue swiping over her lips before tugging on it, pulling apart, breathless. His hands found a place on her waist, guiding her softly but firmly, taking back the control he craved.

Looking her straight in the eyes, one of Luke’s hands went around her neck, thumb pulling her lower lip down as he unbuckled his belt with one hand, taking his cock out of its confined clothing and bringing her hand down to hold onto it. It wasn’t the first time that she had given him a handjob, and it wouldn’t be the last, but she still couldn’t help but be nervous.

Despite not being a virgin when she met Luke, she still lacked a lot of experience that Luke definitely had. She knew that he would never judge her, but that never stopped the nerves that festered.

“All shy all of a sudden, Bambi?” He mocked, hand around her neck tightening as he bit down on her ear lobe, gently tugging at it before letting out a breath, “All big and brave, teasing Sir, aren’t you? If you’re going to start it, then you’re going to finish it. On your knees. Now.”

Releasing a shaky breath, the girl clambered out of Luke’s lap dropping to the floor, in a similar position to the one she had been in minutes before, only in a more sexual manner. Her lips met the tip of his cock, tongue lightly swiping across the base.

His hand grabbed firmly onto the hair on the back of her head, holding her steady as she got used to the feeling of his cock in her mouth before thrusting against her. She gagged as it hit the back of her throat, sending vibrations up him, releasing a deep moan from his throat.

“Suck, little girl,” Luke commanded deeply, leaving no room for argument as the smaller girl abided to his command, tongue swiping over him as she reached up to cover the last part of his cock with her hand.

Yet, she didn’t get much further when a ringing sounded through the room, Luke groaning but ultimately pulling away from the girl who stayed on the floor, watching Luke as he grabbed his phone.

“What?” He gritted his teeth lightly, trying to keep his frustration at bay after being interrupted.

He sighed softly, not looking at the small girl with furrowed eyebrows still on the floor as he pulled his jeans back up, clambering to get shoes on and getting ready to leave, hanging the phone up.

“Luke what’s going on?”

“Gang shit, Bambi. I gotta get going, be ready for six, we’re meeting Cal, Ash, and Mike later, remember?” He offered her no more words, but she can tell he isn’t angry at her, just due to their interruption.

However, she can’t help but be frustrated at the interruption, waiting until after Luke leaves to huff and puff about it before starting to get ready.

. . .

“Luke has this old penguin fan account on Instagram from like seven years ago. There’s this one picture on there with him with a penguin hat-”

“Cal, stop,” Luke interrupted Cal swiftly, an arm going around his smaller girlfriend’s waist who looked far too amused by the embarrassing things about Luke that Cal was telling.

“No, no, Calum please keep going. Please,” The girl begged, feeling very comfortable around the Maori boy. They were pleasant, to her at least, and so far they had made her feel very comfortable and very much at home. It was hard to believe that the people joking with her where infamous mobsters, ones that were feared all across the city, and state.

They had met in Ashton’s house, who she had already met before, at six o’clock. It turns out gang members like to be punctual, or maybe it was only these ones.

Luke was in a bit of a hurry once he arrived back home, with no time to finish what he and his girl had started before he had to leave in a hurry, leaving her oh so frustrated. This was only magnified when she saw him afterward, ready to head to Ash’s in that pale pink silk button-up that only seemed like it would suit him; like it was made specifically for him.

Maybe it was.

Luke was never shy of customized clothing, cars, or anything he wanted honestly. If you have the money, why not? Was always his answer when she asked why he seemed to wear all of these expensive items. If it wasn’t custom-made, it was a high-quality designer that he wore, she rarely ever found him in anything that didn’t smell of cash and high-class, -far too expensive but albeit intoxicating- cologne.

This money of Luke’s also happened to extend to her also. He was never shy of picking her up a few things, letting her have his card for shopping and now, he started going out shopping with her too. He didn’t look like the type that would go out with his ‘girlfriend’ or anyone, but in the case of her, he followed her around like a lost puppy; willing to hold her bags, let her drain his bank account. Not that she did, anyway. She was still mindful, even if Luke had more money than he knew what to do with.

“Nah, can’t. Don’t want Luke to kill me for embarrassing me in front of his precious little girlfriend,” Calum teased lightly, shaking his head as his eyes darted to meet Luke’s baby blues. Truthfully, Luke could pretend to be annoyed at Cal and the rest for exposing his old penguin Instagram account but he was just glad to see them getting along with the girl that owned his heart.

She was the first girlfriend that his best friends seemed to approve of. He didn’t normally bring his girlfriends to meet them, but the ones he did, the boys he called his best friends didn’t usually like them. For the first time, Luke could actually see a future with the girl in front of him, beamingly smiling as Cal and Michael joke about with her and laughing at their attempts of humor.

God, he loved her.

“So, do you think they like me?” She asked the moment they got home, the door shut behind them. Luke turned around, staring at the wide-eyed girl with a small smile on his lips.

Did she seriously not realize how much they liked her? Especially with how much joking that they had done with her, he was certain that she would have realized but then again, she wasn’t the most self-assured person when it comes to new people. He nodded his head, “Yeah, Bambi. They really liked you.”

Luke would never get over the way her eyes sparkled, his smile only growing. She looked amazing in that red silky dress that he had bought her, and he looked just as good in the coral colored button-up he was wearing.

Their lips met softly, Luke bending down slightly to meet her lips as the girl went up on her tiptoes, bare feet on the top of Luke’s shoes. He didn’t mind, in fact, he barely even realized as he swiped his tongue across her bottom lip for access which she quickly gave him. Her hands wrapped around his neck, one entangling in his blond curls, while his went around her waist and one under her ass, lifting her up.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, lips never breaking away from his as she moaned into the kiss. She pushed herself closer to him as the kiss heated up, eyes closed as Luke tried his best to navigate the way to their bedroom. Thankfully, even with his eyes partially closed and completely distracted by the soft lips on his, he managed to get there, fumbling with the doorknob before kicking the door open.

Luke pulled away quickly to get a breath, now at the edge of the bed as his mouth went to the side of her face, pressing kisses along her neck before whispering in a sinfully sultry voice, “Let’s finish what we started earlier, huh?”

With that, she was placed down on the bed, staring at Luke with a glaze in her eyes, lust, lips slightly swollen as he pushed her dress up, nudging her underwear to the side. His fingers ghosted over her pussy, making her take a ragged intake of breath. He was on top of her, watching her as she awaited every movement of his fingers, completely helpless under his touch.

“So wet for me, baby,” He murmured, pressing a few chaste kisses against the base of her neck as he rubbed her slit. She didn’t reply just yet, whining lightly when he slowed down his movements, coming to a stop, “Tell me what you want baby.”

“You, Lu. I want you, sir,” Her words flooded out of her mouth quickly, the aching between her legs becoming too much. If Luke didn’t do something about it soon then she would have to. She stared up at his smirking face above her. His fingers pulled away from her, making her whine as he reached for his belt, skillfully unbuckling it and letting his cock spring free from its confines.

He looked up at her as he repositioned himself, her squirming with need beneath him before he lined his tip at her entrance, baby blues meeting her eyes, “You sure?”

She nodded vigorously in return, but Luke didn’t move, commanding lightly, “Words, baby.”

“Please Luke, I’m sure. Please fuck me.” He swatted her thigh at the sound of the swear falling from her lips but obliged nonetheless, plunging deep into her letting out a moan, her strangled moan following behind.

He plunged in once again, hitting a spot that made her whimper and moan at the same time, hands reaching around to his back, clawing on the now exposed skin. Luke’s hips are flushed against hers as he goes deep inside of her once again, both moaning.

“Fuck, Bambi,”

Luke’s pace quickened, thrusts becoming sloppier as he continued to thrust into her, hitting her sweet spot over and over, moans filling the room with small pleads from her and soft curses from him.

Then a phone went off. Luke froze inside of her, and she groaned, sweaty, a mess, and incredibly sexually frustrated. She could feel Luke sitting inside of her; how big he was. She thought that he was going to ignore the phone call, to continue something that they were robbed of earlier. He wasn’t really going to let them be interrupted twice today, was he?

He reached over to the bedside table, picking his phone up and looking at the caller ID before sighing. He pulled out of her, baby blues looking at her with a frown, “I need to take this.”

“Luke,” It was a plead. For him to stay with her, to let them finish what they started. She shuffled lightly until she was sitting in front of him, on her knees. Her hand went to the side of his face, caressing it gently as she put her face at his neck, “Stay with me, Sir. I need you.”

He knew exactly what she was trying to do, but he wasn’t going to fall for it. He pulled away from her, gripping onto her side as a warning with his free hand, “No, Bambi.”

His voice was low, a warning for her to stop what she was doing as he sent her a pointed look. He didn’t even let her make another move or get another word in before he was back in his jeans and walking out of the room, leaving her alone.

The seconds that she was alone turned into minutes, and those minutes turned into ten, then fifteen. She shifted uncomfortably, still on edge and incredibly frustrated. It didn’t seem like Luke was coming back as he had left without saying goodbye or telling her where he was going to be or how long. Was this all because she had tried to get him to stay?

Well, if he wasn’t going to get back, she would have to take stuff into her own hands. Leaning back, her hand reached her own clit, rubbing desperately, basking in the feeling once again. This time, she would get the job done.

Her fingers slipped inside of her, curling into her, moans softly filtering out of her lips. She was close, her fingers covered in her own slick as she continued to curl her hands into herself, soft pants falling from her lips as she spread her legs more to get a better angle, trying to go deeper.

Her hands would never be as good as Luke’s though, her small fingers not holding a torch to his digits. He knew everything that made her squirm, even better than she did, he had her all decoded, knew how to navigate her better than anyone else ever could.

“Baby I need to get-” Luke opened the door, stopping when his eyes met her figure on the middle of the bed, fingers inside of her as soft breaths fell from her lips. Her head titled back, eyes lidded as he froze on the spot before a smirk made its way onto his face.

“Really?” He asked incredulously, sauntering up to the bed before grabbing onto her wrist, pulling her fingers out of her desperate cunt making her whine. Her eyes met his, which never strayed, even after he brought her hand up to his mouth and swirling his tongue around her slick-covered digits.

“Lu-”

“Quiet,” He shut her up quickly, voice hard and commanding, something that made nerves bundle in her stomach and turned her on even more. He stood up again, sauntering over to the dresser before pulling a belt from the top of it, grabbing her hands and confining them with the thick leather, “Since you can’t keep your hands off of that pretty little pussy of mine, I guess we’re going to have to do something about that.”

Luke pulled her up to the headboard, hooping the leather around there and tightening it. When he let go, she pulled against the leather restraints, only to find her hands unable to move from their position at the headboard.

“So desperate to cum, baby? Well, you’ll be desperate to stop after I make you come over and over until there’s no more cum left in your body and you're writhing beneath me. Do you understand me, baby?”

“Yes Sir,” She whimpered out in return, nodding her head as she breathed heavily, watching Luke’s hand as it trailed teasingly down her side until it reached her pussy, a finger flicking up and down it, making her hips jerk up.

“But first of all, I need to go deal with the drug run. See you later, Bambi.”

And with a smirk on his face, Luke left his girlfriend there, tied up to the bed, whining for him to come back. And he would, and when he did, she wouldn’t be walking for days afterward.

#luke hemmings x reader #luke hemmings x you #luke hemmings x y/n #gang!luke hemmings x reader #gang!luke hemmings #gang!luke hemmings x oc #luke hemmings gang #luke hemmings smut #luke hemmings x oc

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withcolebrock · 4 years ago

Text

Lover of Mine~ Chapter 12

Lover of Mine~ 5 seconds of summer

Masterlist

Warnings: swearing, angst, sorta sad stuff I guess

Word Count: 1,662

Author’s Note: hellloooo, this chapter I had it ending a completely different way for so long but I’ve decided it would be better for the story, in my opinion, if it ended a little differently. tehe... anyways I don’t think the next chapter will be posted tomorrow but I’m already working on it so we will see lol This is my Gif!!

She sat in the driveway for a while, listening to her music. Mostly tuning it out. She sat blankly staring towards the shut garage door in front of her. She didn’t want to go, Y/N was never one for confrontation. It had been years since she had a serious break up with someone, especially one that was her fault in the end.

She took in a long breath as she began to drive out of the driveway. She was careful to drive past the other cars in the gated driveway.

After the drive she pulled into Mike’s driveway. She sat in the car for a few minutes as she contemplated the words she wanted to say. Was she going to admit to the mixed feelings she had? Or was she going to leave it be and pretend it all never happened? She wasn’t sure. She watched as the minutes continued to pass on her dashboard. She took in a long breath and decided that it would be best if she told him the truth.

She reached for the big beach bag of all the things Mike had left at her house, it was heavier than she originally thought. She pulled the car door open and climbed out of her car. She walked slowly to the front door, surprisingly without hesitation she knocked. After a few moments the door was pulled open by Kevin. “Y/N? Hey,” he furrowed his eyebrows as he glanced behind him as if Mike was there, “I thought you and Mike-” he trailed off as he stared towards her confused.

She cleared her throat and nodded slightly, “Uh-yeah, but he wanted his stuff back,” she motioned towards the bag in her hand. Kevin’s mouth fell open slightly as he nodded, letting her inside. Kevin shut the door behind her, as she stood awkwardly in the living room as if it was her first time over at the house. Rushed footsteps came from down the hall, revealing Mike. Mike’s smile faltered as he saw her carrying the bag.

“I’ll get your stuff,” he mumbled as he turned around to head back towards his room.

“Actually, I was hoping we could talk,” she stopped him. Mike turned around and paused for a moment. He nodded his head and motioned for her to follow him towards his room. Y/N glanced towards Kevin, who’s eyes were wide with an awkward smile to his features. Kevin slowly fell down onto the couch, while tilting his gaze down towards his lap. Y/N quickly followed towards him. She entered Mike’s room, delicately placing the bag onto the bed. Letting all of the items fall out slowly.

Mike stood leaning against his door, his arms were crossed over his chest as he watched her intently. His jaw evidently clenching and unclenching as he kept his eyes on her. The way her hair was pinned back away from her face was strange to see. He watched her hands and how they rubbed together nervously.

“I think you were right,” she let out. She didn’t want to look at him, her entire body was encased with guilt.

She turned to face him, letting a tear fall onto her cheek. She lifted her trembling hand and wiped it away quickly. “About me being in love with Colby,” she paused again, taking in a shaky breath, “I didn’t want you to be,” she looked away from Mike, “I never wanted to let myself feel that way because we were best friends, you know?”

Mike’s head fell as he furrowed his eyebrows harshly.

“I spent years suppressing those feelings because I didn’t want to ruin anything. Because I knew he didn’t feel the same after watching the parade of girls he brought past me,” she explained.

“When we were together, were you trying to suppress those feelings?” he asked, dropping his hands to his side. Her mouth fell open slightly before she shook her head.

“Mike, I loved you so much, I love you so much. When I was with you, Mike, I never thought that I saw Colby like that,” Mike smiled slightly at her words, “But when I was with Colby, I just-I don’t know,” she covered her face with her hands, her skin started to feel hot.

She took in a long breath, “I realized we do things that I don’t do with Sam or Jake or Corey. We have this energy that I can’t explain. It’s just nothing like my other friendships.”

Mike dropped his head slightly, “When you told me that he said he was in love with me, it was like-” she shook her head slightly trying to form the correct words, “It was as if, I don’t know.”

“You still denied it though, like afterwards I mean,” Mike interjected. She nodded while clenching her jaw.

“We had been fighting about Colby for so long it was just a reflex at that point,” he nodded slightly, “I love you so much, Mike,” she cried. She took a step towards him, while maintaining eye contact with him.

“But not like you love Colby,” his voice cracked. She shook her head.

“But not like I love Colby,” her lips trembled as she spoke.

Mike walked over towards the side of his bed. Leaning down, he took a hold of a bag with her belongings. He walked towards her quickly handing her the bag, whispering, “Can you at least do me a favor,” he looked her deeply in her eyes. He stayed silent for a few seconds while he savored the moment. He wanted to remember the intoxicating color of her eyes; remember the memories that they had together. She nodded slightly.

“Go be happy with him,” he stated softly. “Go be happy for me,” he looked her body up and down briefly as he cautiously walked towards his bedroom door. She tightened her grip around the straps of the bag while following him to the door.

She looked up towards him, “I’ll try,” she let out as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He stood still, taken aback, before he slowly wrapped his arms around her waist. After a few seconds she pulled away, smiling softly towards him. She started heading down the hall.

~~~

She sat in the driveway for a while. She stared at her possessions in the bag Mike gave her, remembering the words Mike had said to her. Go be happy with him. She stared blankly towards her steering wheel as she thought through every possible way she could tell Colby. Her fingertips slowly fell from the wheel as she lifted her head slightly.

She watched as the front door was being pulled open. She watched as Sam and Katrina headed towards Sam’s car. Her lips turned upward slightly as she watched them laugh and smile together. She always thought Katrina was a good influence on Sam. He needed someone like her especially after he past few relationships.

She waited for Sam to drive out of the driveway for her to get out. Y/N sighed as she took a hold of her belongings and stepped out of the car.

She took in a long shaky breath as she walked up towards the door. Her head hung low as she absentmindedly reached towards the door handle. Before she could take a hold of the handle the door swung open. She stopped suddenly as her eyes shot up towards him.

“Y/N?” he chuckled slightly, “You fucking scared the shit out of me,” he sighed dramatically as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“Sorry,” she smiled softly as she looked into his eyes. He shuffled to the side of her, allowing her to walk into the house. “Where are you going?” she asked while twisting the bag handle between her fingers. His mouth fell open slightly as he raised his hand to rub his eye.

“I’ve got a date,” he pressed his lips together to form a tightline as he awaited her response. She stared towards him with her heart racing quickly. Her lips parted slightly as she raised her eyebrows.

“That’s-That’s cool,” those were the only words that she could form as she continued to look into his eyes. Tell him. Tell him. For a few seconds they were quiet while they looked into each other's eyes.

“But I should get going, I’m already running la-unless you want me to stay with you,” his eyes widened, “I mean since it’s been a rough couple days with Mi-Mike and everything,” he stuttered. He clenched his fist as he punched his othe hand slightly. Her lips curled upward slightly as she nodded her head.

“You should go have fun, I’ll be fine,” she mumbled, while her face fell slightly. Her cheeks started to burn as she dropped her head. Colby started towards her, noticing the smile that was now slowly falling from her lips. He glanced towards his car before he looked back towards her.

“I’m gonna cancel it, I didn’t really want to go out anyway,” he said while he reached for the front door.

“No, Colby, it’s fine, go have fun,” she mumbled while she took a small step towards the now adjacent door. Colby shook his head while he followed her into the house.

“You need me, admit it,” he teased while he locked the door behind him. She didn’t respond to him, instead she turned to face him. It startled him but he stopped short, looking towards her. He glanced towards the pieces of hair that were falling into her face. He reached down and slowly brushed the pieces away. “I wasn’t there for you last night, let me be there for you now.”

She nodded as she leaned into him and hugged him, he quickly wrapped his arms around her and began to slowly run his hands up and down her back. She slowly began to cry while she started to feel secure in his arms.

If my name never fell off your lips again

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jinkicake · 5 years ago

Text

Periods Don’t Stop Nothing But A Sentence

Akaashi, Kageyama learn about the benefits of having sex while you’re on your period and offer their help.

Akaashi Keiji x Reader

Kageyama Tobio x Reader

Anon,,, you know Kageyama makes me act up so this might be a little wild... I hope you like it!!!! I love writing for Akaashi,,,, Kageyama is so difficult but I also adore writing for him too. That is my baby! Bruh, not @ me being on my period and writing my feelings out through this bc I want Ushiten to double team me.

SMUT // NSFW

WC- 1,182

~~~

Akaashi Keiji

Allow me to be bold and state that Akaashi is a freak… you can’t convince me otherwise,,,,, It doesn’t really have anything to do with this but I don’t think I have ever said it before

Knowing his relatively calm and blunt personality, I don’t think Akaashi would care much that you’re on your period

He might have to warm up to the idea though, he would only do it if you wanted it or if he knew it would make you feel good

I think he would have to be convinced in the sense that you actually want it and you’re not just doing it to satisfy him,,,,, he’s selfless what can I say

“It’ll really help you feel better, (Y/N)?” He’d sound so skeptical and then look it up, scrolling through the multiple articles with tired eyes,,,,,,,

Akaashi would prepare everything beforehand, he would make sure it will all be clean before and after just to make you feel better and can go right to sleep after you’re done,,,,,,,, yeah Akaashi gonna fuck you to sleep!

He is doing this for you because he wants to take away some of the pain you are suffering from, and maybe it’ll help shorten your period! Thanks for letting Akaashi know that, period sex guide 101 !

Akaashi is going to act like he is doing this solely for you but you know….

Of course, he is getting something from it too!!! You know deep down he is riled up and excited

I feel like when he fucks you,,,, he is going to confess how hot he thinks the entire situation is HAHAHA It is kinda out of character, which makes it even more ideal~

Akaashi has you pressed against the shower wall, your chest is pinned against the cold tile while one of his hands is wrapped around your waist and the other is gripping your hip. His first initial thrusts are slow and shallow, dragging himself in and out of your tense walls to leave you blazing inside. His slender cock just barley brushes along your g-spot, leaving you speechless and unable to form a coherent thought.

“Keiji,” You whisper out before another loud moan takes over your voice. Akaashi kisses your shoulder, not letting up his slow pace, you can feel him smirking against your skin. His touch leaves a trail of fire in its wake and you press your cheek against the cold wall for relief, to cool down just a little bit.

“The way you are so weak for me,” Akaashi whispers in your ear, his voice lowering, the air he blows into your sensitive ear makes you thrust back against him. “is the hottest thing I have ever seen. You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” He chuckles quietly and grits his teeth before bottoming out inside of you. The grip he has on your hip tightens and he forces you to grind down against him, your walls pulsate around him and Akaashi moans at the sensation. “Go at your own pace, pretty girl.”

You sway yourself on his length, moving your hips in circles as you desperately hold onto the wall. Akaashi removes the grip he has on your side and reaches up to grab the showerhead, putting it on the softest setting before bringing it down to your clit. The stream against such a sensitive spot makes you jolt and you glance at Akaashi, squeezing your thighs together in pleasure.

“It’s all yours my love, all for you, use it exactly the way you want.”

Kageyama Tobio

Pls… Kageyama is so clueless,,, I feel like he wouldn’t know shit about periods…. At the same time, he also has a sister so maybe he isn’t as clueless as I think???

I can imagine Kageyama walking in on you curled up into a ball because of cramps and he’s like “you good?” …. man would not have any clue why you were in so much pain

Then you tell him you’re on your period and Kageyama is like ‘oh’….. cue him to researching ways to help you feel better

He’d buy you a heating pad and warm foods because the internet told him to do so,,,, then he comes across an article talking about how orgasms can relieve your period pains and Kageyama is like 0.0

Because,,, he starts thinking about having sex with you and wow, now he has a boner

He continues to read the article and many others because when he brings it up with you, he doesn’t want to seem like a perv who is only suggesting it because he wants to get his dick wet!

I feel like Kageyama would send you the link via text message or simply slide you his phone with the page already pulled up,,,, I don’t think he has the nerve to straight out ask you

And you’re like….. uhhhhh and Kageyama is all red-faced with his lips pushed together in a little pout

“I want to help you with your…. pain” He motions his hand in-between your hips and can’t even find it in himself to say the word ‘period’ LMFAOOO

Kageyama does not care that you’re on your period, he is not scared of blood or grossed out in any way,,,,,, if he wants to fuck you and you want to fuck him, nothing can get in the way of it LOL

“T-Tobio,” You mewl and wiggle your hips, pressing your ass down into the mattress. “that feels so good.” Tears prick at the corner of your eyes and Kageyama swallows the groan that desperately wants to leave his lips. He glances at the towel and makes sure it is still in place so he can clean you up afterward. He doesn’t focus on it for long, not with the way you’re sucking him in like this, Kageyama can’t get over how tight you are.

“Relax, babe.” He grunts and dips his head, his hips stutter when he feels his knees go weak. “Is this too much?” Kageyama glances at you cautiously as he gently stimulates your clit. Mr.-PhD-in-period-sex-after-reading-four-articles remembers how sensitive the body can get during the monthly flow. He’s worried, Kageyama wants it to be pleasurable and not painful.

“Keep going Tobio, just like that, I’m okay.” You reassure him and arch your back at one of his particularly hard thrusts. Something about Kageyama being so attentive makes this experience that much better, it is like he is doing it solely for you and that control you have with him makes your knees weak. With shaky, wobbly legs you lift your bottom half up so you can bend one of your legs towards your chest. You aren’t able to hold the position long but at that moment Kageyama was able to thrust so deeply inside of you, you felt him in your guts.

“More, I need more Tobio!” You whine frustratedly as your walls convulse around him, your much-needed orgasm washes over you and can’t help but demand more. “Please, I want more."

Kageyama glances down at your pitiful eyes and leans forward to kiss your forehead before taking the same claim on your cheeks.

“Be patient baby, I’ll give you another. Relax for me, first."

Taglist.

@yams046 @why-am-i-sad-and-sleepy @xhanjisungiex @xxashshs @chaosamu @angelkogane @augustdearly @kunimwuah @lovellucy @osamuonigiri

#akaashi keiji x reader #Kageyama Tobio x reader #akaashi x reader #kageyama x reader #akaashi smut #kageyama smut #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu smut

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ikevamp-shrine · 4 years ago

Note

I J O X for Jean pwease🥺

I had already done a few of these which I realized after I had written them again so please enjoy lol.

I = intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

- He is so gentle

- Kisses your spine lightly while he slides in, a shiver racking through him as he pauses, asking you if you’re okay and if anything hurts

- Leans over you, sharing your warmth and basking in the sounds of your low moans sending an excited chill deep within his bones

- Starts off slow, his hands hesitant to grip you anywhere with the fear he’ll grab too hard and bruise

- Brushes your hair to the side so he can trace shaky fingers along the curve of your shoulder to rest his hand over your neck, never squeezing, just feeling the thump of your pulse under his flesh

- Grab his jaw, kiss him hard, and whisper he won’t break you against his lips

- He’ll groan low in his throat and completely lose himself in the feeling of you

- Poor baby gets so flustered once he comes down from his high to see you panting for air, his eyes never leaving the trickle of his cum down the inside of your thigh

- Holds you tight, desperately, like you’ll disappear from his side at a moment notice as you drift off to sleep under his protective gaze

J = jackoff (masturbation headcanon)

- Doesn’t do it much mainly because of how sinful he feels doing it

- There are times, though, he just can’t stop his hand from reaching down and cupping himself lightly, tugging barely at the strings of his waist band to tease his growing arousal

- And when he hears the sound of your voice, your scent through the crack in his door- he remembers you were supposed to be cleaning the room beside his that day and it lights a fire in his stomach

- He can’t help it when his head falls back, toes curling over his sheets when he finally takes himself in his palm, stroking once with an open-mouth, silent moan

- Whimpers at the rough feeling of the callouses on his hand scratching along the smooth skin of his sex

- His skin is damp, his thighs trembling when he hears you start to sing softly, the muffled sounds you created causing his heart to thump wildly against his rib cage

- Has to bite his fist and close his eyes when he nears his peak, his entire body shaking

- You would never admit it but you heard his moan, the slap of his skin, through the walls- your imagination never doing justice for how high his back arched off the bed as his head spun with pleasure

- He had to stay still for a few moments afterwards, feeling as his cum cooled on his hand and stomach from just how intensely his muscles constricted at hearing your voice

O = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

- He makes it his top priority to insure you feel boundless amounts of pleasure but goddamn he about lost himself the first time you had him in your mouth

- He was so needy that day. Stalking up behind you, grabbing your hips, having to bend down to hide his face in your hair and breathe in slowly

- He had whined so sweetly when you pushed back against him and felt the hardness of his member imprinting its self against your ass

- His grip on you tightening at your naughty gasp when his fangs dragged lightly over your ear lobe

- You had pushed him into an empty room soon after, his confusion showing through his want for you

- Inhaled sharply as you pulled his pants down, his cock springing free

- And then when you looked up at him from your knees, your tongue lapping at the sensitive slit of his sex- he felt like he was a man gone from the constricting ground of the earth

- fuckkk the desperation in his voice as you took him deep within your throat

- His fingers twitching with the need to grip something until they found your hair, wrapping the strands in his fist as he oh so gently rutted through your sucks

- Little pants escaping from gnashed teeth, his jaw clenching, mind begging for sweet release

- He about came a second time when you pulled back with tears rimming your eyes and his wanton arousal coating your visible tongue

- Audibly choked (along with a semi heart attack) when you swallowed and grinned up at him

X = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

- He is tall

- Lanky with lean muscled arms and calves

- Thick, bright blue veins that roll and raise beneath his skin when his long back is soaked with sweat from exertion

- And those damn forearms… god they’re like a heaven send- rippling with movement as he slips his fingers so easily in you, flexing while he holds your hips above the bed so he can hit you just right inside

- His skin is very pale, almost as if the flesh was dusted with the sparkle of starlight with many twisting and puckered burn scars along his limbs (they are extremely sensitive but not in a painful way)

- trace your fingers over them as his brows furrow in concentration and watch him lose any sort of rhythm he previously had, his neck falling back at the sensation

- Chiseled abs that demand your attention every time he walks around your shared room to find his shirt, his silky hair still messed up from a night of holding each other close

- A tight waist (Napoleon’s fingers touched when he had gripped Jean’s waist before) and a sharp v-line that gives way to blue, almost black, hair encasing his thin but lengthy cock

SHOTS MATERLISTS

MASTERLIST

ABCs SMUT MASTERLIST

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen series #ikevam #ikevam jean #ikevamp jean #ikemen vampire jean #ikevam abcs smut #ikemen vampire abcs smut #ikevamp abcs smut

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oscar-lettjohanssonloveme · 4 years ago

Text

Glide (Miss Venable x reader)

a/n: hello :3 here we have another song fanfiction whoohoo- uhm Glide (by Lxandra) don't expect too much haha.. its angsty i guess lol :7 oh and its really long-

summary: I am really bad at this holy shit.. I guess its about the “"relationship” between you and Miss Venable (relationship is a weird word-)

warnings: alcohol, talking about depression and suicide (but nobody's actually depressed), notes of sex

google translate :’D

"So, Miss Y / L / N", Mister Langdon finally said as he stepped around the table to stand in front of you.

"After telling me about your homosexuality, I would like to know if you are currently in love?"

You narrowed your eyes at the man in front of you.

"What kind of stupid question is that? Is this the part where we braid each other's hair and talk about our high school crushes?"

"Answer. My. Question.", the Man growled.

"Okay okay," you muttered quickly. "Uhm, well let me think about it for a minute."

--------------------

It all started when Miss Venable heard you scream one night.

You had been at Outpost 3 for a few months at this point and in all that time you hadn't spoken a lot and spent the entire time in your room except for meals.

The others didn't know much about you. They knew, you were one of the youngest residents of the Outpost and that you had left your family behind. And of course they knew your name. But that was all.

You spent a lot of time thinking about your family. Your relationship with your parents wasn't ideal, but you still missed them. And if you had known a year ago where you were today, you would have done a few things differently. Celebrating Christmas with them one last time, vacationing with them, simply spending the time peacefully with them instead of arguing.

Usually you cried quietly to yourself, with your head buried under your pillow, hoping, that everyone would forget you existed, but crying wasn't enough tonight and after dinner you snuck into the kitchen to steal a bottle of the red wine, that you smuggled into your room afterwards.

It was now 1 a.m., the bottle was almost empty, and hours ago you had started tossing the items you had in your room. Your clothes were scattered on the floor, while you had tossed the boring books from the library against the wall. Your bed was a complete disaster and in all your anger you had torn the sheets. There were red wine stains on your pillows, which had almost slipped into the blazing fire of the fireplace after you tossed them off the bed.

And now all you could do was scream.

"Fuck you!" You shouted as you staggered in the room with the alcohol in one hand.

"Fuck you all! Fuck this apocalypse, fuck this outpost, fuck-"

"Miss Y / L / N" interrupted you a loud voice behind you and made you turn around.

Miss Venable was standing in the doorway in front of the locked door, staring at you in confusion.

"Ever heard of knocking?" You grumbled and hid the bottle behind your back.

"I knocked," Miss Venable hissed, her gaze wandering angrily over your chaos.

"And if you hadn't screamed so loud, you would probably have heard it. What the fuck do you think of making such a noise here at night? Stealing alcohol as well?"

"I uh- caught," you muttered as you put the bottle on the round table in front of you.

"Do you know what's really funny? We don't have anything to eat, but there is no end of alcohol. Whoever came up with that must be pretty stupid."

"It was my idea. I am in charge here, in case you forgot."

"Oh right," you sighed and slapped your forehead with the palm of your hand.

"Shit, well, i'm sorry, but what was your name again?"

"You forgot my name?" Asked Miss Venable sharply with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah," you muttered before collapsing onto your messy bed.

"But I know it was something weird."

Miss Venable glared at you, which of course you couldn't see because you were buried with your face in your blanket.

"Hopefully you realize this will be punished," she growled.

"Oh suck my dick", you grumbled. "You enjoy punishing others, don't you? You are a little psychopath"

You laughed softly into your blanket and noticed how you became more and more sleepy. You almost fell asleep if Miss Venable hadn't tapped her stick loudly on the floor.

"You will start cleaning up here immediately, otherwise it will be the last night you spend in this outpost."

"Oh shut up. You are totally mean to me," you moaned and pouted at the angry woman.

"Why are everyone always so mean to me? I haven't done anything wrong."

You got up on shaky legs to walk past her to the door, but you tripped and fell against Miss Venable.

"Wow," you mumbled as you stared into her brown eyes with your glassy ones and grabbed hold of her hips.

"I may not know your name, but I know, that you are really pretty"

"What the fuck is wrong withyou ?! "

Wilhemina pushed you away from her so that you stumbled backwards and landed on the floor.

You stared out at her with hurt eyes as tears welled up in your eyes.

"I didn't do anything," you yelled at Miss Venable, who was still leaning on her stick in front of you.

"It's not my fault, that you're beautiful. Be happy, others are ugly."

"That's enough," growled Miss Venable as she took a step towards you and grabbed your arm to pull you up.

"You're going to bed now."

"I'll do nothing," you mumbled and tried to pull yourself out of her grip, but you were way too drunk to use enough strength and she could push you like a doll on the bed.

You laughed again.

"Guess what, my bed is big enough for both of us, isn't that funny?"

You looked up at her playfully, or at least you tried.

"You beautiful woman. We-"

"Your behavior is disgusting," she interrupted as she leaned over to grab your chin. Immediately you fell silent.

"And my name is Miss Venable."

She looked down at you dangerously and you saw fire in her eyes when you started laughing out loud.

"Haha Miss Venable, I told you it was something weird," you shouted before you started screaming out loud.

"Miss Venable is beautiful whohoo. Can you all hear me? Miss Venable is beautiful. She-"

"What the hell", Miss Venable cut you off again and took her hand from your jaw to put it on your mouth.

"Are you going to be quiet at last?"

"M'sorry," you hummed against her hand and Miss Venable could see from the wrinkles around your eyes, that you were grinning under her hand.

"I want you to go to sleep now and clean up the chaos here tomorrow, do you understand me?" She asked in a sharp voice. But you just glared at her and wanted to bite her hand when she repeated her question.

"Do you understand me?" She barked louder and this time you nodded quickly.

"Good," she said happily as she took her hand from your mouth and straightened up again.

"Fuck you," you mumbled quietly and watched unhappily as the woman went to the sofa across from the fireplace and sat on it.

"Can't you just go?" You moaned as she leaned her cane against the edge of the sofa.

"Oh I'll go," she replied while staring into the fire.

"When you fell asleep."

You groan in annoyance.

"Is that supposed to be a joke?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

"Oh come on," you sighed and pulled your blanket over your head so she couldn't see you.

It was actually your plan to wait for her to go away, but at some point (who knows how much time had passed) you actually fell asleep.

Living my life in a bubble

Sometimes reality's too much for me

(I trip and fall into a dream)

Your love it gets me into trouble

Sometimes your gravity's too much for me

(It gets me weak in the knees)

------------

A week had passed and not much had happened. The next morning you woke up alone and with a big hangover and barely remembering what had happened the previous evening. Miss Venable had forced you to clean up the mess in your room after she had punished you for stealing the alcohol and as attractive as this woman was, she seemed genuinely angry about what had happened, even though it was actually nothing special. At least that's what you thought, but you couldn't remember either.

The world had ended and her problem was, that you had stolen a bottle of wine and ravaged your room. You wondered how fucked up her life must have been before the apocalypse, if that bothered her. And she wasn't the only one you wondered about.

The other residents of the outpost were all disgusting.

"Why do we have to eat this shit?"

"When are we getting out of here?"

"Why is life so unfair and let me be here with you idiots?"

You hate those ungrateful assholes. Everyone was dead and their only problem was, that they were still alive.

Other people deserved it so much more and the fact that mankind's only hope was in these conceited, stupid assholes seemed like a joke.

When you lay in bed that day and stared lost at the ceiling, you had lost all reference to reality. You didn't know what day it was or what month you were in. You also didn't know whether the last meal you ate was lunch or dinner, although a glance at the clock would have been enough. But you got tired of staring at the clock and watching the second hand, hoping something would happen.

Nothing changed anyway. And all you felt was that big feeling of loneliness that completely filled you. You were a very emotional person and all you wanted was someone who was normal. But everybody in this outpost was a huge disappointment. Conceited assholes, intimidated Grays and Miss Venable, who enjoyed punishing people.

Probably you would have started talking to yourself, but thank god you weren't there yet.

Sometimes you thought, it might be easier, if you opened up to others. But your body had become like a prison and you kept every thought trapped deep inside you because it did not match those of the others. Stupid assholes.

And while you continued to sink into your self-pity, you would probably have fallen asleep, if you hadn't been bothered by the sudden knock on your door.

"Fuck off," you moaned while staring angrily at the door, but the person standing in front of it only knocked one more time.

Asshole, you thought before reluctantly climbing out of bed to open your door.

"I said you should f- Oh Miss Venable," you stared at the woman in front of you.

"Are you here to punish me again for something pointless? If so, I can assure you it won't be necessary .. The wounds from last time still hurt, if you care."

Miss Venable screwed up her eyes.

"Well, Miss Y / L / N, actually I don't care, but if it still hurts, you seem to have learned your lesson," she replied coldly and you just snorted in annoyance.

"What do you want from me?"

"You are obviously depressed-" she started and you interrupted her immediately.

"What is that shit supposed to mean? I'm not depressed, I'm just sad. And since when have you been interested in how I'm doing?"

You glared at her with narrowed eyes, but her face still had the same deadly serious expression.

"You've been sad for a long time, don't you think?"

"I- uh".

You looked at her confused.

"All my friends are dead, it's only logical that I feel that way .. I find it rather questionable, that I'm the only one here, who feels that way."

"So?" Miss Venable raised an eyebrow, which made you even more insecure.

"I don't really care how you feel either. I just don't feel like wiping your blood off should you decide to kill yourself."

"Suicide isn't always bloody," you muttered.

"And because we don't have any doctors here-"

"By the way, that's the stupidest thing of all. You know, we have a hairstylist, but no doctors, you also notice that it doesn't make any sense, right?" You interrupted her and crossed your arms in front of your chest.

And again Miss Venable ignored your words and finished her sentence, which you had interrupted.

"..I thought that would help too."

Your eyes widened when you saw what she was pulling out from behind her back and immediately you started laughing.

"Are you serious? First you punish me brutally for stealing a bottle of red wine and now you come to give me one?" You laughed and stared down at the bottle she was holding out to you.

"What's worse is, that you think alcohol is replacing therapeutic treatment. That's pretty sad to be honest, Miss Venable."

Wilhemina narrowed her eyes.

"It's not sad, I just prefer red wine stains instead of stains from your blood," she growled.

"You can't possibly be serious," you mumbled and suddenly had to grin.

"You enjoyed punishing me, right? And now you're coming, because you need a reason to do it again."

"Oh come on," Miss Venable rolled her eyes.

"Take the bottle or don't take it, it's just an offer."

You were still staring at her in amazement. What was wrong with her that she thought this action would solve your problems? Another proof of how fucked up everything was and that the only person you could count on was yourself.

"Uhm, well thank you, Miss Venable," you stuttered and reached for the bottle.

"If you come over every evening and bring me a bottle, your diagnosis may work and I will have very different problems, than my sadness."

"Not funny," muttered Miss Venable, her lips pressed together.

"Well, good evening, Miss Y / N."

She turned around and started to leave and you could only stare after her in confusion. Evening?

Then you actually had dinner earlier, even though you could have sworn it was only lunch.

"Maybe you want to join me-?" You asked suddenly and were just as surprised by this question as Miss Venable, who turned to you.

"What?"

"I don't think getting drunk on my own would be fun," you added, stepping nervously from one foot to the other.

"You did it a week ago," replied Miss Venable and in the torchlight you could see the lines of confusion on her face.

"But I never said it was fun," you smiled crookedly as your grip tightened on the neck of the bottle.

"And I think it would be nicer to do that, in the presence of another person. Especially since you've already seen me drunk."

You looked at Miss Venable expectantly, although you did not know exactly what you were doing. It was probably just your desperate attempt to get someone's attention, simply because everyone, who has ever cared about you was dead. And you knew Miss Venable might not be the best choice. But while the others complained aloud about their suffering and argued about who was worse off, Miss Venable didn't show such feelings and kept her thoughts to herself. A circumstance with which you could somehow identify.

"Okay," Miss Venable finally muttered, surprising you one more time that day.

"Well, great," you said before stepping out the door frame to go back to your room. You sat on the other end of the sofa, across from where she sat a week ago. In your hand there was still the bottle of red wine and for whatever reason you were ashamed of this situation. Miss Venable brought you alcohol because she thought, you could use it to manage your sadness, or depression (as she called it). And if she had actually meant well, which was actually questionable with her, then you had to make a pretty pathetic impression on others.

"You cleaned up the mess," you heard Miss Venable's voice behind you, but it was more of a determination than an acknowledgment.

"And I just noticed that we have no glasses at all".

Your shoulders sagged at her words and for a moment you were afraid she would leave. But you heard her close the door behind her before she went to the sofa and sat down on the exact same place, that she had been sitting on a week ago.

You watched the woman confused, leaning her cane against the sofa.

Her gaze lifted to you and she stared at you as expectantly as you looked at her confused.

"What are you waiting for? Go into the kitchen and get glasses," Miss Venable uttered.

You blinked in surprise.

"I- I didn't know that was a request," you muttered before jumping up from the sofa to run from your room into the kitchen.

When you ran back to your room 5 minutes later with two wine glasses, Miss Venable was still sitting on the ugly fabric sofa just as she had done a few minutes earlier. And somehow there was something aesthetic about it.

Personally, you thought it was ridiculous, that everyone had to adapt to the Victorian style, just because she wanted to. But it was perfect for Miss Venable. As if it was made for it. Her red hair, which she always pinned up so strictly, then her almost black eyes and the lipstick. Also her pale skin and her cane. Even her strict personality perfectly matched the style of clothing.

"Do you want to stay in the door frame and stare at me, or are you finally coming now," Wilhemina hissed suddenly without moving even an inch and immediately a slight blush rose in your face.

"M'sorry," you muttered and quickly closed the door before going back to the sofa. After you sat down, you put the glasses in front of you on the table, where the wine bottle was now.

"I was just wondering," you explained as you poured the wine into your glasses.

"Why the Victorian style of all things?"

"Why not? It looks good," replied Miss Venable, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Well," you began before turning to give her her glass.

"The world is ending and you make us wear 10kg dresses, because you think it looks good?"

"Any better idea?" Miss Venable asked back, putting the glass to her lips.

"Uhm I, i don't know," you stuttered and watched Miss Venable as she drank her wine.

"Don't we have to be prepared somehow or something like that?"

You heard Miss Venable laugh quietly into her glass.

"Prepared?" She repeated with a small grin and put her glass back on the table.

"On what? For the aliens to come and get us out of here?"

You shrugged your shoulders.

"I don't know," you mumbled before you put your glass to your lips to take a sip of the bitter liquid and while you were drinking you could feel her gaze digging into your skin.

"By the way, I also find it very questionable what kind of people live in this outpost," you added, setting your Glas next to hers on the table.

Wilhemina let out a laugh. It was one of those laughs that you couldn't tell whether it was meant honestly or sarcastically.

"I'm not surprised you say that," she muttered.

"Is my dislike of the others that obvious?" you asked confused.

"I don't know if obviously this is the right word .. But what I do know, is that you always look disgusted when you see them, so I'm assuming you don't like them and to be honest, I like them neither.

Your confusion turned to laughter.

"Well," you said.

"With you it is obvious that you don't like any of them."

"These people are just as competent as they were poor. They are only here because of their money," she said disapprovingly.

You sighed thoughtfully.

"It's kind of sad, that money was the way in here. Scientists would have been so much more valuable. I'm only here because my grandfather had the money."

"What did you do before the apocalypse?" She asked you and you were surprised by this honest question.

"I went to college to study history," you replied when your gaze wandered into the fire.

"So I can judge that the Victorian style wasn't the most practical choice."

You heard Miss Venable snort in annoyance and you couldn't help but grin.

"And what did you do before the apocalypse?" You asked, turning your gaze back to her. Miss Venable seemed as surprised by your question as you were by hers.

"It's a little tricky," she began. "Basically, I built human robots."

"Robots?"

"Robots."

For a moment you stared at her in amazement. Miss Venable had averted her gaze from you and directed it to the wine glass in front of her.

"M'sorry, but if you've built human robots, why are you letting real people, the Grays, work for us? Wouldn't robots have been revolutionary in an apocalypse?"

Unlike you, Miss Venable seemed totally unaffected by this.

You watched as the redhead reached for her wine glass and took another sip of the blood red liquid.

"You are asking too many questions for my taste, Miss Y / L / N," said Miss Venable softly, putting her glass back on the table. And even though she kept her voice low, you could hear her indirect threat.

"To be honest, I'm amazed, that I'm the only one asking questions," you replied, trying to make eye contact with the woman next to you again, but Miss Venable's gaze was tied to the blazing fire in the fireplace and you could see a dark glint in their eyes.

"You shouldn't get involved in things that are none of your business," she said suddenly in a monotonous voice. "All over the world there are survivors and it is not your job to question my system, nobody has the right to do so. You are just one stupid survivor of many, nothing more"

You and I, we just glide

Through the night

We just drive, we get by

We just glide

----------------------

"Oh c'mon," you moaned and ran your tousled hair.

"God must hate me".

You stood on shaky legs from the library floor, that you fell on after stumbling into the room. You brushed the dirt off your skirt and realized with gritted teeth, that it was ruined.

"Seems like someone is having a bad day," you suddenly heard a voice say and immediately your mood worsened.

You straighten up again to meet Miss Venable's eyes. The woman sat on the right of the two leather sofas and with one hand clutched her cane, which was propped on the floor.

"Fuck you", you hissed before you let yourself fall on the sofa across from her.

"Oh, someone is having a very bad day," added Miss Venable, and you didn't have to look at her to see, that she was amused by your behavior,

"Yes, my day sucks and guess what, it's all your fault," you growled and glared angrily at her stick.

"When I got up this morning and wanted to leave my room, I got stuck in the door with my blouse and the whole sleeve was torn. Did you also notice, how much you sweat in these clothes? It's really hard to go at the toilet with these clothes .. I'm sorry, but what the hell was your idea, when you decided to give us a Victorian dress code? Did you have to make our life after the apocalypse even harder ? "

You pressed angrily your lips together and screwed up your eyes.

"You are the only person who complains about it," said Miss Venable and sounded not quite as amused as a minute before. You let out a dry laugh.

"The others are too scared of you, to tell you that," you said bitterly.

"Besides, what the hell are you doing here?"

You tore your gaze away from her stick to look directly into her dark eyes.

"Why shouldn't I be here?"

"Because you're never here and you didn't look like someone who'd like to hang out with Mr. Gallant or Coco."

"Well, neither Mr. Gallant nor Miss St. Pierre Vanderbilt are here right now, right? And besides, I could ask you the same thing", Miss Venable replied indifferently and somehow she was right. It was also a rarity to see you in the library as you actually spent most of the time in your room.

"I suppose my great sadness is over now .. or as you called it 'depression'. I'm more in the mood right now, that I don't care and I am angry at everything and now you are my victim. Your lipstick is smeared by the way", you sighed, although that was actually a lie, her lipstick was perfect as always. But in fact her eyes widened slightly and you couldn't help but enjoy this view.

"You're lying," hissed Miss Venable and you had to grin.

"Maybe".

You shrugged your shoulders.

"Maybe you'd better go and see, or you risk the others seeing you ruined makeup."

It was obvious that Miss Venable was a perfectionist woman and she wasn't going to let her position of power be challenged over a smeared lipstick. On the other hand, you were an extremely bad liar and Miss Venable wasn't stupid.

"You're lying," she repeated, only with her lips pressed together, giving you the sense of achievement you wanted.

"Mhh Miss Venable," you hummed as your eyes found her stick again.

"This cane .. when I saw you for the first time, I wondered if it was just a symbol of power or if you really needed it-"

"..And then you saw me walk with it," added Miss Venable with a bitter tone in her voice.

"Oh no," you quickly shook your head.

"It wasn't your walk that gave me the confirmation that you really need the stick. It could never be your walk, you walk so majestically with that stupid thing, that even people, who don't really need a cane and only use it as an accessory would look handicapped next to you."

It was probably a rather desperate attempt to put the whole thing in a compliment and Miss Venable did not answer your words either, but you could see in the glow of the fire how her pale skin turned a light red shade and that was enough for you.

"It was your grip to be honest," you continued.

Miss Venable frowned.

"My grip?"

"Yes," you nodded and started playing with the fabric of your skirt.

"Your fingers are always clenched so tightly around the handle, as if you wanted it to break through. As if you were trying to strangle it or something like that, i dont know."

The furrow on Wilhemina's forehead only got a little wider with your words.

"You seem to spend a lot of time watching what my hands are doing," she mumbled and this time it was you, who blushed.

"It was just an observation, that I made on the side," you stammered quickly when you realized, that from one moment to the next the conversation had taken a completely wrong direction. Miss Venable did not answer again and you did not have the courage to look her face again and so the next few seconds were filled with an embarrassing silence, although you could imagine that Miss Venable was enjoying your discomfort.

"May I take a look at your cane-?" You finally asked to break the silence.

"You want to take a look at my cane?" Repeated Miss Venable, surprised with raised eyebrows.

"Only if it's okay," you said quickly.

"You are the first person, who asks me that".

Miss Venable looked thoughtfully down at her cane, which was still in her hand.

"As I said, the others are too scared of you-"

"The others don't care," Miss Venable interrupted, and you didn't know if she was sad about it or if she didn't care. But we're talking about Wilhemina Venable, she probably didn't care.

The red-haired woman sighed before holding out her stick to you.

You grinned and tried to grab the staff, but before your fingers could touch the wood, Miss Venable pulled it back again.

"How can I be sure, that you won't break it up and use it to make firewood?", She asked you and you looked at her in horror.

"I would probably be the last person to do that," you said indignantly.

"On the contrary, I think you would be the only person in this outpost who would dare to."

Miss Venable held out her stick to you again and this time she let you reach for it.

You immediately noticed how light the wood was in your hand as you carefully ran your fingers over the stick.

"What kind of wood is that?" You asked quietly without looking up from her walker.

"I guess it was blackthorn".

Your fingers moved on to the handle of the stick, which was probably the most interesting thing. A metal handle in the shape of a raven skull served as a support for the hand.

"Doesn't that hurt?".

You lifted your gaze back to Miss Venable, who obviously didn't understand what to do with your question.

"Well, if I had to support myself with all my weight on this skull, it would hurt," you added and Wilhemina just shrugged her shoulders.

"Uhm, it's a beautiful cane," you muttered, handing it back to her.

"May I ask why you need it?"

"I don't know what this should have gotten to do with you," replied Miss Venable, not sounding as nice as before. If you could call it "nice".

"Okay okay, taboo subject, I got it," you said quickly, desperately searching your head for anything to keep the conversation going.

"Do you actually enjoy it? To have control over everyone here? And know that, that almost everyone is afraid of you?", You finally asked and leaned back against the sofa.

"You asked me that a few weeks ago, when you were drunk," remarked Miss Venable, looking down at her gloved fingers, which were wrapped around her cane again.

"Really?" You asked confused.

"More or less. It was more of an accusation."

"An accusation?"

Miss Venable hummed in agreement.

"I told you, that you would be punished for your behavior and you said I would enjoy it."

"I understand," you mumbled, still staring hard at her face.

"What else happened that evening?"

A smug smile danced on Wilhemina's lips and she took a moment to consider your question.

"Well, you made fun of my name," she finally began as she drummed her fingers on the skull-like handle of her stick.

"And then you said, that I was pretty and that I should be happy about it, because other people are ugly."

Your eyes froze as her words entered your brain.

Wrong turn. Wrong turn.

"Uhm .. You know, when I'm drunk I tend to perceive things a lot more intensely than they actually are and then I exaggerate occasionally," you tried desperately to get yourself out of this situation, but Miss Venable just let out a loud laugh and you realized, that you had failed miserably. You cleared your throat briefly and sat up straight again.

"You haven't answered my question yet," you said, trying to change the subject again.

"I wanted to know, if you enjoy all of this."

"Do I enjoy it if you don't obey my rules? No, I don't enjoy that, why should I?" Miss Venable said and again had that indifferent sound in her voice. Of course you knew that she had bypassed your question and that was enough to prove, that she enjoyed her monarchy in Outpost 3.

"You said earlier, that you had got over your grief. That's good to hear," said Miss Venable, and this time she was the one who changed the subject.

"I thought you didn't care what I felt".

You smiled contentedly and cocked your head. Somehow you liked this game of mutual debunking.

"I don't care either, I just wanted to be polite."

Your smile widened when you saw her fingers clench a little tighter around her stick.

"Miss Venable and polite, I don't think this is a well-working combination," you teased her and in the glow of the fire you could see her roll her eyes.

"You were a lot less tiring, when you were crying in your room all day," she muttered disapprovingly.

Why should it be such a struggle

When it means so much to you and me?

(I trip and fall into a dream)

Built like a ship in a bottle

Gotta handle you so delicately

------------------

I don't know what we got

But I know what I want

The silence is killing me softly

What. The. Fuck.

When you arrived at the Outpost a few months ago, you couldn't even have imagined in your deepest dreams, that you would ever end up in this situation.

You lay on your back, still staring at the ceiling with wide eyes as you tried to stabilize your breathing. Only now did you notice, that you had your arms wrapped around your chest and that your fingernails were digging painfully into the flesh of your shoulder. Your body lay rigid in her bed and you couldn't move an inch. You desperately tried to put the things that had happened in the right order.

Was it a stupid idea to go in Miss Venable's Bedroom? Yes, definitely. In retrospect, you didn't even know what exactly you wanted there. And actually you should have disappeared, after you saw that Wilhemina hadn't even been there. But no, of course your curious ass had to inspect her entire room.

And by the time Miss Venable came out of her bathroom in her pajamas, you had already started counting in your head how many punches Miss Mead was going to give you as punishment. You had definitely crossed the line.

But it turned out very differently than expected. Miss Venable had been angry anyway, very angry, but her anger was not expressed in words. The woman had pressed you against the wall and before you could do anything about it, her hand had slipped under your skirt, between your legs and Miss Venable had broken her own rule.

Of course you could have pushed her away, but it felt so right. You wanted so badly for someone to pay you attention and Miss Venable had kind of given you just that, when she pressed you against the wall and fucked you senselessly.

The whole thing was just so emotionless. You hadn't been able to look at her. You were ashamed of every sound you made, and if Miss Venable hadn't put her hand over your mouth, everyone in the Outpost would probably have heard you scream.

Which wouldn't have been so practical, because this man had come here a few days ago and you knew he was interviewing all the residents for the sanctuary and it wouldn't have been very beneficial for you if he'd caught you, breaking you down Venables rules. Regardless of the fact, that she had broken her rule herself.

Miss Venable hadn't said a single word about what had happened a few minutes ago, as if she had absolutely no need to justify herself.

She hadn't even looked at you when she took her hands off you and wiped them with a kleenex.

"You can sleep here tonight," she had muttered.

"It would be noticeable if you left my room now."

And now you lay next to her in bed and tried to understand all of this. Your dress was messy on the floor and all you had on was your underwear. After your fingers relaxed, you had pulled the blanket, that she wordlessly gave you over you and clung desperately to the fabric.

You had calmed down and could now hear her breathing next to you. The fact, that she was just lying next to you and probably sleeping was disturbing. At least, she could have apologized, right? Although, that didn't make sense either, because you obviously enjoyed what had happened.

You carefully turned your head towards her and saw, that her back was turned to you. And you wondered if she was really sleeping or just pretending. Miss Venable had become your most private contact in the outpost and you didn't really know what that actually meant.

You wanted so badly to touch her, but you didn't know if you had the right to do so. Only now did you notice the scars on her back, that shone through the light nightgown. Add to that the snake-like curve of her spine and suddenly you understood why she needed her stick.

"You have scoliosis," you said your thoughts out loud and you heard her hold her breath.

"Congratulations," she hummed miserably.

"You figured it die out."

You nervously began to chew your lower lip.

"Did I make anything wrong?" You asked quietly.

"Ask yourself how you got into this situation, then you will know."

"I- do you want me to go?", Your voice sounded sadder than you actually wanted.

When Miss Venable didn't answer, you felt tears welling up in your eyes as the feeling of fear grew inside you. You screwed it up. Probably the next evening you would end up like Stu as stew.

"No," Miss Venable suddenly whispered before turning to you. The red-haired woman had a blank expression on her face while she watched you cry.

She raised her hand as if to wipe the tears from your face, but she lowered it again and you had to do it yourself.

"M'sorry," you muttered.

"You're stupid if you apologize," Miss Venable replied bluntly.

"That was more than just unprofessional of me, I should have let you go and tomorrow you would have been punished."

You looked at her sadly.

"That's the only solution, isn't it? Punishment."

"I don't know exactly what you're getting at? It's actually quite simple. Those are my rules and whoever doesn't stick to them will be punished for it", Miss Venable looked at you unimpressed and you returned her gaze thoughtfully.

"What about Michael Langdon? Does he have to obey your rules too?" You finally asked.

"What does this mean?"

"Uhm well, I guess I've known you for 18 months now and the first time you seem scared."

Miss Venable raised her eyebrows.

"You don't know anything about me. I'm not even remotely an emotional chaos as you are."

Emotional chaos. Okay she had a point. You blinked a few times to force the tears, that were still glistening in your eyes back down.

"I don't know if emotional chaos is the right word," you muttered.

"You should think less about your stupid feelings," Miss Venable sighed, turning away from you again.

"They've only got you in trouble so far if you ask me."

You pressed your lips together and had to suppress an angry comment, that would only confirm her accusation. Your eyes stared at her back again. The red curls of her long hair had slipped behind her shoulders and were now curling on her back. You would have loved to stretch out your hand to touch it. You would have loved to curl up in her arms to feel safe for the first time in over a year. You wanted to kiss her. Or at least hold her hand. Anything. Just a little bit of their affection would have been enough and you would have been happy. It probably all sounds kind of selfish, because she fucked you a few minutes ago. The whole thing just wasn't particularly loving. You felt like a disgusting animal and now you wanted her to show you, you weren't. Miss Venable was only a few inches away from you and all you had to do was hold out your hand and you would feel her warmth. But while it was actually only a few centimeters, you realized, that there were worlds between you and this woman and that she was probably never further away from you than at this moment.

You and I, we just glide

Through the night

We just drive, we get by

We just glide

Maybe we're just fooling in foolish imagination

Got no destination in sight

You and I, we get by

We just glide

-------------------------

Wilhemina Venable had a great talent at pretending everything was fine.

As if nothing happened. Nothing had changed in the days after that night.

Since Michael Langdon was at the Outpost, she avoided private contact with you and the fact, that you had shared a bed didn't change that. In addition, she was just as disgusting to you in front of the others as always and that was nothing new either. And while Wilhemina no longer seemed to care about what had happened between you two, at the same time it almost killed you.

You actually expected, that she would want to talk to you about it again, but nothing had happened and that made you angry. Miss Venable would always deny it, but she was the only one who cared about you. And you appreciated her weird way of paying attention to you so much.

The only problem was, you couldn't even begin to imagine, what was going on in her head. While you were acting like a lovesick teenager, the only thing you saw of her was her deadly serious face.

Oh and Miss Venable was right, you were a fucking emotional mess. Since you woke up the next morning in her empty bed, you have cried a lot again and spent a lot of time in your room, but this time Miss Venable would probably not come to offer you alcohol as medication.

It was the afternoon of any day and you were sitting on the floor, leaning against your bed. In one hand you held a pair of scissors, while in the other you held the skirt of your dress. You were still not used to wearing long skirts after so many months and you still kept poking around at yourself, when walking through the outpost, so you decided to cut your skirts short. Of course you knew, that Wilhemina would probably kill you, if she saw you, breaking her sacred dress code, but fuck Wilhemina. At least you could finally walk properly again.

The triple knock on your door made you look up from your work and you got up to go to the door. You probably should have known it was Miss Venable who knocked. Who else has been interested in you, in the past few months?

"We need to talk," said the red-haired woman firmly, without looking at you.

You just nodded and stepped out of the door frame to make room for her.

For a brief moment you were afraid, that Miss Venable would get angry about the dress, that was lying shortened on the floor next to the scissors, but she just ignored it and stood across from you.

"Well, Miss Y / L / N, I'm just here to ugh- "

Miss Venable was interrupted by you when you, you stupid idiot, reached for her face to angrily press your lips against hers. The kiss only lasted a second in total, because Miss Venable immediately pushed you away from her and the next thing you felt was her hand lashing angrily against your right cheek. A horrified gasp escaped your lips and you looked at Wilhemina in horror as you rubbed your cheek.

"If you do that again, I'll kill you," the redhead growled, glaring at you angrily.

You looked at her hurt and felt tears start to sting in your eyes.

"M'sorry," you muttered.

"Oh of course you are," hissed Miss Venable.

"What the hell were you thinking of?"

"I just- I don't know," you stuttered desperately.

"I think I love you".

Miss Venable's eyes narrowed and she looked like she was going to punch you again.

"This is not love, this is despair, you stupid thing."

"Despair?" You breathed in horror.

"How else would you describe your behavior?" She spat and angrily started knocking her stick on the floor.

"I mean, look at you. You are a total mess. Either you cry in your room all day or you are angry at everything and everyone. You are the only person, who ruins her clothes. You are the one which most often breaks my rules, just because you are too unable to deal with your feelings. You know, everyone can handle what happened, except you, because you are so damn selfish. But you have to wake up.. Do you think, that was what I wanted, when you cried into my bed a few days ago? Oh no. And I know that, was my fault too. You know, everything what I want, is that you obey my rules, but that seems to be too much for your incompetent ass ", Wilhemina scolded and angrily knocked her stick on the floor.

"And now you come and say you love me."

She shook her head.

"As I said, this is not love, this is despair. And I don't know what kind of answer you were hoping for, from me, but let me be clear: In my opinion, of all the residents of the Outpost, you are the most pathetic and I hate you, I really do and you're sick if you even thought it would be different. "

You stared at her in shock. The feeling, that rose in you at that moment was indescribable. A mixture of disgust, shame and anger. But also the feeling of betrayal. And you couldn't say who these feelings were for, for you or for Wilhemina.

"Y-you hate me?" You stuttered, wiping the back of your hand over your cheek to remove your tears.

"I hate everyone in this outpost, that includes you too," hissed Miss Venable.

You shook your head in disbelief.

"I don't believe you," you whispered.

"I still believe, that you are scared and that is why you act like that."

"Mister Langdon will interview you tomorrow," said Miss Venable without responding to your comment.

"If you tell him anything about what happened a few days ago, I promise you will wish you were never born. With your condition, you probably won't be in the sanctuary anyway, but I will don't let me spoil this opportunity from you. Do you understand me? "

You shook your head.

"I don't understand what your problem is suddenly ... I asked you that evening if I should go and you said no."

"The whole thing was a mistake, nothing more", Miss Venable growled quietly and stepped past you to go to your door.

"I hate you and you hate me, that's all that's between us, you understand?"

You wanted to say something, but you decided not to, it didn't make any sense anyway.

"I understand," you said softly.

"Good," replied Miss Venable before turning and walking out of your room.

You stared after her sadly. Of course you didn't understand why she was suddenly so mad at you, but how could you? Miss Venable had wanted to end whatever was between you, so that she would not feel guilty if you were to be murdered by her in a few days. She had never meant to offend you, but she had to make it clear to herself, that she didn't love you. She just couldn't love you.

Show me freedom

'Cause love don't cost a thing

Give me freedom

Yeah don't just let me leave

--------------------

"Miss Y / L / N", Mister Langdon barked and slapped the table with the palm of his hand. You winced and looked disturbed into the blond man's eyes.

"I asked you something".

He leaned down to you and his face was only a few inches from yours.

"Are you in love?"

You swallowed and blinked a few times, before you whispered softly:

"I am not."

The man leaned back and looked at you thoughtfully for a few seconds.

"Well, Miss Y / L / N," he finally sighed.

"You can go."

Without looking at the man again, you got up to run out of the room. You tripped and if you hadn't held onto the wall next to the door, you would have fallen. For a moment you leaned against the wall with your eyes closed and took a deep breath.

This man was disgusting and a little too intimate for your taste, no wonder, that no one liked him.

You opened your eyes again and realized, that Miss Venable was staring down at you as she leaned against the railing.

Your eyes were lost in hers, her almost black eyes in which the light of the torches is always reflected. You wanted to say something, but you were afraid, that she would leave and you didn't want that. Miss Venable had put on her indifferent expression as always and, as always, you did not know what was going on inside the woman.

Your lips formed a mute "fuck you" when you saw her turn away from you to move. And the faint tapping of her cane proved to you, that she was indeed leaving and you knew that she would not come back.

Maybe we're just fooling in foolish imagination

Got no destination in sight

You and I, we get by

We just glide

#wilhemina venable x reader #wilhemina venable imagine #wilhemina venable #sarah paulson x reader #sarah paulson imagine #american horror story

104 notes · View notes

jeogiyall · 4 years ago

Text

Growing Pains; Song Mingi

Word count; 21.5k

Genre; Mingi X Reader, Hongjoong X Reader, Childhood Best Friends to Lovers, College AU, Angst, Fluff but Barely

Request: “ hey can I please request a college au with #11 and #17 with mingi from ateez! can it also be long and really angsty but with a comforting ending?? love your work by the way ❤ “

Additional; Featured Ateez, Rebound Hongjoong

Warnings; General Angst, Depicts Depression, Honestly Just Really Sad lol

A/N; this took me so freaking long to write, i’m really sorry to whoever requested it dhkdsfsdaf!! i hope you enjoy it! i haven’t been to college yet so this is all based off of books i’ve read or stories that i’ve been told. if anything is inaccurate i’m sorry, i’ll be learning about really soon lol. if you you like this fic please leave a like or some kind words! love you all, happy reading!

It was a summer day when the local neighborhood bullies pushed you off of your barbie themed bike for the umpteenth time. You remember scraping your knee, dropping your strawberry ice cream cone, then seeing the older boys approach you with malicious grins. But before they could fully reach you there was someone else, someone with limbs that were a bit too long and knees that were raw like yours. Any other day you would’ve found it unbelievably embarrassing that this bozo thinks he can handle this situation any better than you. As if you haven’t been handling this for years.

But with him it was different. He somehow scared off the crude boys, then offered his hand to hoist you from the pavement while looking sadly at your discarded ice cream cone.

“I’m sorry about your ice cream.” You remember his voice being creaky, like it was always about to break (which it did, frequently,) “I’ll make you some whenever it snows! Th-that’s the only way that I know how to make it, but it’s really good I promise!” He was excited, almost like a puppy. Some part of you thought that it was cute, the bigger part knew he was probably just pitying you. Pitying you the same way that everyone does when you tell them of your constant bullying, only to forget about it in a week and leave you to the wolves.

“Oh it’s okay, um…”

“Mingi.”

“Mingi!” You repeated the syllables, allowing their taste to form on your tongue. It’s sweet, like an orange soda and going to bed too late, “It’s okay Mingi, you don’t have to pretend like it matters.” Where you thought that his features would fade into relief they pull taught with sadness. He almost looked offended.

“You’re (Y/n,) right?” You nod shortly, eyes welling with tears for no apparent reason, “I-I’m not pretending. It matters.” Something about the way he gazes at you makes you think he’s been wanting to say that for a long time.

“N-not really, they’re just mean sometimes. Besides, even if it did matter no one can stop it. No one’s ever stopped it.” It felt like you’d crossed a line. Cut the cake before you were supposed to, put out words you were meant to swallow down. Tears were really about to start falling, until Mingi took your skinned palms into his own larger ones. The clench of familiarity in your chest is enough to snuff out the stinging.

“I’ll stop it. I’ll do everything in my power to stop it.” He rubbed his thumb over the top of your hand, and it felt so nice. The gentle touch of someone who could be a friend. The notion that someone wanted you. It felt so nice and foreign and familiar all at once. So you nodded.

“Okay.” He squeezed your hand excitedly then surged forward, but stopped just before his arms could take home on your shoulders. You notice that he smells nice, like oranges and cinnamon.

“Can I hug you?” And just like that he’s made his way into the walls that you’ve already managed to build up.

“Okay.”

The boy holds true to his promise when two weeks later the boys approach you in the hallway, all cheery smiles and cold eyes. It’s a common exchange, they show up and tell you that you look nice today or some other fake compliment before demanding that you give them all of your lunch money. Which sounds stupid, until it’s two in the afternoon and you haven’t eaten all day and you won’t get to for another half hour.

But before anything can happen, Mingi is at your side and talking about his advanced math class. You watch as the boys slowly disperse at your friends silly rambling until it’s just the two of you. A deep breath floods your lungs as he softly punches your bicep in a way that’s starting to feel normal.

“Told you so. Do you want to come over for ice cream after school?” It’s silly how the words fill you with warmth, but you don’t even care. Because what you have here is so secure, and you know that it always will be.

And it always is. Mingi’s friendship is solid throughout your entire life, even when you started high school and nearly everything was shaky. Even when he grew out of the awkward limbs and squeaky voice, and all of the girls at your school wanted his attention. Day after day, Mingi would reject their proposals with a simple “I’m busy,” when the truth of the matter was that he would be sitting with you. Alone. In his basement, watching Star Wars on VHS tapes while eating strawberry ice cream and popcorn.

You remember turning to him one night, eyes drinking in the sight of his side profile illuminated by an exploding death star. He smiled widely, clapping his hands the way that he always does at that part. A deep sigh resounded through your chest, causing the boy to look at you with furrowed brows. For what must have been the millionth time, your eyes locked with his. Words weren’t even necessary for comfort.

“Why did you want to be friends with me? No one has ever cared about me too much, so why did you? I didn’t have anyone, why did you want to be my someone?” Your question sounds small, voice wavering gently.

“Maybe I needed someone too.” The response was so quick. Like he had pondered it before. As if he knew every doubt that you were having, and knew that you didn’t need to have them.

From that night on, Mingi was more than your best friend. More than someone who you spent everyday with. No, he became your partner in almost everything. He took you to the school dance, stood beside you at every sports game, spent long nights trying to decipher math problems. No one was surprised when you two started applying to the same colleges, you weren’t even sure that you’d survive living without him. Judging by the pattering of his heart each time you entered a room, Mingi thought so too.

Over the years of close proximity and healthy doses of codependency, Mingi’s feelings towards you had progressed slightly past friendship. Not that he didn’t still think of you in that way, obviously. It’s just that whenever you fell asleep on his chest halfway through star wars marathons he’d have to will his heart to beat a tiny bit slower, or when his family brought you along to the beach he had to remind himself that it was rude to stare. The shift in his feelings started about three months into your sophomore year together, while stuffing your face with greasy fast food burgers after a wildly unimpressive football game. Neither of you ever cared about school sports too much, yet you were present every single week. When Mingi asked why, you claimed it was to get him out of the house. He’s pretty sure it was so that you’d have an excuse to get burgers afterwards, though.

The boy distinctly remembers looking up over his boat of fries to see you with full cheeks, one strand of hair sticking to your slightly sweaty forehead. He remembers the bustling sounds of the diner going silent as his eyes drank in the sight of you for what felt like the first time ever. He remembers thinking that he wouldn’t know how to live life if it weren’t for you. Thinking that life wouldn’t be worth living if it weren’t for you.

“What?” You had questioned, nearly spitting out bits of cheeseburger onto your friends fries. If Mingi wasn’t so infatuated in that moment, he would have been disgusted.

“You’re gross.” He laughed, one hand moving to nudge your shoulder. From that moment on, Mingi thought of you as just a little bit more than a friend. Just a little bit more than a movie marathon partner, just a little bit more than someone to spend late nights with. A little bit more than someone who helped move you into a college dorm, too.

“Who on this forsaken earth thought that loft beds were a good idea?” You heave, flinging yourself onto the elevated mattress. It’s far from comfortable, and you’ve had to carry countless boxes up two flights of stairs due to the lack of an elevator, and the hallway smells distinctly of burnt microwave popcorn, but you have never in your life felt more free. High school was absolute torture, and while you did have Mingi to lean on you were still terribly lonely for those four years. Every other girl had a group to sit with, or someone to drag along to the bathroom with them in the middle of class. Having only one friend typically meant having absolutely no classes with them.

But you’re here now, hundreds of miles away from the tattered building where you used to go to school. The only person on the entire campus that even knows your name at this point is Mingi, which in turn means he’s the only person that knows about your habit of loneliness. You intend to keep it that way, too. Every shy kid hears it from their parents, ‘College will be so good for you,’ ‘You’re really gonna come out of your shell in college,’ but those words meant more to you than an empty promise. In the last few months when you were so terribly lonely that all you had was Mingi and writing until your fingertips fell off, those words were your lifeline.

“Probably someone that didn’t get enough hugs as a kid.” Your friend responds while dropping the final box, which is filled with nothing but fuzzy sock, onto the pile that’s accumulating on the desk that’s squeezed under your cursed bed, “Looks like the last of it.” You nod, cheek brushing gently against the uncovered mattress. It creaks loudly when you shift, which is something you’re sure that you’ll never get used to.

“Are you sure that you don’t want help unpacking?” You barely look up while asking the question, nuzzling even closer into the awful bed. It takes a certain level of shamelessness to sleep on a fully uncovered mattress while a random stranger could walk in and drop all of their stuff on the floor, but you swear to the stars that you’re about there. Mingi appears to be the same way, taking to resting against your yet-to-arrive roommates desk.

“Yea I’m sure, my roommate’s this absolute giant, Yunho I think? He promised to help, so I’m all good.” A hollow laugh leaves your throat, aching with sleepiness. Mingi’s eyes soften ever so slightly before casting to your dirty tile floor.

“Sounds nice.” There’s a nod, then a groan, then shuffling on everyone's part before Mingi is standing in your doorway and casting a soft gaze to your sleepy form.

“I’ll see you at dinner tonight.” A low humph resounds as your answer, but Mingi knows there’s no weight. You’re going to lay on that loft bed, sleeping like a rock until someone bothers to wake you up.

The someone just so happens to be Mingi, five hours later in a fresh hoodie that has your universities name embroidered across the chest. First you notice the perfectly made bed across the room, then the lack of another girl, then the scrent of oranges mixed with cinnamon, then finally Mingi nudging your shoulder from the ground while holding a Styrofoam bowl of hot food.

“D-did I miss dinner?” Your eyes squint harshly, the way they always do when someone’s just woken you up.

“Yea.”

“Sorry.” Mingis heart clenches tightly at your slurred speech, then again at your fluttering eyelids.

“S’okay, I brought you food.” His voice sounds warm, low. Like the Mingi that you’ve always known. You sit up and accept the to go bowl he’s passing up before patting the empty spot next to you. Within seconds the boy is next to you and offering utensils along with his arm around your shoulder, “It’s ramen.”

“Really?” The boy nods, fluffy brown hair falling onto his forehead as you excitedly rip the lid off. The smell of spicy ramen wafts through your otherwise empty dorm, and while it’s not the same as what Mingis mom would make from scratch on Winter days it still fills your belly with an immeasurable warmth, “Have I ever mentioned that you’re my favorite person?” Your shoulders relax thanks to a mouthful of slick curly noodles, Mingi can feel each individual muscle give way beneath his touch.

“Once or twice.”

The two of you spend that night curled up on your bed sharing bites of the warm soup, and even once it’s done and the bowl is disposed of it still feels like old times. His arm is resting around you, the conversation is happening effortlessly, laughter is bouncing from every last tile. It doesn’t exactly fit in with your ‘new school, new me’ narrative, but that’s okay. You can always spend one night in comfort seeing as the following nights will be spent doing thousands of things out of your comfort zone.

When the time comes for him to walk back to his own dorm building, it’s well past dark outside, your clock ticking dangerously close to midnight from its perch on the (useless) nightstand. The boy hugs you in the doorway, making you pinky promise to not sleep through lunch tomorrow.

“I won’t, I promise! Please don’t tell me that I left you sitting alone!” He exhales a short laugh at your furrowing eyebrows, his hand taking home on your shoulder in an attempt to squeeze out your tension.

“Not at all, Yunho has like a ton of friends. They’re funny, too.”

“Really?” Mingi squeezes your shoulder one last before nodding.

“Really.”

He walks home in silence, the beginnings of an Autumn breeze kissing his cheeks. Upon arriving at the dorm Yunho spins around in his desk chair, smirking at the younger boy as if he knows something that Mingi doesn’t.

“Where’d you go after dinner? We were gonna invite you to Wooyoung and Sans apartment.” Yunho leans back in the chair, it’s legs teetering precariously in a way that would debilitate elementary teachers.

“Oh, thanks! Maybe next time, I had to check on a friend.” Yunho quirks an eyebrow as Mingi begins to climb into his bed, kicking his shoes off at the base of the wobbly ladder.

“A girlfriend?” The question should be shocking, Yunho doesn’t even know that you exist for crying out loud, but he is so used to it. After being your best friend and caring for you as deeply as he does, he is so used to it.

“Nope, why do you ask.” The older boy simply shrugs, grounding his chair and picking up a stubby pencil.

“Just an inkling. Lots of girls came up to you in line, you seemed less than interested.” Mingi ponders his response, because what do you even say to that? He doesn’t have a girlfriend, he’s not interested in anyone, he only has you to worry about. You, with your laugh that defines his childhood. You, with eyes that shoot wide anytime you’re worried about accidentally offending someone. You, who wants to make a new person in the coming year; and you, who Mingi wants to convince that you don’t have to change.

“Nope, she’s just a friend.” He decides, the words falling flat in the cramped room.

“Whatever you say.”

Mingi lays sleeplessly in his bed for hours, his head pounding with the thought of how hard your connection with him is becoming. He loves you in more ways than one, but he doesn’t love the ache in his chest whenever he has to leave you. He doesn’t love that way that the weight of your touch haunts him for days, when for you it’s probably just something easy and meaningless. He doesn’t love being less to you than you are to him.

But he does love you, in a way that’s impenetrable and everlasting. That alone is almost enough to make everything worthwhile. Almost.

It turns out the whole ‘new school new me’ thing is much harder than you previously anticipated. Naïve senior you thought that maybe you could meet new people through your roommate, but that didn’t exactly work out. It’s been two weeks and all you know about her is that she’s a junior, and that she really doesn’t want to be staying in a dorm.

So, that’s obviously not going the way that you’d hoped. There is another person though, and he’s been a great help in meeting new people. He is a roommate, ironically enough. Just not your own.

Jeong Yunho, sophomore, fading blue hair, cheeks that look like freshly baked bread, brown eyes that sparkle a little bit when you ask about his major (biology, which is something that you know far too much about after a brief stop by Mingis dorm,) and a head that hits damn near every doorway it passes through. He has to duck to get into the cafeteria. But he’s sweet, like the guy who you could ask for help with homework. And he has so many friends, who are all terribly boisterous, that just eating lunch is like going out of your comfort zone.

Which is enough for you, but apparently not Mingi.

It’s a classic Friday night marathon, you already cuddled up on your bed with Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire pulled up on your laptop. The only thing left to accomplish is getting Mingi next to you and watching the movies, but that doesn’t seem to be the plan that your friend has. When he opens the door to your dorm you immediately notice the lack of Harry Potter pajama pants and popcorn. Instead he’s opted for movie night chic, with jeans that have something written on the left thigh and a white t-shirt that hangs off his lithe torso. His caramel brown hair is pushed back in a way that you’re not used to seeing, but it looks good. Attractive, even. There’s something about seeing him all dressed up and handsome while you’re in measly shorts and a platform 9 3/4 t-shirt that makes your cheeks go hot.

“I didn’t tell you before because I knew that you would say no, but Hongjoong and Seonghwa are having a party tonight and we’re going. Surprise!” Your mouth drops open at Mingi’s form of greeting. Before you can even process what’s been said he’s shaking the rail of your loft bed and chanting ‘Get up! Get up!’

“What about Harry Potter night?” You question dumbly while shimmying down your ladder. Obviously Harry Potter night has been discarded in favor of a house party, you don’t need Mingi to say anything to gather that much information, “Seonghwa is okay with a party in their apartment?” Mingi laughs gently, a soft shake of his shoulders and glittering eyes. It’s the only familiar thing about your interaction thus far.

“The boys said that it’ll hardly be a party, probably too few people and too many wine coolers. Maybe some jazz, Seonghwa’s pretentious like that y’know?” He opens your closet door for you and starts to wrack through the few dresses in the very back. You’d never had much of a reason to buy any dresses.

“Believe me, I know.” Seonghwa was one of the first of Yunho’s friends that you’d met, and while he wasn’t an ass about it he was definitely a little pretentious. It’s probably hard to be an art major for three years and not be pretentious, “Do I have to wear a dress?”

“You don’t have to, but-”

Long story short, you find yourself sitting on a suede couch clad in a red plaid mini dress that you only bought for a neighborhood Christmas party in your sophomore year and your one pair of worn leather boots. It’s a tight fitting thing, meant to be worn over turtlenecks and with tights, but Mingi insisted that it would look good alone. He’s not wrong either, ever since you set foot into the surprisingly swanky off campus housing your lunch mates have been showering you in compliments. It started with Wooyoung wolf whistling and asking for your phone number, then Hongjoong asking if he could’ve complimented you in a way that was any weirder, then San giving you a stemless wine glass and announcing ‘A sparkling cider for the lady,’ in the most offensive British accent you’ve ever heard. It was for sure a strange form of flattery, but flattery nonetheless.

“I’m sorry about Wooyoung, he apparently hasn’t been house trained yet.” Hongjoong jokes while settling you onto his plush, red hair briefly sweeping in front of his attentive brown eyes, “Though we can’t really blame him because of the whole sports medicine thing.” You hear a brief ‘I heard that!’ waft from the kitchen, where Yunho and Seonghwa have gathered the majority of the boys. It makes Hongjoong giggle a little bit, and the sound is so clear and gentle that you find yourself giggling too.

“I guess we can’t.” Your eyes move to take in the living room, which is filled with your lunchmates and some extra people who you don’t know in the slightest. First there’s San, your fellow literature major who just switched from middle school education. Then Yeosang, a quiet sophomore who majors in political science. He usually only talks at lunch to tell his table mates that they sound ridiculous, but every once in a while he'll indulge their antics. Lastly there’s Jongho, the only other freshman in the room with you that you know of. You’ve only just finished your second week but everyone’s already expecting him to be the star student of the music program for the next four years.

Everything about this situation reads anxiety. Mingi is already in a different room, you’ve barely held a conversation with any of these guys before, someone in the corner is definitely getting a little too drunk into a ficus tree in the corner of the room. But you aren’t nervous. A little tense maybe but who wouldn’t be? You certainly aren’t nervous the way that high school you would’ve been nervous.

“He’s not wrong, you know.” Your eyebrows shoot up with a quiet ‘hm?’ behind your lips. It’s mostly because you think you’ve missed something that Hongjoong said.

“Not wrong about what?” He looks at you with his brown eyes and a lopsided grin, and when you look back it feels like he’s asking for permission to unravel you.

“That you look pretty.”

It’s not his words that take you off guard, or how he pinches your cheeks afterwards, or even him getting off of the couch and bouncing into the kitchen like a kid coming down the stairs. Your heart barely announces a flutter, your cheeks barely give way to heat. He was probably tipsy. It’s just that no one has ever noticed you in that way. No one other than Mingi has ever really called you pretty.

So it leaves an impression, to say the least.

Quickly after Hongjoong leaves, San takes his place, Jongho sitting on the floor and nuzzling into the older boy's legs. The three of you talk for hours, Jongho sharing your disdain for grumpy roommates (he says that Yeosang throws pillows at him when he starts practicing) and San for Beowulf. He does mention that your creative writing class is fun, to which you agree. Fun, but ever so stifling for creativity.

It’s a simple kind of conversation, the kind that doesn’t tell anything too personal but still gives insight into the people having it. San throws in a few anecdotes about him and Wooyoung in high school, Jongho shows you a bruise he got from fumbling up the ladder to his loft bed. You even include a few of the controversial star wars opinions that you and Mingi came up with at three in the morning so many years ago. It’s simple, weightless.

When Mingi walks you back to your dorm that night he pauses outside of the door, one hand brushing a stray strand of hair away from your eyes.

“Hongjoong asked me about you.” He says, a smile playing onto his lips. Something about the way that it doesn’t fully reach his brown eyes makes it seem sad.

“Really?” The memory of Hongjoongs hands on your face, his cute voice burning the words ‘you look pretty’ into the back of your mind, “W-What did he ask?”

“Just basic stuff. How long we’ve known each other, your major...” He wants to add ‘whether or not we’re dating,’ because that’s the question that struck him the most. Mingi doesn’t know Hongjoong too well, but he knows that the older boy is sweet and respectable. If Mingi explained all of this mess to him, Hongjoong probably wouldn’t think twice, just go about his day and be friendly as always. But Mingi didn’t explain it, he said that you guys are just friends and that it’s never been anything more than that. Hongjoong smiled in a way that made Mingi’s chest ache and thanked him before bouncing off to entertain Seonghwa. He remembers feeling taken aback, then like he should go talk to the pretty girl that’s been eyeing him in calculus, “I can’t do movie night next week. I-I have a date.”

And it’s something about those words that manages to crawl into your body and find a home in your heart, then pump throughout your entire bloodstream. You shouldn’t be upset. You have no reason to be upset. Mingi is your best friend, and you were stuttering about Hongjoong mere seconds ago, and you shouldn’t be upset right now.

“Oh, okay... Just don’t forget about me.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but Mingi looks at you like you’re the moon. With care glimmering in his irises and adoration adorning the glow of his cheeks. You think to yourself that there’s something special in the air, then that you shouldn’t be upset.

You have no reason to be upset.

“I couldn’t if I tried.”

The next time that you see Mingi is at lunch on Monday, but he doesn’t take his normal seat next to you. He can’t when you’re already sandwiched between Jongho and San, who are talking in intense detail about their terrible morning classes. Sometimes you can join in, seeing as you and San share classes, but for the most part they just banter. Hongjoong is taking up the seat in front of you, his chin resting on his palm while he nods attentively to everything the younger boys are saying. He reminds Jongho that he needs to be getting sleep, and that life doesn’t happen in practice rooms. He tells San to eat his food whenever the boy gets a little bit too excited. He even asks about your day, to which you respond with something simple and lame. When you mention being tired he gives you the rest of his coffee.

Mingi comes to the table nearly twelve minutes after you do, and it’s not really a big deal that he can’t take his usual seat. There’s a chair between Wooyoung and Yunho at the end of the table, which is perfectly fine. The two of you know each other well enough that a simple look can be translated to ‘It’s okay, we’ll see each other later.’ Which is perfectly fine. You both have a lunch that is perfectly fine.

The week continues on like that, though. Missing each other by a hair's breadth. On Wednesday his intro to statistical methods test goes so late that he misses your scheduled coffee run, then when you tried to surprise him in his dorm later that night, Yunho had to inform you that he was holed up in the library with some of the people in his calculus class (Yunho let you come in and made hot chocolate in the Keurig, so overall the night wasn’t too bad.) Then on Thursday you skipped lunch, opting instead to finish the assigned Beowulf reading at the last possible minute. You hated every minute of it, but not as much as you would’ve hated failing your second ever quiz. San sent you a picture of himself and Hongjoong pouting around your empty chair and Mingi in the background laughing at something that Wooyoung had done to Seonghwa.

Friday night feels more lonely than you had expected. Your bed is empty without the taller boy sitting in it beside you. The movie gets cut off halfway through when your roommate stumbles in and announces that she’s going to sleep, which is the most she’s ever said to you at one time. You turn off your laptop and fall into the uncomfortable bed that you’re slowly getting used to. This is okay. You remind yourself that you shouldn’t be upset and that this is okay.

Right as sleep is about to wash over the room your phone lights up with a message from Mingi. It’s a picture of his hand cradling the chin of a golden retriever puppy, and beneath he’s written ‘we found these dogs in the courtyard. sleep well :)’

After reading the message three times over and staring at the image for ten minutes you start to believe your words. This is okay.

You shouldn’t be upset and this is okay.

Your high school had three classes per semester then one free period for a study hall. Mingi would always make this huge deal out of lining up your study halls, claiming that he needed help with his English classes. In reality you were the person that needed help with classes, namely math and science, but he’d always insist that it was because of whatever book he had for assigned reading in the upcoming class.

There was this one semester, though, where you had four classes. Anatomy, geometry, personal finance, and then your absolute saving grace. Creative writing.

It was a true blessing, honestly. Since every other class was absolute torture, and you didn’t really have any Mingi time to take the edge off of your day, that class was your favorite part of nearly every day. You would kind of use it as an escape, just sit in the isolated corner desk, tap the toe of your then fresh leather boots, and write about any and everything that came to mind. The teacher liked one of your stories so much that he framed it.

Seeing as that was your only experience when you saw ‘Introduction To Creative Writing’ on your schedule you were ecstatic. You thought that you’d just get to sit and write anything that you wanted. Needless to say, it is nothing at all like your high school class. The teacher speaks too quickly and assigns nearly a million readings. He waited four weeks to let the students do any actual writing, a fact that San was most grateful for. You, however, were dying.

You think the assignment is kind of stupid, too. Focus on a setting, no characters. Just the setting. It took a while for you to get it just right, but after about a week of staying up past midnight you wrote something that was actually good enough to read. It was nearly two pages about Florence Italy, going in depth about the winding roads. You commented that they were the kind of streets that lent way to deep discussion. The kind that begged for secrets to be shared.

All in all, you were quite proud of it. You even considered showing it to Mingi, until it came back with a bright red C sketched on the front. It was covered top to bottom in red ink markings, none of which were comments about your grammar. No, these notes were personal. This sentence is lifeless. Your tone shift is unnecessary. I’m not sure that this is actually in Italy.

San asked about your grade on the way to your European literature class that day, right as you’re reading over the harshest note of them all. He says that he got an A minus, which makes perfect sense. San isn’t lifeless, he doesn’t do unnecessary things.

“My grade is fine.” You choke out, eyes endlessly tracing over the red notation.

‘This feels lonely.’

In a way, you suppose that it is.

“So you did this every single Friday night?” Yunho questions while sandwiching his way onto Mingi’s bed. It would probably be normal to be upset that your movie is being infiltrated by your friends roommate and Hongjoong, but you’re just so grateful for the movie night to actually happen that it doesn’t matter.

“Sounds about right.” You’re about to comment that you’ve skipped the past two weeks, but the words twinge with resentment right as they’re about to come out. So you swallow them down while scooching into Mingi’s side. Hongjoong immediately fills the new space beside you, his hands occupied with fuzzy blankets that have various patterns. One has corgi’s and hearts printed from corner to corner.

“I don’t know if that’s lame or endearing.” The older boy comments while spreading the blanket you’d been eyeing across your lap. Yunho laughs while taking in a mouthful of microwave popcorn, and you think to yourself that this isn’t so bad. Having a movie night with more people than usual is better than having none at all. There’s more snacks and extra blankets now, so you don’t have to burrow into Mingi’s comforter halfway through and tangle your legs together. Because you’ve never wanted to do that before, it just happened out of habit and necessity. Definitely habit and necessity. Definitely.

There’s also not much difference in the essence of movie night. Someone still interrupts serious scenes to crack a joke, you still tell Mingi that he’s breathing too loud, by the time the credits are rolling you still find grease stains on the underside of Mingis comforter. It’s from all of the years of him using the plush blanket in place of a napkin, and the years of you telling him that he’s going to stain it.

Mingi walks you back to your dorm that night. When he stops in front of the door and lets out a deep exhale it almost feels like you haven’t skipped the past two weeks. It almost feels normal.

“I’m glad that at least one of us has a cool roommate.” He comments idly, eyes raking over your growing smile.

“With cool friends.” There’s a gentle laugh, and you’re not exactly sure why. Nothing is funny, just familiar. Maybe a bit tense, though you suppose you don’t know the reason for that either.

“Yea. Cool friends.” Mingis feet shuffle, brown hair flopping onto the bridge of his nose as his gaze takes purchase on the floor. He smells like oranges and cinnamon. He always has. You think that he looks nice like this, with the flickering hall lights illuminating his face. This is probably what Mingi was always meant to look like. Real, and handsome, and grown, “I think we should switch movie nights to once a month.”

And if this whole thing was a little tense before, like an ornament hanging on by it’s hook around one green needle from a Christmas tree, it’s worse now. It’s broken shards of glass all over your living room floor, willing and ready to pierce your foot and stain the carpet. It’s the gaping hole in your Christmas tree. It’s your mom's favorite Santa no longer having a head.

“O-oh... Once a month?” Mingi nods gently. It almost looks like he doesn’t want to be nodding, but he is. He is, and it’s pulling your heartstrings like an orchestra.

“Yea, I just figured that’d be easier since we’re so busy. Y’know, with classes and friends...” You wonder if he’s going to say something else. Like dates with girls from his calculus class. He never does, but you can feel it.

“I know, I-I’m like... Super busy with all of my f-friends.” A heartless laugh leaves you, and Mingi replies with a smile that doesn’t quite crinkle his eyes, “But yea. Once a month, once a month. Once a month totally works for me.” He takes a step towards you.

“Look, (y/n-)” You think that he’s about to comfort you, which of course would be welcome. Comfort from your very best friend is always welcome. It’s just that a small part of you is worried that he’s going to take it back. You’re worried that he’s going to tell you that it’s whatever and you can have movie night every week until you die and that he’s going to live life in college dragged down by your stupid, lonely self. You’re worried that he’s going to drop it, and that you’ll never live it down.

“It’s fine, I’ll see you tomorrow at lunch, yea?” Before the boy can even fully nod, which makes you sick to your stomach for no apparent reason, you’re scrambling desperately for the doorknob to your dorm. You think that you may hear him say goodbye, or wait, or something. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Everything matters. You just want to be inside.

When you get inside your roommate is sitting on her bed with earbuds in, though they don’t appear to be playing anything. She looks at you with furrowed eyebrows, and you can’t really blame her. In the rush to get away from Mingi you probably ended up looking a bit frazzled.

“Um... Are you okay?” She questions, her mouth making a perfect circle. You nod fervently while bringing your palms up to pull at your cheeks. They’re wet. You’re not sure when they turned wet.

“I’m fine. It’s okay.”

Sometimes you say something so many times that it doesn’t sound real anymore. I’m okay, this is okay. I’m okay, this is okay, This is okay, this is okay. Okay, okay, okay...

If your roommate hears you sniffling and shaking while alone in bed that night, she makes no comment. It’s the first thing she’s given you to be grateful about all year.

One of your biggest concerns before starting college was walking to classes alone. All throughout high school Mingi would walk with you across the tiny campus, somehow managing to drown out the crowded hallways with laughter and tips for quizzes. When you were taking discrete mathematics he’d walk backwards down the hallway while showing you flashcards.

Obviously you knew that wouldn’t be feasible in college. You might not have known many things before coming here, but you knew that vastly different majors would lead to vastly different classes. You knew that Mingi wasn’t going to wake up at eight am every Wednesday to walk you to your lectures. Knowing didn’t seem to make the actual act of it any easier in your brain.

But after just one week you started to look forward to the trek to your classes. At first it was because you could listen to the assigned readings in the amount of time it took you to get from your door to your desk, however that hasn’t been necessary since your social calendar became suddenly clear. You just do the readings at night in your loft bed, which hasn’t gotten any comfier, then use the walk as a time to relax. To think without impositions, even though they’d find their way to you most mornings.

Today your imposition is dressed in jeans with painting above the knee and a sweater that’s too big, tufts of red hair sticking out from beneath his black beanie.

“What are you doing out so early?” Hongjoong asks while jogging to take up the spot next to you, pulling on the strap of your bookbag as he arrives. When you fully look at his face you can see a dusting of pink across his nose. You think it’s from the light fall wind.

“I could ask the same thing of you.” You think that he looks pretty like this, with inklings of the rising sun taking purchase on his face. You almost think that anyone would look pretty like this.

“I’m out for a walk. Also grabbing muffins from the campus cafe, we’re out of food and Seonghwa’s mgonna be hungry.” His voice sounds groggy with sleep, like maybe he hasn’t been awake long. The notion conjures an image in your head of Hongjoong detangling himself from bed and trekking out to campus all so that his friend would surely have something to eat. It makes this whole exchange just a little bit easier, “Your turn.”

“I have an eight am class.” The boys eyebrows knit together as he looks at his darkened phone screen.

“It’s seven fifteen.”

“... I don’t like my roommate?” At that wimpy explanation he laughs, a gentle laugh that was made for morning, then hooks his arm through your own. The weight is something that you’ll have to grow used to.

“You kids are gonna drive me insane, I swear it.” His free hand pinches your cheek which is growing increasingly warmer. You hope that you two will continue walking like this, quiet and unbothered and maybe a little bit childish.

“Hongjoong?” You question as he begins to pull you down a brick paved road that you’ve yet to travel.

“Hm?” He answers like nothing about this is strange.

“My class is the other way.” The boy giggles at your concern, wanting to reach out and run his thumb over the crease in between your eyebrows. Something about your demeanor, which isn’t far off from a stray kitten, clues him in that you wouldn’t respond well.

“We’re taking a detour.”

“If you don’t tell me where we’re going I’ll pull out my pepper spray.” This sentiment is the first thing all morning that’s made him stop in his tracks, casting a puzzled look to your bulky bookbag.

“Do you actually have pepper spray in there?” You can feel a smile edging on your lips as your eyes click with his, and while you know that he’s not giving you butterflies or sparks it does feel like something. Like the first gulp of soup on a cold day, or the sound of orange leaves crunching beneath your sneakers.

“Tell me where we’re going and you won’t have to find out.” Obviously, you don’t have any. It’s been in your cart on Amazon for forever but you’re not one hundred percent sure about how to order things to a dorm, and you figure that your first package shouldn’t be a literal weapon.

“We’re getting coffee, and you are terrifying.” The comment lights your cheeks with fire as you scurry to catch up with him once again.

“Well you’re the only person that thinks so.” The boy walks so quickly that your feet are nearly going in double time, face puffing with cold air while you speak.

“I doubt that.” You notice that his face is pink again, though you’re not too sure that it’s from the cold this time.

“You’re probably the only person who thinks anything of me.” Hongjoong stutters like he’s going to stop walking again but you tug on his arm once more and he’s back in full swing.

“That’s so not true. Yunho thinks you’re sweet, San says you’re a wonderful writer, Mingi clearly thinks that you’re amazing.” That last statement finds a crawl in your chest and begins to fill your lungs with pink daisies. Amazing. Mingi clearly thinks you’re amazing.

“Sure.” You answer with twiddly fingertips and a thumping heart. Luckily you’re standing in front of the campus cafe before you can think too hard on it.

Hongjoong orders two salted caramel hot chocolates, a black coffee, and three blueberry muffins. When you asked why he didn’t get you a coffee as promised he told you that the coffee here is ass and Seonghwa only drinks it because he’s starved for energy. You don’t have the heart to tell him that the frappuccino you order has so much cream and sugary syrups in it that you could barely even call it coffee, and it tastes pretty darn good. It’s not a big deal. Hot chocolate is good too.

“This is really good.” You offer later while walking through the campus quad. There’s not many people out this early, just a girl you’ve seen in your lecture once or twice and two boys playing checkers on the grass. Hongjoong keeps stepping on the crunchy orange leaves then smiling like a little kid. It makes you think that he’s growing on you, then that you thought that you’d be doing this kind of stuff with Mingi.

You don’t really know why you can’t let yourself enjoy this. You’re in the quad with Hongjoong, waiting out the clock until your class starts, and this precious sweet boy is playing in the fall leaves. This should be a perfect morning, but you can’t help feeling sad. Feeling incomplete.

“I know, right?” He answers, bouncing over to you wearing a bright expression, “Now get up pretty girl, we’re playing in the leaves.”

“I have a lecture.” He takes your hot chocolate and places it on the empty seat next to you before slotting his hand into your own. His skin is soft, like blankets fresh out of the dryer.

“And before that you’re going to have some fun, let’s go!” He’s smiling at you expectantly, so what are you supposed to do other than drop your hot chocolate and join him?

Your first impression is that he plays with people in the way that a puppy would play with another puppy. He’s quite fond of kicking up piles of leaves just to see how tall they’ll go, then you kick them up further and he gets flustered. He then proceeds to throw leaves in your face, then picks them out of your hair before you can get mad enough to throw them back. You think that this is a lot of fun, then that your trusty boots make a nice sound when the leaves crunch under them.

There’s this one time when you try to kick up the leaves and your leg slips out from beneath you, which sends you flailing backwards into the leaf pile. Hongjoong rushes over immediately, his face half concerned but mostly lit with laughter. He asks if you’re okay, though it’s through indecipherable wheezing so you can’t really hear him. The boy is laughing so hard that he ends up laying next to you, red hair and sparkling eyes mingling with the orange leaves seamlessly. You think that he looks like a photograph.

If you show up to your lecture ten minutes late and with crushed leaves sprinkled through your hair, no one mentions it.

Movie night with Wooyoung and San is fun. The popcorn is a little bit burnt, courtesy of San, but their couch is far more comfortable and blankets far fuzzier. Sans burning a candle that smells like cookies, and you feel like nothing could be more accurate to him.

“This is nice, I’ve been meaning to rewatch Harry Potter.” Wooyoung comments while sinking in between you and San on the couch. He’s cradling a bowl of slightly browned popcorn and shoving it into his mouth as if there’s nothing wrong.

“Yea, definitely. I like spending nights in.” You’re about to tell them that you considered this a night out, but then you think that’s terribly sad and that you’d sound really lame. So you nod instead.

They’re pleasant movie guests, San makes funny comments every once in a while. Wooyoung starts to fidget about halfway through the first movie so he spends the first portion of the second one making a fresh batch of popcorn. It doesn’t burn this time. Him and San spend almost the entire movie tossing popcorn across the room and into each others mouths. Overall it’s not such a bad night.

When all is said and done and you’re helping them pick up misfire popcorn kernels, the boys get to talking. They ask you what Mingi’s up to that he couldn’t make it to a Friday movie night. You’re going to tell them the truth, that Mingi’s out on a different date with a different girl from a different class. You’re going to tell them, but the words taste so terribly bitter on the way up.

“Um... I’m not sure. Probably homework.” Wooyoung tosses an unpopped kernel so that it hits you square in the forehead. You simply giggle before throwing it into your trash bag.

“We should’ve invited him! Him and Yunho, it could’ve been a whole thing!” San shouts from the kitchen. It makes your skin prick up with goosebumps. Because while you are definitely lonely, and you definitely miss Mingi, you’re not sure that you could handle his response. You’re not sure that you could handle asking Mingi to come to one of your most prized traditions and him saying no. Him saying no because he’s out with another girl and giving her his undivided attention, because that is how he is, and you couldn’t handle hearing him saying no to you. He never used to say no to you.

“I had fun with just you guys, though!” They tackle you in a bear hug, and it feels nice. It really does, it’s just that you still have that nagging feeling in your gut. Like your professor is right. Like you’re alone.

Your next ‘Introduction To Creative Writing’ assignment is about characters. The rubric clearly states that it should just be about the people and nothing else. Points will actually be deducted if you mention a setting.

So you wrote two characters, a boy and a girl. The boy finds the girl too bland so he asks if she’ll share a secret with him. She thinks for a long time while the boy studies her face, and he loves every corner of it. Finally, she leans in to whisper something. You don’t tell the audience what she’s said, but you do tell them that it makes the boy laugh. Then he kisses her cheek and they laugh some more, until time dies out and the stars no longer shine. You liked it from the moment that you started writing it, and by the end it was something that you were genuinely quite proud of.

Apparently pride wasn’t enough to get you a much higher grade. It’s passed back looking exactly like the last one, a bright red C and thousands of red notations. You flip to the rubric in the back to see that everything is marked straight down the middle.

You didn’t mention a setting, but you didn’t make the setting irrelevant.

Your characters didn’t interact with the setting, but they barely interacted with each other.

You included characters, but they were not lively and enjoyable.

And you’re not quite sure why everything you write is so dead. You’re not a person who feels dead, you’re funny and full of life. You have things to say that are important so you write them into stories rather than speaking them out loud. You’re good at this, so why are you getting C’s? Why is an old man with a beard that touches his belly button saying that you aren’t good at this?

When you get back to your dorm you rip the paper to shreds and cry alone in your loft bed. Mingi texts you to ask when you’ll be at dinner, you tell him that you’re too busy with homework. He asks if he should bring you something, but you lie that it’s all covered. You’re not entirely sure that you could handle seeing him right now.

When your roommate comes in she seems a little drunk. She clambers over to her bed then finally looks up to you. It’s not your finest moment, cheeks streaked with mascara and shreds of paper all around you.

“You okay?” She slurs out. You think that it’s a dumb question, because obviously you aren’t, but at least she’s trying. Trying is good.

“I’m fine” Right as the words come out you know that they sound fake, but you don’t know what else to do. Normally when you feel like this Mingi is just a phone call away. Every time you’ve tried to call him in the past week it’s gone to voicemail. When a week has really torn you down like this one you’d always have a movie night to look forward to. Mingi made it clear that he wasn’t too keen on that anymore. You usually have your shoulder to cry on. Now you don’t even think you’ll be able to keep yourself together if you see him.

And it’s hard for a lot of reasons. Because you need Mingi but Mingi doesn’t need you. Because everything feels so wrong unless you’re desperately trying to salvage your longest friendship. Because maybe this friendship meant a little bit more than just that, but you’ve realized entirely too late.

You usually wake up at seven thirty in the morning. It’s not because you want to, or because your roommate is too loud climbing into her bed at night, or because the sun comes into your dorm weirdly. You just go to sleep late, because you can’t force your brain to stop, then wake up early. Because out of all of the things that are going wrong, why wouldn’t you also get less than four hours of sleep every night?

But it’s not all bad. Every other morning you meet Hongjoong in the quad. Sometimes it’s with a book, sometimes with your latest creative writing assignment. He’ll read them and make comments. He always says that it’s good, and it’s fun to believe him for a little while.

This morning you come to him empty handed, just like he said to last time. There’s supposed to be a surprise. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that you don’t like surprises.

“Good morning, pretty lady!” He’s always so chipper in the mornings, with his eyes crinkling happily around the edges and bright red hair bouncing. Today he’s wearing a puffy coat that’s nearly ready to swallow him whole paired with jeans that have a painting sprawling up the calf. You had recently found out that he and Seonghwa were responsible for the illustrations on everyone's clothes. Mingi gave them his favorite jeans after two lunches spent in the cafeteria.

“Good morning.” You were clearly finding it hard to be as excited.

“Did you read the student newsletter yesterday?” Cold air puffs from his lips along with the words, and his face lights up when you shake your head no. The collar of his coat is brushing his cheeks, “So it’s really a surprise then!”

He’s so precious and childlike in that moment that you decide there’s no harm in indulging him.

“What’s really a surprise?” He’s already started walking so you have to do a half jog to catch up, once you’re at his side he starts to skip so that you have to jog even further. This happens every once in a while whenever your friend is feeling extra punchy. You often find it hard to match that energy, but something about this early November morning has you more present than ever.

“Catch up to me and I’ll let you know.” He reaches into his pocket and appears to pull something out, then hang it over his head. You know there’s nothing in his hand. It’s empty and you know that, nevertheless you chase after him. The boy laughs loudly before sprinting away. Once you’ve caught him you start jumping for the mythical gift hanging over his head, which he finds unreasonably funny. The sound rings off the brick path beneath your feet, and it’s like the sun is finally rising. You think that’s the kind of person that Hongjoong is, the kind that would bring the sun up just to make someone else smile.

When you open his clenched hand he slips it into yours, fingers curling ever so gently around your own. His skin feels soft, it makes you wonder what kind of lotion he’s using.

“I caught up.” Your voice sounds small. Hongjoong thinks it’s bright, “What’s my surprise?”

“There are puppies in the quad, I think they’re up for adoption. I figured you’d like to see them.” He’s perfect. On paper Hongjoong should be the perfect boyfriend. He takes you to see puppies, buys you hot chocolate, makes you play in leaf piles, you’re pretty sure he’s redone his entire sleep schedule just so that you two can keep up with these morning strolls. You so badly want Hongjoong to be perfect.

But there’s just something off. Maybe it’s because his one hand can’t fully engulf both of yours, or because he doesn’t tower over you with what feels like two extra feet. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t smell like orange zest and freshly ground cinnamon.

Maybe it’s because he’s not Song Mingi.

“I would like to see them.” You respond, squeezing onto the boy's hands. Hongjoong is perfect, but he’s just not right, “I’d like that very much.”

You’re not quite sure how it happened, but San seemed to notice that your Fridays were becoming more and more lonely. After that one Harry Potter movie night you did with him and Wooyoung in their shared apartment you’ve not really done anything. Hongjoong invited you to another house party, and you were going to go, but when you reached for the handle to exit your dorm you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Something about going and knowing that Mingi would be there, probably with his date of the week, made your mouth taste sour. So you stayed home instead, sitting in your bed and struggling with a creative writing assignment. You’d occasionally snack on some granola bars that Mingi stashed in the bottom of your closet when he moved you in.

Those were your plans for tonight, but San grabbed you just before class ended. He told you that Wooyoung was planning dinner but the recipe serves four so he figured that they could invite you and save the rest as leftovers. You agreed, fully expecting that you’d chicken out at the last second and stay home, yet here you are. Standing in their kitchen while sipping on a shirley temple that San mixed up for you, Wooyoung is occasionally stirring the simmering pot on the stove. San invited Hongjoong at the very last second so those two are sitting at the kitchen table and trying to talk each other's ears off. You find your way into the empty seat beside Hongjoong and let his hand rest on your thigh. He rubs gentle circles on your jeans, and it nearly gives you butterflies.

“Dinner is almost done, would you guys mind grabbing some drinks from the garage.” The two boys nod before scurrying towards the front door and shared garage. Wooyoung takes the seat across from you, “Do you think you’re gonna date him?”

“Who?” You ask, probably in a less defensive way than he’d anticipated.

“Hongjoong.” Wooyoung doesn’t look as playful as usual, the childlike glint gone from his eyes. If anything the boy appears worried, probably for his friend Hongjoong. Part of you wants him to be worried for you. You’ve barely eaten anything except for granola bars in the past week because you don’t want to risk running into Mingi in the cafeteria. Your five hours of sleep every night has been slowly dwindling down to four. Mingi has moved movie night twice this month. You still can’t get a good grade on a creative writing assignment.

“I don’t know.” You think that you probably are. You think that you mostly want to.

“But you aren’t going to date Mingi?” It feels like the air around you is made of cotton, your mouth has gone completely dry.

You don’t know why you’re upset. You shouldn’t be upset.

“No.” There are tears threatening to spill from your eyes. You hope that if you breathe deeply enough then you can will them to stop, “I suppose I won’t.”

The dinner turns out lovely, but you can barely take a bite. You can barely even say another word for the rest of the night. You just tell them thank you, it was lovely, then go home to finish your creative writing assignment. The professor is probably going to write a note that it’s lonely. That’s okay, though. It is lonely, because that’s what you are. Terribly, and irrevocably lonely.

A week after the dinner party you and San are partnered together on a creative writing assignment. The main goal is to learn how to work collaboratively with another author, not that you even considered yourself that, and it’s coming along nicely. There are just a few things that need to be cleaned up before it’s due, which prodded San to invite you out to coffee. At least you thought that’s what it was about, but when he takes his seat at the table there’s no laptop tucked beneath his arm.

“A-are we not working on the project?” You question softly, hands hovering idly over your keyboard.

“I wasn’t planning to, but you... You can if you want to, I guess.” He drops his bags and heavy coat in the vacant seat before flipping through his wallet, “You ordered yet?” You shake your head no, you didn’t want him to show up and have you already be halfway done with your drink and then deal with the awkward conversation of how you showed up thirty minutes early because other than meeting Hongjoong in the morning this is the only thing on your social calendar for a week. After that you have movie night, “I’ll get you something. Coffee or tea?”

“Coffee.” When the boy returns to the table, it’s with two steaming mugs, perfect for the frost bitten weather outside. Yours smells like vanilla and nutmeg.

“It’s the shop special I think.” He smiles gently, dimples on parade for the entire campus to see. You think that San has a nice smile, the kind that takes over his face, along with yours before you can even stop it.

“It’s nice, thank you.” Things are quiet for a second while San is putting away his wallet, and for some reason you’re confused. If you’re not going to work on the project then why on earth did he make the time to get coffee?

“(Y/n?)” He asks softly, raising your attention from the untouched mug of coffee to where his hand is on the lid of your laptop, “Are you okay?”

“Yea, I’m good.” The words sound dismissive before they’ve even left your mouth, “Why did you ask to get coffee?” Sans eyebrows raise and he feels a small tug on his heart. He doesn’t understand why he wouldn’t want to spend time with you.

“Because I have free time and I wanted to spend it with you.” You’re not sure why, but it’s hard to hear that. Maybe because you’ve been hiding from life for as long as you can remember, or because you’ve had nothing but free time for a month and you’ve wanted to spend all of it with the one person that will hardly return your texts, or maybe because sometimes those words are hard to hear.

“Oh.” You take a sip of the coffee, it makes your stomach feel warm for the first time in a long time, “Thank you.” San cracks his knuckles while offering up a gentle smile.

“No need to thank me, we’re friends.”

“I guess that’s why I’m thanking you. I don’t have a lot of friends, if you hadn’t noticed.” The boy is looking at you with attentive eyes, and it feels like there’s something lodged in the back of your throat. It tastes like vanilla and nutmeg and thousands of wasted opportunities, “I used to have Mingi, but he’s so busy with all of the classes and... Dates, that we don’t really talk much. I’m grateful that I have you.” When San smiles it’s sweet and genuine and you feel like you are finally doing the whole college thing. The thing where you make growth.

“I’m grateful to have you too, you’re a sweet kid.” If you weren’t so touched you would remind him that he’s only one year older, “I don’t think any of Mingi’s dates have much substance, honestly.” Something about the way he says it makes you think that he’s not talking about the girls themselves. It makes your heart flip.

“How come?” As soon as the words leave your mouth you pray that they don't sound eager. San lets out a heavy sigh and you think that maybe your prayer worked.

“He just isn’t really satisfied with anything. There have been girls eyeing him since his first time in the cafeteria, but he didn’t care much for it. Now he’s decided to take them up on their offers, and yet he still doesn’t seem to care for it. We’ve all asked him what’s up but he won’t say much. Just that it’s not what he’s looking for.” There’s a pointed gaze that says a million things. Mingi hasn’t found what he’s looking for. Mingi is just as lost as you are. Maybe Mingi couldn’t find what he was looking for because it’s always been there. Maybe Mingi needs you as much as you need him.

“Oh. I didn’t know.” You leave the cafe that day with a smile on your face and hope fluttering around in your heart, and for the first time in a long time you think that maybe you can be happy.

You’ve been planning this night since the moment you stepped out of the campus cafe with San. It’s probably a little bit cheesy, with all of the contraband candles and what not, but Mingi always said that you went a little overboard on movie nights. Now you’re standing in the center of your empty dorm room, illuminated by tea light candles, wearing the dress that you wore when Mingi dragged you to your first ‘party,’ and your heart all the way in your throat. Because tonight is the night. Tonight you’re going to tell Mingi how you feel about him, and you’re not going to listen to the little voice in your head that says this is probably stupid, and that Mingi showing up over half an hour late is a bad sign. That voice is annoying and has made you wait too long for too many things.

So when Mingi walks into your dorm with rosy cheeks and windblown hair, you let your heart stutter. When his jaw drops open, you let yourself laugh, and when he takes a step forward, you do too.

“What’s this about?” He questions with a familiar deep voice that leaves warmth blossoming in your chest.

“I just...” Your eyes lock onto the freckle on his neck before flashing back up to eyes. They’re sparkling in the flickering candle light, “I’ve missed you. Really badly, Mingi. I miss you in the mornings when I walk to class, I miss you at lunch when I get my granola bars from the closet, I miss you when I’m with my friends, I-I... I miss you on Friday nights. I spend all of my time missing you, and I don’t want to anymore. I’m tired of hiding how I feel about things, like I think that my creative writing assignments are stupid, and I hate everyone in sports medicine except for Wooyoung, and I miss you. A-and I think that I might love you, so I wanted to-” Mingi takes two steps forward, coming dangerously close to closing your distance, and you think that he’s about to kiss you. You think that you’re ready for him to kiss you. You’re heart is beating faster, then faster, then faster-

“Why are you doing this?” And then it stops dead. You honestly think that you might be dead. This feels worse than being dead.

“Um, d-doing- Doing what? I’m not doing anything, I thought you were-” You’re rambling and it’s so awful, Mingi knows it’s awful. His hands are massaging his temples as if this is insanely stressful. It kind of is, but you can’t figure out why he would think so.

“Why are you telling me that you love me? After not seeing each other for almost a month, why are you telling me that?” Clearly, this is not the way that you expected tonight to go. Several of the candles by your desk has burnt out, you feel like you’re about to cry, “I haven’t been lonely, (Y/n,) because I have a-” You feel tears tugging on your eyelids so hard that it hurts. Before you can think about it, and before you can hear whatever he has to say, your index finger is in between his eyes and you’re staring at him like you want to throw something out a window.

“Don’t say that.” It’s probably the most assertive you’ve ever been with him, “I just don’t understand why you’re fighting me on this.” Mingi takes a deep breath before running his hands through his hair. You wonder when he picked up on that habit, which person got to see this before you did. He looks handsome. You hate it.

“I don’t understand why you get to want this now. I don’t understand how I have waited and waited for you to love me back for years, and once I’m finally done with letting you break my heart you get to decide that you want this. I don’t understand how that’s fair.” There are tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, but they’re different from the ones that you’ve seen before. They’re not like the ones he sheds over movies, these tears are angry and unwilling.

“Mingi I-“

“Don’t say that you didn’t know. I know that you didn’t know, because you never wanted to know. You were too scared to know, but I was never scared. I’ve always known that we were right, and you were always scared.” It feels like your heart is trying to crawl up your throat in the worst way possible. Like it’s a spider that you swallowed.

“Mingi that's not what-“

“But I can’t be with you (Y/n,) because I’m done with you being scared. I’ve been done with you being scared for years, and I'm finally okay with being done with you. Let me be okay, (Y/n.)'' There are now tears behind your eyes as well, but it’s not angry. It’s sad, because he’s right. You are really scared, it took months for you to work up the courage to admit to even yourself that you love Mingi.

“What are you saying?” The words are choked and staccato, tears spilling freely onto your cheeks. A brief look at his tear streaked face tells you that he’s known this answer for forever.

“I’m saying that I can’t be with you right now. I just… Can’t.”

He leaves before he can see you sink to the tiled floor, or hide your face in your hands, or cry off all of the mascara you had put on just for tonight. Just so that you could bat your eyelashes at him and give him love until the sun came up. Just so that you could give him your love like flowers and a candle lit room.

But you don’t get to do that. You put on mascara for no reason. Mingi doesn’t want your love, he doesn’t want your candle lit room. He gave your flowers back, and they’re just going to sit on your nightstand until time takes her toll on them. Until they wilt and wither and all of the petals fall onto the floor. You don’t know if you’ll have the strength to sweep them up.

It’s not clear when you start crying, but it is clear that you never stop. You cry for hours and hours until you finally pull yourself off the floor and into your bed. The candles burn themselves into darkness. The room smells a bit like ash. Your blankets are warm. Your chest aches. Mingi is gone. You are scared and you’re alone. You probably always will be.

You’re not sure when food lost its taste. When your room lost its color. When your legs became too heavy to move. When sleep became extinct. When it was easier to be in the library than it was to be in your own room. When every single one of your grades sky rocketed to an A while creative writing sat heavily at a C. You can’t watch Star Wars anymore without wanting to throw up. Strawberry ice cream tastes like poison.

You’d fallen asleep on a desk in the back of the library twice before Yunho found you. He wasn’t exactly sure what to do seeing as it was the middle of the day and no one had heard from you for a week and a half except for San, but he figured that leaving a hot coffee by your sleepy head seemed to suffice. If you were tired enough to fall asleep in the library it was probably much needed.

He thought that he’d just forget about that encounter, sweep it quietly under the rug and hope that you started getting more sleep. It was going well enough, until he arrived here. One week later, ten minutes before midnight, you in the same exact position as last time. There were tear tracks in your makeup and black smudged beneath your eyes. He could see the assignment peeking out from beneath your folded arms, ‘Study In Relationships,’ no doubt for creative writing. There are only two words that aren’t covered in black scribbles. You let a gentle snore, and he knows that it’s time to wake you up. To talk to you.

“(Y/n?)” He whispers while gently nudging your shoulder. You grumble ever so slightly before snatching the unfinished assignment back to rest beneath your head. Another small grunt leaves your lips before he calls out your name again, shaking you with a bit more force than the last time. Your eyes flutter open gently and take in the tan walls and fluorescent lighting before you fully register that Yunho is there.

“Hey,” Your voice is gruff around the edges, and you know that if you say too much everything is going to fall apart, “good to see you.” His eyes take you in, sweatpants with countless stains, a hoodie that has a little hole forming in the armpit, your hair disheveled and greasy. He knew that something bad had happened when Mingi came back to the dorm about two weeks ago with tear filled eyes and an unwillingness to talk. You stopped showing up to any of the meals after that, even Hongjoong couldn’t get a hold of you. The blue haired boy would be lying if he said he didn’t worry for you in passing, but all of those concerns were brought to a forefront at the sight of you now. You look, and he means this in the nicest way possible, like a disaster.

“Yea, i-it’s good to see you too.” His hands fiddle with the hem of his sweatshirt, busying themselves so that he doesn’t start to pack up for you, “The library is closing.” Your eyebrows furrow as you suddenly remember where you are.

“Oh. I-I’ll get this cleaned up then.” You don’t know why, but asking him to help feels wrong. You’d like help, but something about his pitying eyes makes you feel small. The same way that you did when those boys pushed you off of your hot pink bike. Like he’s pitying you, except now there’s no lanky kid to save you.

Yunho ends up offering the smallest amount of help possible, just slipping your pencil into your bookbag, before helping you stand. The room swims for a minute before you can walk.

“Can I walk you back to your dorm?” You don’t know how to tell him that most nights you don’t go back to the dorms after the library kicks you out. Most nights you plop down on a bench in the quad and slave over your creative writing journal. Most nights you don’t crawl back into your room until four in the morning, when your roommate is dead asleep and can’t ask you if you’re okay, “Just don’t want you walking back alone in the dark.”

And really, what are you supposed to say?

“Yea, that’s fine.” The two of you walk in silence for a wall, nothing except for the rhythm of padding feet and rustling tree branches. Early winter air nips the tops of your ears while Yunho shivers beside you. You hear him miss a step and you feel yourself choke on a thousand words.

“We’ve missed you.” You don’t respond with the question that you desperately want to ask. You don’t ask if everyone misses you. If a certain boy that smells of cinnamon and eyes that glimmer like childhood misses you.

“Yea. I’ve missed you guys too.” The silhouette of your dorm building is slowly coming into view, you think that it looks different when the world is still awake. Some windows are still lit, people are drawing curtains shut. Normally when you come home everything is dark and unbelievably cold. This isn’t anything special, but it’s a whole lot better than that, “This is me.” You say tersely while slowing to a stop in front of the looming building.

“Yep.” You can tell that he wants to ask you something. Maybe it’s why you were asleep in the library, or why depression wears you like a necktie, or why he hasn’t seen you in the cafeteria for a month in a half. He wants to ask you something, but the way his lips close around the consonant tells you that he won’t.

You get halfway into the door before something tugs at your heart strings, “Yunho?” You call out, turning halfway over your shoulder to see his eyes trained on you. They look sad. You think that it makes sense why, “Thank you.”

He nods curtly, and you know that he’s not sure why you’re thanking him. It’s okay though, because at least you know that he misses you. Before tonight, you thought no one missed you.

Sleep is as rare as ever that night, yet the thing that lulls you to sleep is the same as always. Floppy brown hair, clapping hands, a bad CGI explosion playing off of a crackly VHS tape. He smells like cinnamon and orange rinds, yet when you inhale it’s nothing but your dusty dorm room.

The end of the semester means wrapping up many loose ends. You pack up every coat and Christmas themed clothing item in your closet, notably avoiding the dress that you wore for Mingi. You meet Hongjoong for coffee and exchange presents, a pair of customized jeans for you and a twenty five dollar visa gift card for him. He smiled really wide when you told him that it was to make up for all of the coffees and meaningless conversation. You drop the level two creative writing class that was on your schedule. San makes a plan to meet up over the holiday and you agree wholeheartedly. Finals week isn’t all too bad seeing as you’re already getting less than four hours of sleep a night and funneling every bit of brain power into school. The only thing that’s left for you to do is turning in your creative writing assignment, which is both the easiest task and the one that you want to do least.

The classroom is dead empty when you enter, not even your white bearded professor in sight. You scurry down the steps with the short story in hand, a meaningless piece about two strangers who share misty mornings. You hate it, just like you’ve grown to hate almost everything that you create, but it’s an assignment. It meets the bare minimum for what’s required on your rubric. You finished it.

“Miss (Y/n?)” Your body freezes in the middle of the final step before stuttering slowly back to normal. It probably looks stupid but you barely have the will to care, seeing as the thing that you were most dreading was happening. Your creative writing professor is standing at the top of the classroom with his long beard and judgmental eyes, and you are standing in front of his desk with shaky knees.

“O-oh, hi! I was just turning in-”

“Why aren’t you enrolled in my class next semester?” You take in a breath, the air as thick as soup. You don’t know how to answer his question. You don’t want to answer his question. Answering his question feels like letting go of a piece of yourself.

“Oh, I-I dropped it. It’s just that I have other classes I need to take, a-and I’m not all that good so…” Your professor nods before furrowing his bushy eyebrows and starting slowly down the stairs. Each of his forward steps causes your heart to thump.

“Who said that you aren’t good?” He questions, continuing down the steps. You clench the assignment in your hands and watch as the paper creases beneath your thumbs. When you look at the pages they’re clear, nothing but your words and margins, but when you think about what it’ll look like in a week you want to cry. It’ll be marked in red, with a fat red ‘C’ circled on the title page.

“I-I just, I never thought, Y-you said-” The professor is now standing in front of you with folded hands, his expression of confusion shifted into concern.

“I never said that you aren’t good.” You breathe in again, the air thin enough to actually intake this time around.

“You didn’t?” He shakes his head before pulling the crinkled assignment out of your hands.

“No, you show great promise as a writer! Your writing is… lacking, but it’s only in one area that can be easily improved upon. No great writers start out great, but all great authors show their flaws at one point.” Tears prickle the back of your eyelids, and it feels like there’s a little hand grappling onto whatever you thought you’d have to let go.

“Miss (Y/n,) I’m trying to say that failure is okay. Getting less than a ‘B’ on your paper is okay, but you can’t stop trying.” He’s right, a part of you has known for a while that he’s right. Just because you got a bad grade in this class doesn’t mean that you’re bad at writing. Just because Mingi said no doesn’t mean that you’ll never feel deeply again. It just means that you need to keep trying.

“Oh, um… Thank you.” You’re not sure what else to say. There honestly isn’t much else to say, so you give him a short nod and head towards the stairs. You think that you’re going to head back to the dorm and cry on your bed, which is stripped of its duvet and most of the pillows. You think that you’re going to ask if you can have this class added back to your schedule. You think that you might speak with Hongjoong more often once your break is over.

And sure enough, your spring semester begins with Hongjoong walking you across campus and to your second level creative writing class. The month away seems to have done good for the both of you, Hongjoong returning with dozens more customized clothing items and you with slowly disappearing eye bags. His hair is also faded into a lighter pink shade, which you think suits him quite well.

Your walk to class is uneventful, riddled with small talk and basic catching up. Near the end he slips his arm beneath your book bag and around your waist, which feels nice enough. His arms are stronger than you expected. The half embrace is not unwelcome. When you two are standing outside of the quickly filling classroom he takes your hands into his own for a brief moment before asking if you’re free for coffee after class. You want to make up an excuse for why you can’t go, because you know that this isn’t just two friends going for coffee, but when you look at Hongjoong there are sparkles in his eyes. Pink hair tickles his cheekbone as he smiles warmly at you, and you find yourself thinking that his confidence right now is commendable. You also find yourself saying yes, you can definitely get coffee with.

It’s a fun outing. He cracks a few jokes, you talk about class. He asks if you have any assignments and you say not yet. When he orders an iced coffee you ask if he’s trying to get frostbite, to which he laughs and pokes out his tongue. You think that he looks cute. You think that all of this is kind of cute.

You also think that when you’re with Hongjoong, and he’s making you laugh and holding your waist, it’s very easy to forget about how badly you miss Mingi.

When you agreed to re-enroll in your creative writing class you and your professor exchanged a number of emails. First about how you could improve your grade, then about how to improve your writing, then countless of other questions with ambiguous answers before the two of you finally settled on having weekly meetings. It would be sort of like he were your personal advisor, but only for writing. You would come into his office once a week to discuss your current project and he would read it over, ask if you had concerns, usually give some feedback.

Within the first week it was clear what your most reoccurring critique would be. It was a mantra echoed many times, ‘To write life you have to live it.’ He said that your writing was good, pretty, but the characters lacked life. Then he asked if you could try to spend a little more time with people. It didn’t have to be much, but he was convinced that a bit more people time would improve your writing greatly.

It’s been a month or so since that first meeting, and you weren’t sure if you agreed yet. You were spending almost everyday with Hongjoong, sometimes Seonghwa as well. You were definitely more tired each time you came home, but you also smiled more. Laughed more, too. They would often ask you for help with silly things, like the time that Hongjoong called you at midnight because he needed help touching up his hair, Seonghwa often asked you to mix his paints. It often felt like you were their third roommate, but it was okay. You had fun.

Yet you didn’t see much improvement in your writing. There were still notes in red ink on your paper. You weren’t sure of the remedy you should apply, but more people time seemed like it wouldn’t hurt. So you set up daily lunches with Yeosang and Jongho, which was an interesting dynamic to say the least. Jongho would sit down most days and chug an entire reusable cup of green tea with soy milk before getting lunch, to which Yeosang would furrow his eyebrows and comment ‘I don’t know how he drinks that.’ Usually the younger boy would talk animatedly with you about classes then he’d ask if Yeosang had anything going on. Your dark haired friend would look up from his half inhaled plate of food with deep set eye bags and say that he had at least three papers to write. One time you asked if he was okay, but he just laughed and blamed it on his major. After that your writing seemed to improve greatly, at least according to your professor. He told you that it was starting to come alive much quicker. The only thing he had left to say was that your more gentle characters needed work. He said that they needed to be more than just gentle.

Running into Yunho in the library after that meeting was pure coincidence. You were headed to the back to start cracking down on some of your more challenging classes, namely entrance level biology, yet when you dropped your bag on your usual study table you noticed someone was already there.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I’ll just-”

“(Y/n?)” He asked while turning to face you. It suddenly hit you that the last time Yunho had seen you was while you were at your absolute worst. Not sleeping, or eating, or talking to anyone but yourself. You don’t know if he’s going to let that version of you go. You only know how badly you want him to.

“Yea, it’s me.” The words tug on your vocal chords so you cough lightly in an attempt to clear them, “How are you doing?” He twirls the blue gel pen in his hand for a moment before responding.

“I’m okay. The usual kind of busy, my room’s been messy lately. Just normal stuff.” Quiet settles over your conversation so that you’re left standing awkwardly in front of his neatly organized table. You’re not sure why you can’t bring yourself to speak, but you are sure that it has something to do with the fleeting thoughts of the boy that Yunho’s sharing that messy room with, “What’re you working on?” He asks, motioning with his gel pen to the stuffed folder in your hands.

“O-oh just some biology stuff, I have a quiz next week so…” Before you can say otherwise he’s clearing off a spot on the table and telling you to pull up a chair. He helps you with pretty much every half finished assignment. He even adds extra cheat codes onto your flash cards in crisp blue ink. As you’re leaving the library to get dinner with Hongjoong he tells you to meet him back here after your quiz.

“After all, I’d like to know how my best student is doing.” Weekly study sessions honestly come about naturally. He insists that he’s beyond happy to help, and you’re beyond happy to observe him. Listening to him talk is your favorite part. He’ll ramble on about a lab or being worried that someones going to steal his bike from in front of the dorms. He tells you that he thinks Hongjoong will ask you out, you tell him that you know. He says that your handwriting is pretty, you thank him. When he talks about things that make him angry his words are gentle and calculated, so as not to hurt people that aren’t even present. Needless to say, the red ink marks are few and far between after factoring this newfound knowledge into your pieces.

But you think that it’s a bit more than that too. For the first time in… Ever, you think, you’re happy. Not in a fleeting way that depends on strawberry ice cream eaten on Friday nights. You’re happy in a way that’s hard to tumble, and you’re happy in a way that’s without Mingi. You never thought that you would be happy without Mingi. All throughout high school you feared this very thing, having to live without him and be okay with it. Now that you’re doing it, it’s not all that scary.

You still see Mingi around campus from time to time, in curls of chestnut hair and broad shoulders. Sometimes when you’re walking to class with Hongjoong you can hear his laugh bouncing from the surrounding buildings. Part of you wonders if you’re just conjuring him up. Part of you wonders when it’ll stop.

Hongjoong does ask you out, just like Wooyoung, and Yunho, and everyone predicted. You say yes. You laugh with your friends until your sides hurt. You share kisses with your boyfriend. You start to feel excited about life in a way that you never have, and a part of you honestly wonders if this whole thing with Mingi was just a growing pain. Something that needed to happen in order for you to change.

The aching of your chest at night says otherwise. But believing as much is easier to stomach.

You’re relaxing at Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s house when a nerve is struck. You'd been sitting at the table chatting with Seonghwa while Hongjoong made himself something for lunch. It was really an accident, you had just been telling Seonghwa about your study session with Yunho when he got onto the topic about an awkward study date he had been on recently. You laughed as he recounted it and assured him that a study date was a cute first date.

“I’m sure it’s not as cute as whatever you and Hongjoong did.” And that’s when it happens. The chord is played, the line is written, and Hongjoong was looking at you with wide, apologetic eyes, “Y-you did have a good first date, right?” Your boyfriend said nothing, just bit his lower lip and returned his attention to the stove, “You’ve been dating for a month, you had to have had a first date. Right?”

“I’m sure that we will.” The tension that followed your meek statement was painstaking. First Hongjoong inhaled sharply through his nose, then Seonghwas mouth pressed into a thin line while his eyebrows raised. He muttered some nonsense about needing to get started on his painting for realism class. Apparently he was in such a rush to leave that he forgot that he wasn’t even taking a realism class, “Look, Joong we don’t have to-”

“Do you want a cutesy first date?” He asked, turning away from his food once again so that his eyes could bore into your own. You weren’t sure if his voice was stern in that moment or sincere, either way it was maddeningly effective.

“I mean… It would be nice.” He raised an eyebrow and nodded with his tongue in his cheek before returning to his food. Once it’s done and the fragrance is drifting from his workplace and towards the table, he takes the seat across from you. You’re about to say something but then he presses a swift kiss onto your lips.

“Then you, my darling, are getting just that.”

A cutesy first date, with your sweet boyfriend who brings you tons of joy. It sounds great in theory, except for the fact that it’s been a week since your conversation and he still refuses to tell you when or where the date will be. Some may say that it’s romantic, but you say that it’s stressful. Pretty much every time that you leave your dorm room you end up seeing Hongjoong, so pretty much every time that you leave the dorm room you’re fully dressed and ready to go out. You’re starting to think that he’s finding joy in your suffering. It’s not too drastic of a belief, seeing as every time that you open your dorm room in a new outfit he giggles and whispers ‘cute.’

The miniature cat and mouse game finally comes to an end about a week and a half later, when he texts you Friday morning that you should wear something cute today and to be ready for pick up at five thirty. Though, the suffering doesn’t really end because in reality you spend the entire day raking through your closet for anything that could possibly make a cute outfit. There’s the cursed red plaid dress that you wore to that house party and awful confession oh so many months ago. You figured that was a no go, but honestly what else did you even have? There’s a uniform skirt that you bought while thrifting with Hongjoong, but you weren’t sure what shirt to wear with it. Your favorite jeans were in the wash so those obviously weren’t an option. It looked like it was going to have to be that dumb little dress.

But it’s not so bad, you manage to pair it with a black cardigan and the pair of leather boots that your mom got you for Christmas to replace the old ones. You also do more makeup than last time, so it really doesn’t look all that similar. When you look in the mirror before answering Hongjoongs knock you’re barely even thinking about the last night that you wore the dress. You’re thinking about tonight… Mostly about tonight.

You open the door to see your boyfriend wearing a black button up and blue hair that catches you off guard. His hands are shoved cutely into his pockets, you can see his thumbs twiddling from inside his jean pockets. The moment that his eyes take in your frame his face breaks out into a wide smile. It’s a familiar smile at this point, he wears it around you constantly.

“You look amazing.” He says beneath his breath. You watch with twinkling eyes as he examines every one of your features, your smiles growing with each passing moment.

“You’re not too bad yourself.” You're not sure what to do past this point. He’s said that you look nice, you’ve internally fawned over his new hair that looks so incredibly soft, you’ve looked each other once or twice and smiled. You don’t know if you’re supposed to kiss him now, or hold his hand, or what. This is all quite new, “Um, should we get going?” He looks back at your face with a jump, as though your question had pulled him out of something. You’re going to ask what, but you aren’t quite sure how to get the words out.

“Yes, yea! I-I’ll lead the way.” After five minutes of walking around your familiar campus you arrive at the shuttle. You’ve only taken it once or twice in your time here, mainly to get to Hongjoong’s house at the edge of campus, but you do know that on weekends it will take you into the nearby city. There’s only one seat left by the time that you get on, so of course Hongjoong let’s you have it and opts to stand instead.

“You can sit if you want to.” He immediately shuts down your offer with a quick peck to your lips and a sweet giggle that you’ve grown to adore.

“It’s our first date, I can’t have you thinking that I’m anything less than a gentleman.” If he weren’t so endearing you’d point out that you’ve been together for over a month. But he is endearing, so you only laugh and take hold of his hand.

The date ends up being pretty much perfect. He takes you to a small cat cafe that’s tucked away on the downtown streets of the city, something that you didn’t even know existed until this very night. The inside is fully decorated in light pink with white lighting that highlights your adorable boyfriends features. He’s so sweet the whole time, smiling and letting the cats curl up in lap. The two of you share a piece of cake, he smears a little bit of the stiff frosting onto your nose. It’s cute. Sweet. You return to the dorm room with hot cheeks and a bashful grin.

“I had a lot of fun.” You say to him while leaning up against the doorframe of your dorm room. He smiles, but it’s different from the smile that you usually see. He’s usually so confident and sure of himself, but in this fleeting moment you can see unsureness in his features. It’s almost like he didn’t think you’d like the date.

“Yea?” You nod as quickly as he can ask. It’s not clear why, but you feel the need to assure him that you enjoyed your time together, “I’m glad. We could do something like this every week, you know?”

The response isn’t as quick this time, or as adamant. You want to say yes. You had fun tonight, you enjoy spending time with Hongjoong, you want to say yes. But there’s something holding you back. It’s gentle, tugging on your heartstrings like a haunting winter melody. It tastes of strawberry ice cream, and smells of Song Mingi’s basement. You still remember the first time that he proposed a weekly movie night, all those years ago. You still remember how wanted it made you feel. At times you wonder if anyone will make you feel as wanted as Mingi did.

You’re starting to wonder that now, even as Hongjoong catches his thumb beneath your chin so as to tilt your chin up. The thoughts don't waver until your eyes meet, and you think that you’re probably right. No one will make you feel as wanted as Mingi; but Hongjoong does make you feel wanted. It’s not as overwhelming as Mingi. It’s not as safe as Mingi. It’s not as fateful as Migni. But it is there.

“What do you think? About the weekly thing, I mean. Like how does that sound?” Mingi was everything to you. In many ways he is still, but he’s also gone. Hongjoong is most things, but at least he’s here.

“It sounds lovely.”

You’ve spent a lot of time thinking in the past few weeks, pretty much ever since Hongjoong started with the dates. It’s mostly when you come back to your dorm after them and lay belly up on your loft bed, eyes glazing over the ceiling tiles that you’re pretending to count. Sometimes you think about Hongjoong, the way that his smile overpowers his face. The way that he laughs whenever he flusters you. The way he takes time out of his week to plan these cute little dates with you. Sometimes you think about Hongjoong. But most of the time you don’t.

Most of the time you find your thoughts wandering far out of reach, and most of the time they wander straight into Song Mingi. It starts with thinking that you miss his presence, the way that he jumps to help anyone with anything. The way that his eyes shine each time you call out his name. You miss the way that he gives hugs, all warm and inviting. Some nights if you focus hard enough you can even remember the way that he smells. Orange zest and cinnamon.

If you’re honest with yourself, you know that this isn’t fair to Hongjoong. You like him well enough, but he adores you. He calls you darling and kisses you as though the action is sacred. He always walks you home after every date even though his own house is so far away. In theory, he is perfect. You’ve been dating for close to two months, you should be fully head over heels by now. But you can’t give that to him, and you know it. You also know that you can’t be alone again.

“Darling?” Hongjoong questions, pulling you away from your thoughts and back into the present. The two of you are cuddled into a far corner of the couch, midday sun pouring through the tall windows and landing across your boyfriend's face. You were watching the light dance in his eyes and talking about your latest creative writing meeting, but then he started talking about having another dinner party at the house. He said that it’d be like the one that he and Seonghwa hosted at the beginning of the school year, where you came with Mingi. It’s kind of funny honestly, because he regards that as one of the nights where he first started to like you. You regard it as one of the nights where Mingi first started to hate you, “Is everything okay?”

You should tell him no, because that’s the truth. You’re not okay. You don’t know if you’ll ever get over Mingi. You don’t think that you’ll ever love Hongjoong the way that he so clearly loves you. You shouldn’t lie to him. You should tell him no.

You also shouldn’t be alone again, right?

“Yea! I’m just tired. That’s all.”

In retrospect, you should’ve asked Hongjoong to not invite Mingi to this house party. It would’ve sounded odd, sure. As far he knew you and Mingi were still friendly. Had you requested that Mingi wouldn’t be invited you probably would’ve ended up having to rehash the entirety of your history. It would probably leave your boyfriend questioning whether or not you still had feelings for Mingi, a question that you’d have to lie through your teeth to answer. It would’ve been a little bit awkward, sure. But at least you wouldn’t be where you are now.

You fall gracelessly onto Hongjoongs unmade double bed, hands flying up to cover your flustered face. Mingi arrived at the off campus house nearly two hours after all of the other guests. There was an small window where you thought that you were safe, in which you took time to talk with San and Wooyoung while grazing over the cheese board that Seonghwa had set out. You felt like a true adult in that narrow window, the kind that works a nine to five job and deals with their problems. Then Mingi arrived. Two hours late.

You watched carefully as his eyes bounced around the room. They landed first on Yunho, who engulfed the boy in a warm hug before returning to his previous conversation. Then they traveled to the sectional couch in the living room where Seonghwa sat with Yeosang. He offered them a short greeting while walking through the living room, face crinkling with laughter at something that Yeosang had said. You find it comforting that after so much time apart his laughter hasn’t changed. He filtered naturally out of the conversation before moving to stand beside the tv. You watched his eyes move deftly across the open floor plan and began to wonder what he’s looking for so eagerly. Maybe it’s the girl from his math class. Maybe it’s someone entirely different. His gaze wandered and wandered, covering every corner that it could reach before finally landing. Before finally landing on you.

His eyes were piercing yet kind, stripping away the facade that you had previously believed. You aren’t an adult. You’re a little girl that got pushed off of her barbie bike and had to have a lanky preteen come to her rescue. You’re the idiot who lit dozens of tea light candles in her dorm room just to be turned away. It feels like you’re being stripped of your skin, but it also feels like you’re being reminded of yourself.

“Are you okay?” Jongho asked. You were so occupied with Mingi that you didn’t even realize he had joined. His question was sobering though, pulling you back to the harsh reality that you are okay. And you’re okay without Mingi.

“Yea, I’m fine.” You tore your focus back to the group in front of you, who were all staring at you. They clearly didn’t buy your answer, and you didn’t blame them too much. Anyone who didn’t know you could see that you were distressed, so clearly three of your close friends could tell, “I-I just realized that I have a paper due tonight. I’m gonna go finish it in Hongjoong’s room.”

You now find yourself praying that Hongjoong won’t try to come and find you. You don’t know how to lie about this to him. You don’t know how to look him in the eyes and make up a reason for why you freaked out and left the party. By some terrible coincidence the door handle starts to jiggle. You want to say that you think through all of the possibilities of what you’ll say to him, but in reality there’s only one option of what you’ll say. The truth. If Hongjoong were to come into his room right now and ask what’s wrong you would have to tell him the truth. That you love Mingi.

“Hey honey, I had a paper to finish and-” The person that comes through the narrow doorway is much taller than your boyfriend. His shoulders are broader. The slope of his nose goes down further. Even from here you can smell brown sugar and oranges, “Oh. It’s you.” He looks handsome as ever. His cheeks may be a bit slimmer, the bags beneath his eyes are a bit deeper, but he still looks like Mingi. His face is still your childhood.

“Yea. It’s me.” Silence falls over the room, squeezing tightly around the chords of your throat to the point where you think that they’re going to break, “I-I just saw you come in here and-”

“I have a paper.” He swallows harshly, hands shoving into his pockets as his eyes stay glued to the floor. You find that bit funny, seeing as when you were outside he wanted to look nowhere but you.

“Right. A paper. I’ll leave you to that, then.” He’s moving to leave, and in that moment you know nothing. You’re not entirely sure what your name is, or where left is in relation to right, but you do know one thing. You don’t want Mingi to leave. You don’t want him to leave. He’s barely been here for two minutes. You haven’t said a single thing that you wanted to say. He can’t leave.

“Wait!” The boy stops in his tracks before turning. His eyes finally meet yours again, they’re questioning and so gentle that you almost think things could go back to normal, “I don’t have a paper due tonight. Well, I do but I did it two days ago. It’s just that when I saw you I-I… I panicked. Probably because we haven’t seen each other in months. Probably because I really, really, miss you.” Your eyes are slowly becoming tearful, but you really don’t want them to be. You’ve shed so many tears over this relationship. You should be able to do this. The fact that he’s not saying anything doesn’t make it any easier, but still. You should be able to do this, “You don’t have to say anything, I guess, but I-I’m glad that I said it. You were my best friend, I’ll always think of you in that way. I know that we’ve both said… Things, and I get that you might not be able to move past that, but I’m willing to. If it means that we can be friends again, I’m willing to.” Your eyes somehow became glued to your twiddling thumbs over the course of your speech. You don’t think that you’re going to move them, until you feel a pair of strong arms embracing you. He smells so good, like he always does. This one hug feels like all of the comfort that you’ve craved for the last six months. Like the comfort that only Mingi can bring you.

“I’ll move past it. I-I’ve missed you too.” His voice is low, crackling like a fresh log that’s been thrown into the fireplace. You spend the following two hours in Hongjoongs room. You’re curled up on the bed and he’s in front of the disheveled desk. It’s dodgy, you know that it is, but something about really being here with Mingi makes you forget about all of that mess. It’s much easier to forget about it. You eventually return to the party, floating in between conversations with all of your friends. It’s nice to not have to avoid Mingi. At one point Hongjoong joins your conversation with Mingi, San, and Wooyoung. He puts an arm around your waist, which you should enjoy. You would like to enjoy it, but your mind is slightly preoccupied.

“Where’d you go earlier, darling?” He whispers into your ear halfway through a drawn out story that San is sharing. He’s always been awful at telling stories, but he gets so excited that everyone lets it slide.

“Oh! I just had a paper that I needed to finish, so I went and did that in your room.” He wants to ask why you had to do that with Mingi, but then the other boy starts to laugh and he knows the answer. Based entirely off of the way that you look at him, Hongjoong knows.

Once everyone has left and you’ve all shared your goodbyes, Hongjoong suggests that the two of you clean up the living room together. It was an hour or so of silence before he brought up the elephant in the room.

“I’m not it for you. Am I?” You don’t know why you thought he’d be angry with you. Probably because he’d have every reason to be so. But this is Hongjoong. You could single handedly send the world into ruin and Hongjoong still wouldn’t get mad at you.

“I really want you to be.” You’ve stopped cleaning now, hands lying limp over the small stain that you were previously scrubbing off of the couch. Getting dumped isn’t going at all how you always thought that it would. It doesn’t feel like your heart is being trampled. You don’t have the compulsive urge to cry. No, none of that. It just feels like you’re explaining away a weight that’s been on your chest for months, “Does that make sense?”

“I think that you wish you wanted me. I think that you wanted me more than you wanted to be alone.” He’s started to play with the strings of his hoodie in a hopeless attempt to calm his raging heart, “But you’re not alone anymore, are you?” You could pretend that you don’t know what he’s talking about. You could deny it, but in reality there’s no point to any of that. It would only prolong all of this, so you nod, “Yeah. Thought so.”

When you say goodbye to him he hugs you tighter than usual, you think for a minute that he’s going to tell you something else. He doesn’t. Just kisses your forehead and says to get home safely. You do, it’s a mere twenty minutes before you’re tiptoeing into your dorm room and up the ladder to your bed. It almost gets to the point where you pretend to count ceiling tiles, but then your phone buzzes from beneath your pillow. It’s a text from Mingi, a short and sweet message.

‘I’m glad to be your friend:)’

It’s probably stupid, seeing as the night ended on a terribly sour note, but those few words and that silly emoticon makes it feel like this entire year has been worth it. Because you have Mingi again, and there’s no way that you’ll lose him this time around.

After the breakup with Hongjoong, you were slightly worried that no one would want to be friends with you anymore. It would certainly be a fair decision on their part, seeing as you were beyond awful as a girlfriend. You thought that in Hongjoong’s healing, he would end up telling some of the worst things that you did to some of the people whose opinions matter the most. You’re not sure why you thought that, perhaps because it’s what you would’ve done if someone did this to you.

You’re more immature than he is, though. Hongjoong handles his feelings with grace. His words are unbelievably careful whenever he shares them, or at least that’s what Seonghwa says. He also says that he misses having you around to mix his paints and clean his brushes. You had told him that you were just glad that he still likes you, even if the wounds were only a month old.

There was also the ever present worry that Mingi would ask why you and Hongjoong split. You’ve thought of plenty of fake reasons, like saying that the two of you didn’t really click. Or you could keep it simple and say that it just wasn’t the right time for either of you. The options were endless, but there was the problem of Mingi being able to read you like an open book. He would surely know that you’re lying, possibly before you even opened your mouth. The main risk involved was whether or not he’d pester you for the truth.

That constant fear was not helpful for a regrowing relationship, to say the least. You’ve hung out a number of times since reuniting, but he would always ask you about what you did in the months that you spent apart. Obviously, mentioning the end of first semester was strictly off limits. The rest of the time you spent with Hongjoong, so that left very little room for conversation. You would mostly end up talking about your creative writing meetings, which was fine. It was just sparse.

But this weekend would be different. The two of you had made plans nearly two weeks ago to carpool home together after spring midterms for the long weekend. Your immediate response was to panic, because what on earth would the two of you talk about for the hours that it took to drive home? How would you possibly avoid talking about any of your life for the past four months for that long? But as the days drew closer you realized that maybe it wasn’t such a big deal. The two of you used to go on fun drives constantly, and most of the time you’d barely talk at all. This would be fine. You could manage this.

He picks you up an hour after the exams are concluded, and much to your gratitude there’s music already blaring from each of the speakers. He motions through the window for you to put your bags in the backseat, which you do before sliding into the front seat of his car.

“Hey.” He’s looking at you with a soft smile when he says this, the gentleness of his face juxtaposed against the disney channel music blaring from the speakers is enough to make you laugh. So you do, the sound falling from your lips in a way that reminds Mingi of how dearly he missed it.

“Hi.” You stare at him for a minute, and he stares back. You find yourself thinking that all of this is mighty odd. Just two months ago you didn’t think that you’d ever have the strength to talk about Mingi again, now the two of you are sitting in the same car, “We’re listening to High School Musical?” He laughs too, passing his phone into your lap while shaking his head of brown curls.

“For now yes, you can change it if you’d like.” If you didn’t know him then you would’ve missed the twinkle in his eyes which indicated that he was going to continue, “Only if it’s Hannah Montana, though.”

The ride was full with playful banter and off key high notes. Each time Mingi would go to hit one he’d tilt his head back ever so slightly, the brake lights of the car in front of you catching on the delicate lines of his adams apple as he did so. You would laugh until you had to clench your stomach then chastise him for not keeping his eyes on the road. He never once tried to ask about what you’ve been up to, or ask about Hongjoong. In a way, you almost forgot about it for the long hours that it took to drive into your hometown. Mingi seemed to have that effect, like walking through a museum of all of the things that he made you feel for the beginning of your lifetime. Comforted. Carefree. Joyful.

The car slows down then turns, and even if you weren’t looking up you’d know exactly where this car was headed. It’s the place that you spent every late friday night, the place where burgers couldn’t be served without a milkshake on the side, the place where Mingi first knew that he would always love you no matter how hard he ran from it. The chrome on the outside of the diner looks exactly the same, and when you peer through the windows it’s even more familiar. Red cushioned seats, a jukebox in the corner, salt and pepper in mismatched porcelain dispensers on each table. It feels like you’re coming from a football game with sweaty hair and a quickly beating heart. It feels like you’re still a kid.

“Are you hungry?” You ask teasingly as Mingi turns off the car and undoes his seatbelt. He runs a hand through his hair, laughing lowly.

“More like thirsty, milkshakes on me?” You know how this is going to end. You know what paying for food and offering up rides indicates. You know that this could crash and burn and leave you utterly devastated for months. But you also know that you’ve changed. That you’re finally done living a loveless life in honor of your own comfort. You think that he’s changed too, less bitter now. You’re both finished with hurting each other, so maybe it could end up hurting exactly the way that it did last time. Maybe it’ll end up working out. The fact of the matter is that you’ll never know what falling feels like unless you jump.

“Milkshakes on you.” You respond with a purely happy smile. He smiles too, the kind that breaks across his entire face until it can’t possibly get any bigger. You’ve missed that smile so much, “Hongjoong and I broke up by the way. I’m sure that you already knew that, but I wanted to tell you myself.” He nods once, then purses his lips, then begins to play with his own fingertips. It’s too early for you to get a read on him, but you do think that he already knew. You also think that he’s trying to hide his happiness.

“Thank you for telling me.” He pinches his lips shut and swallows before continuing, “Are you okay?” He reaches out to hold your hand before he can even think about it, but it doesn’t seem to make you uncomfortable. You take his hand and squeeze it gently then slowly set it back down to lay on his thigh.

“I’m fine. I’ll be even better once I get a milkshake.”

Conversation flows more naturally after that, the both of you talking about nothing and everything at the same time. He tells you about the time that Yunho made a hotdog explode in their microwave. You share one of your many anecdotes from lunch with Yeosang and Jongho. He asks about what you’ve been writing lately and so you tell him briefly about your work in progress and the meetings with your teacher. The entire time while you’re talking he beams at you with pride. You had always loved writing so much.

You finish your milkshakes and he tips the waitress extra. You drive the remainder of the way to your house, Hannah Montana still blaring from his speakers. It’s unbelievably stupid and childish, but at the same time it’s absolutely perfect. He pulls into your driveway and lets out a heavy sigh, hands smacking against the steering wheel.

“Well. You’re home!” He doesn’t really want you to go, despite having driven all this way specifically to watch you leave. Something about the look in your eyes, and the fact that it’s directed straight at him, makes him think that you don’t want to leave either.

“I’m home.” You unbuckle your seatbelt and get out of the car before Mingi can even think of another thing to say. He maneuvers a bit in his seat so that he can see you as your picking up your stuff and think of something to say, “Thanks for the ride, I’ll-”

“Do you want to start up movie nights again?” He wasn’t exactly planning on asking you that, but he was planning to ask if you could spend more time together. It’s been so long without you that he wants to spend as much time with you as possible, “In my room, on Saturdays. And I’ll never stand you up or reschedule at the last minute.” Your heart is hammering, you don’t even bother to pretend that you don’t know why. The boy in front of you is stammering and over explaining and turning red in the face, and you are terribly in love with him.

“I’d like that very much.” With that simple agreement, it feels as though the entire world has been set back into place.

You didn’t realize how much junk a dorm room could accumulate in the span of a year until it was time to clean all of it out. There were schedules to peel off of the walls, clothes to dig out from the back of the closet, phone chargers that had fallen behind night stands. It’s weird to look at it now, with all of the homeliness and personality stripped away. Next year there will be two entirely different people sleeping in the loft beds, which you admittedly grew used to. Maybe they’ll be strangers. Maybe they’ll be best friends.

“That’s the last box.” Mingi enters the emptied room right as your eyes move to the empty bed that had been adjacent to yours for the entire year. Your roommate had left early this morning, her things had been packed for weeks already. The two of you never grew any closer to one another, but you didn’t mind. Coexisting with her felt like one of your many growth challenges throughout this year, “You missing your roommate?” Mingi asked with a cocked eyebrow, making you realize that you’re still staring at her stripped bed.

“No, not really.” Your voice comes out so matter of fact that it makes Migni giggle a little bit. He thinks that it’s nice to see you, who was once so meek and quiet, being adamant about not caring for someone, “I’m grateful for her though. I didn’t think that I’d be able to live with a stranger before this year. I didn’t think I’d be able to do lots of things before this year.” You finally move your eyes to the boy standing at your side to see that he’s staring at you with a proud smile. It makes your chest swell with warmth in a way that you don’t even fight against, “What?” You can’t help but break out into a smile as you gaze even longer at his.

“Nothing, I’m just really proud of us. Who we’ve become, especially you.” His pinky finger brushes up against your own, for a moment you can feel his hand aching to hold your own. You open up your palm and lace your fingers into his, moving with certainty and purpose, “I like who you are now, you’re a lot bolder. Happier.” Your body flushes with heat, heart pattering so erratically that you’re sure he can hear it. You hope that he does.

“I-I like you now too.” Your voice wavers as his hand travels to your wrist, pulling you gently so that you’re facing each other. His face looks stern, like this moment is do or die, yet his eyes sparkle with the same childlike twinkle as always. You watch his eyes travel from your own to your lips in a mere second, breath hitching in the back of your throat. You’ve waited for this for such a long time, but as his nose brushes ever so gently against yours you find yourself thinking that it was worth it, “May I?” The question is whisper, your breath ghosting against Mingi’s plump lips. You place your hand on his chest so that his heart is thumping beneath your hand.

“Yes.” You hook your free hand beneath his chin and bring his face closer to yours so that your lips are finally touching. It’s nothing but a gentle brush at first, both of you timid and overly careful, but as soon as you try to pull away his hands are on your waist and pulling you closer than you thought was possible. He kisses you with fever, hands gripping you as though he’s scared that you might melt away. You bury your fists into his shirt, trying desperately to let him know that he never has to worry about that again.

He pulls away after sometime, hands moving to hold your face as he rests his forehead on yours. He says nothing, only brushes his thumb against your cheek and smiles. In the quiet moments, you can make out the blurred lines of a future, one that’s spent in a modest apartment that’s decorated with all of the junk that Mingi just hauled downstairs for you. You can see late nights spent writing at a desk that’s full of his trinkets. You can see weekly movie nights on the couch with blankets and twinkling fairy lights. You can see a life that’s lived with love and passion, a life where pains are forgotten and growth is left in their place.

When he smiles at you and goes in for a second kiss, your eyes flutter closed. Yet you still see it all so clearly. You can see a future, and you can see it with Mingi by your side.

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