#and it is now dawning on you just how much uni work u have to do and how much you wasted your time

[m3rkur3]

another thing. this is how i found out i am in eskew was on the rq network omg i guess they're both bri'ish podcasts so it makes sense. small world innit

[blueprint-han]

desert rose — yang jeongin.

↪ “ Because love and a red rose could never be truly hid. ”

— “ You’d have never thought that one incident would’ve enlightened you of how much in love you were with your childhood best friend, but it turns out to be more of a problem when you’re threatened with a life-ending disease with no cure whatsoever. Or so you thought. ”

pairing: jeongin x reader

genre: hanahaki au; fluff, angst with a happy ending.

⇥ warnings: hanahaki disease, mentions of blood (not very graphic but enough that it’s tagged), lots of angst, also in this world the hanahaki surgery isn’t discovered yet, because it’s a fairly recent discovery, also y/n’s dad is nowhere mentioned in this fic idk take it as you like but i imagined him to pass away when y/n was 12 for some reason :((, please do not read if you triggered by topics of death or blood or disease! These themes will be prevalent though not in super explicit detail, they are still there. If I missed a warning, let me know. <3

word count: 11.09 K

type: long one-shot.

⇥ disclaimer: this fiction does not represent the activities of the real Yang Jeongin, nor is associated with JYPE in any form. Events are pure fiction. ♡

part of: the @bystay​ skznta event, written for @stayndays​ !!

song: inspired from Desert Rose by Lolo Zouaï <3 No relation to the fic but it did inspire the ~vibes~.

↯ note: I’m gonna be honest this tired me out so much that I’m glad I finished it, it took me longer than I expected and it got longer than I expected, but nonetheless, here you go shayna! Hi!! It’s me! Your secret santa! Sorry I couldn’t send you that many asks because my uni is a bitch™, and I wish I could’ve made this better, but I guess this will have to do for now. I hope you like it, and I loved being your santa! 🥺 I hope we can interact more in the future, and this isn’t edited so pls go easy on me （＞人＜；）eiury2y4er okay happy reading! <3 love you shayna! <3 I wish I could give this more editing time :( but... i hope u still like it!  ⇥ dawn.☀️

Jeongin’s eyes are really pretty.

The first time you'd made this miniscule observation was during your summer vacation road trip when the sun shined a tad bit overly bright, and Jeongin’s umbrella had a hole in it. The exact details of how it ended up torn don’t matter, but the way Jeongin’s eyes seemed to shimmer in the harsh noon sun almost made it seem worth it.

You remember it clearly — He’d smiled brightly when his eyes met yours, eyes crinkling into tiny little half-moons before his expression turned neutral. At that moment, you were lost into the abyss that was his midnight black orbs. They seemed to hold glimmering stars in them, ones that outshone the specks of white in the night sky.

Looking back, you didn’t think of it much, opting to shake your head off it’s daze before running to where Jeongin stood, throwing a bottle of water into his backpack and laughing at some corny jokes the rest of the group cracked.

Jeongin was a friend — a good friend. In fact, you could call him your best friend, though it had never been verbalized. You couldn’t remember exactly when or how you’d gotten closer to him — it just happened, like everything important in this world did. Like how Jeongin says “It was fate, Y/N, fate” in that old-man-philosopher voice to get you to laugh (Of course it would never work, but you’d still laugh, because anything to see him give you that bright, toothy grin and that little scrunch of his nose in acknowledgement).

The memory of how it all started  is as clear as the sky, as pure as the pigment of a rose.

“Don’t stray too far away, alright? Meet me back here in two hours.” The instructor screams, and all the students chime in with a collective “Yes, ma’am!”. 

 “Good, now go collect your flowers.”

A flower-picking expedition isn’t a common event in a school field trip, at least in your school. You’re more used to the normal visits to the ice cream factory, or the butterfly park (which, to be fair, had some pretty flowers, if only you could pick them) or another affiliated school. Nevertheless, you don’t complain, because the prospect of your school giving you a chance to collect all the pretty flowers you could spot here had you on top of the clouds.

You’re allowed to go alone or in groups of two, and of course, Jeongin has you by the arm the moment your teacher had screamed “Disperse!” at the top of her lungs (P.E teachers had a thing for screaming, apparently). Ignoring the teasing glances the other boys made towards the both of you, you set sail on your path, scanning all the bushes for any wild and unique flowers you could find.

“Oh look, there’s one!” You pointed out after a good four-minute-walk, almost stumbling in your one-inch-too-tight-shoes and ignoring Jeongin’s giggle at your antics. You beckoned him over to where you were standing and he obliged, tucking his sweater paws into his pockets before walking over to where you were staring at the pretty flower.

So, flowers. They’d always fascinated you. You’d developed said fascination ever since you were six. Something about the sheer way the petals were arranged, the various ranges of coloring — vivid, gradient, muted — the beauty of something so delicate and intricate always drew you in. You found yourself examining a flower for hours, and surprisingly, you never grew tired of it. They’d helped you through a lot when you felt particularly down, too. Perfect distraction — snuggling against Jeongin’s arm and playing with the flower he’d always pick out for every visit, surrounded by calming; almost numbing silence along with the sound of his steady breathing, maybe sometimes his heartbeat too when he’d get overly affectionate. Flowers in a way, in every way, were your escape. You loved them. 

“Hmmm.” Jeongin hummed over the sounds of the leaves susurrating and rustling on the ground, the wind enveloping you like a cold, yet oddly comfortable blanket. He fixed his round glasses over his nose, quickly flipping through his encyclopedia. No one really questioned him as to why he carried it wherever he went — but just like you, he had a vivid fascination for flowers too. It was something the both of you fit like a glove on, and you were beyond grateful to meet someone who could click with you so well.

“This is wolfsbane, we can’t pick it.” He said, shaking his head. “It’s poisonous, the whole plant is.”

“Oh…” You pouted, staring at the flower once more. You took in the sight of lush, violet petals, the way they wrapped around the centre and had almost no smell.

“Hey.” He touched your hand worriedly. “You didn’t touch them, right?”

“No, I didn’t. I know better than to touch plants without knowing what they are.”

“Good.” There you could see it again. That lovely, bright smile, one more of relief this time. When you looked into his eyes, you seemed lost — you could capture every flutter of his lashes against his cheeks, count every lustrous star that was laid in his eyes. “That’s good, the poison can be absorbed easily through your skin.”

“Yeah.” You let yourself smile at him, hands dropping down to fiddle with the hem of your frock. 

“Come on, I wanna get some shots for my book. Plus some flowers.” Pulling at your hand, he led you amidst the varying degrees of green and the damp smell of grass for a good distance, before halting in front of a bush. You knew what he’s referencing to by ‘shots’. The camera that hangs around his back, ready to immortalize the memory into his SD card, or rather make a polaroid (or a painting, if he’s being artistic) and tape it to his notebook along with the pressed flower.

“Look!”

Trip a step back, and you yelp at the sudden intrusion to your pace, pouting at Jeongin before looking in the direction he had his eyes fixated on. “Roses.” You giggle, kneeling in front of the bush and hissing when you feel the damp coldness of the grassy floor seep into your knees. “They’re pretty.” 

You can barely hear the sound of students walking past you — the moment seems almost captivating — nothing heard, nothing felt except the whirring of the wind, and the fresh smell of various plants mixed together, it carries.

This part of the garden seems particularly shady and cool, and some of the roses haven’t bloomed yet. A few rosebuds, a few half-bloomed roses, and two fully bloomed, deep red roses, sitting nicely against the green foliage.

Jeongin kneels before you, and you turn to smile at him, chortling at the way his glasses are about to fall over his nose again. You ruffle his black hair gently before fixing the glasses up his nose. 

“You might wanna get a chain attached to that thing. You know those strings that go around your neck and to your glasses to hold them in place?”

Jeongin chuckles. “It’s alright. I don’t like my glasses anyways.”

“Whyyy…?” You whine, poking his arm playfully before directing your focus back on the rose. “You look so adorable with them.”

Your friend feels a smile tug at his lips, leaning in to pinch your cheeks lightly. “You’re adorable.” He says, before focusing on the rose, (thankfully) oblivious to the way your cheeks feel warm after his action.

“Here, let me pick them out and then we can press them into our journals.” Yes. The both of you have matching journals, owing to your near obsession with flowers. You oft share them with each other and get fascinated by how the other views the flower, how they delicately craft words into how the little gift of nature meant to them. It’s a heartwarming tradition — one of the main reasons you follow it till date. 

Jeongin pulls out a pair of scissors from his satchel, and albeit with a lot of force (and the adorable nose scrunch™, manages to cut off a decent amount of stem with the fully bloomed flower, carefully bringing it to his nose to smell it before doing the same to the other one. And all the while, you silently watch.

“Here, this one is more fresh.” It’s so surprising how he can just say that by looking at the flower. Then again, you know him better than anyone, so it’s not surprising at all. He looks at you with dreamy, fluttering eyes and that precious smile on his face, his hair falling perfectly on his forehead. You want to reach out and fix the stray hairs back into position, but you hold back, swallowing the lump in your throat when you look into his pretty, pretty eyes. Trying your damnedest to not get mesmerized, lost in them once again.

It doesn’t seem like a very, very special moment. And to you at that time, it wasn’t special. You simply ignored the heat that crept up your face at his silent gesture, nodding sporadically and ignoring the way you tensed up more when your fingers touched, barely.

Your heart suddenly thumped against your chest with renewed vigour, and you could tell Jeongin was close to noticing it too. 

“T-thank you, that's very sweet.” Fixing the frills of your frock, you smooth them over before looking further and deeper into the garden.

“Lend me a hand, please.”

You once again, ignore the way your heart flutters at his statement, silently extending your hand and covering up your sudden emotion with a smile. His hand feels soft, warm in your hold, fingertips slightly rough from when he used to play the violin. You like it, though.

“Here.” He places the rose carefully in your palm, making sure no thorns prick the delicate skin of your palm, and you can’t help but smile at the tiny reassurance. A nod of approval and you tuck the flower away neatly into your satchel, almost like a valuable present he’d given you, oblivious to the way Jeongin’s eyes twinkled at your action, his smile beaming.

My god, who would’ve known this flower could’ve brought you so, so much trouble?

It had started simple, almost unnoticeable. Just little glances towards Jeongin when he’d come over to watch a movie, getting lost in the way his hair looked exceptionally soft to touch, silently drifting off into space as you admired him from the backseat during class — sure, you were supposed to be focusing on the lesson and taking notes, but something about the way the rim of Jeongin’s sunglasses caught the sunlight and created a lens flare effect was breathtaking to watch.

That, combined with his beauty, his personality. It was too much, too much to handle.

You found yourself waiting to get a glimpse of him, even a tiny glance of his smile would be enough to make your day — to make your heart flutter. 

He was pretty.

You suppose it’s because being Jeongin’s best friend meant you already knew about the kind and empathetic man he was — but for the love of god, you could not stop your heart from fluttering when you heard his name, let alone looked at him and his mind-numbingly pretty smile, his dazzling eyes that always seemed to keep you off the ground.

Oh my, was this love?

You didn’t believe it. You didn’t agree, couldn’t accept that this was love. Maybe it was just your way of showing appreciation for him, for everything he’d done for you? Yes. That was probably it. 

Love wasn’t something you’d experienced — how could you jump to the conclusion? 

But you couldn’t pin the feeling you were feeling to another word — though you were desperate. The way your heart beat faster around him, the way you started noticing all the tiny details that made you fall for him even more, and for what? Just because he happened to give you a fresher, more lusciously colored rose after choosing them on his own? 

Jeongin had noticed it too — it was hard not to when you’d start fiddling with your thumbs, twirling your hair, and the way heat would rush to your face when he did as little as smile at you — you’d fallen for him — and while he was ever-the-oblivious to realise the implications of your actions, he did know that something was wrong.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Jeongin asks rather dully, seeming kind of worried about your current state. You’re resting your head against his lap, but Jeongin can feel the warmth of your cheek through the thin material of his shorts — and not the regular kind. The kind of heat one would radiate when they’d either been overly flustered. Or possibly a fever.

He rests a single palm against your cheek and your eyes flutter shut, and there it is again. The butterflies in your stomach, the fuzzies in your head, and the tingling that shot up to your fingertips. “Are you sick? Is that why you’re oddly quiet today? You haven’t said or eaten anything.”

“Ah, no, I’m alright.” You try to hide the dizziness in your voice, snuggling in his hold before fluttering your eyes close. Thankfully, Jeongin doesn’t question it. 

“Alright, we won’t talk about it if you don’t want to.” Even though you aren’t facing him right now, you can feel him smile in melancholy. 

“Hey Y/N?” 

“Yes?”

“You know I’m here for you, right?”

Oh, you knew.

Sometimes you wish you didn’t — maybe that would’ve prevented it from ending this way.

It’s such a common scenario — in movies, in books, in media. Two best friends falling in love with each other, confessing their love in the warm and intimate setting of the night sky, over gentle touches and lingering kisses. You’ve always had an attachment to those kinds of movies or books — because for you, that kind of love was special in it’s own way.

Those little ways the lead characters had of showing each other their undying love, those subtle acts were so special, so special in their own way. Those books had shown you how heartwarming, how vulnerable yet rigid, strong that relationship could be. It was such a pretty world to explore, to fantasize. You kind of felt that you and Jeongin were the protagonists of those books, those movies.

Except, you had no happy ending.

The books failed to show how painful it was to swallow, to digest the fact that you could be nothing more than friends. Sure, there had been some moments where the main leads would be sad, but it was nothing compared to this, this suffocation in your chest that slowly built up, day by day, minute by minute, second by second.

It was hard.

The first prick in your chest hadn’t been entirely painful. It was barely noticeable even. Simply a tiny jolt of pain when you bent forward to grab your books from your locker. It had only been a slight jab, like when you’d accidentally poke yourself in the rib with the edge of your hardcover diary while picking it up. Nothing too hard.

Then came the slight feeling of breathlessness. You found yourself unable to run a full round in P.E (when you could easily do so beforehand), having to stop in between to catch your breath. You figured it could’ve been your dust allergy because the P.E room wasn’t cleaned that often, so it made sense. Somewhat. Still sceptical, but nonetheless, you covered up your random outbursts of coughs with any and every excuse you could find when your parents questioned you about it.

It was hard, but you figured it was just a matter of winter passing by, and soon you’d be alright.

Would you, though? You couldn’t bring yourself to accept that there was in fact something wrong happening to you, pushing behind that feeling of paranoia every time with a smile on your face and a hold of your breath, wishing for the pain to ebb away.

Who would’ve thought that a sudden infatuation would have led to your demise?

Jeongin can hear the noises.

Those loud, dragged out wisps of air that you borderline struggle to take in and expel out, Jeongin can hear them.

He can feel your struggle. It’s not easy for him to look at you like this, curled up into a ball and ignoring the rampant burn in your chest. The movie isn’t even the main focus right now. Jeongin has something to say, and he’s had enough of watching you struggle. He’s rather here to persuade you to go to the fucking doctor, and get some sort of diagnosis instead of beating around the bush.

Strange. Jeongin feels oddly affectionate today, when usually you’re the one to initiate such gestures. All he wants to do is pull you into his arms and rock you back and forth until you fall asleep, because you seriously seem like you need it.

“Y/N,” he calls, watching you lift your head up from where it’s rested against your knees. You don’t reply, because right now, your throat seems like a barren desert and all you can seem to let out is a croak.

Jeongin sighs and rolls his eyes as if in deep thought, turning on the couch to face you before touching the tops of your cheeks with his hands — they seem overly feverous. 

“What’s going on?” He asks sternly.

“What d-do you mean?” You manage to get out, feeling your chest hurt more and more with each syllable that leaves past your lips in a croaked voice. It felt like someone was repeatedly stabbing your chest with the sharp edge of the knife, the burn in your throat and lungs getting too much to handle. You can’t even tear your focus from the fiery sensation to revel in the feeling of Jeongin’s soft palms cupping your cheeks.

“Y/N, you’ve been acting weird ever since the expedition.” Worry is laced throughout his tone, mixed in with a dash of sorrow to give rise to the most heartbreaking sound you’ve ever heard. Though you know otherwise, it almost seems as though Jeongin is disappointed in you.

“You’ve been getting more and more sick—” he raises a hand to stop you from contradicting his statement. You only look at him with mellow eyes, knowing that what he says is right. You’ve been ignoring your health for too long. 

You can’t help it, either. While you have an inkling of what might’ve happened, you’re too stubborn to accept it, let along your unrequited love for your best friend, who seems ever-the-oblivious.

“—and you can’t tell me it’s the winter allergy, love. I know you more than that to believe it.”

Shaking your head in dismay, you turn around to get up. You can’t be having this conversation right now, not with the faintest taste of blood lingering at the edge of your throat — you can’t be showing yourself like this in front of him — broken down, vulnerable, confused of your own feelings, having no idea of what you should be doing.

Your mother had pointed it out too, at this point. They suggested going to the doctor, and you outright refused. You didn’t want your suspicion to come to life. It couldn’t- it couldn’t be this way-

“Y/N!”

Jeongin grabs your hands to stop you in your position and turns you around.

And that’s a wrong move.

Your whole chest tightens, and the thorns that stab against your chest has never been more painful. You cry out loudly, only causing them to dig deeper into your skin and almost bleed. Jeongin’s eyes widen in shock at your sudden, unexpected reaction and only tightens his grasp on your hands.

Which again, is a very wrong move, because the following bouts of coughs that take over you shake you up from the core. Jeongin feels blanked out looking at how much you’re suffering right now, so much that he doesn’t feel the wet, yet light flutter on the back of his hand.

When Jeongin snaps back in from his momentary daze, he’s borderline horrified.

He’s convinced, completely certain that there’s nothing more terrifying, heartbreaking, scarring — he could go on and on — than what he just saw. He can almost feel his heart break into a million tiny shards, but he knows that it’s nowhere equivalent to the pain you’re going through.

Well, looks like your suspicion did come to life.

Because what Jeongin sees is, gah, he feels horrified. There’s blood dripping down your lip, staining the skin below garnet red. Your eyes are tinted pinkish-red too, most likely from the exertion that came along with the horrendous amount of coughs that took over you.

Red, red everywhere. Jeongin had previously thought of red as one of the most beautiful, and most interesting colors ever — a symbolism of love, nothing but the pure love he felt towards you.

But now, all he could think of was how much he was tormented by the mere sight of the color.

When his eyes, still blown wide in shock, trail down to his lap, the mere sight of what’s littered on it leaves him in tears.

Red petals, everywhere. All over the back of his hands, all over your lap, all over his lap.

Jeongin could probably spend ages, ages sobbing and whimpering about the sheer pain the sight in front of him brought. It tormented him beyond imagination. This should be a dream — Jeongin wants to wake up any second now, anywhere, in your lap, in his own bed, just anything to save his heart from seeing you this way.

Yet when you cough again, the pain in his heart tells otherwise.

“Y/N!” He chokes out a cry, and from there, he acts quick. He could cry about this later — he needs to find you some help, and now. 

You feel numb. As numb as you possibly can when you see the tears in Jeongin’s eyes, though your sight is clouded by your own tears. You’re numb to the blood dripping down your chin and pooling in your lap, you’re numb to the feeling of those bloody petals littered all over the couch. 

“We need to get you to the hospital, quick.” He gets up, wiping his eyes that are surprisingly, surprisingly overflowing with tears. You barely feel the handkerchief quickly wiping against your mouth, causing you to snap from your trance and look at him. The numbness doesn’t fade yet.

You doubt it ever will.

You’re not sure that the events after the incident go super quickly or as slow as a snail, and you’re not in any state to care about it either. Jeongin had called your mother when he drove you to the hospital — albeit over the sound of your repetitive and raucous coughs — and now your mom’s standing next to him outside, nervously prancing back and forth as he waits for the doctors to come out.

The hospital corridor is moderately lit — perfect setting for Jeongin’s mood right now. There’s no sound except for the occasional encounter when a nurse or doctor happens to walk past them. The hanahaki treatment section of the hospital isn’t the most crowded place — surprisingly enough, the doctors had immediately known what had happened to you.

Your mother can’t bring herself to thank Jeongin for dragging you to the hospital — she’s too paranoid. Your daughter coughing up blood and — Jeongin hadn’t mentioned it to her — flower petals over a movie night isn't the best news you’d want to receive when her friend calls you; so Jeongin understands why your mother is overly quiet.

He doesn’t try to reassure her either. It’s hard to do so when she’s gonna find out her daughter houses a wedding bouquet in her chest — and Jeongin isn’t that oblivious to not know what’s going on, especially standing in the hanahaki department of the clinic. His mother, not so much. All she can do is silently sob and mutter prayers repeatedly, hoping her daughter would be alright. Jeongin feels his heart break more when he sees your mom like this, and he knows he’s not gonna last at this rate, when he’s allowed to enter your room.

At this point, he can’t get past his own brain screaming a million different things at the same time, none of them coherent enough to make sense. He’s a mess right now — red eyes puffy and swollen, hair completely disheveled and half of his sweatshirt hanging out of where it was  neatly tucked in.

Two hands at his heart, and that’s when he notices the red rose petal stuck to the back of his hand, probably from when you’d coughed all over it. It’s fairly large in size — Jeongin examines it, in a slightly successful attempt at trying to distract from the feeling of anxiety that builds up inside bit by bit. It’s a deep, dark red color, exactly like the rose he’d given you that day, at the trip.

The boy sighs to himself before pulling the petal off his hand, eyes widening when the blood underneath it tints the skin it runs across. 

That’s when a lump forms in his throat, but he isn’t given time to cry, because soon enough, the sound of a door opening clicks through his ears, and Jeongin’s head snaps up.

He can see you from where he’s standing, and his whole world freezes in front of his eyes.

The flowers inside your chest had grown moderately large — that’s what the doctor said, at least. You’d been hiding your disease for two months, and it wasn’t until the end that Jeongin caught on — you’d been too stubborn to accept your fate. Maybe this was how it was supposed to end, after all. 

You couldn’t accept it then, but you did now. Did it seriously make a difference?

Jeongin had seen your scan, and what he saw would’ve truly been pretty, if not for the fact that these flowers could be the cause for your imminent death. The roses had almost fully bloomed — and the thorns were pricklier than ever. Jeongin could almost feel them stab against his skin, and he didn’t even have the disease. It was confusing — things were too confusing right now.

You couldn’t speak much, the painkillers you were on were making you drowsy and causing you to quickly fall asleep. Even if you weren’t asleep, it wouldn’t have made a difference.

Numbness ran through your veins. You couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything after what had happened.

Jeongin and your mother hadn’t spoken to you after the doctor had shown them your scan, and they preferred to not break the news to you either, figuring that you were pretty shaken up from the incident already.

The doctor said he could give you two weeks before the flowers filled your lungs completely and blocked your throat.

And Jeongin is devastated.

When the effect of your painkillers wear off and you open your eyes, you feel a soft sensation brushing against your thumb, slowly turning to look at your best friend — tears streaked all over his face, eyes ridden with dark circles and red and puffy, his voice sounded nasal as he silently cried, eyesight focused on the floor.

“J-Jeongin…?” You mumble past your oxygen mask, surprisingly not noticing it’s presence until right now,

He perks up at the painful call, lifting his head to gaze into your eyes. He looks worse than you look right now, if you’re to be honest. You doubt he’s even brushed his teeth or had breakfast. The hospital room is pretty dim just like the exterior, but the sunlight coming from the open window is enough to light up the whole room, enough to at least see your friend’s features clearly.

“You’re awake.” he says as a matter-of-fact and you nod, gently taking off the contraption placed against your nose. Jeongin flinches like he wants to stop you. But then freezes when you try to slowly get up.

Turns out that’s a wrong move, because you can soon feel the thorns of the garden you have in your lungs prick against your skin, making you gasp and shriek in agony. Jeongin jerks up and places a hand on your back, and the other across your stomach — and gently maneuvers you into an awkward but comfortable position, before lifting the top of the bed into a reclining position before laying you down onto it.

“Careful, love.”

Your chest tightens at the actions once again, yet you try not to cough like you did the last time. Surprisingly biting on your tongue works to rid the feeling of suffocation, or at least distracts from it.

“Where’s m-mom?”

“She went to pick up some of your essentials, plus a few clothes.”

“D-did she eat? Did you eat?”

Jeongin smiles at your concern. It’s something he’s found endearing about you — how you always seem to put others first, even though you’re in a worse situation. Though the habit isn’t healthy, Jeongin can’t seem to get over how thoughtful one would have to be to act that way all the time. You’re so innocent, so kind — you’re one of a kind, at least for him.

“What?” You chuckle, noticing Jeongin’s lingering stare on you.

Your friend only beams, taking your hand in his once again. “I forced her to eat something because of her medication, so you don’t have to worry. I ate along with her too, though the canteen’s food doesn’t taste that well.” 

A soft giggle leaves your lips and quickly morphs into a set of coughs, more petals fluttering all over your lap and hands. When Jeongin stands up to call a doctor, you lift a hand to stop him, gesturing for him to sit down.

It isn’t as intense as the first time, but there’s still a tiny bit of blood dripping from the corner of your mouth, which Jeongin quickly goes to wipe off with his thumb. You flinch at the warm touch, sighing to yourself before dropping your gaze to your lap.

“So…” You start. “What did the doctor say?”

“What?”

Jeongin seems visibly tense at your question, kind of like he was dreading it. Which he was. He knows enough about this to know that patients usually don’t like knowing, and in fact can be traumatised by knowing that their apparent death would be in two weeks.

Jeongin in fact has no idea how he’s so calm. He should be sobbing, trashing, looking for a way to hold you back. He shouldn’t be so calm.

He figures he’s just accepted fate. He’s relishing what could be his last moments with you.

You don’t reply, and Jeongin knows he’ll have to make something up.

“They said it’s just a regular allerg-”

“Jeongin.”

The boy freezes.

“Don’t lie to me.” Your voice is laid with so much pain, Jeongin wants to reach out and crush every problem you have into his fist. He wants all your sorrow and worry to dissolve, and right now, he just feels helpless. He feels powerless.

“How many days do I have left?” You ask, sniffling before wiping your tears away. “Just tell me already, Jeongin-”

Jeongin’s grip tightens against your hand as he whispers — “Two weeks.” 

The words are only let out as a soft mumble, as though Jeongin himself is questioning the statement the doctors put forth. Really, in two weeks? Would you really be gone? Would he seriously never see more of your smiles, your loving gaze, those times when you’d get overly shy of his compliments, those times when you’d silently smile at him from afar?

Was this the end?

“Two weeks.” You repeat. Your voice honestly sounds like a croaking frog, but you can’t bring yourself to care. 

“Hey Y/N…?” Jeongin hesitantly calls.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?” He puts his other hand on yours. “Two questions, actually.”

“Mhm?”

“This disease you have… hana-”

“Hanahaki.”

“Yeah, that.” A hand runs against the back of his neck and he continues. “Be honest, did you know that- that you had this disease before I found out?”

“Jeongin…” You’re about to shake your head, but then you remember the deadline. The deadline by which, you’re no longer going to be here, no longer going to be able to cuddle Jeongin during movie dates, no longer be able to even look at him from afar, or close for that matter. In other words, you didn’t want to end your days with him based on a lie.

Therefore you sigh, breathing out a ‘yes’ as your shoulders droop down.

You can hear Jeongin’s shaky sigh too.

“W-why?” He clenches your hand tightly, sadness mixing in with what you can only call disappointment. “How could you be so selfish?”

It's too late to take back those words now.

“Wh-what?” You raise your eyebrows, feeling scared at his sudden question. “Jeongin, I wanted to be sure-”

Oh who are you kidding? Jeongin and you both know that you’d hidden it because you didn’t want to accept it. It’s too late to change that now.

And Jeongin seems to know that too.

“Don’t- Y/N.” His breath morphs into sharp inhales, as though he’s downright angry at your actions — you know he has every reason to be — still, it doesn’t ease the pain in your heart. Or maybe that’s just the flowers.

“Do you think this is a joke?” His sobs grow louder in fervour, and you feel yourself break at the sight. The room is so, so quiet that you can hear his faint mumbles. You can hear the cries his heart screams in agony, letting you go is painful for him. The thought, rather the sound, only makes the plant in your heart grow further.

“Y/N- did you not think of your mother? Of me? Did you not think of what would have happened if you left us? You think it’s gonna be easy on the both of us? On everyone?” His gaze stern and his voice stable, you don’t get affected by his words, but you do understand what he means — and maybe wish that you could’ve reversed your actions.

“How could you, Y/N?” He gets up from where he’s seated beside your hospital bed. “How could you think that this would be the most appropriate action?”

Jeongin knows he’s angry. Jeongin knows you’re going through a lot. But he’s too.

He’s not angry at you, not at himself, but fate. He’s mad that this is your fate, that you have to go away so soon. He’s mad that he can’t do anything to help you, in any manner.

You don’t say a word, which only causes Jeongin to sigh — disappointedly, again — and walk to where his coat is hung against the edge of his bed, picking it off and pulling it over him in a hurry. Every cell in you wants to scream at him, apologize for what you did, but your voice feels small, almost like you can’t force it out of your throat.

He goes towards the door that leads to the corridor, stopping for a second before turning to look at you.

“Are you gonna tell me, at least, who this person is?”

“W-what?” Things are too confusing right now.

“Hanahaki comes with unrequited love, Y/N. Are you gonna tell me who didn’t return your love?”

“You didn’t” You want to say. But then again, you stay quiet, not being able to handle the intensity of the moment.

Jeongin wants for two seconds, then sighs and shakes his head. “Whatever, I guess.”

And then he leaves.

In the next week, your health goes down drastically. More of petals expelled out of your lungs, more blood dripping from between your lips, more of your mother’s horrified expression as she runs away from the room while the doctors tend to your coughs. More sobs from your mother when she thinks you’re asleep, more melancholic smiles when you’re awake.

But you feel so empty.

Every piece of you feels like it’s being ripped apart. You can’t even sit up without someone’s help, of such intensity is the pain. The pain of knowing that your love would never be returned. 

The pain of knowing that you hurt the person you loved truly.

You were put on your oxygen mask 24/7, and instructed to not take it off whatsoever. Your medication stopped taking it’s usual effect, and if anyone saw you the way you were outside the current circumstances, they’d have assumed that you haven't slept for 8 days and were going to crumble into the earth any second.

“Honey?”

You gasp at the sudden intrusion to your thoughts, turning around to see your mother, sitting next to you and holding your hand with her own. You hum as a response, clearly unable to respond more than a mere mumble.

“Did you and Jeongin fight?”

A pang of guilt floods through your nerves at the mention of your friend’s name. He’d come to visit you only once in the past week. Perhaps even he couldn’t handle the fact that your death certificate was ready to be signed soon, and was trying to not be tormented by the fact. Or perhaps he was just angry.

“W-why?” You croak.

“I convinced him to come stay here while I go pick up a fresh change of clothes, but it took me quite a bit of arguing.”

You feel sad for her. She’s clearly paranoid — you can hear it in her voice, the shake lingers throughout. Yet she holds it in, trying not to let you worry about it.

You don’t answer her question. The last thing you need is for her to get mad at you too, though you doubt it. Your mom has never been the kind to yell at you for anything — provided, you’ve never given her a reason either.

“Do you think he’s mad because I didn’t tell him about the person who didn’t return m-my l-lo-ve…?” your throat goes dry towards the end and your mother quickly hands you a glass of water. You chug it down and sigh in relief, breath still short.

“Is that person him?” Your mother questions with her gentle, soothing voice one that can make you relax on the first listen. There’s no use lying to her, you figure. She knows you too well to do that, plus, like you said, you couldn’t bring yourself to end your days with her on a lie.

“Yeah…”

“Oh sweetheart,” She brushes some of your hair off your face, sitting down again before drumming her fingers against the back of your hand gently. “I don’t think he could be mad at you.”

“But he is. Didn’t y-you see? He didn’t bother to meet me as much after our argument. He’c c-clearly mad.”

“Hmmm,” Your mother ponders. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope. I have known him for a while, dear. He’s been with you for more than five years. Maybe he’s having trouble taking this in? Just like…” Your mother stops after that, but you know the completion.

Just like her.

“I’m sorry, mom.”

You simply don’t get it. You should be scared. You should be sad and devastated that your end was going to come soon.  You should be thrashing around and crying and wailing in despair — you just don’t have  the energy to even bother about your end. It’s depressing, but you know there’s no way you could avoid the inevitable, or get your lover to return your love.

Love wasn’t supposed to be something forced, it had to happen naturally. And if Jeongin didn’t develop it naturally, you just had to learn to live with it. Or not.

“Don’t be, darling. Everyone deserves to love, just like how they deserve it back. I wish it could’ve ended differently.”

“It’s alright mom. He loves me too… just not on the way I love him.”

You sniffle as a single tear runs down your chin, though you and your mom aren’t given enough time to speak more when you hear a familiar voice at the door. 

“Hey Mrs. L/N.” Jeongin says, shrugging off his half snow-covered coat before hanging it onto the bedside. Did he seriously walk in the snow? All the way here?

“Hello, Jeongin dear.” Your mother stands up, picking her coat before moving to fish the car keys from her purse. “Thank you for watching over Y/N while I’m gone, darling.”

“It’s no problem, Mrs. L/N.”

“Oh, so formal.” Your mom chuckles, though in her despaired state. “Y/N, you get some sleep, it’s about midnight dear.” She leans over to kiss your forehead while Jeongin excuses himself to the washroom, and you nod. 

“Good night mom.”

“Good night, and don’t worry about him. He’ll talk to you eventually.”

Oh, how reassuring. “Mhm.” You smile, closing your eyes to drift into slumber before Jeongin returns, because the last thing you need right now is to feel sad and cry over how you’d hurt him.

By the time the sound of the door clicking resounds through the space, you’re already asleep.

 It’s way past midnight. Jeongin shouldn’t be up. 

Somehow, he still finds himself seated next to your bed, staring fondly at your calm features as you finally get the rest you’ve needed for the past few days. 

Oh, he wouldn’t be able to compare your sheer beauty to even that of the moon; even when you’re in such a fragile and vulnerable state. Your eyelashes are still and unmoving where they sit against your skin, your breath is calm and slightly wavering as you struggle to breathe slightly. 

His hand slips into your own gently, and his heart melts when you shift, tightening your grasp on his warm skin before falling into a slumber again.

Why was he mad in the first place? Jeongin feels dumb for acting so quickly on his emotions, especially when you’re in a bad place at the moment. He wants to wake you up and apologize, but he can’t, because you’re sound asleep — and that’s a good thing, since seep comes so scarcely to you these days.

Then, a single tear falls from his eyes. His thoughts traverse to the dream he had the previous night — you, cold, dead in his arms. Him, sobbing, trying to wake you up but you’re really gone. He can’t even hear your mother’s cries from behind him, because he’s devastated to know that you’ve left him. The dream had woken him up in a cold sweat — it was then he realised that he’d committed a mistake, and agreed to come visit you, because you had about 5 days left.

His thoughts then traverse to the conversation you had with your mother, while he was standing outside in the cold hospital corridor, curiously listening.

“Is that person him?” “Yeah…”

When he heard those words, countess, infinite thoughts crashed at his head; all at once. Nothing made any sense. The reality of the situation was dawning on him too quickly, and Jeongin was having a hard time processing it. 

You loved him? He was the person who didn’t return your love?

“Why didn’t you tell me, Y/N?” He mumbles in confusion — so much confusion, so much hurt — he wanted time to just stop for awhile and give him a fair chance to analyze the situation.

But, once all the initial thoughts were out of the way, only one question remained:

Was he the reason you were going to die?

Jeongin felt like a murderer — like he’d just stabbed you in cold blood. He knows it is’t like that — just like you’d said, love should come natural. So why did Jeongin feel so bad? WHy did he feel like he was the one at fault?

A fond smile crosses his lips when he remembers the book where you keep all your flowers safely. Who would have thought your fondness for flowers would morph into the reason for your demise?

Quiet, hushed in the midnight wind, Jeongin gently brings out the rose he’d picked from his satchel. It’s almost relieving to see a rose in it’s true glory, without scattered petals or blood covering the flower. A part of him grows sad that you won’t be able to gush over flowers together anymore, he won’t be able to see your smile anymore. It hurts him. It stabs his heart over and over again, and Jeongin is pained — almost like he’s being put to death slowly — he wants the pain to end, but only suffers and suffers.

The stem has already been cut and the thorns have been thrown out. Jeongin leans over to tuck the flower behind your ear, fingers brushing against the almost cold skin at the back of your ear before letting another tear slip from his eye, running down his cheek and falling on your palm.

A strange, oh-so-strange feeling creeps up on him. It’s like… a fluttering in his heart? Jeongin can’t quite place it — heck, he doesn’t try to make sense of it. There are more important things to look at, right now. He suddenly has the urge to pull you into his arms and gently murmur sweet words into your ear — seems odd for a situation like this, but oh well, feelings are feelings.

He pats your hand gently and smiles, before moving to sleep on the smaller bed in front of your own. Not allowed to go far, though, because your grip on his hands tighten almost immediately, and Jeongin tightens to look into your eyes, sparkly and slightly droopy from the intrusion of sleep.

“Y/N, go to-”

“Stay.” You mumble, feeling your voice choke as the petals threaten to spill out for what seems like the millionth time. Yet, you manage to spill out another, “Please?”

Jeongin feels like he’s about to cry. Your expression is so, so hopeful, he can’t bring himself to deny. He wouldn’t in the first place, because who was he to deny what could be his friend’s last wish?

A sob bubbles up his throat, but he swallows it down, smiling with melancholy before following your weak pull on his hand, genty climbing on your bed before slotting himself between you and the steel grill that prevented patients from falling down. He gently tucks his hand under you and pulls you close to himself, tensing up for a second when you wrap an arm around his own, gently rubbing on it before drifting off to sleep. You want to cherish this moment — this could be the last time before you could never see him again. Fuck your medication for making you so drowsy. Or not, because you were certain you would start crying, and that would certainly not end well.

The whole room falls silent for two seconds, and you fall asleep almost immediately. 

And then, Jeongin releases all his tears, and everything comes crashing down on him. He breaks apart.

The world was too cruel to you. He was cruel to you. He can’t believe that in less than a week, you’d be gone. Gone from earth. Flowers had lost all their beauty for him, the moment he saw you coughing them up on that couch during movie night.

He wanted to do anything. He wanted any small sign to show that you would stay with him. He was in so much pain, he couldn’t accept your fate. He wanted to grab your hand and pull you to himself, keep you close, he couldn’t let go, he couldn’t give you up, he couldn’t —

“I love you.” You mumble unconsciously in your sleep, and Jeongin loses it then and there. His throat feels dry as tears flow and flow and don’t cease no matter what. His body shakes like a sobbing child, but thankfully you’re knocked out from the effect of your medication. He hasn’t cried this hard in a while, guess there’s a first time for everything. The three words pierce his heart, and they suddenly hold more meaning than anything — Jeongin wants to hear those words on a loop; he feels strangely ecstatic when you say them.

And so, with a shaky voice and a sorrowful tone, Jeongin replies after pressing a kiss to your forehead — “I-I love you, t-too.”

His eyes flutter shut and he basks in your arms just one last time, holding you close to himself as he finally, finally finds himself at peace, next to you.

When your mother finds you both snuggled up and asleep together, a smile crosses her lips. A hopeful smile.

“Are you ready for your scan, Y/N?”

You feel oddly light today — one would say it’s because your body was close to shutting down completely, but your throat felt a bit, a tiny bit clearer and less barren than a fucking desert. Nevertheless, the scan does make you nervous. This would make clear how long the flowers would take to reach your throat — the doctor’s estimation was about three days, which seemed way too short for Jeongin.

Oh, how embarrassing it was when the nurses, all giggly and mushy-eyed, found you snuggled with Jeongin like a teddy bear at the early hours of the morning, waking you and Jeongin up and only cracking up more at your bewildered expressions when you find yourself tangled with each other.

Before the scan, Jeongin had held your hand softly, leaning down to press another kiss to your forehead. You’d shyly smiled, nodding before letting the nurse drag you to the scanning room.

The details of the scan itself aren’t important, it went pretty well — as decent as a scan could possibly go. You’re able to cooperate with your nurses pretty feasibly, you feel the sudden urge to get out of your wheelchair and try walking. Sure, you can still feel the choked feeling in your throat and the burn in your lungs, but somehow, it’s just a tiny bit lesser than usual. Maybe it’s because your painkillers are working more effectively. Maybe.

Jeongin’s waiting for you outside when you’re led out of the room, and he smiles when he sees you.

You don’t even remember what you’d said the previous night. All you remember was passing out while Jeongin was in the washroom, and then waking up to him cuddled up, warm and snug next to you. His features were clear and calm as the ocean on a sunny day, a small smile on his lips, as though he was dreaming about something happy. You hope he did, because that boy deserves the happiness.

“You seem energetic today.” Jeongin says, taking note of your perky demeanour, that only causes you to giggle slightly. 

Sure, you don’t remember the happenings of last night, but he does — and he’d promised himself to cherish every last second. Because in the end, it’s all he can do — for leading you to this state, for getting mad at you and wasting precious time in which he could’ve stayed with you. He’d promised to not let you live your last moment sad and desolated.

“I feel light, for some reason.” You mumble with a broken voice as Jeongin takes the wheelchair from the nurse, listening to what she has to say before bowing and nodding, leading you back to your room.

“What did she say?” You ask, fiddling with your thumbs.

“She said your scan results would come in an hour.” 

“Oh… alright.”

For some reason, you’re too joyous today, after the little surprise you got as soon as your eyes opened. You can’t seem to bother about the end— you want to live in this moment, right now.

When you come back to the room, Jeongin lifts you up bridal style, causing you to gasp before placing you down onto the bed. The nurse waiting there quickly fixes your IV and helps you sit into a comfortable position (though it’s hard when thorns keep pricking at your ribs) before bowing to the both of you, and leaving.

Your mother has once again left to go fix up the house, leaving you in the trust of your best friend. You aren’t complaining though, especially when Jeongin sits down beside your bed, taking your hand in his before playing with your nimble fingers — just like always.

He looks gorgeous today. After a lot of nagging from your mother, he’d used the hospital bathroom to wash his face and comb his hair neatly, and you’re happy about that because he looks fresher and happier than ever. You want him to be smiling and happy, even when you leave, because… did you need a reason? You just wanted him to be happy and content with his life.

The thought invokes an angsty feeling of melancholy, but you brush it away, trying to focus on Jeongin and the silence that drops on the both of you like a warm blanket. You smile softly at him, gently letting go of his hand before tucking a few strands of his hair behind his ear, almost melting when Jeongin’s eyes flutter close.

“Hey Jeongin?” You call, grabbing his hand once again and interlacing the fingers together.

“Yeah?”

“When I… leave,” You notice the twitch in his expression, but nonetheless, continue. “Will you bring me flowers every week?” 

You remember the red rose you’d found tucked behind your ear when you woke up — it had dried up a bit, but nonetheless, it was one of the prettiest objects you’d ever seen — even though there was a whole bouquet of them spewing out your mouth every two seconds.

“I will.” Jeongin sniffles. The thought of having to visit your grave every week to bring you flowers is immensely saddening, but Jeongin agrees anyways. He agrees, for you.

It’s the least he can do.

It’s funny how you say “leave”, like you’re going to your hometown for a month-long vacation and not actually like you’re going to be buried any time soon. Jeongin thinks it’s because you don’t want him to get too sad over his loss — a stupid thing to wish — Jeongin knows this loss is going to affect him in more ways than one.

“Jeongin, d-don’t cry…” You cup his cheek, gently brushing your thumb against his cheek and wiping away the tears that fall, one by one. Jeongin shakes his head, placing his palm on your hand and smiling at you.

“Can you do me another favor?”

“As many as you’d like Y/N.” He says. He’ll do anything you want — it’s your last wish after all.

“Bury me with my flower journal, please?” It may seem like a weird claim to bury oneself with a dusty old book, but Jeongin understands the significance — you want to hold onto those memories you made with him while writing it together, while picking flowers together and all those happy moments you exchanged.

Jeongin tries not to let his voice break again. “I will.”

You beam at his acceptance. Jeongin feels the slight thump of his heart against his chest, and a warm feeling envelopes him from inside. He’s suddenly overcome with an urge to press delicate kisses on your eyelids, though he tries to shoo it away, because it isn’t the main point of focus right now.

But soon your mother walks in, and it’s all small talk and deep conversations with her at the same time. You have breakfast, persuade (more like force) Jeongin to scarf down his meal and giggle about some random jokes thrown here and there, until the doctor comes in. Both Jeongin and your mother stand up, bowing and wishing good morning while you do too. Wish, not stand up. You’re basically tied to the bed at this point.

“Mrs L/N, I’d have had a word with you in private, but I think Miss Y/N needs to hear this too.” 

“What is it, doctor?”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion and Jeongin’s grip on your hand tightens, thumb rubbing over your skin to soothe your obvious tension. The doctor slides the transparent, firm sheet off it’s envelope before letting the sunlight hit the back of it, in order to enable a clearer viewing.

“This is… the most unusual case I’ve ever seen, but —” He points to a junction on the scan. “The flowers have actually reduced in amount, and they've separated from the windpipe by a whole two inches. See?” He points at the edges of the lungs and at the windpipe, but you understand what he means. The flowers are there, no doubt, but it’s almost like — a whole stem of them just disappeared into thin air.

Of course this could’ve been because you coughed them up, but the coughed up flowers go instantly, or so you’ve heard. There’s confusion written on all of your faces right now.

“Is that why I was feeling lighter and easier to breathe today? Because the flowers withered off and gave more space for air?” You ask in your low voice, and your doctor nods.

“Seems like it. Do you have your previous scan?” Your mother hands it to him quickly after a great deal of fishing out of her purse.

He places the earlier scan behind the newer one, and suddenly, you can see what he means. It’s almost like they shrunk — you don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but nonetheless, you’re happy you can breathe a bit more.

“What does this mean, though?” Jeongin asks, bewildered at the strange news. The room is so quiet and the tension is thick enough to cut with a knife, and you can see both your mother and Jeongin waiting for the doctor’s words.

“It means that we’ll take another scan tomorrow, a deeper one. And check if the flowers are actually collecting somewhere else, or just disappearing. And if they are disappearing…” He trails off, and you giggle when Jeongin and your mother lean forward in anticipation, though curious yourself.

“She’ll be home by Christmas. Or even earlier, if the recovery speed is fast.”

“Y-You mean… I can be cured?” Your voice shakes with hope, and the doctor smiles sweetly at you, before nodding.

“Yes dear, you’ll be the first patient who’s walked out of this place cured from hanahaki.”

At that moment, it almost feels like every flower inside your chest wilts out — you feel so light, so ecstatic. You’re over the clouds at the news, and don’t even hear your mother’s cries of thankfulness before the doctor heads out.

“Y/N!” Jeongin exclaims, ignoring the fluttering feeling in his heart and the burn in his cheeks when he cups your own. “You’re gonna come home!”

You shake with soft sobs, and smile at Jeongin.

“I’m gonna come home.” Provided the scan tomorrow showed a positive result, but you don’t bother to mention that part.

And the next day, when your scan results come back, a huge smile adorns your face, and your mother is in tears. Happy tears.

The sunshine is overly bright today, leaving you squinting for sight, especially when you’re seated in a garden out in the open, book in one hand and the other one resting against the cool, moist grass. The air holds a musky forest scent, and you revel in the feeling of the shivers the cold air that cuts through skin brings.

The park is relatively empty for the morning — you’re glad it is, because it brings on a sense of calmness that you seem to like. The surroundings are just perfect — you don’t want anyone to disrupt your mood right now.

So yeah. The story ends that way. You recover, bit by bit, though it takes a whole bunch of time. There were times when you still had to cough out those petals, but you couldn’t be happier — it felt as though you were spitting out those vicious thorns that had tormented and threatened your life. The doctors had no idea how you’d managed to recover — but this was an interesting case to put into their portfolio, so they weren’t complaining.

And oh, you had Jeongin to help you through all of it, of course. 

It had taken you two weeks to be discharged from the hospital and be able to finally walk again, but when you did it — you felt like a whole new person, in a whole new world. Sure, you had to hold onto your mother or Jeongin wherever you went for the first week or so — it was almost like your legs had turned jelly.

When you returned home, Jeongin insisted that he take you to the garden every day, and when you complained that you couldn’t walk, he’d lifted you into his arms (bridal style, again) and carried you all the way there, and then given you a piggyback ride you all the way back home.

Eventually, you ended up telling him the truth — that the unrequited love that caused everything was because of how you’d fallen for him. You figured he deserved it, especially when he’d stuck with you the whole time without any hesitation and helped you whenever he could — he was truly one of the nicest, kindest people you’d ever met.

Of course, you were surprised when Jeongin only smiled and told you that he knew what you were talking about, and then proceeded to narrate how he’d overheard you in the hospital. Giggles left his lips when you gave him that meme-worthy look, making him shake his head before slinging and arm over his shoulder.

Surprisingly, that night ended just like the books — lovey-dovey confessions exchanged in the warm and intimate setting of the night sky, over shy smiles and lingering kisses. The both of you finally gave in to each other.

Huh, so maybe you were wrong about them — books — after all.

So when, your love was returned in the end, every flower in your chest had finally disappeared, and you couldn’t have been happier.

“You know when I brought you here I wanted you to help me pick flowers and not read a book?”

You laugh at the voice that comes from behind, closing the book shut before placing it on the side while Jeongin takes a seat beside you, hissing at the slight coldness of the grass. Ah, what a romantic scenario — green and colorful flowers as far as the eye could see, a book that you’ve been trying to finish but have never been able to because your boyfriend keeps interrupting you with his random outbursts of affection, and said person sitting right next to you.

“Well, you keep interrupting me all the time!” You chuckle, sliding a hand behind his shoulder before pulling him down to lie on your lap, and Jeongin complies. A sigh of content leaves his lips when he feels your fingers comb through his hair to rid them of any tangles — Jeongin feels stupid to not realise how much he loves you. It feels nice to call you his, feels nice to be able to say I love you, in all of it’s true meaning.

“What, I can’t cuddle my girlfriend now? Come on,” He takes your other hand in his, turning onto his back to look up at you before pressing his lips to the back of your hand. You feel the heat creep up your cheeks when he calls you his girlfriend, still not being able to take it in without growing immensely shy.

“You crybaby, fine. I’ll read the book later only because I love you and you give exceptionally nice cuddles.”

“Hmm, good.” He mumbles sleepily, eyes fluttering shut in calmness when he feels your fingers brush away any stray locks of hair that may get into his eyes. The reaction to your touch is so immediate these days, Jeongin thinks it’s a part of his routine now. Spend at least an hour admiring you in all of your happy, healthy glory.

Meanwhile, you’re sitting there, admiring his features in silence. His hair has grown longer now — Jeongin refuses to cut it no matter your endless verbalizations of how his original haircut looked better — and a small part of you has grown fond of this look too. His warm skin, and his sparkly eyes when he looks up at you, the bright, loving smile that he displays before getting out of your lap, kissing you on your lips to break you out of your focus.

The action only makes you more shy, and Jeongin laughs, cooing at your behavior before standing up, dusting his clothes off the dirt and extending his hand for you.

“Lend me a hand, will you?”

The line seems vaguely familiar and you’re overcome with a sense of deja vu, but nonetheless, you give him your hand, standing up before picking up your satchel and handing him his own.

“Now are you gonna pick a rose for me or do I have to do it myself again?” Jeongin raises an eyebrow and smirks, and you frown, slapping his arm before walking off to check all the flowers in their bushes.

“Hey, wait for me! Y/N!”

When he reaches you, he slides a hand into your own, interlacing the fingers before looking at you lovingly.

“I love you.” You both say at the same time, giggling at each other soon after — perhaps at how well you knew each other to time the confession so well.

So, this is how it ends. While you do think that things could’ve been handled differently, you’re glad that everything went the way it went, because in the end, you’d found him, he’d found you, you’d discovered your feelings together. You loved each other.

Because love and a red rose could never be truly hid.

but what if she had never recovered?

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[elftwink]

im pretty close to graduating (i dont wanna talk about it) so most of my courses rn are on topics that i already have a lot of background/base knowledge in. like i think ive said before that at this point ive taken i think 4 or 5 research methods courses and the majority of my higher level courses have been extensions of lower level courses that require more work and go into more depth but use much of the same foundation. except now im at the end and im just taking whatever courses are available for the credits and i was like i’ll take one on a topic ive never studied before sure whatever. and i somehow forgot. that u have to learn all that base knowledge. im not even in a different field it’s still crim i just like forgot how wide a field that is because for the last two years ive been essentially specializing in modern corrections and policing and media portrayals of crime and theory and research methods. which sounds like a lot of things. it’s not because half of that you have to learn in every field ever just to get started but it sounds like a lot

but. im in a class on terrorism rn and im watching the first lecture video and its quickly dawning on me exactly how little i know about the topic. and exactly how much work is going to be required to even keep up. we’re learning some history rn and ive long known that history is a weak point of mine bc i always have to crash course myself on major historical events whenever i do projects outside my typical wheelhouse but i did not expect it to be this bad i was like i know things about criminology. ive been studying it for like 4 years. i’ll be fine. its NOT fine and if people in tutorial tomorrow morning actually know things i’ll pass out on the spot. it’s going to be so hard to get participation marks bc im SO uncertain about everything because literally all of it is new information.

i try to remain optimistic about school whenever possible esp this early in the semester and like realistically this is probably good. i think it’s bad to get too comfy w/my academics and its important to look into topics i have no background in. if nothing else it’s a good reminder that expertise is not translatable. i know wayyy too many people who are smart in their specific fields and use that as grounds to be an asshole to everyone and assume they’re right about everything so i try to humble myself periodically to not fall into that trap. and like when outside of uni am i going to study this. i probably wouldn’t, and certainly not in this much depth. so that’s good.

the workload though........ especially given that one of my other classes has a 50 page group project 😬 and the other is a law class which i am notoriously shit at and find boring.... theres no phoning it in this semester i guess! pain suffering agony etc.

[obliviatestudies]

3rd YEAR of UNI

hey everyone! if you’re just stumbling upon this post and are new here, i’m going into my 3rd year of undergrad in bio for health sci a.k.a pre-med sorta deal! i did this post last year and u guys loved it, i also think its a great ways for us #studyblrs to share more . this is just an update into what courses i’ll be taking this year, life updates, tips i learnt from last year + more!

PICKING COURSES

my courses:

I'm a health sci bio major with a double minor in chem + business! so here is what my full-time year of studies looks like (5 courses per semester)

physiology of neurons & muscles

human development

structural biochem

metabolism & bioenergetics

neurosci

statistics

lab in cell & molecular bio

molecular bio

fundamentals of marketing

managing projects & business plans

for freshman, your courses are pretty set and you likely won't have much choice around what you actually want to take, so unless you're an upper-year, you likely won't see more interesting course titles like what i have above. not much for an update in this section, i planned most of my courses last year, but the most frustrating thing that happened was 9/10 courses i wanted to take were in my fall semester originally, so i have to do A LOT of rearranging, anywho.....

scheduling:

i'll link last years post here as i went into pretty deep detail of how i schedule my courses and how you can too!

other tips + updates:

it’s always okay to change your programs!! (ie. major, minor, specialist) don’t let the standard of “a 4-year degree” fool you into thinking you can’t take longer. its always a good idea to look ahead and try to plan, but this age of our lives is when we're changing the most and really finding who we are and what we want to do with the rest of our lives. it's definitely not something to rush.

if you have to do summer courses, or retake courses, or take an extra semester, don't beat yourself up. it happens to 99% of people!

take me for example!! i went into school thinking 100% i wanted to go down the med path, now here i am starting my 3rd year and I'm not so sure. I'm more so looking at doing my masters in physical therapy. you change, life changes, and you find what works BEST for you and the path you want for your life.

ALSO your path doesn't have to be linear, or the typical; if you want to go to med/law/other post grad school, but your grades or extra curricular didn't necessarily cut it, that's okay! maybe you'll work somewhere for a year or two and go back to school and get in. basically what I'm trying to say is if there is a career path that you love, don't give up, and don't think you have to get there the same way as someone else did.

currently, my fall courses are all completely online (minus 1 in-person tutorial) i hope most of you will be in-person, unlike me. but i'll continue to post both online and in-person study tips as the year progresses.!

LIFE BESIDES SCHOOL

this summer i was lucky enough to work as an online PT, and this will probably continue part time into the school year. besides my other social accounts kinda blowing up, working on Syrse Dawn, I've been crazy busy with everything. I'm a little worried about balancing everything come the school szn, but as usual, i always prioritize my school work

we love academic validation haha....no but seriously, i love learning and school, and doing well has always been important to me, so while my work is important, mental health and school come first.

right now some passion projects and summer bucket list things I've been working on are finishing a current novel I'm writing (haven't finished writing one since 2015), reading 1 more book, filling a sketchbook, going for a sunrise swim and honestly just spending as much time with my friends as fam as possible!

• • • • • •

like last year, i’d love to create a chain of studyblrs doing an update like this, sharing their courses for the year, how they organize them, updates + more! so if you get tagged, add to this chain + tag 5 more studyblr accounts!!

i’m tagging: @studyblr @felix-studies @studyingatsunrise @luminous-studiess @starrystvdy @studylustre

if you have any questions for me, my ask box is always open! i answer all the questions in my ask, so don’t be afraid to hit me up there

hope this helps you a little bit and you get to learn a bit about me xx

[realcube]

comfort hcs 💗 feat. overworked! reader

characters: yaku, oikawa, yams & akaashi

trigger warning: swearing

thank you to anon for this sweet request!

morisuke yaku

♡ he has concerned mom energy to i feel like he’d notice that you’re overworking yourself before starts negatively effecting you 

♡ once he figures out that you’re actually stressed and he’s not just being paranoid, he will probably hold an intervention where is like ‘sit down, let’s have a cha--’

♡ but you just push him out the way to grab your coat, ‘sorry, sweetheart. i don’t wanna miss my bus!’

♡ DFRTYJUHG he just stood there like a statue looking at you like (●__●) this bitch-

♡ anyway, once you come back from uni/college/school/ work etc yaku insists that you need to sit down and discuss your problems with him 

♡ then you’re kinda just like ‘what problems?????’

♡ also, after what happened that morning, yaku was not taking ‘no’ as an answer

♡ no matter what you say 

♡ homework? you can do that later

♡ chores? he’ll do them for you if you just listen to him

♡ hungry? you can eat while you listen to him

♡ showering? you smell fine!

♡ so yeah, he will pick you up and carry you to the living room if he has to

♡ he’s probably really serious about the issue bc your feelings aren’t a joke to him but he lined up your favourite plushies on the couch so he could talk to them as a third party when you disagreed with him

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

“i study in moderation! and i have not been neglecting our relationship; i just need to focus on my studies!” you tutted, averting your gaze from yaku’s as you thought about his accusation; did he really feel as though you had been taking him for granted? because of course, that wasn’t your intention at all and the more you thought about it, the more you realise that perhaps he was right.

yaku rolled his eyes at your response, quite enraged by your dismissive tendencies but he didn’t want to take his anger out on you so he simply turned to the kiiroitori plush that sat beside him, “duck, do you think (l/n) has been overworking themselves and ignoring both of us?”

kiirotori was forced by yaku’s hand to nod in response.

you snorted slightly before trying to furrow your eyebrows in anger once again, “their name is kiiroitori!” 

tōru oikawa

♡ dsfghjkl ngl he clearly overworks himself too so he wouldn’t even notice 

♡ he’s like ‘oh, you’re spending hours upon hours of a day - losing sleep and energy - to dedicate yourself solely to one thing so you can be perfect at it??? that’s completely normal!’

♡ spoiler alert, it’s not

♡ it’d probably take a third-party to point that what you are both doing isn’t healthy (either iwaizumi or a therapist)

♡ then you’d both look at each other like ⚆_⚆ wut 

♡ anyway recovery time ig ✨

♡ he’d definitely just try distract you whenever he sees you studying/training/practising

♡ forget overwork, he doesn’t even let you work 

♡ oh and y’all have started having ‘lazy days’ once a month where you make it a point to nothing but each other :))

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

you both stared at the television, pretending to be absolutely engrossed by jumanji. however, once you let out your fifth sigh that minute, oikawa could tell that you were just as disinterested as he was so he peered over his shoulder to look at you, “this is so boring.” 

you nodded, shuffling closer to him so he could drape his arm around your shoulder and bury his nose into your hair. “it’s so hard to just sit here and do nothing when i know that i have a lot to do, y’know?”

oikawa hummed in agreement, “but it’s nice to finally spend some quality time with you, angel.” he placed a kiss on your temple, scooting awkwardly in his seat before pulling you down to lay down next to him on couch. 

“yeah,” you purred, happily falling onto the soft cushions while in oikawa’s embrace, “i’ve suddenly had a change of heart - i love these lazy days.”

“that was fast.”

tadashi yamaguchi

♡ it would take him a wile to built up the courage to actually express his concern about you overworking yourself

♡ but until then, he’ll show them in more subtle ways

♡ like if he sees you working at your desk - whether your posture is straight or not - he’ll rush up to you and massage your shoulders/back while talking

♡ he always sends you goodnight texts and gets v snappy when you text him in the middle of the night 

♡  ‘tadashi, what did you get for number five on the maths hw?’

♡ if he opens the message and notices that you sent that crazy late at night or the ass crack of dawn, he’ll lose his shit

♡  ‘(Y/N) WHY WERE U UP AT 3AM DOING MATHS HW LITERALLY GO TO SLEEP’

♡ he forces himself to ask you out on dates irl so that if you use work/training/practise etc as an excuse..he can give the puppy eyes 🥺

♡ don’t get me wrong, he’s not manipulative at all but you just overwork yourself so much he think that the teeniest tiniest little bit of fun wouldn’t do you any harm 

♡ he literally cares for you so much and he just wants you to be healthy and happy like is that too much to ask ಥ_ಥ

♡ it would take him 3 months of mental preparation to confront you but he’d do it eventually lol

♡ he’d still be super duper nervous though 👉👈

  ♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

“(y/n).” yamaguchi’s soft voice rang quietly through the hallway before he stuck his head inside your room in search for you. he let out a sigh upon noticing that - like always - you were sitting at your desk, drowning in papers of schoolwork. 

he hurriedly approached you, suddenly throwing his arms around your shoulders as he hid his face in the crook of your neck before wailing, “(y/n)! i know it’s none of my business but i just think you work yourself way too hard and i see how sleepy you are all the time and you didn’t even eat the cupcakes i made you because you were too busy studying - i thought you loved my cupcakes!”

your eyes widened at the sudden contact and the string of words yamaguchi was babbling in your ear; but you semi-understood what he was getting at. so you steadily turned around to wrap your arms around his neck and rub his spine reassuringly, “i am so sorry, tadashi. i had no idea i was worrying you.”

he shook his head against the skin of your neck, “it’s fine, i worry about everything.” he joked before changing to a more serious tone, “it’s just that-- i think you should care more about yourself. take some time to relax once and a while, y’know?”

his sweet words resulted in your lips curling to a smile while his arms wrapped securely around your body brought you a much-needed feeling of peace, “alright, i’ll try.”

“good.” yamaguchi chirped, pecking your forehead then positioning his face where it was prior, going back to enjoying the feeling of your soft skin agaist his. “-so, are you gonna eat the cupcakes or”

keiji akaashi 

♡ he overworks himself too

♡ if anything, i think he’d praise you for being ‘hard-working’ at first ‘:)

♡ but once he notices how much you work and how negatively it’s effecting your mental/physical health, he’ll intervene

♡ like yamaguchi, i think he’d start small by subtly doing things to reverse the effects of your stress 

♡ and simultaneously, it kinda helps him too

♡ for example, if you get stress ance, he’ll do a bunch of research on the best skin treatments for it, buy the products then do facemasks with you + create a whole new nightly skincare routine for both of you 

♡ or if your not taking care of yourself properly, he’ll book you both in for a spa appointment 

♡ or if you’re tense, he’ll get you both massages from those professional ppl that make you strip naked

♡ when they make you get your tiddies out, you know they are a professional  masseuse

♡ and he’ll take out on ten times more just to help you relax

♡ also, they’re always slow-paced dates bc like ofc akaashi takes you out to the park/beach for picnics....does he seem the sort of guy to take you bowling?? no.

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

you sighed as akaashi brought a spoon up to your lips, looking at you expectantly but you simply whined, “keiji, i should be at home studying right now. you know my exam in 5 months, right?” though akaashi wanted to believe you were joking, the seriousness in your voice made it clear that you genuinely thought 5 months was a short period of time - even considering all the work you’ve already done in preparation for it. 

so akaashi simply shrugged in response, continuing to prod your lip with the spoon until you parted you lips, allowing the pudding he made to enter your mouth. then, he pulled it out lower it to observe your pouty expression for a moment; you were so cute that he couldn’t help but smile softly. 

“i’m sure you’ll do fine, sweetheart. i believe in you.” he said, gripping your waist before placing a tender kiss on your cheek. “for now, let’s enjoy this perfect weather. it only comes around once a year, so why not make the most of it, hm?” 

before you were able to reply, akasshi utilized the hand  the had on your waist to pull you back onto the picnic blanket with him, so you were both looking up at the pale blue sky, decorated with delicate clouds. “what do you see?” he inquired, gesturing up to the shapes the clouds formed.

you snickered, slowly intertwining your finger with his as you examined the sky for any familiar shapes or silhouettes in the sky. “oh!” you exclaimed, lifting your index finger to point to a particular cloud adorning the sky, “that kinda looks like my maths professor in a gallon hat.” 

akaashi snorted, “i have no idea what your maths professor looks like but alright.”

you laughed, lowing your finger but not everting your gaze from the special cloud you spotted, “what about you, babe? what do you see?”

with a moment of hesitation, akaashi immediately replied, “an angel.”

your eyes scanned across the sky for a cloud in the shape on an angel but you simply couldn’t find the one he was referring to, so you whipped your head to the side to see where he was pointing, only notice that his eyes were fixated on you. 

“y-you’re such a simp, keiji.”

[jiminrings]

honestly i could talk w band!hobi abt numbers all day, like i wouldn't even mind. what are ur thoughts on 27 hobi? i think they a bad bitch. also UM might i request a drabble abt like a film major! yn (that is very enthusiastic abt films and the aesthetics + cinematography and whatnot) w like,,, a theatre kid?? any of ot7 works fine and it's all good if u can't or don't want to! thankyouu 💜

muse of mine

pairing: namjoon x y/n

wordcount: 4k

glimpse: namjoon’s always been a little sensitive to feedback whether it’s positive or negative, y/n’s an endearing type of talker, and smuggled snacks to the theater haven’t ever tasted this sweet :D // gif from pinterest!

notes: i kinda switched it up a lil bit and made them more established in their respective fields bc my mind went berserk on this concept!!! also this is mayhaps my oNLY piece that’s just pure fluff

“27? The number? Hmm. That sounds... sexy.” - band!hobi

this been’s bugging you for the past half hour

this whole experience feels oddly familiar

you’ve been in this theater for half an hour so far to watch this play!!

lmao ur gonna admit RIGHT off the bat that theatre’s definitely not it for you

your slight unfondness for it is deeply-rooted back to university and for four years, you’ve consistently taken dumps on theatre kids even if it’s under your breath

alright it’s possible that you don’t hATE the actual people ( only some of them ;D ) themselves but rather this whole type of cockiness and the “i’m a direct descendant of shakespeare himself. trust me bro. on god” energy that they always seem to exhude

but realistically, maybe this deep-rooted hate stemmed from seokjin

he was the guy you’d share the exact same elective class with him for two straight whole semesters and you’ve been seatmates from time to time

homie took foreign language as an elective?????

the language is korean?????????????????

“wait b-but i — aren’t you — n-no but i really???”

that’s what you first sputtered to him in realization when he took his seat beside you

the two of you have only ever shown each other notes bc the other was dozing off and the occasional sharing of gummy bears that’s already pre-opened to not make any noise

but for some reason, it’s only dawned in you why seokjin’s a god in this class and he answers your questions without even looking at his notes by hALFWAY through the whole semester of foreign language

one day, u are gonna find a way to bodyslam yourself and never recover from it ever again

“mhmm. don’t sweat it, sweetheart. i personally think it’s very don quixote of me to y’know, take something as impractical and amusing as this.”

you snort at his choice of words because honestly!! you barely remember don quixote and jin’s use of it as an adjective jigs up a refresher course on your brain

who was he again?? 

was he the donkey

.. or are you thinking about shrek again because of your film analysis

you sWEAR there was a donkey in that story

it’s good fun to talk with jin even if he keeps sliding bourgeoisie words here and there and you’re a lil confused with all these references that he makes but that’s okay !!!

atleast even him saying it in a long-winded way that he was like someone from the merchant of somewhere, you know now that he pretty-pleased and charmed his way to the registrar for him to take korean as an elective

...

two weeks later, jin sits next to you in class 

in ACTUAL non-elective, non-native language he already speaks class

now that you’re squinting a bit more, jin does look a little uh?? different

his hair that was once a hybrid of lavender and peach and pink and then blonde was now wholly black and it’s probably his original hair color because it matches with those eyebrows of his!!!

his combo of a black bomber jacket with a silk button-up underneath honestly SLAPS and it makes you forget how he used to exclusively wear only knitted shirts and argyle-patterned cardigans

you have ur jaw dropped because you totally would’ve fallen for seokjin jAW-FIRST 

— if only he didn’t strike you as the brother type when he smacked the back of your head because you were falling asleep on class again and uhhh you mUst be forgetting that the two of you were sitting in front

you had no time to reevaluate whether you should develop a crush for him or not 

he’s immediately slapping his hands on his knees, looking at you so intensely before pointing a finger at you with so much conviction, and then scoffing to himself

“switched majors to film. theatre was gonna be the death of me!!! y/n, if you even think about trying to switch to that cheap, amazon-ordered quill and tanning lights for stage lighting major, you’re absolutely dEAD to me-”

you’ve never had a conversation this striking nor long with jin but you genuinely have no complaints at all

seokjin talks pure shit about theatre and theatre junkies and everything in between for the WHOLE day 

trails beside you for every single class you had, which was convenient because he can then sweet-talk his way again (if anybody even dared to question him) that he’s just newly-switched 

sat with you for lunch and him not eating because he just needS to tell you all about it and you trying not to choke on your pasta as you try to reply to him

followed you back hOME and decided to crash the night there

yeah, that. your unfondness for theatre’s rooted on that one

uh-huh safe to say that you’ve become best friends with jin ever since that day

you’re a sponge for your friends and jin’s the closest one you have, so it was only natural that you soak up his distastes and whatnot

not to brag but aha :D

you add salt to the water while you boil pasta so u may be a little bit of a masterchef or somewhat, no big deal :D

he’s absorbed your fascination for all kinds of lights and fixtures that he has about seven different nightlights in the form of squishies or neon and everything else on his bedside table, in which he turns all of them on at night

fun fact: he’s capable of sleeping in the dark

jin’s the whole reason for your stance on this

he’s adamant about his points and you’ve graduated uni four years ago!!!

which is why you DON’T get why jin would give you a scented black envelope, with “don’t come to this” scribbled in gold at the front, carrying a single ticket to this play with a sticky note saying “don’t watch this at 7 pm, wearing your boss lady year-end award show type of clothes, sitting at the ninth row from the back and two seats from your right.”

because of course!! what the hell did he expect you to do? NOT come to this play at 7 pm wearing your boss lady year-end award show type of clothes then sitting at the ninth row from the back, two seats from the right???

OF COURSE YOU WOULD

your goal in life is to do exactly the opposite of what jin tells you. there’s literally nothing else in life you’d want to fulfill

he’s made it quite easy for you to spite him and although you wouldn’t admit it.,,.,., you may be a little petty ok

he’s the even bigger goof out of the two of you and you can never have the final say!! it’s always him and his wit and yOU being the dunce

it’s a lil sus that jin’s basically ASKING for it with his instructions but whatever

whatever it is, this is finally your chance to enact the final say and you’re gonna pull ALL the stops

all you know about theater-goers is that they dress fancy and wear these mini binoculars and that’s about it

there’s not even one film you know that you see anyone in the audience wearing a worn-in cardigan or even a puffer jacket even if the theater’s mad cold

all the people bring are scarves and shawls???? thee thinnest version of a blanket that won’t warm them up against the frigid airconditioning

that whole dress code sounds ridiculous!!! great please ring out this thousand-dollar dress im gonna wear to the theater thank u

you’re a little worried that you’re not gonna blend into the crowd, but after some digging about the invitation, formal wear is most definitely recommended

it’s an exclusive invite-only play which would be later released to the general public later on so yeah the situation dOES call for a gown thank u very much

also how could you forget that jin explicitly told you not to wear this type of attire

if you’re being humble right now, which you always normally are, even if that jUST sounded boastful talking about how you’re humble all the time —

you do look pretty breath-taking :-)

even when the doors weren’t opened and everyone’s just collectively loitering outside the hall, you’d feel glances at you

the sweet security guard did a double-take at you and mumbled a “very very nice evening to you, miss :D” instead of his normal “enjoy the show!” to the other patrons before you

you’re gonna soak all the silent compliments up and try to remember all of them before writing them on your journal later hee-hee

your midnight blue satin dress that’s floor-length and off-shoulder is dEFINITELY in your favor :D

your dress still glimmers even if the spotlight isn’t on you and you wish you weren’t shy to ask a random stranger to take a picture of you

going on self-timer isn’t ideal either when there’s like a hundred other people in the room

they probably wouldn’t even care if you took a picture of yourself!!! but in your head they probably think that you’re laughable so you’d rather not.. do that

the theater’s dark as hell if that wasn’t established

it is literally pitch black in the room and the ushers at each row holding the flashlights that are meant to guide the patrons aren’t exactly helpful

big kudos to them though,, must take a lot of self-control to not wave their lights like it was a rave :D

a flashlight tHAT bright?? whew pls is this what ships feel in the night

the last time you were in a rave, your thirty minutes of fun was cut short when seokjin immediately got hammered and wouldn’t stop throwing a fit if you didn’t drive him home that instant

his energy seemed to compelling everyone that he’s managed to somehow suck the energy out of a WHOLE rave so you took him home for everyone’s enjoyment :(((( except yours apparently

you’re trying hard to focus on the play that’s happening because for the past twenty minutes, all you’ve done is zone out randomly with ideas all of a sudden 

you NEED to listen

....

uh-huh...

UH-HUH......

wait this is actually.. good

you find plays hard to follow and absolutely boring when you don’t immerse yourself in a run-down PRIOR to watching it in order to get

it’s the same analogy as reading the plot of a movie on wikipedia before watching the movie at the cinema.... absolutely useless

it sucks out the fun from something you weren’t supposed to know

watching plays is two hours of you being confused, going home to read the plot and only understand it by tHEN, and never coming to the theater again because you’d waste your money.... watching something cluelessly in the theater..... for a plot you’d grasp at home

but no

because this one

actually this one that you’re watching...

it’s not bad

it’s nice, actually.

within two minutes, you managed to grasp that it’s a story about a never-ending spring between these two lovers

there’s something about the whole setting of it actually that just sucks you in

in some plays, the outfits would seem so forced even in the given context that it reminds you of uh a particular superhero movie

and yes ur aware that stage makeup has to be enhanced so that people all the way to the back row would see

but there’s just something in this scene that’s laid out right-now that actually gets you in awe

it’s of the couple in the back of their pick-up truck and everything about it seems so natural

the background straight up looks like what it’d be if you were to go outside

the guy’s arm around her shoulder seems so natural and in nature that it doesn’t feel like a random cue in the script

the girl twinkles and it doesn’t even feel like a forced type of laugh you’d cue in attempt to warm the audience’s hearts

it’s of a plot where the the guy eventually falls out of love with the girl, while girl gets even more smitten with the guy at the same time

it’s what you take from the past ten minutes that you watch in dead silence, and you don’t even remember in the back of your head that you’re supposed to hate plays

“no way.”

you mumble in disbelief under your breath, head shaking profusely

is your mind playing tricks on you???

you’ve got too used to seokjin sitting beside you that you immediately turn to your right, whispering out your concerns 

“is it just me or is she wearing a different shade of pink?”

you don’t even buffer for one second when you ask the stranger beside you

you’re so concerned that you’re looking at him intently while waiting for his answer that could either console or despair you, a random theater-goer that’s too noisy with her questions for her own good

it’s absolutely dARK as fuck in the theater but after awhile your eyes adjusted slightly

and the first thing you look at after the stage is him

him as in the dude in your right that you just asked all of a sudden

you could only see his silhouette and the faintest features of his face along with his well-dressed suit but god

... you are totally not lying if you say that even the barest silhouette of him doesn’t look handsome

you’re expecting him to tell you off for being so noisy but instead, he’s the one who takes you by surprise

“how did you notice that?” 

:O

“oh my god!” you exclaim almost too loudly that you yourself even jolts, the guy even making you duck with him slightly for a brief second, “im sO sorry!! am i accidentally spoiling it out for you?”

the guy blinks twice, lips slightly parted before shaking his head no

“no, no... this is the first screening — i mean uh, how would you know that?”

oh boy

you’re adjusting yourself on your seat, bum now warm as you try to explain and not be nervous because what if you just made a wrong assumption about this play and you’re sitting next to a goddamn tHEATRE BUFF???

“well i —uh, uhm what’s your name?” you’re flustered and the FIRST thing you ask is what was his name.,.,,

he seems equally as flustered before he adjusts his glasses, “o-oh uhm i’m namjoon...?”

alright! handsome guy is namjoon!

“you see, namjoon — okay it might just be in my head, but i tHINK it looks deeper with the light somehow. but uh...? the spotlight’s not following her and — is it just me or without the light, her sweater looks brown?”

you’re squinting and if u squint even more, maybe your contacts would just crumple by then

hold on a second

“brown, like — oh my gOD LIKE-”

namjoon puts a hand over his mouth before you could even gasp, hand reaching out for your forearm even before you manage to grasp his shoulder to take it in realization

was it under your nose the whole time??

“... fall.”

:D

holy fucking shit

namjoon looks positively euphoric looking at your face of realization, his once-heavy chest about the whole scene becoming completely devoid of weight

“exactly!!”

his confirmation makes you inwardly squeal, grinning as you point at him and the stage back and forth

“i think this is the first play i’ve become ever interested in watching.”

okay what now

his ears perk up at that, your first sentence that you’ve said after your pink sweater that looks like spring also looks brown like fall in certain scene because of the lighting realization

“it is?”

he takes the chance to look at you as best as he could, trying to play his squinting as cool as he can

namjoon’s far sighted and the glasses he’s wearing are nOT up to date with his current grade bc he’s pretty sure his eyesight’s worsened the past month

he can’t make you out wholly, but he does know that you’re pretty

his eyes don’t linger on you because of the snacks you’re fishing from your purse while you talk that are absolutely illegal in this theater house lmao

but instead, his gaze lingers on you because you’re so pretty

the minimal light that’s bouncing off the stage is enough for him to see a faint outline of your features, highlighting your smiles just right and your dress to glint underneath

“mhmm. i actually hate plays,” suddenly, you’re not scared if namjoon happens to be some sort of theatre buff and you’re offending him because honestly, you feel at ease. “crunch?” you’re holding out the mini bar of chocolate out to him, one he politely declines to because his eyes are bulging out the next second

“you do????”

his genuine reaction indulges you, making you grin ultimately that you put off eating snacks for now to focus on him

“yeah! this is my hate outfit :D”

namjoon giggles as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard

you automatically scoot closer because this time, it’s yOUR turn to shush him

this is totally for just the reason of talking more discreetly and not distracting anyone and is totally not an excuse to be closer to the next guy and touch shoulders with him then get a whiff of cologne because it’s rare for a guy to be handsome and aLSO smell good

your eyes get used to the darkness and eventually, you could make out features of namjoon beside you

he has the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen

and the way he looks at you makes you feel safe and even your height difference is visible with how probably lonG his torso is compared to yours, his gaze doesn’t make you feel small

namjoon’s still (unsurprisingly) far-sighted and ur so close that he’s a lil cross-eyed 

fuck it he’s gonna go to ophthalmologist FIRST thing in the morning tomorrow

“then why are you here?”

“my friend seokjin,” you lean back upon realizing the original reason why you’re here, the situation being so ironic that you puff out a smile

your friend’s named seokjin?

cool :D kim seokjin is namjoon’s of his favorite directors eVER!!

second best for him actually though.,., no one could quite compare to his first

your explanation makes him cackle several times, a swell of pride recounting why you hate (it’ll be past tense probably after this one) theatre 

“what about you?”

you turn the question to him, making his dimples disappear effectively that you think you’ve just spooked him

“i uh, well i always wanted to see a story that went like this, so i’m here.”

“you’re a critic? oh god. please don’t tell me you heard all my mumbles.”

no this is even WORSE

namjoon’s not a theatre buff

HE’S A CRITIC????????????

god im coming up

“don’t worry, i also think that the drapings must probably be dirty.”

he breaks out into a smile recounting how you were talking to yourself earlier, a snort escaping him involuntarily 

“RIGHT??? it’s like how do you even clean them?? do they fit in washing machines or-”

my god he’s such a nice guy!!!

in fact, he’s everything you want in a guy

you’ve went through atleast twelve facets of emotions for the past hour and you’re not even dating!!!!!!!

“my thoughts exactly!! and if it’s by hand, how do you even scrub the entirety of it?? or wring the water out??”

namjoon KNOWS exactly what’s up :’)

“is there even a clothesline that’d bEAR the weight??”

the two of you are so happy that you just look at each other laughing, a moment in time before namjoon nudges you to lean back because the ending’s happening

you don’t even question him how he’d know that it’s the ending and not just another opening to a new scene, just listening to him

you’re so happy

the play made you happy but namjoon made you even happier :-)

“if you are a critic, you should probably open up your review with this chatty play-hating girl beside you, then at the end, close it off with how she loves it.”

it’s the parting conversation as you realize and holy fuck you are nOT ready for it

you r gonna drag this out for as long as you could <3

......

and namjoon wants in too <3

“noted. if i was a playwright, i’d even make you the lead. which detail should i include? offering me wrapper-covered rice crispy snacks, or asking how you’d watch it while going thru the bathroom?”

this feels so natural

as natural as the couple in the play you’ve just finished watching :))

“you’re hilarious,” you’re not even the slightest bit annoyed and your restrained smile tells him all about it

yea you may have brought in snacks illegally but you aRE gathering your trash up as you’re a decent human being

namjoon wishes you’d pick up after yourself slowly, standing up from his seat as he has the plan of picking up trash that isn’t even his

“what name should i put then?”

you’re silent and oh god he thinks you found his company stupid and would definitely not give him your name

you’re not ignoring him though!!!

his words are still stuck in your head, realizing it lately with his “which detail should i include?”

“me wanting to turn this into a film, actually.”

you test the words out on your tongue, nodding to yourself after a few seconds that you seem so sure of it

“yeah. i wanna make it into a film.”

the lights turn on after being dim for so long, namjoon’s eyes going wide trying to digest what you’ve just said

“w-what?

.....

no fucking way

HOLY FUCKING SHIT SWFRWFBWRHGBRBVWRV SWBHJSDB SHJAVBHGJDS BWHRGHBSVWBGRH

namjoon’s malfunctioning as he’s looking at you from eye to eye, bottom lip trembling while he’s so keen at pointing at you

“y-you’re miss y/n!!”

....

right

oH RIGHT

he’s a fan of yours??

namjoon’s fanning his face because he’s about to literally burst into tears

how could he nOT???

how could he not be emotional when all along, he’s been talking to his number one favorite director????

you and your films are the absolute gems of his life namjoon’s not even kidding

your films were world-renowned for being so natural and sentimental without loading too much into it!!!! you’re known for being so humble through the multiple back-to-back awards and praise you get!!!! 

he cannot calm the fUCK down when you’re rubbing circles on his back

“you w-want to turn my play into a film?”

oh my gOD

you’re fumbling for the envelope and it’s only nOW that you realize that it’s not from seokjin in the first place

spring day a play by kim namjoon an invite for director y/n y/l/n

“it’s you!!!!”

“no it’s YOU!!”

jin’s plan worked alright :D

he’s just FOUR rows behind you lmao

it was just two weeks ago when yoongi, the executive producer of his film that he was directing, let it slip that he was co-financing a play

he met yoongi some semesters later after he became close with you, and he’s aLSO converted yoongi into hating theatre then he fit right in to your little posse of theatre kid-hating film students

that gave jin the laugh of his laugh and yoongi was not joking at all

“no, no. i’m telling you man. it’s different! i even have the script that i’ll let you read.”

and holy shit it IS different

if you see a couple tears on the last seven pages of yoongi’s copy of spring day’s script then mind yo oWN fucking business

then two weeks later, here he is :D

jin managed to also convert you to love theatre even IF it is namjoon’s play that did all the work

( also coincidentally found you a future boyfriend because he’s tired of seeing you alone and the closest you’d get to having someone is projecting your yearning into writing the scripts for the films you’d make )

he’s also secretly co-financed the whole play along with yoongi and he’ll drop that bomb later on lmao

“and that must mean i looked like a total FOOL beside you oh my god im so sorry!!”

namjoon panics at that, about to cry when another realization hits him when he’s about to put his head on his hands

“then that means the friend who gave you the ticket was-”

SEOKJIN VBFHSBVHSFBVSFHDVBSJFV SFJVJSFVSJVSSV SSV V FS FSV SFBVRBVRSVSWVGU

he cries to your shoulder and you never expected to be hugging and consoling someone you’ve just met two hours ago, a more than fond smile on your face he takes advantage of when he sneaks in the chance to ask you

“do you mean that?”

“now why would i lie to the playwright who’s been listening to me talk shit, then theorizing, then crying for the past hour?”

it’s true though

namjoon’s seen it all

he’s still handsome as ever even when he sniffles, his dimples on display when you return his question

“now did you mean it? writing me into your play?”

why are you even ASKING

:D

he’s the biggest fan of u

namjoon’s made notes of your work, dedicated scripts to your movies, and he’s thinking about how it’s not yet hitting you how your whole epiphany about the pink sweater turning brown on his play,,, was entirely inspired from you and your affinity for lighting in your films

he thinks it’s still a little early to kiss you on the cheek even if you’ve already hugged, instead settling on pinching your cheek with satisfaction present in all corners

“you’ve always been my muse.”

[artificialqueens]

Are You in Love With a Notion? (Diamond Chaney) - Ortega

summary: Ellie wakes up in the Lake District with a hangover, an engagement ring, and her best friend in her bed. It’s not quite Vegas, but it’s still a cataclysmic mess.

a/n: this one goes out to the anon that came to my inbox with the concept “diamond chaney but they impulsively get married one night and have to deal with the consequences later”. it was too good to just headcanon for so it’s now a fully-fledged fic. it’s complete and utter silly nonsense and it’s by no means the most groundbreaking writing in the world, but it is FUN! hope u all enjoy and pls enjoy my continued campaign for u all to board the diamond chaney clown bus xo

(do people still use snapchat? fuck knows, but i needed it for plot purposes. if u like u can pretend this is set in 2016.)

***

Ellie wakes up feeling like a bat has shat in her head.

It feels as if her pulse is contained entirely within her cranium given the way it’s throbbing, and every time she blinks it’s as if each of her eyelashes weigh twenty kilogrammes. She momentarily wonders where she is before the heavy cream drapes and the shiny glass-topped bedside table come into focus and she remembers she’s in the hotel room. A’whora had wanted to splash out for her birthday (“you only turn a quarter of a century old once, ladies!”) and no expense was spared since she’d got that promotion a few months back. She’d covered the difference for any of the girls who wouldn’t have been able to afford to go away and Ellie was thankful for her friend’s kindhearted and generous nature. After all, she’s not the kind of girl who would say no to a treat, and she’ll return the favour as soon as her salon takes off.

(And it will take off. She didn’t study business for nothing.)

But the room right now, even with its four-poster bed and the cosy sheets and the four soft pillows, is providing absolutely no respite from the fact that Ellie is hanging out of her arse. Throwing her arm over her eyes as she squeezes them shut, she gives a small, self-indulgent sob of anguish and suffering.

And as she rolls from her side onto her back, she becomes aware of the fact that she’s not alone in the bed.

The dread and fear that grips her heart reminds her of when she went on school camp in Primary 7 and had to jump into one of those freezing cold plunge pools.

She keeps her arm over her eyes for a few more seconds to allow herself to work up the mental stability she needs to face whoever’s at her side. Maybe it’s a dream. Maybe this has all been in her mind and in a moment she’s going to wake up hangover-free with her bed blissfully empty.

Ellie brings her arm down from her eyelids and, without knowing what possesses her (aside from the copious amounts of alcohol that remain in her bloodstream), bites down gently on her arm in lieu of pinching herself.

She can confirm she is still very much awake.

It’s not that a one-night-stand is beyond her; she would even go as far as to say that at one point both she and A’whora were infamous for it back at uni, and she’s admittedly glad that “Dirty Diamond” just isn’t as catchy as “A’whora” and therefore that particular nickname hasn’t stuck with her into adult life like it has for her friend. No, what she’s surprised at herself for is the fact she’s brought someone back at her big age. She hasn’t had a random hookup for a while now, and the fact she can’t remember it is even worse.

She presses the hand that’s under the duvet against her thigh and her heart almost gives out with relief at the fact she can feel clothes. She can’t have gone too far, then. This is okay. This is salvageable. As she runs her fingers over the hem of whatever the fuck she’s wearing, realisation slowly dawns on her that it’s her pink playsuit from the night before.

Ellie genuinely can’t tell if the situation is better because she’s not naked, or worse because she’s still in her clothes from last night.

Her pulse skyrockets again, however, as an arm gently thuds over her waist through the duvet and the person, whoever the hell they even are, snuggles into her side contentedly. Only…it all feels too weirdly familiar for Ellie’s liking. The body beside her, the closeness, even the rise and fall of the breathing is all that of someone she feels like she knows.

Lifting her arm off her eyes and to her forehead, opening them, and finally ripping the plaster off to see who’s by her side, Ellie doesn’t know whether to be relieved or slightly horrified.

A purple velvet jumpsuit with a belt to tie her in at the waist that’s coming undone. Black and purple painted nails. Endless waves of thick lilac hair that are fanned out in tendrils across the white pillowslip. An entire face of perfectly painted makeup that’s still clinging on from the night before.

It’s Lawrence. She’s waking up beside her best friend. This is fine. This is totally normal. They’ve shared a bed countless times before back at uni, and it’s not something Ellie’s ever been adverse to- quite the opposite in fact, she thinks, as her stomach does a flip.

Something still feels off, though.

And then, as Ellie brings her hand down from her forehead and something bumps against it, it hits her- physically and metaphorically- all at once.

The ring Lawrence always wears; her pride and joy, her grandmother’s ring. The one that looks like the heart of the ocean on her finger, a huge blue diamond surrounded by eight small platinum ones. The ring Lawrence guards with her life and would only take off if it was physically tasered off her. The ring that could single-handedly obliterate Lawrence’s entire student debt and probably Ellie’s too if she was feeling generous enough.

The ring- that ring- is currently sitting on the fourth finger of Ellie’s left hand. As if it’s an engagement ring.

“Lawrence,” Ellie says without thinking. Her voice is croaky and too-loud in the silence of the room, but Lawrence still takes a while to stir beside her. She pulls Ellie close with the arm that’s round her, nuzzles her face into her arm. Usually the feeling wouldn’t be an unwelcome one, but just now Ellie’s got bigger problems. She hisses again. “Lawrence, wake up.”

“I’m not shagging you, Ruth Davidson, you wee Tory,” Lawrence’s sleep-coated voice comes from beside her, and Ellie finally draws back, reaches behind her and takes the pillow out from under her head to thump her with.

“For fuck’s sake! Lawrence, wake up! We’re in the shit here!”

As Lawrence finally blinks slowly, Ellie watches her go through the seven stages of grief far more rapidly than she’s just done. She feels like an idiot for the way her heart dips in disappointment when Lawrence shuffles back from her and draws her arm away self-consciously. She mumbles, grumpy and tired. “Ellie, I’m not alive.”

“Yes you are, drama queen.”

“No I’m fucking not. I feel how Prince Philip looks,” she groans in despair, obviously as hungover as Ellie is. She screws her face up and rubs her eyes, in turn smearing her makeup over her cheekbones. “Why am I even here?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we shagged,” Ellie says dryly, before holding the back of her hand up to Lawrence’s face. “Main question is, why the hell do I have this?”

Lawrence’s eyes grow wide in recognition before she groans and thumps her head back against the pillow. “How did you even…? Aw, I don’t know, Ellie, I’m too hungover to be mad about it. Just gies it back before you breathe and lose it or some shite.”

“But why is it…you know. Why is it here?” Ellie asks insistently, pressing her hand against her friend’s face in a deliberately annoying way. Lawrence grabs her wrist and forces it away from her face to get a proper look, and Ellie can see the cogs turn in her head before her face blanches at the implication.

Appearing to try and collect herself, Lawrence frowns, batting Ellie’s arm away. “You were probably getting hit on by some reprobate forty year old man in a suit so I’ll have let you pretend to be married to me. You should be honoured, really, it’s the closest you’ll get to perfection.”

“Piss off,” Ellie rolls her eyes as Lawrence gives a sleepy chuckle. She fiddles with the ring on her finger. It’s a little too small, and taking it off is proving difficult. Combined with the underlying stress of something still not being right, though, and it’s not enough to make Ellie’s dread dissipate.

“Can you remember any of last night?” she asks Lawrence, who’s scrabbling around on the bedside table for her phone.

“Nothing. You?”

“Neither,” Ellie rubs her temples with her fingers as if trying to massage the hangover out of her brain. No such luck.

“A’whora will be worse than us, then, won’t she? Because the last thing I remember is her and Tayce necking the prosecco at pres- oh, shit,” Lawrence has successfully retrieved her phone, and as she cuts herself off she’s frowning at it as if it’s committed a crime against her. “She’s calling just now, actually.”

Ellie already knows A’whora will be perfectly fresh and put together even before Lawrence swipes her phone across the screen to accept the facetime call, and so seeing her looking exactly that plus her girlfriend beside her looking the exact same just makes Ellie want to die even more.

A’whora’s smile is smug on her face as she smirks at them through the phone. “How are you two lovebirds doing this morning?”

Her words are like cold water down Ellie’s spine, and from the way Lawrence’s expression has changed too it seems she’s not the only one. She’s wondering what A’whora’s trying to imply with her joke and really, really hoping it’s just an innocent barb with no meaning behind it. Ellie can’t speak, but Lawrence gets there before her anyway. “What?”

“The married couple! The newlyweds! The babas!” Tayce jumps in, way too energetic and excited and making Ellie feel more hungover just looking at her.

Her words, though, aren’t helping her growing need to spew all over the hotel room floor. “What are you talking about?”

A’whora’s jaw drops open, and she barely conceals a laugh. “Oh my God. What do you remember?”

Ellie doesn’t want to give either of them the satisfaction of admitting that the answer’s nothing, but Lawrence is talking before she can get a chance. “Neither of us can remember anything. All I know is that I woke up in bed with this slut and she’s tried to steal my gran’s ring off me to…fuck knows, pretend she’s married to me. She wishes.”

“Lawrence,” Tayce starts, barely audible from giggling. “You two are married. You got married last night.”

What the fuck.

How can they be married? It’s not possible. Ellie tries to think but she can’t conjure up any clear thoughts. She feels the same smack of dread and fear that she felt when she went on that motorcycle rollercoaster at Flamingo Land two summers ago. Lawrence had been by her side then, too, her hand over Ellie’s white-knuckled one and reeling off ridiculous jokes to try and calm her down. She hates rollercoasters, and this one doesn’t seem like it’s going to be over anytime soon.

Lawrence doesn’t seem fazed. “You’re on the wind-up. Els, don’t give them the satisfaction, they’re taking the piss.”

“We’re not!” Tayce gasps, affronted, and A’whora is protesting adamantly too. “There was a wedding party in the bar last night and the pair of you kept moaning about how single you were and how you’d never find love.”

Lawrence narrows her eyes at her through the camera, offended. Ellie is inclined to feel the same.

“And the pair of you eventually decided you were just going to marry each other. Bimini mentioned they’re an ordained minister, so then you both insisted they married the pair of you in the hotel bar.”

“Get so far to fuck,” Lawrence snorts derisively, but it’s still not helping Ellie’s rising, terrified heart rate. “We’re meanty believe this, aye? Why in the fuck would I ever agree to marrying this wee cow, as if I would lower myself!?”

Ouch. Ellie scowls, screws her face up as she tears her eyes away from the screen and looks at Lawrence pointedly. “Thanks babes, love you too.”

“But you know what I mean!” Lawrence sort-of-not-really apologises. “Right, then, I’ll bite. If we got married, how did we get to the registry office? What registry office is open at eleven at night on a Saturday?”

A’whora shrugs all blasé. “There’s one in the hotel, we just went there. Caught it just before it closed, I think.”

Ellie narrows her eyes. She wants to believe it’s a joke, so she attempts to pick a hole in the story. “If we were that drunk, though, they wouldn’t have married us? Surely? I mean it’s not Vegas, A’whora, it’s the fucking Lake District.”

“Oh no, baby, the registrar said they get couples turning up drunk all the time! And obviously myself, A’whora and Bimini were much more sober than you, so we were the responsible adults. Or bridesmaids, I guess. We were that classy level of prosecco tipsy, you pair were on the vodka lemonades by eight last night,” Tayce explains.

As the story unfolds, Ellie feels more and more nauseous. She wants to crawl up into a ball like a dead woodlouse. Surely not. Surely not.

“Wedding dresses,” Lawrence says argumentatively. “We didn’t have wedding dresses. It would’ve been so obvious we were taking the piss.”

“Oh, neither of you would stop going on about how the colour scheme was pink and purple! Matching pink and purple playsuits! Which I see you’re still wearing, you absolute hounds,” Tayce wrinkles her nose in distaste.

Everything seems to be adding up to a ridiculously clear and yet blurry degree, and Ellie can’t in any way cope with the magnitude of the situation. She throws her arms over her face and curls up into the foetal position with a groan of self-pity. Through the duvet, she feels Lawrence whack her.

“Ellie, shut up! It’s so obviously a joke,” she insists, and Ellie can hear the roll of her eyes. A’whora and Tayce are cackling down the phone like two little Wizard of Oz witches and Ellie’s never identified more with Dorothy in her life.

“Well, believe us or don’t believe us, still doesn’t change the fact you got hitched,” A’whora says lightly. “I mean, you’ll have the marriage certificate to prove it. You had it last night, it’ll be in your room somewhere.”

Ellie pops her head out from under the duvet in horror. Her voice comes out as a horrified squeak. “Marriage certificate?”

A’whora shrugs. “Yeah! If you don’t believe us then maybe you’ll believe a piece of paper.”

“The marriage certificate that doesn’t exist. Aye, nae bother,” Lawrence says, still clearly disdainful of the story. “You coming to breakfast or what?”

“Oh, babe! Been there, done that! We got up at seven, showered, dressed, makeup, breakfast, and we’ve been out for a walk. Get on our level,” Tayce flicks her hair. Ellie fleetingly loathes her.

Lawrence rubs her forehead with her free hand, clearly headachey. “Well I’m starving, so I’m not hanging around to be wound up by the fuckin’ lesbian Prank Patrol any longer. Time’s check out?”

“You’ve got til half twelve. I got us a late one, figured we’d all need it.”

As Lawrence promises to see the other two later and hangs up, Ellie can’t speak. She’s still in shock at the potential truth from last night; that they actually got married. To each other. Over the years, Ellie’s invented made-up scenarios in her head that involve various things: telling Lawrence how she feels, kissing Lawrence, Lawrence asking her on a date. None of them have involved marriage. She’s never even thought to think that far ahead, but now it’s a reality it doesn’t seem like the Disney-princess dream she’s always expected it to be.

It actually feels sort of like a nightmare.

A thud from a pillow brings her back to reality. “Ellie!”

Ellie looks at her friend, who’s managed to crawl off the bed and is standing beside it, looking expectantly at her. Ellie blinks in bewilderment, rubs her eyes before she speaks. “What?”

“I’m gonna go shower and get changed and then we can go down to breakfast? I’ll come back and knock in about fifteen minutes?”

Ellie can’t believe she’s so calm. Sitting up in bed and feeling her head sting again, she looks pointedly at Lawrence. “You’re not in any way bothered about the story the girls just told us? The fact we might have got married?”

Lawrence snorts. “Oh, Ellie, please. You’re so gullible I swear to God someone could tell you Davina McCall’s the new Pope and you’d just nod and accept it.”

“But the marriage certificate, though? The ring? Which, by the way, won’t come off,” Ellie tugs on it again, trying not to panic when it doesn’t budge.

“There won’t be a marriage certificate! You said it, it’s the UK, it’s not Vegas. There’s a reason shotgun weddings aren’t a thing here. You honestly think we could just rock up to a registry office and get married?”

Ellie falls silent. She should feel reassured, but she doesn’t.

“I’m away to scrub the first ten layers of alcohol sweat out of my pores, awrite? You better be ready by the time I’m back.”

Lawrence leaves and Ellie is left on her own with her thoughts, which all seem to ricochet off her brain and pummel it to a husk, making her hangover worse. She still searches lazily for the fabled marriage certificate in between showering and getting ready, looking fruitlessly under discarded clothes on the floor and under furniture. Lawrence is right- she knows Lawrence is right- but there’s still a part of Ellie’s mind that’s niggling away with a what if on a loop.

By the time Lawrence knocks on her door again, Ellie is back not knowing what to think. She finds herself frantically babbling to her on the way down to the hotel restaurant in the lift, but her friend won’t entertain it.

“You’re too easy to prank. How can you believe them, it’s obviously a bam up!”

“Well, it could’ve happened! They brought it up before we even said we couldn’t remember anything, right? I mean, why else would you give me your ring? You barely trust me to hold your phone for two seconds to take a picture,” Ellie runs a hand through her hair, which she didn’t wash and is still in its big curls from the night before.

“Aye! Because you dropped it in the road when we went out for Jazz’s birthday!”

“That was two years ago! And I paid for the screen repairs!” Ellie cries in indignation, but the memory still makes her blush. She grows quiet again before her mind takes her back to the apparent events of last night. “The story makes sense.”

“The story does not make sense!” Lawrence sighs, agitated. “What proof do we have? You’re wearing my ring and our pals have told us the plot of a Hangover film? Honestly, hen, if we got married last night I’ll buy you an Uber back to Dundee.”

As they reach the dining room, the pair of them stop dead in the entranceway. Because there in the middle, almost as if it’s framed, is a table for two surrounded by inflatable red heart-shaped balloons, covered in red sparkly confetti, with champagne flutes and roses and polished silverware.

“What time’s my Uber booked for, then?” Ellie deadpans sarcastically. She doesn’t know why she’s making a joke. She isn’t in a joking mood. She’s nothing short of horrified.

“Calm down. That won’t be for us. A’whora said there was a wedding party last night, remember? It’ll be for them,” Lawrence reassures her, but Ellie doesn’t miss the distinct lack of self-assuredness to her voice that had been there before.

A waiter approaches them and asks for their name. Lawrence speaks (because Ellie can’t quite manage), and in return the waiter fixes them with a bright smile.

“Ladies, on behalf of us all at the Old England, we would like to wish you many congratulations and happiness on this most special occasion. Please, follow me,” he reels off before walking in the direction of the over-the-top, Valentine’s Day-style photoshoot set-up that is apparently where they’re having breakfast.

Ellie is going to be sick.

“You’ve got to be fucking joking,” Lawrence whispers all in one breath, before sleepwalking towards their table and sitting down with a tight smile of thanks to the eager waiter. As Ellie sits in the chair opposite, she notices the affectionate smiles from couples at other tables and feels her face flush with hot embarrassment. The waiter disappears with a promise to be back for their order soon, and the pair of them are left sitting in stunned silence.

“Lawrence,” Ellie says first. Her gaze is stuck on the table, shocked and stunned.

“Don’t,” Lawrence replies. When Ellie finally looks at her she’s sitting with her eyes squeezed shut, her face a picture of strained concentration.

“What are you doing? You look constipated.”

“I’m trying to wake up from this abject fucking nightmare,” Lawrence says through gritted teeth.

Even though Lawrence is right- it is a nightmare, it’s a bad, terrible dream- it doesn’t stop the way her words feel ever-so-slightly like a blow to the crush Ellie’s harboured for an embarrassingly long length of time. She can’t think about that, though. There are bigger issues at stake here. Like the fact they’re married.

“Do you believe me now? Why the hell would the hotel do all this if we didn’t get married in their registry office the night before?”

“It’ll be…” Lawrence begins, trying to explain it away then putting her head in her hands when she realises she’s at a loss. “Fuck, I don’t know. We need A’whora or Tayce down here to talk it through with us. Or Bimini. If it’s A’whora and Tayce’s prank then they might not be in on it.”

“They had to go back to London early for a shoot, remember? They’ll have already left,” Ellie reminds Lawrence, and her face falls in dismay.

The waiter returns holding a bottle of champagne and Ellie watches Lawrence turn over her flute with a little aggressive thud and doesn’t say when until the bubbles climb to the very top of the glass. They both order pastries, Ellie’s appetite completely gone and Lawrence’s appearing to be the same.

Ellie narrows her eyes at Lawrence as she watches her glug the bubbles down. “How the hell can you be drinking at a time like this? Are you not hungover?”

“I am hungover, yes. But I need to be drunk to deal with this situation. So I’m hoping this’ll at least take the edge off a bit,” she says dryly. Ellie rolls her eyes.

“Being drunk got us into this situation, it’s not gonna get us out of it,” she sighs helplessly, realising too late that she sounds too much like her Mum. Lawrence responds appropriately; shaking her head at her moodily and staring off into the distance as she keeps sipping from her glass.

Ellie cups her cheeks, thanks the waiter weakly as he puts down a tray of pastries in front of the two of them. She tries to go over the events of last night in her head but draws a blank every time. According to A’whora and Tayce they’ll have been at the bar, decided to get married…Bimini had married them, somehow and somewhere, and they’d gone to the registrar…then they’d presumably got even more drunk and had a dance, and then…

How had Lawrence ended up in her room? Unless they’d…no. They’d both still had their clothes on from the night before.

But that wouldn’t have stopped them making out.

“Oh, God,” Ellie groans, unable to hold in the regret and the constant pain of her headache. Lawrence shoots her a funny look. Ellie’s loath to explain herself. The idea that the first kiss she’s shared with Lawrence has been messy, drunk, and one she can’t even remember is one that makes her feel stupid amounts of disappointed, but she’s not exactly going to share that with her friend.

“Loz, what if we did something last night?”

“What, aside from get married?” Lawrence talks through a mouthful of croissant. Then, as realisation dawns, her chewing stops. “Oh.”

There’s an awkward silence as they both stare at each other.

“Nah,” Lawrence finally shrugs as she resumes eating. “Because we both still had our clothes from last night on when we woke up?”

“Yeah, but we still could’ve kissed,” Ellie pulls a face, the words feeling too awkward and childish as they come out of her mouth. Lawrence seems to hesitate for a second before smirking across the table at her.

“Aye right. As if I’d ever let you near enough to me for that to happen.”

“Rich from the girl who was wrapped around me when I woke up,” Ellie quirks an eyebrow at her, and it’s Lawrence’s turn to fall silent.

Breakfast doesn’t last long. Between their hangovers and the fact that they’re both trying to make sense of the whole crazy situation neither of them can eat much, and they’re dragging themselves back to their rooms before too long. They continue to discuss everything, purely because there’s not much else they can talk about when the prospect of them being married is hanging over their heads like the world’s heaviest cloud. This time, though, it’s Lawrence who’s doing most of the nervous talking.

“I’m sure it’s easily explained away. They probably just got our table confused with the wedding party’s from yesterday. That’ll be what it is. Just some big coincidence. There’s a reasonable explanation to it all. Have you got that fuckin’ ring off your finger yet?!”

“I’m working on it,” Ellie grumbles. The best she’s managed is getting it halfway to her first knuckle before realising it was cutting the blood circulation off even more and she could get it no higher, so she’d immediately pushed it back down again.

She hears herself huff with annoyance. All she wants to do is sleep but they have to somehow deal with this first, and it’s more inconvenient than she’d ever hoped her first marriage (her only marriage) would be. Thinking for a second, she gives a little gasp as she has an idea. “Why don’t we just go down to the registry office and ask?”

Lawrence stops walking, fixes Ellie with a look as if she’s sprouted another head. “Have you lost the bloody place?! You want to go up to the registrar and go, ‘sorry to bother you, but can you please tell us if we’re married or not?’ We’d get sectioned!”

Ellie thinks that, even though it sounds as if it’s the easiest course of action, Lawrence is probably right.

“Besides,” Lawrence continues. “If there’s the possibility that we did rock up three sheets to the wind last night, I don’t particularly wanty show my face there again.”

“Right,” Ellie agrees. She bites her lip as she reaches the door to her room and puts her key card in. Lawrence waits beside her, a mutual understanding that she’s coming in to continue the conversation.

Ellie supposes she’s her wife now, so it makes sense.

“Who could we phone to confirm it, then? The government?”

Lawrence pinches the bridge of her nose in exasperation. “Ellie, you did not just ask me if we could phone the gov-”

“Oh my fucking God.”

Ellie cuts Lawrence off without thinking, and upon seeing the inside of the room Lawrence is rendered speechless too. There’s more balloons, ones without weights that cover the ceiling over the bed. The bed itself and the floor surrounding it is covered in rose petals, and on top of the pristinely made duvet there’s a box of chocolates and two bathrobes origami-d into swans.

Lawrence is the first to march into the room. She snatches up a small note that’s sitting on top of the chocolate box, unfolds it and reads aloud. “Congratulations to the happy couple, we wish you both a long and happy marriage. From all the staff at the Old England hotel. Fuck me, this canny be real.”

Ellie lets the door swing shut, walks over to the bed and sits on its edge precariously. An idea occurs to her as she retrieves her phone from her pocket. “Here. Check your phone. Messages, photos. There might be clues.”

She doesn’t look up to see if Lawrence is nodding or not, but she assumes she’s following her suggestion. Ellie is busy with her camera roll (where there’s nothing, and the last photo is a terrible, blurry, unflattering selfie of her and Tayce) when Lawrence gives a hum of recognition.

“I got a snapchat from you at one in the morning.”

Ellie cranes her neck. “What does it say?”

Lawrence, oddly, is keeping the phone out of her view. She’s quiet before she brings the phone back into Ellie’s line of vision, and the picture, whatever it was, is gone. “Just a drunk selfie. Nothing that could give us any clues.”

The pair of them are quiet as Lawrence taps against her phone screen. Ellie reflects. They’ve been in the shit like this together before: when they were eighteen and both their phones died before Lawrence’s Mum could pick them up from T in the Park and they got yelled at the whole way home when she’d eventually found them both, when they’d been stopped by the police because Lawrence had carried a traffic cone through the City Centre and tried to put it on top of the existing one on the Duke of Wellington statue. But this is a whole different level of shit.

Through it all, though, Lawrence has always been there with a joke and a laugh and reassurance for Ellie that things are never as bad as they seem. She always has this panicky way of staying positive, delivering comforting words through a voice that’s shaky with her own anxiety. Ellie always helps her in return when she needs it, has done for years: she’s usually good at staying calm, she’s chatty and can talk Lawrence through anything, and she’ll always reach out to take her hand or be there with a hug and a reminder that as long as Lawrence has got her, she’s never on her own. They’ve always seemed to take turns being each others’ anchors, and their friendship is a weird sort of pendulum of support. Today, however, they’re both blindly stumbling through their own process of coming to terms with this situation, and Ellie supposes neither or them are being much of a help to each other. She wishes she could be more helpful, because she cares about her friend so much.

Too much for it to be explained away as a friendship.  

“What are you looking up?” Ellie asks as Lawrence lies back on the bed with a thud, eyes still glued to her phone. Craning her neck, Ellie can see she’s typed how to get divorced into Google.

“Why are there no ordained divorce lawyers?” Lawrence mutters under her breath. “We can get married in a hotel bar but we can’t get divorced in a hotel room? What kind of fucking bullshit is this?”

Ellie lies back too. It’s not lost on her how close together their heads are. “Why are you trying to get us divorced? We might not even be married. I still think we should phone up the government.”

“Nicola Sturgeon’s got bigger fish to fry, babes, there’s an election in May.”

“Not the government, obviously,” Ellie rolls her eyes, scrolls her own phone absent-mindedly. She’d look something up to try and help but she’s at a loss. “Like…the offices! The records of marriage and stuff. They’ll have a department for this sort of thing, won’t they?”

“Will we even be on the system if our marriage is less than twenty-four hours old?” Lawrence wonders out loud. “And if we got married here, would we be registered in England, then? Aw fuck, so many questions and not a single answer.”

Ellie frowns to herself as she thinks. “What if we do have to get divorced? Will we need a lawyer? I don’t have that kind of money, Lawrie, and neither do you.”

Lawrence hums in worried agreement, and Ellie presses her lips together. It’s weird dealing with all of this when there’s a crush at play. In amongst frantically trying to figure everything out and clarify it all, a tiny part of Ellie wonders…would it really be so bad to be married to Lawrence? There’s not really an excuse for them not to date now. It’s really the perfect way of ruining the friendship she’s been so worried about ruining for the past few years; it’s not awkward to say she has feelings for her literal wife, she supposes. But every time those thoughts rest in her brain for a few seconds, Ellie forces herself to chase them away- because really, hen, are you insane? The sheer scale of the situation isn’t lost on her, she knows they have to figure it out somehow and mop this mess up. But pretending would be nice, and safe, and far, far away from this alcohol-soaked bubble of horror she appears to have woken up in.

It’s out before she knows it, though. “What if we just stayed married? If we are. If we just stayed married until we could afford to get divorced?”

“Jesus Christ, Ellie,” Lawrence drops her phone onto the bed, covering her eyes with her hands in resigned exhaustion.

“No, think about it! There must be loads of benefits to getting married,” Ellie explains, feeling as if she has to justify the ridiculous thought now. “You get, um. I think you get extra money from the government?”

“The tories have never given out extra money. To anyone,” Lawrence glares at her.

(Ellie knows it’s not what she should be taking from this, but it occurs to her that the way Lawrence has done her eyeliner today makes her eyes look really pretty.)

“Oh! Here, it says you get tax breaks if you get married. It would be good to not have to pay council tax for a bit,” Ellie says, looking up from her phone where she’s just googled what are the benefits of getting married UK.

Lawrence pauses beside her. When she speaks, she sounds contemplative. “Well, you’d be taking my last name, because am I fuck taking yours.”

Ellie gives a choked noise of indignation. “Fuck off, I’ve got the best last name out of the two of us! Diamond?”

“It’s the last name of a porn star! I’m not living my daily life like that!”

“So you want me to go by Ellie Chaney? A name that rhymes? Like a character from Balamory?”

“You already dress like a fuckin’ character from a kids’ TV show, it wouldn’t be that far-fetched,” Lawrence starts giggling, and Ellie can only fix her with an unimpressed pout. “Nah, this wouldn’t work, Els. We’re already arguing and it’s only been one day. We couldn’t stay married. Besides, I’ve got fucking standards, you know? I could so do better than you.”

It’s silly, Ellie knows, but the last comment from Lawrence stings more than it should. It’s got nothing to do with the concept of the two of them actually being married, but more the fact that Lawrence has basically just rubbished any hopes that Ellie’s ever had of maybe-someday-oneday them breaking out of their little bubble of friendship and trying to be anything more. She’s always done it; that’s Lawrence’s way, to shit on Ellie, to gently bully her, but Ellie has always known there’s no malice behind it. Except today it all hits differently, it hits a sore spot that she’s too tired of trying to keep hidden.

“Sorry that being married to me is such a disgusting prospect,” Ellie snaps without realising, turning over on the bed and standing up so she doesn’t have to see Lawrence’s reaction to the comment she already regrets.

“When did I say that?” Lawrence fires back, and Ellie can tell she’s confused by her reaction.

“We need to find this fucking marriage certificate,” Ellie ignores her, opening the drawers of the bedside table even though she sort of knows it’s a futile endeavour since she’s already searched.

Lawrence pushes, though, never one to back down from a confrontation.  “Why are you suddenly raging at me, what am I meant to have done?”

“You don’t have to act like you got landed with the booby prize on a game show, Lawrence, I’m still your friend. There’s worse people to be stuck with,” Ellie continues as she crosses the room to look in the drawers of the dressing table, hating the way she sounds like a petulant child but being unable to help the way her words just seem to be coming out.

There’s a silence that hangs in the air like fog, and then Lawrence’s voice comes again. It’s softer, a comforting note to it that makes Ellie’s heart lift cruelly. “Ellie.”

Ellie opens the wardrobe doors, realising too late what a ridiculous place to look it is but committing to the idea anyway. She’s still way too hungover to cope with any of this, and the prospect of an argument with Lawrence, especially over this, isn’t one she’s able to face. Accepting she’s not going to find the certificate, she sighs and walks back over to the bed. As she sits on its edge and keeps her back to her friend she fiddles with the ring on her finger, and it finally, mercifully, slides off.

Lawrence’s voice is stripped of all its aggression and incredulity from before as she speaks again. This time she’s quiet and sincere. “Ellie. What’s this really about?”

Before Ellie can consider the gravity of the question or indeed contemplate how to word an answer, Lawrence’s phone vibrates against the bedcovers. Neither of them speak as she reaches up to grab it, but when A’whora’s name flashes up on screen again they share a look of weary exhaustion, neither of them wanting to face their friend’s smug expression.

A’whora’s smiling cheekily as Lawrence answers the call. “How’re the young lovers doing after their breakfast, then?”

Lawrence’s nostrils flare. “I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer.”

“So all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, then. Just calling to see if you liked the wedding presents.”

Ellie feels like a crumbling sandcastle as she rolls onto her side next to Lawrence and looks at A’whora through the screen. “What?”

“The decorations at breakfast! The ones in your room! Just thought they’d really add to the atmosphere,” she smirks, unable to keep from laughing.

More confused than ever, Ellie frowns in bewilderment. “But that was from…the hotel did that?”

“No, I did that. I just phoned down and got them to set it up. They still had a bunch of wedding shit left over from that pair that got married last night. It wasn’t cheap, but it was worth it to give the pair of you the romantic equivalent of everyone singing happy birthday to you at a restaurant,” A’whora explains, still giggly.

Ellie and Lawrence are silent as they stare at their friend through the phone. A’whora seems perturbed, then narrows her eyes at them before she speaks again.

“You two didn’t actually…believe you got married, did you? I thought you knew it was a bullshit prank.”

Before she can register Lawrence’s reaction, Ellie’s mouth drops open in shock. She grabs the phone from Lawrence’s hands and yells at A’whora as if she’s in front of her and not in her own room down the corridor. “A’whora! I am going to fucking kill you!”

A’whora’s laugh comes through the phone like a crackly screech, and Ellie doesn’t miss the unimpressed look from Lawrence at having been unable to style out the fact they’d both been duped. Ellie can’t even let that bother her, though, because she’s too busy tripping over herself to retell to A’whora their rollercoaster of a thought process from this morning.

Lawrence shakes her head beside her, loath to admit she’d been fooled too. “I didn’t believe it for a second. She’s talking out her arse.”

Ellie cries out, affronted. “You were telling me I had to take your last name not even five minutes ago!”

A’whora has to wipe tears from her eyes by the time the pair of them have told her the whole story. “Oh my God, guys. This has been the best birthday present of the weekend. I actually think I’m gonna wee myself. Fuck!”

“I can’t believe you told us we got married and we just…believed you!”

“Well, no, you did get married,” A’whora says.

With this revelation, it crosses Ellie’s mind to lock herself in the hotel sauna until she’s cooked through. “What in the name of God-”

As she continues to speak though, A’whora clarifies. “Or at least, you said you both wanted to marry each other. That conversation did take place. Bimini started joking they were an ordained minister. They showed you their provisional drivers’ license and told you it was a minister’s license. You were both so drunk you believed it.”

“Christ in a wheelie bin,” Lawrence groans.

“But you’re not actually married married. It was just pretend. And hey! We had fun. You should do it for real some day,” A’whora cackles.

If she was in the room with her, Ellie would slap her.

They finish the call with the promise to be packed and ready to meet to check out at half twelve, and when Lawrence locks her phone the pair of them laugh softly about the idiots they’d both been. Ellie is glad A’whora phoned. The conversation that had been taking place prior had been about to go down a route she hadn’t wanted it to, and she’s glad there’s no reason for it to be brought up again. She can go back to keeping her crush on her friend a secret, never to be unearthed.

“I should probably go and start getting packed, then,” Lawrence says decisively, getting up from the bed and making to leave. Ellie remembers what she put on the bedside table, and reaches out to pick it up as she tells Lawrence to wait.

As Lawrence turns around, Ellie holds out her grandmother’s ring, feeling a little awkward as she does so. “Here. Since we’re not married anymore. It came off in the end.”

Lawrence looks a little sheepish as she accepts it with a soft thanks. She gives it a little smile, then shoots the same one at Ellie. “Thank fuck for that.”

There isn’t any malice to her words. If Ellie was being hopeful she’d maybe even say there was regret.

Lawrence leaves and she can’t shake the little niggling feeling of sadness that embeds itself under a synapse in her brain.

***

The cold air that comes with the beginning of Autumn is welcome to Ellie as she sits and waits on Tayce to bring the car round. She’s not quite fully recovered from her hangover, but packing, checking out and getting a can of Monster from a vending machine in the lobby has done wonders for her mood. There’s also the fact that she doesn’t have a potential marriage to consider, so that’s good. That’s a relief.

A crunch of gravel behind her makes her turn around, and seeing Lawrence wrapped up in her black hoodie makes Ellie feel mixed emotions. She feels silly for getting so caught up in the whole idea of them having been married, the way she’d panicked and immediately thought it was all real, taking A’whora and Tayce’s comments at face value. She’s embarrassed at how she’d taken it all so seriously, and most of all she’s embarrassed that Lawrence was there for every reaction.

“Hey,” she greets her, already feeling a blush grow on her face. “You recovered?”

“Just about, yeah,” Lawrence laughs softly. She gestures to the mango loco that’s in Ellie’s hand. “Can see you’re clearly feeling loads better.”

Ellie matches her laugh, raises the can up in a solo cheers. As she drops her arm again, she sighs a little.

“Listen, Lawrence, sorry about…this morning. Immediately panicking and getting so worked up and intense with it all. I was just hangy and emotional and I had the fear…you know what it’s like.”

“It’s no problem. Don’t worry,” Lawrence brushes her off. Her expression is troubled though, as if there’s something else she wants to say. The unspoken words are loud and stifling, and then Lawrence finally meets her gaze with a nervous one of her own. “Well, marriage didn’t really work for us. But…d’you think drinks would be better?”

Ellie’s heart is going to give out. She can’t cope with the events of the day at all. She can already feel her pulse speeding up with hope so she frowns at Lawrence slightly, clarifying like a child tugging the string of a balloon to bring it back to earth. “Drinks?”

“Yeah, like,” Lawrence shrugs, looks to the ground bashfully. “For a date. If you want.”

All at once it’s as if her blood has just suddenly exploded in her veins. It feels like Ellie is on some sort of other-worldly come-up as she blinks at her friend, her friend she’s had a crush on since fuck-even-knows-when, and is stunned into silence.

“The snapchat you sent me last night,” Lawrence continues, scrolling her phone and holding the screen out for Ellie to see. “I’ve felt like that too for a while now.”

Ellie is cringing as she reads the white text against the black screen- a screenshot of her message sent to Lawrence at one in the morning, which reads “so glad whe’re marrrued for rwal vc ive reallt luked you for ages and i quitr fancg u a lot acfually x"

“How did you even manage to read what that says,” Ellie screws her face up, failing to address the bigger picture.

Lawrence smiles, a little hint of a twinkle to her eyes that makes Ellie’s heart thump. “I knew what you meant.”

There’s a small pause where Ellie blushes and looks to the ground, handing Lawrence her phone back. Lawrence uses the silence to keep talking.

“I know I like to rip the piss sometimes, and I know I can take it too far. But today all of that was about…verbalising everything I thought you were feeling about me. Trying to reassure you that I wasn’t interested in you because I thought that’s what you wanted. Once I started I just…didn’t stop, I guess. Damage control, you know? I’m sorry, Ellie,” she reels off quietly. She’s not hiding behind any jokes and she’s not making fun of Ellie and she’s not making fun of herself. It’s honest and simple and raw and everything Ellie’s wanted.

She scuffs some gravel with her shoe. “You feel the same, then?”

Lawrence presses her lips together. Ellie can tell she’s nervous. “Yeah. I do.”

“I do? Is that some kind of sick joke?!” Ellie laughs, and as Lawrence joins in she suddenly hesitates. “Wait. This isn’t a joke, is it?”

“Well, I’ve had enough fucking pranks for one day and I’m pretty sure you have too.”

The pair of them share a laugh, and as Tayce’s car appears from round at the hotel car park, Ellie fixes Lawrence with a smile.

“Drinks sound good.”

Tayce and A’whora appear from the car and pop the boot open, and Lawrence and Ellie try and fail to bite back the smiles they’re shooting each other as they carry their suitcases over, a mutual agreement that they’ll talk more about their plans when they don’t have their nosy and shit-stirring friend and her equally nosy and shit-stirring girlfriend with them on their way to drop them off at the train station.

It’s not quite a shotgun wedding, and it’s not quite a marriage in Vegas. But a date and a drink with the friend she’s hidden her feelings from for too many years is a good place to start.

[80s-roger]

Flirty & Insistent

Pairing: 70s!Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

note: female reader's ethnicity will not affect the person who reads it. She's just greek and she already has a name but the POV will be in second person.

also, i won’t post smuts/series as often as i did until next month, due to uni’s exams period. but i’ll reblog and stuff, u kno. I’ll work in the meanwhile your requests xx love you all 

ps i worked hard on this one, i hope you like it as much as i did. feedback will be massively appreciated.

requested by anonymous:

"Plss write something smutty about roger being a massive flirt and being soo cheeky the reader(after trying acting indifferent and unimpressed) eventually gives in to the temptation of letting him have his way with her?? 💕💕 "

masterlist // dialogue prompts

summary: you left your country a decade ago to study in the UK and after graduating you established in Mallorca, Spain to work as a mixologist. That summer night, you're working for a party arranged by Queen's management to celebrate their "A Day At The Races" era success. The blonde drummer notices you fixing drinks with confidence and doesn't lose the chance to flirt with you. He's just trying too hard because you play it uninterested until he has his way with you.

word count: 3,933

warnings: surface sex, slow burn (becauase they were talking a lot before, idk if it really is a slow burn tho)

A huge party was taking place in Mallorca, with the famous rock band Queen being the main guests of the event. You were one of the bartenders so all you had to do that night was fixing drinks for every person until they'd be shitfaced. The preparations were ready: the event was hosted at the beachside, opposite the calm waves and the golden sand. The sunset was magical to stare at, ready to welcome the bright moon. You had a moment to appreciate it before guests would come at any moment. It was the only thing that reminded you of your ex without feeling angsty about it; you gotta admit you didn't break up with good terms. It was toxic, yet heartbreaking. You loved that man but he left after cheating on you. It's been half a year and you needed to give yourself a break from dating and making out regardless of how social your job is and how much flirt you've received.

The guests arrived, minute by minute they'd get from fifty to hundred. Many people were coming to your counter to order drinks and cocktails. Beautiful women and attractive men would try to flirt with you but turned them down politely saying while you're working you can't do otherwise so they respected it. All these people were actually invited by Queen, their management and the entire record company. They were all celebrating Queen's "A Day At The Races" success and certainly the band which were yet to be seen until midnight.

You were working your ass for a couple of hours now until the band showed up. You could tell by the huge welcoming. The applause, the cheers and definitely women cajoling over them. Here they were standing in the centre of attention, thanking everyone for supporting them and buying their records. Their music was playing at the stereo and you couldn't prevent yourself from jamming to their songs.

When their speech was over, everyone was free to do what they wanted so your bar counter was full again with people chatting and drinking. You saw the entire fucking band coming to your place, obviously for an order. You tried to stay calm because hands-off, you liked their music and fangirled a lot when you saw them live last year in London with your boyfriend.

"Hello beautiful, can I have some Moet & Chandon, please? I really need to celebrate!" Freddie spoke first, carrying a wide smile on his face.

"Sure." You kindly accepted his offer.

"I'd like the same with Freddie." Brian interrupted when you moved behind to grab the expensive bottle and open it.

"So do I." John added and you nodded to grab three glasses, for now.

"And you?" You turned your gaze to the blonde handsome drummer who was already checking you out, focusing especially on your face.

"What do you suggest?" He asked with his eyes being totally flirty.

"Ah, darling, just give us the bottle. Roger is kind of undecided when it comes to drinks." Freddie felt the weird vibe growing between Roger and you. John and Brian giggled, looking whether at Roger or you.

"Eh, our waiter will do it for you. Just sit at your table and he'll take care of you." You kindly warned and he laughed.

"Oh, alright then love. We'll wait for our bottle." He laughed and left with his bandmates, leaving Roger and you alone.

"So? What do you suggest?" Roger turned his gaze back at your eyes.

"What do you feel like drinking? Something sweet, strong, alcohol-free?" You asked trying to help him but he was certainly not trying to find what to drink. He was clearly trying to flirt with you.

"Something to keep me up all night, I guess. But don't make me feel dizzy." He put on a crooked smile and hell, he was attractive as fuck. He knew how to play.

"Right, how does a mojito sound?" You recommended.

"Sounds nice and local." He smiled and you turned around to grab the ingredients. "Are you local? 'Cause your accent doesn't sound British to me." He asked, trying to start a conversation.

"Eh no, I am from the Mediterranean area though." You laughed after turning again to him.

"Italian?" He guessed.

"Greek." You answered.

"Oh, I've been to Greece twice." He started.

"Really? When?" You turned your gaze surprised. You had no idea he has come to Greece for holidays.

"Two years ago I was with my ex-girlfriend, in Santorini. The sunset there is amazing. And the next year I went with John and Brian to Crete. We needed a dose of some Mycenaean civilisation. Thankfully we weren't noticed by fans or anyone else. We were clearly there for tourism." He explained. You were impressed he's seen your country, visited two of the many islands your country has.

"Well, we had some political issues when you guys came to Greece. We were recovering from the junta and had some important historical issues by the end of 1974 so I doubt they'd run behind you, no offence." You laughed while fixing his drink.

"Oh, that's bad. But I understand. How come you're here in Mallorca being a bartender?" He asked and leaned closer to you. There was a nice conversation going on.

"Before junta ruled my country, I was sent to England to study because my parents thought I would be privileged. Now you see me in Mallorca because I work here and besides, I wanted to live somewhere that reminds me of Greece. Studying abroad has the privilege of learning a new culture, a new way of life and so on. Which is so wrong for the locals back home." You explained and cut a slice of lemon before having it ready for him.

"Wait, by saying it's wrong, you mean that..." his brain stopped working for a second trying to understand what you meant.

"Patriarchy is the keyword. They want women to get married at 18 and start a family. But obviously, women have to stay home." You were triggered at your words and internally thanked your parents for giving you the chance to go abroad.

"Cheers to your parents then. I wouldn't get the chance to meet you tonight." He was impressed by your short storytime. "How do I say bottoms up in Greek?" He laughed after you placed him his drink.

"It's pronounced áspro páto." You smiled after saying a Greek word. It must have been a year since you last spoke Greek. You haven't visited Greece for a long time. You found yourself in Mallorca. It's spiritually free and not restricting.

"So, I haven't asked you yet. What's your name?" Roger asked after drinking. He made an oddly satisfying grimace which meant he liked your drink.

"Oh, it's Ellen." You answered. His gaze was literally focused on you the entire time. He wouldn't give up this easy.

"So Ellen, make yourself a drink. It's a treat for you." He offered and you kindly accepted. It's not bad, you've been offered many times. Besides, you needed a drink to stay energised.

"Thank you, Mr Taylor." You thanked him and then his smile vanished.

"If you want us to be in good terms, it's gonna be Roger." His hand was warning you.

"Thank you, Roger." You slightly smiled. "It's just that..." you stopped and checked around if your boss is nearby. "We are obliged to speak to our guests in plural." You whispered and he nodded. Possibly understood the situation.

"So what are you doing later?" He asked after swallowing a sip of his mojito.

"We're cleaning the mess and we're heading homes." You said after drinking a shot. A treated drink.

"I'm not talking about your colleagues. I'm talking about you." He was straightforward. He was so into you, it was obvious.

"Oh well, I'll clean up the mess and I'm heading home." You changed the point of view trying to cut off his flirty attitude.

"When's that time? Dawn?" He guessed.

"Probably at the morning. It's a Queen party, I doubt people will leave before the sun rises." You rolled your eyes sarcastically.

"So..." he started. "Have you been listening to our music?" He asked.

"Yes, since your first album. It was brilliant for a newly formed band." You said with a huge smile on your face and he appreciated it. He appreciated that you didn't fangirl in front of him, having that humble and uninterested attitude. He liked feeling like a predator trying to catch his bait.

"What's your favourite song of A Day At The Races?" He asked. He likes talking to people about his music.

"Definitely Somebody To Love." You affirmed, feeling passionate about your answer, that it seemed you could relate your existence to this song.

"Oh, it's a band's fave too. Well, you relate to this song, don't you?" He asked and his body was closer to yours. The counter was the only thing beside you.

"I guess I do." You looked down for a moment, thinking of your ex but his hand touched your jaw trying to lift you up. Your eyes were looking into his and this is how you noticed how blue they eventually are. An ocean.

"Is it about a guy? I'm sure he doesn't deserve you." He tried to cheer you up with his soft smile.

"It's not that. It's..." you sighed. "Well, this is getting too personal." You pulled back trying to stop the situation. But he wouldn't abandon his try.

"Do you have any specific lyric of the song you relate the most?" He asked.

"Yes, there is that one: I've spent all my years in believing you but I just can't get no relief, Lord." You kind of explained the situation within a couple of lyrics. "He cheated on me. He had the audacity of saying it to my face and left without looking back or apologising." You nearly tore but tried to keep it for yourself. This is getting too personal and you're opening your heart to a stranger that you feel comfortable with. Maybe because you've been listening to him and his bandmates for years and you've seen him live too.

"You know..." he looked down for a second trying to find the words. "At least he was honest. He could keep you for his entertainment if things didn't work with the girl he possibly slept with." He tried to wake you, but he was right.

"I don't even know how long he was cheating on me. However, I did notice a weird behaviour in the last couple of months we were together." You answered.

"Be happy that you're not with him anymore. He took your love for granted. This is not how it works." He said with his eyes still focused on yours.

"You know, we once saw you live. Last year." You tried to avoid talking about your ex the entire time.

"Oh! That's great! Did I look nice?" He joked and he gained a laugh from you. That made him feel nice.

"Definitely, you always look nice." You took a moment to check him out. And hell, he looks and smells so nice.

"I'm flattered." He smiled and you pulled back again to do your job. You could see your boss staring at you. That wasn't good.

"You better get going, my boss is supervising us." You said and he got the hint. You were as cold as you could be.

"Sure, will I see you later?" He asked and stood up from his chair, ready to leave.

"No. I'll be too tired by then." You answered and he was saddened by your reply. He thought he had you. His flirting wasn't sufficient. Which means he had to try again.

He left and walked to his bandmates, they were there talking about their success until Roger joined their conversation but it changed as soon as he sat on the sofa next to Brian.

"So, how did it go Rog?" Freddie asked and they were all ready to hear.

"She seems so uninterested and hard to get, I have to try again." He took out one of his cigarettes, ready to smoke and think.

"Ah, your type of girls Roger." Brian laughed. "You like feeling a hunter don't you?" He added.

"Of course I do. But she recently broke up and I reckon she's still into him. How do women's brains work anyway?" He asked, frustrated.

"Oh darling, I don't see her as stuck with her ex as you think she is. She's been avoiding your flirting because she works here." Freddie had a point and John nodded.

"Just wait for her shift to end and make a move. She noticed you were flirting with her." John suggested and they all agreed to it.

"It's gonna take hours. She said it's possible for the party to end after dawn. She also has to clean up with her colleagues." Roger explained and turned his gaze back to you. But you were already looking at him and when you noticed, you turned back to your counter.

"Fine, then do it now," Freddie advised and Roger looked at you considered. "Wait where's she going?" Freddie asked after noticing your figure leaving your position.

"James, would you mind taking my place for a moment? I really need to use the bathroom." You called for your colleague who politely came to your counter.

"Sure, go ahead. I'll be here as long as you need." He smiled and you left for the bathroom to take a very needed pee.

"Shall I go after her?" Roger asked.

"Fucking go!" Freddie pushed Roger to run after you no matter how awkward it would be.

You walked in the staff-only bathroom, rushing to the toilet. After drinking a few shots, you needed to pee like a champion. When you pushed the flusher you unlocked your door and the very first thing you saw, was Roger standing at the wall.

"What the hell are you doing here, get out!" You were shocked by his presence and he wouldn't move.

"This is the only chance I have with you right now. Your boss can't see us." He came closer to you.

"No, but he'll get suspicious!" You tried to pull back until you reached the counter. Now you were sandwiched between Roger and the counter. There was no space between you. His face was coming closer to yours.

"I locked the door in any case." His nose tickled yours and his hands placed you on top of the counter, sitting now and having his bulge, against your area. That feeling is the shit.

"I work here, I can't..." you tried to refuse but the feeling of getting fucked couldn't stop you.

"I can't be in this toilet too, but here I am." His lips touched yours with passion and lust. His arms wrapped your waist and lowered down to your arse, squeezing it gently and your hands moved to his neck and his cheeks, trying to hug most of it. You haven't gotten kissed nor fucked for a long time.

Living on the west side of Europe had given you many opportunities. The situation you're currently now couldn't even be referred to Greek religious people as a joke. They'd freak out and tell you crap like you ashamed your honour, your family and your future husband. Your parents were too open-minded to let you live in West Europe and live your life as you wanted to. You had sex with your boyfriend at nineteen, with no need to be your first wedding night, you wear shorts on summers because you feel like it and now you're having a one night stand with a rockstar of a band you like and it's never gonna be the same anymore. You played it hard-to-get because you felt it was wrong. But it wasn't. It's just one more experience to add to your diary.

"Are you sure you want to do this, here?" He stopped the kiss for a second, to ask for your approval.

"Yes, but let it be fast, or I'll be in trouble." You checked at the door. "Are you certain the door's locked?" You asked.

"Yes, I am. It's just that..." he stopped.

"What?" You were scared he regretted it and he'd leave you like the mess you already are.

"I want to get more of you, but in this counter, I don't have the chance. I'll cope with it." He unbuttoned your suit while your hands tried to unzip his jeans.

"If you stay a little longer in Mallorca, you can get more of me." You winked and he smiled, thinking he has more chances with you.

"Works for me." He whispered and turned to your lips again for a passionate kiss.

He helped you with taking your suit off, now staying on your bra when your hands put his jeans down. "Mind taking your bra off?" He asked while his mouth travelled your neck, giving it soft kisses.

"I'd rather wear it..." you refused taking it off after gaining a lot of insecurities because of your ex-boyfriend. You remember him saying how small your breasts are and with that, no other man can see it. Your A-cups haven't be seen by any other man. Not even by your ex after the second time, you had sex with him.

"As you wish..." he didn't insist and pulled your skirt up, on your waist, with his bulge rubbing against your core and turning you instantly wet. "How long has it been?" He asked after noticing the humidity between your legs with his hand.

"Must be eight months. I'm out of practice." You sighed.

"Don't feel bad about it, I'll do the work. You're already wet for me. I like it." He bit his lower lip and turned to your lips again, for a deep kiss. "God, you are fat-bottomed aren't you?" He smiled between the kiss after squeezing your thighs and your small waist. "I'm starting to have a thing for greek girls." He complimented your body type and that boosted your low confidence level. With a simple move, he placed you against the mirror, taking your thong off your left leg to have clear access inside your wet area. His hand pulled his erected penis out of his black underwear, ready to thrust inside you.

"You better start before I cum untouched." You exhaled and balanced yourself at the counter.

He smirked and trusted inside you, feeling him completely weird inside you, maybe because you haven't had sex for more than half a year. The sensation was amazing and penetration was always the thing that released you from thoughts. His hands squeezed your thighs and each thrust was a try to pull you closer to his pelvis. You couldn't stop breathing heavily. You had to be quiet and so did he. It was a staff-only bathroom and the key was turned horizontally so no-one could break in with a spare key.

"Oh god, this is amazing..." you moaned at every pleasuring wave while your hands played with his blonde hair.

"Fuck, yes, you're so tight and wet for me." He tightened his teeth as he exhaled into your ear.

His thrusts were giving you the orgasm you haven't had for a long time. It was the tension between you, that made it more passionate but fast enough to make you come earlier than you thought. Soft whimperings coming from your mouth sent him the message that you were close enough and so was he. You could tell by his sharp thrusts, getting smoother and sudden. His gaze was focused on your eyes. Your sight was getting blurry and your legs began to shake; it happens when you reach your orgasm and it feels terrific.

"Ah, God..." you moaned and tilted your head behind, where the mirror is. "That was so refreshing." You gasped after wearing your thong again.

"Ain't gonna lie, but this WC shag was the best I had." He laughed and wore his underwear and jeans again.

"I can't make comparisons to it, I've only had two boyfriends in my life and this is my first time fucking a stranger at my workplace's restroom." You buttoned your suit and stood up from the counter to fix yourself.

"Stranger?" He asked confused.

"Stranger, Roger. I mean, I do know you're a rockstar, a member of my favourite band and I've seen you live once but it won't change the fact you're a stranger. I know you as a persona, not as a person. You get it?" You tried to explain how it feels.

"Oh, I see." He nodded. "Will I see you again? I want to know you as a person if you want that too." He suggested.

"Sure." You kissed his cheek gently, letting him take the lead. You wanted him to make the move. "I'll just walk out from the WC first and make sure no one sees you when you get out." You said and walked through the door until someone tried to get in. A knock on the door was heard.

"Ellen, are you still in there?" It was James.

"Yes, I'm coming." You internally panicked and hinted at Roger to hide in the toilet. "Hey James, is everything alright?" You asked after opening the door.

"Yes, I wanted to check on you. You were absent for a quarter. Are you okay? You look like a mess." James liked you for a long period of time but he wasn't your type. He's way too cute for your standards.

"Yeah, I'm fine... I just felt a little dizzy and wanted to wash my face with cold water. I needed it." You lied after checking your face in the mirror. You were red as a tomato.

"Oh, fine then. You should get back to your post. The boss has been looking for you." He pointed outside and you felt really bad about it. Your boss suspects you since the moment you started chatting with the blonde man hiding in the toilet.

"Alright, I'll be back in a minute." You closed the door to his face and rushed to the toilet where Roger was hiding.

"You're a cute little liar, aren't you?" He teased and gave you a little slap on your butt cheek.

"I won't be anymore if my boss finds out." You rushed, trying to leave the toilet.

"How will I reach you?" He asked trying to learn your phone number.

"Just come at my post and I'll hand you a drink." You declared and left the room, heading fastly at your post. You stared at the Queen members, looking at you all smiles and winks. They probably knew what happened a quarter ago.

You fixed another drink for Roger, trying to look calm and relaxed. But you weren't. You were tense and it could be seen. Two minutes later, Roger came to your counter again with a crooked smile on his face, waiting for the drink. He was looking whether at his bandmates or you. There was absolute silence.

"Here's your drink." You smiled and handed his drink with a small paper around the glass. He carefully grabbed the paper so it couldn't be seen and walked away, heading to the balcony.

He grabbed the paper, unfolded it and there was your phone number and a note in it: "thanks for giving me a good time Rog"

He smirked at your note and placed it in his pocket, anticipating the moment he'd call you.

[lallemcnt]

go ahead and watch my heart burn (part four)

“When you look at him you see dark night opening, giving way to dawn.”

— Ibn Said al-Maghribi

-

“Talk to me.”

“You shouldn’t have to reassure me all the fucking time! I’m so sick of my brain and how messed up I am!”

“You’re not messed up, Lucas.”

Lucas is perched on the arm of Eliott’s sofa, head bowed and arms shielding his body. Eliott sits on the edge of the sofa at its other end, the exasperated expression on his face mirroring Lucas’ voice. The distance between them, a sofa separating them, feels like miles upon miles, an impossible space to close. Lucas understands his frustration, he even feels sorry for him, sorry that he has to deal with Lucas when he gets like this: frustrated and insecure, when Eliott hasn’t done anything to incite these feelings, when he has been nothing but understanding, nothing but absolutely caring, nothing but a flame in the dark on the days when Lucas’ anxiety has been particularly debilitating.

He knew this was going to happen, that he would mess it up, he just didn’t know he would only have a month of being with Eliott before it all blew up in his face. Abruptly, the frustration drains from him and he is tired. He moves towards the door, stuffing his feet in his trainers and pulling on his jacket. Eliott gets to his feet, following Lucas to the door, asking in a beseeching voice, “You can’t just leave, we need to talk.”

Lucas doesn’t turn around to address him, simply opens the front door and lets out a quiet: “Let me go” before shutting the door behind him and trudging down the stairs into a chilly late summer day. His shoulders instantly hunch up and he’s blowing hot air into his hands for warmth, not sure where he’s going exactly. Going, he scoffs to himself, more like running, like the coward you are. But the knowledge of his cowardice is not enough to make him go back to Eliott and explain.

Lucas recalls a conversation they had a few days after he told Eliott about his father. When Eliott asked Lucas about his anxiety and how it affected him. He didn’t push Lucas to speak about it or set up some kind of intervention. They had been watching reruns of shitty TV at Eliott’s, as usual, eating popcorn and drinking some kind of nasty-ass beer Lucas has brought over when Eliott had asked him:

“I- Can I ask you questions about your anxiety? I’ve been reading up on it and I know I’ll need to do more, but would you…would you mind that? Because I know it is different for everyone.” His voice was tentative, his hands clenched around his beer bottle as if he was scared he had crossed an unspoken line, entering into unknown territory.

It was completely out of the blue. Lucas wondered if this had been on Eliott’s mind the entire evening, he, himself, felt slightly uncomfortable and nervous, because talking about it never ended well, it only ever crushed his mood, his soul, leaving him disappointed. However, he knew, in his heart, that if this thing between them had any chance of survival Eliott had the prerogative to know, to decide for himself if Lucas was worth all the work, and to make this decision he needed all the facts.

Turning down the volume on the TV, Lucas had shifted to face Eliott, because he could be strong. Hadn’t all his years of quiet survival proven that? He could look Eliott in the eye when he inevitably concluded that it was all too much. That Lucas was not worth it.

“You need to understand that you can’t fix me, okay? I’m always going to be dealing with this and I want you to know that I won’t blame you or hate you if you decide to leave, okay? It is a lot. I know,” Pausing for breath, Lucas had taken a swig of his drink before continuing. “Sometimes I’ll get irritable for no reason, at myself and at you. I’ll be snippy. I won’t want to talk to you. When we’ve planned to go to a party or out for dinner, when the day comes round the thought of going may make me feel physically sick and I won’t want to go because I’m terrified of meeting new people or being left alone at a party with nothing to do or no one to talk to. Sometimes I’ll put off doing things and stay home for days because the idea is a lot more peaceful, comfortable and safe than going out.

“And you have to know, it won’t be your fault. I just need space sometimes. There’s something else, too. It’s hard to explain why…there are times when I think it’s because of my father, but I can be touch averse too, casual touches will annoy me and turn my mood sour. I used to be this really affectionate kid, and I still crave touch, but I also hate it at times.”

Eliott nodded thoughtfully along as Lucas spoke; being given the opportunity to explain how he feels and be heard was everything. Everything and more. More than he ever imagined he would be lucky enough to experience.

He doesn’t even know how this afternoon’s argument got heated so quickly, but when he reaches that level of frustration he can’t be talked down, no placating words can calm him, and Eliott contradicting him, telling him he wasn’t messed up made him more angry, and Lucas also knew that while his head was telling him to yell and slam the door and tell Eliott that he will never understand, that he doesn’t get it, that this will never work between them, his heart was whispering for him to get out of there, to cool off, before he said something he would regret.

He knew why Eliott was frustrated, Lucas had been closed off for the past week, refusing to confide in Eliott who had asked him several times what was going on. He was clueless, unsure if he was the problem. Lucas could have easily reassured him that it wasn’t him, but he was feeling mean and bitter. Communication. The age-old issue that tore couples apart on the daily. He knew Eliott would be struggling to understand if the issue was anxiety-related or if Lucas was just being an asshole, which he was want to be every now and then, but that only made Lucas more irate.

Walking along the Seine, Lucas kicks out at a rock and then another, physically exercising his annoyance. The thing was, deep down is wasn’t just anger he felt, it was fear and shock and insurmountable shame, and even the thought of explaining this to Eliott- it is enough to make him sink down on a bench in fatigue, because hasn’t he told enough secrets for once? Hasn’t even opened himself up to pain over and over again these last few weeks? So, seeing what Lucas saw in conjunction with someone else being worried about you and constantly asking if you are okay when you most definitely are not is too much. To be worrying about someone else’s feelings when you are consumed by your own mounting despair is enough emotional grievance to knock you out for a lifetime.

Today at 13:15

Le gang

yann: my dudes who’s up for a night of gaming at mine? bazzz: HELL YES I’M IN arthur: idk i’ve got this huge essay to get done by tomorrow arthur: and i haven’t started yet bazzz: yikes arthur: lucas!!!!!! have u done it yet?? bazzz: come on we haven’t hung out in ages bazzz: are you’ll really choosing work over spending time with ME?! yann: i have bEER arthur: bold of you to assume i’d bunk of uni work for beer bazzz: we’ve got arthur! yann: lulu! where u at? arthur: lulu! bazzz: lulu!

Lucas clicks off the chat, puts it on silent and pulls up Manon’s.

Today at 13:27

Manon

lucas: hey u around? Manon: hey!! Manon: yeah i am Manon: what are you thinking? lucas: ummm wanna go for a walk? Manon: i’d love to

After deciding where to meet, Lucas begins to stroll across one of the many bridges that cross the river. In an attempt to clear his mind of Eliott and their argument, he marvels at the beauty of his city, at all the history that these old and ornate buildings must contain; the grey water washing by them, dividing banks and creating islands. He walks by children already wrapped up in coats and hats but licking away at vanilla ice-creams. There are two men in suits locked in a heated exchange, jaws tight and eyes narrowed. A couple up ahead leans against the side of the bridge, entangled in each other’s arms, blonde hair whipping against their faces: Lucas looks away quickly at the surge in his chest. And just beyond them, he spots a red pea-coat: Manon. Dressed in woolly tights, her brown hair tied in a loose braid, she clutches a paperback book in one hand, her elbows rest on the off-white arm of the bridge, discoloured by the grim of urban life.

When they meet, Lucas falls into her outstretched arms as though this place, here, is a refuge amidst a storming sea. He doesn’t cry, but he remains there for a while. If Lucas had to describe Manon he would wax poetic about her. She’s closer to a sister to him than a friend, but then who ever said a person couldn’t be both to you?

Drawing away from each other, they smile and return to look over the bridge where Manon rests her  book. Lucas observes the cover and the authors name as recognition hits and he’s turning back to Manon, incredulously, as he exclaims, “No way! What the hell? Is that the last book?”

Manon is grinning and holding it up to Lucas’ face. “Yep! Had to pre-order it and everything. Just went to pick it up from the shop, actually.”

“I can’t believe it. We waited, what, five years for it and now it’s actually here? Fuck.”

When they were twelve, there was this fantasy book series everyone was reading about magicians and vampires, empires falling and rising, quests for lost artefacts and stolen celestial swords. Suffice it to say, Lucas and Manon were obsessed; they would queue up outside the bookstore for midnight releases with Manon’s older brother and parents, they would have reading parties together on weekends, but it was also one of those series where the last book kept getting pushed back until it’s release seemed a fallacy, but after seven years, the final book was out.

Lucas grabbed the book proffered to him and scanned the cover and back, flipping the book open like a fan. The smell of newly printed pages ready to be devoured and loved was an inexplicable bliss. He placed it in reach of Manon whose back was against the bridge’s sides and face directed towards Lucas, her blue gaze is searching. He pretends to be interested in the boats disappearing beneath him, but he’s forgotten Manon can out-wait him, she has the patience of a saint. What’s more is she has always thought of Lucas as a younger brother despite their birthdays only between two weeks apart — one week, six days, two hours and 19 minutes exactly if you ask Lucas — making her infinitely more willing to spend minutes, hours in silence until he is ready to open up or can’t stand the silence so he fills it meaningless words which eventually unwinds into the deeper stuff, because Manon makes the time to be there for everyone she holds dear. Lucas is one of those lucky people, he knows that.

In this way, while the wind insists on dispelling summer in favour of autumn, as Manon waits out Lucas and the sky grows grey in alliance with the wind and the Seine leads its placid journey, winding around the city, Lucas voices what has got him all twisted up inside for the past week, the catalyst for this argument with Eliott.

“I think I saw my father last week. At uni.”

This shocks Manon. Although he isn’t directly looking at here, out of the corner of his eye he sees her blanch at his words, she turns around, standing beside him as though in solidarity, as if she would be able to protect him from what has already happened. His heart clenches at this.

“How are you feeling?” She asks.

Bringing his hand up to chew his thumb nail, Lucas shrugs, which is ridiculous because he knows how he feels, he’s been sinking in this tumult of negativity for seven fucking days.

“You know what I wanted to do? I wanted to go up to him. I wanted to look him dead in the eyes and see if he would even recognise me, to ask him how he could do what he did and claim it was love? How you can do that to someone you’re supposed to love unconditionally? What did I do exactly to make him hate me so much? What did I do? I want to know so I never do it again, so I don’t provoke that kind of behaviour-”

“Listen to me, Lucas. No,” Manon is shaking her head and holding Lucas own between her hands so he is forced to look at her while she speaks. “You did not provoke anything, you hear me? I can’t explain to you why he did what he did to you, why he hurt you. But I do know one thing for certain, and I know you’re tired of hearing me say it but I will say it forever if I have to, this is all on him, nothing you did was wrong. It was all him. All him.”

Biting down on his lip, blinks back tears. “I don’t even know why he was there, and I didn’t want it to become this big thing but Eliott caught on to my mood, I mean, how could he not? And I didn’t feel like talking about it, not after telling him about my father, my anxiety. It would’ve just been overboard for him, you know?”

“No, I don’t know. Lucas, he’s there, right? Wanting to be with you. In relationships there are times where you don’t want to say how you feel and you don’t want to express the messy shit, but Lucas, if this is going on for an extended period of time you have got to let him in. It’s unfair otherwise. You’re part of a team now.”

Lucas sighs.

“Unless he’s been an asshole and said something-”

“No! He hasn’t-”

“-because then I’ll be having words with him.”

That brings a smile to Lucas’ lips. Hearing Manon threaten someone — even thinking it sounds ridiculous in his head — is always a shock because she’s Manon, always flocking to make sure everyone is okay, wearing their coats when it’s cold, ensuring everyone has a ride home after a night out.

“No, he’s great. I’m the asshole, but what’s new, right?”

Throwing an arm around Lucas’ shoulder, easily done because they’re the same height, Manon frowns. “Just talk to him, my love. For him, for your relationship, but, most importantly, for yourself. Now, say this together with me ‘I am not an asshole’.”

Lucas rolls his eyes but Manon is serious. She begins to open her mouth and when Lucas makes no effort to join her she stops and glares, full force, at him until he obliges with another sigh.

“I am not an asshole.”

“And again.”

“I. Am. Not. An. Asshole.”

“Whoop! That is so true, Lucas. You aren’t. Alright, let’s hobble along somewhere, it’s kinda chilly out here. I think my toes are about to stop working.”

“Okay, okay.”

Linking arms, the two friends find a coffee shop to sit at, a feat on days such as this when everyone is seeking the warmth of the inside, clutching warm mugs of hot chocolate between their hands they speak of lighter things, less serious but just as important.

-

By the time eight o’clock rolls around, Lucas is feeling hopelessly guilty about leaving Eliott’s place that afternoon. Manon’s words play on his mind: You have got to let him in. It’s unfair otherwise. You’re part of a team now. But because he’s the king of avoidance, Lucas has agreed to go to Yann’s for a gaming night and he’s rationalised to himself that that is okay, because he hasn’t seen the boys in a while and he misses them and Eliott is probably off hanging out with Idriss and Sofiane, so he’s okay and they can speak tomorrow. It can all be sorted out tomorrow.

On his way over to Yann’s, he begins typing an apologetic text to Eliott, it screams pathetic and cheap, everything he should say in person. Cursing in frustration, Lucas deletes it all, at least he tries to and he does erase most of it but his thumb slips onto the send button in his frustration.

Today 20:04

eliott

lucas: i’m

FUCK.

He shoves his phone into the front pocket of his grey hoodie, and of course this happened, he really can’t catch a break can he?

He gets no response. Radio silence. Hopefully hanging with le gang will be distraction enough.

For the first hour Lucas is caught up in the fervor of his friends’ excitement about a new season of a TV show about a family gang in Birmingham, England on netflix. They settle on Yann’s sofa, pulling up beanbags and lazy-boys to rest their feet on; despite their apparent enthusiasm they talk through the entirety of the first episode, making poor imitations of the Birmingham accent, Baz laments about how attractive the leading male is and Lucas can’t do anything but agree.

As the night goes by, however, Lucas becomes restless, he plays one game with Yann and then a team game with Arthur and Basile. He drinks flat coca-cola and chooses the music they listen to, but there, in the background of everything is Eliott’s face when Lucas left. When he is choosing the next song to play he thinks back to the many nights when they would talk on the phone before bed and Eliott would play Lucas the piano music he had grown to love, sometimes falling asleep to it, lulled by tender notes and impossibly smooth melodies. He should be there. With Eliott.

So he leaves, apologising profusely, promising to meet them at lunch on Monday, his mouth agreeing to anything while his one-track mind retains its steady focus on one boy. He is running in the dark, the sky jet-black where weeks ago the sunset was only beginning be set. Impossibly, a few stars peak through the light-pollution endemic to most cities and the moon is there, coaxing him on his way, as if to say hurry hurry you’re almost there. Out of breath and surely sweating Lucas does not stop. He doesn’t text Eliott; he will wait outside his place until he comes home, he will wait forever if that is what it takes.

Lucas is anxious now. He presses the buzzer for Eliott’s door, hoping against hope that he will be forgiven for walking out.

“Hello?”

“It’s me. Lucas.”

Silence.

Lucas is there on the steps, panting from his run, his heart galloping in his chest for more than one reason he can count. It feels like an eternity before he hears the tell-tale sound of the front door buzzing and he’s pushing it open, climbing up the stairs to Eliott’s door. It is down the end of the corridor, the last one on his floor, and Eliott is there, in the doorway, watching Lucas as he walks towards him and it is agony: he can feel the guilt’s full force curling in his stomach. Lucas is suddenly self-conscious, he wants the floor to swallow him up. His steps are hesitant. He stops a few feet away from Eliott. Wanting to hug him.

“Can I come in?” His words are stilted, coated in uncertainty.

“Why are you here?” Eliott looks tired.

“I want to talk.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t budge a single inch.

Looks like Lucas is going to have to do this here. In the hallway. Where any number of people can just walk by. At least Eliott hasn’t shut the door in his face.

“I’m sorry. For shutting you out, refusing to talk to you. For being mean,” At this, Eliott’s composure starts to falter, Lucas understands then that his annoyed posture was all an act, possibly an attempt to guard himself from hurt, and that nicks at his heart a little. “For walking out earlier, I should have stayed. I’m just really sick of feeling vulnerable all the time, I feel like I can’t catch a break and then I take it out on you by being cold.

“I saw my father last week, unintentionally, he was at uni and it’s the first time since he left that I’ve laid eyes on him. It brought back all the shame and humiliation. I wanted to walk up to him, like I’ve imagined doing multiple times over the years and confronting him, but all I could do was run the other way. I hate that this man still has this power over me. Anyway, that’s not the point, the point is that I hurt you-”

Eliott is stepping forward and wrapping his arms around Lucas, pulling him into his apartment and holding him against the door.

“Please don’t be mad.” Lucas’ voice comes out muffled against Eliott’s chest.

“I’m not mad. The truth is I’d rather be annoyed by you than not have you at all. I want to know when you’re in pain and why. And you were, I could see it and it hurt to know you were fighting something on your own. I am so sorry, Lucas.”

“You have nothing to apologise for.”

“Remember what I told you, yeah? You are not alone.”

Lucas’ heart clenches at those words. How does Eliott think of and say things like that, so sincere like it is effortless, like it costs him nothing but the air he breathes to say them.

He pulls back from Eliott, head tilted up against the door. “You need to stop that.”

“Stop what?” Eliott cups Lucas’ face

“Saying those romantic things.”

“And you need to know that you have nothing,” He says fiercely. “To be ashamed about. You are not what happened to you. You are magnificent, and I can’t believe how lucky I am that you choose to be with me.”

“I love you.” The words slip out, Lucas widens his eyes and Eliott is laughing at Lucas’ brazenness. Simultaneously, his eyes shift and brighten, as if Lucas’ confession has changed the very colour of Eliott’s eyes, as if those three words have changed him.

A kiss, soft and tender. ”Not as much as I love you.”

Another kiss just as tender and slow, torturously slow. “Yeah, yeah. Now carry me to your bed, please.”

They stumble there, stripping off their clothes as much as they can while kissing and touching each other. As soon as Lucas hits Eliott’s bed though he is enraptured by the softness of his duvet and pillow and he sighs contentedly.

Eliott looks up from where he was kissing down Lucas’ chest and lets out a disbelievingly laugh when he sees Lucas snuggling into his pillows. He crawls up Lucas’ body until he is caging him in and looking directly down at him. Eliott, straddling Lucas’ hips now, plants a hard, searing kiss on his lips which Lucas is all too happy to reciprocate, clutching Eliott at the hips.

“You are ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously into you.” Lucas winks.

Eliott rolls over, laying his head on Lucas’ chest. “You’re tired.”

“Yeah…Your bed…Morning sex, instead?”

“Sure.”

From his position on Lucas’ chest, Eliott caresses Lucas’ lower stomach, running his fingers lightly over the skin, raising goose bumps in their wake.

Je t’aime.

Moi aussi.

[nanabanyin-blog-blog]

Today, I’ll share a moment of struggle (mental health experience) in my life and how i got through it. Some of my friends and family may know this story. If you don’t know, now you know, and I still love all of you.

I would entitle this “THE SOVEREIGN POWER: THE GREATER LOVE”

Just a little prelude to the story. The events occurred when I was in university in Wales. Prior to completing my final year of uni, I was on course to do a straight masters. But due to some changes in the British law made by then Home Secretary, Mrs. Theresa May, I would have had to apply for an extension to my student visa in Ghana, not while I was studying in the UK. This information wasn’t passed on to many international students early enough so many of us had to downgrade our courses to a Bachelors.

Now to the juice.

On the 2nd of May, I was supposed to submit my project work (thesis). Bare in mind that I was still doing a masters project for a bachelors course since the change was after the projects had been chosen and my final exams were starting the next day. I wouldn’t lie, I procrastinated a bit. Small one. Anyway, by this time, I hadn’t finished my project and was under so much stress. I was almost done, but u know how it’s difficult to put ur literature together for a project. Eventually, I was done by lunch time and had prepared my work for submission. My dads birthday is also on the 2nd of May and I had received some emotional messages from my sisters about my dad, and was supposed to compose a short video for him. If u know me. U would know am a very emotional guy. Anyway, I did all that, had lunch and top a nap hoping to wake up in a couple of hours which didn’t happen. Woke up at the crack of dawn, still emotional and almost in tears from listening to the messages made for dad and from the one I made, I sat up, made a cup of coffee and got back to studying.

Fast forward to the next day, I had my exam pretty early. Woke up, showered and got ready for my exams. Then, it was time, everything was set, the hall quiet with just the whistle of the wind, the exam paper dropped on my table... Heart palpitations, sweaty fingers and shaking legs, I took a breath and opened my paper. To my relief, I specialised well.. if you get what I mean. Just to make sure that I got it handled. I place my pen down, went through the paper, chose five out of the ten question and readied myself for war. Two questions in, I got this really bad migraine, like there was an eruption in my head. Time was on my side so I decided put my head down, take a moment and get back, only to lift my head up and hear, “TIMES UP, PENS DOWN”. My heart skipped a beat. I had just answer two questions out of 5. That’s 40% of the exam. And that was the pass mark. My head started going round in circles. Had I answered the questions properly? What happened to the time? Is this a dream? I went straight to my room sobbing because it’s either I got 40% from that paper, or I had to repeat the whole year. My world was in disarray. Couldn’t think of any good thing. In my mind, I had disappointed my parent, my family, my friends. What more could I do.

In my darkest moment, I took a stroll down to train station, pondering what the world had left for me. I looked at the approaching train, looked down at the tracks and took a step past the white line. I had lived a good life. What can be worse than how I am feeling?

A few hours later, in my room, I couldn’t understand how I got that, and was trying to make sense of how I got back into my bed. This is how I remember it. A little voice in my ear said, “You have much more to live for my son, take a step back and look at your life, look at what I have done for you. You professed the love you have for your dad. How much more do you think I have for you”

For a while, I questioned how I could get to that state, how it was possible for me to want to end my life. I believe strongly in the fulfilment of life and had never understood the concept of suicide. The phrase, “It could have been me” lingers on my mind. But the much stronger phrase, “If it has not been for God” gives me assurance and purpose on this earth.

The word Religion has always been an issue to me because of its connotations. But I also believe that there is order in the world due to the presence a higher power. So my advice to whoever is reading this, in who ever you put your faith, be it God, Allah, Buddha...... be steadfast in your commitment.

[cosmo-era-yuto]

The Yuto-Wooseok-Yanan triangle is so great ;w; And the raw talent of Jinho and Hui <3 I agree, Shinwon is such a wild card!

tbh I legit cannot pick a bias, I love them all. I could go on a mini essay for each member about how much I love them. I love them loving each other!

Thanks for your b-side breakdown! It's exactly what I wanted to hear. And don't apologize for writing something lengthy! I'm the same, and I love to read everything, so it's really nice to find a kindred spirit! Give me those essays!

"Lose Yourself"-- I love this song a lot and I'm glad someone else does too. That's funny, liking "Like This" too much! But yeah, it goes hard and makes you Feel Things, hence it being probably my fav PTG song. And I agree, Shinwon needs to write more music! "Worship U" is so good, it could have been a title track if it had been on another album. I keep forgetting to put "Dazzling" on my ipod, so I haven't listened to it very much. I should rectify this. You seem to favor the Japanese tracks, haha! Do you speak it, or is it just coincidence?

You know what's funny, I didn't really like any Triple H stuff...I'm sorry Hui and Dawn...but I'm glad that it was a gateway to PTG for you!

I really applaud you for giving Pentagon a second chance and trying a second song. So many people out there would only listen to one track and then drop the group if they hated it. I can see how past you hated "Humph!," it's got a very simple melody with a basic repeated motif.

omg, "Can You Feel It" also made me a PTG convert! At least, music-wise. The decision to stan Pentagon as people/a group came after that. Summer 2020, some friends were visiting me and they were playing a bunch of k-pop, which was something I hadn't been into for years. So I was like, "Yeah, maybe I should get back into this, can you make me a rec list?" So one friend made me a playlist and I played it at work on YT for like 3 months. Ironically, there was no Pentagon on there, but PTG was connected to a bunch of other groups on the rec list, plus RTK had just happened, so PTG kept showing up on the suggested videos list on the side. I don't know what song I listened to first, but I remember "Violet" was one of the first ones, and I wasn't into it. But once I listened to "Can You Feel It," it was all over. I must have listened to that song like 5 times in a row at work (I usually hate listening to a song on repeat) and actually started searching out their music instead of just casually picking them out from the suggested videos. But then one day I saw the performance video for "Shine," and my life changed. They looked so happy! They were actually enjoying themselves and having fun! They were shouting along with the music and laughing with each other! It was so different from all the other groups I had seen in their performance/dance practice videos. Like, Pentagon members were *real people,* not just performers. And that's when I fell in love and actually started stanning them. I immediately started watching all content I could find of them on YT and began to memorize their faces and names. And now here we are, hahaha!

(I like plenty of other groups' music, but I don't try to learn members' names or watch their non-MV content. That's the difference for me.)

So in the continued string of coincidences, I think we both became Unis around the same time XD

Maybe I'll get into the b-side question another time, I feel like I've gone on long enough already, haha

Yes we seem really similar, maybe too similar

Nah I’m kidding! It’s actually a really neat surprise

My favoring the Japanese tracks may have to do with the fact that I like the sound of J-pop music or maybe the fact that I’m half Japanese 🤠 As for my speaking it, hahahaha funny you should ask 😅 So my mother never taught me Japanese or spoke it around me because she didn’t know that I’d be able to learn it alongside English. She thought I would get confused and that it would hinder my own English. She’s trying to teach me now as a teenager but it’s a very slow process. However I will admit that I get ecstatic when I’m able to read a sentence written in the language (albeit a really short sentence with basic Kanji characters)

Oh that’s interesting, I actually love 365 Fresh and Retro Future is good as well, I haven’t heard any other song from them, though. Even so, the music can never compare to how Hui looked. OH HOW I MISS TRIPLE H HUI SO

And thank you! That’s what I usually do when it comes to listening to new groups. If I hear a song a like I need to hear other songs to see if I actually like the group’s music, or just that one song. Same with if I don’t like the first song I hear.

Yessssss Can You Feel It was the moment. I also remember not vibing with Violet the first time I heard it. Once again I’m fine with it now, but I might skip it if it comes on the playlist 😬

Can I just say that Pentagon was the first group with a lot of members I tried to stan, so learning their faces was so hard 😭 Blackpink is what got me into Kpop in 2019 and they were the only group I listened to before Pentagon. I, for the life of me, could not stop mixing up Hyunggu and Hongseok. The only way I could tell them apart was because Hongseok was tanner, so if the lighting in a video was weird it was all over for me. Then I realized that Hongseok had a longer neck, so that helped. On the other hand Shinwon, Hui, Dawn, and Wooseok I could identify right away. Shinwon has a fox like face, Hui has a very straight (almost Greek) nose, almost every time I saw Dawn he had bleach blond hair, and Wooseok has wide eyes and a bigger nose. I would actually like to know, if you remember, who you had trouble identifying and who were easy for you? I always find that different people have have trouble with different Kpop idols which is interesting.

I actually don’t really indulge myself with content from other groups. Sometimes I’ll listen to songs from other groups, for example God’s Menu by Stray Kids is staying on my playlist even though all I know about the group is that there’s a guy named Felix. Also while we’re on the topic, who else do you listen to? I consider myself stans of girl groups Blackpink, Wooah, StayC, and Twice (I just started getting into the last two), boy groups TO1 and Kingdom, and I go HARD FOR KARD!!! Pentagon happens to be my ult group, though.

Anyhow, I can’t wait to hear your answers for the b-side questions! I hope you have a good rest of your day and until next time 👾

[horanggae]

hi my dear aera! (=^･ｪ･^=)

wow, your major is so cool! what made you decide studying psych sci? aww, yes it was!!<3 a fun fact about me is that my grandparents also have their birthdays on july a few days before and after mine so that’s why we celebrate all together! yes, they mainly serve breakfast dishes (everything related with eggs and bacon) and they’re mainly famous because of their pancakes!! but every time I go there I usually order chicken tenders or burgers because I’m not so keen to eating scramble eggs outside home (i hope this doesn’t sound too weird). oh, may I know when its your birthday? is it soon? I kinda feel your birthday was on spring because you give me warm vibes.

oh really? that sounds so easy, i really thought it was something more complicated (*μ_μ) thanks for the help!! you’re pisces!! (i just googled the dates between this sign and you might be a baby born in spring or late winter!!). I’m glad you don’t know who am I yeeet! (I swear I have pressed the damn follow button around three times already?? instead of your inbox, i’m really clumsy (＞﹏＜) oh, and are you good with handling alcohol? actually I don’t drink any type of alcohol, I only have tasted strawberry soju (it was really good but definitely burned up my throat) and radler’s! (germany’s lemon beer, and it is really good).

I do count this asks as convos! that’s so nice to read!! (I really try to always send you nice asks so I’m really happy that you get to experience some of my feelings and emotions) no way aera!, but I consider you such a good english speaker? I really thought you were from north america or europe because of your way of writing and the use of some words I have never read before! May I ask when did u became so good with english? I bet you’re really good with your mother tongue! thanks for the recommendations! I’ll try to write some drabbles this last vacation days!

oh it’s really cool to read your type of sleeping! for me once I lay down I completely die and wake up until the very next day, so I’m a heavy sleeper (alarms never work for me unless I have something pretty important like an exam or a vacation trip, and when I’m really worried about something).

oh! me too<3 on real life (well not real? just in person lol) I really tend to talk a lot so I’m glad I’m not overwhelming you with all of my questions and writing! thank u for the nice wishes, obviously I wish you to stay safe as well ^^ oh so you’re also fully protected now! did u get any side effects after the two shoots? I couldn’t move my arm for the whole day haha. oh my I have never thought about living the y/n lifestyle?? maybe I am??

this is already so long and I haven’t answered your questions, i’m deeply sorry!

oh I would totally love to see you become part of the performance unit!! and also if you really get to marry hao can I go to your wedding? (･ω<)☆  shipping expenses are really the worst way of spending money (｡╯︵╰｡)

time to reply back!!

what’s in the ihop menu & your favorite item on it? – somehow I already replied to this question at the beginning! ^^ but it is chicken tenders with dip of honey mustard!

astro sign? – i’m leo!

do you like alcohol? if yes, what type and/or brand! – haha, again I already talked about this! I don’t dislike it but I’m also not the greatest fan? and the only one I like drinking is any brand of radler beer! (I don’t have so much experience with alcohol) a small fact: I started to drink alcohol only two years ago when I was studying abroad!

which unit would you like to join? – vocal unit!! I would love to be part of the creating process of writing a song and also would love to learn how to sing (I don’t know how to sing but I would love to learn from any of the members!! specially dk’s!!)

kiss, date, marry: hoshi, jun & dino!! – i see what you have done here      ♡( ◡‿◡ ) i would kiss dino, date hoshi and marry jun. (I think of dino as someone to take care of, for hoshi I think it would be kinda overwhelming because he deserves a lot and also is kinda highly demanding? and for jun, he’s my type! tall, funny, smart and caring<3.)

your fave album? – teen age or you make my dawn! both albums have some of my all time favorite tracks also the special units on teen age are something worth repeating!!

your current stash of svt goods or maybe are you starting collect rn? – I happen to also pay a lot on shipping and I also recently started to like svt, so far I have bought some albums along with my sister who’s also a big fan (we have one of each of this albums: semicolon, director’s cut, an ode, henggarae and for your choice we bought the three versions!) I think I’m only missing their first ver. of lightstick because its the prettiest lightstick I have ever seen! (also my bank account suffers every time I buy something (╥_╥).

how is it working at your sister’s cafe? (any out of the ordinary happening (✷‿✷) – it’s really great! i love spending time there and I also love to work with coffee! I also enjoy preparing food (we sell salads and sandwiches). I think asia’s cafe’s are something from another world? they are so pretty and have such a wide variety of drinking options! i really enjoy bubble tea drinks! do u like milk tea with boba?

this is really long, please take all the time you need to reply and don’t feel obligated to answer all of it (I just wanted to share all my thoughts with you)!! I hope you’re having a great week, wishing you a lot of health and happiness, also a lot of luck with your college homework! (≧◡≦) ♡

–f🐯❤️

hello f🐯❤️ how are you doing!

IHOP sounds like a nice place to chill before classes and probably late into the night... Naw it doesn't weird though, it's your preference! I don't eat prawns outside of home either, I just find it icky(?). You're right!!!! I'm a spring march baby! I swear I never receive notifications from you at all? Only recently the one I saw was tmttxt (?) but I think they changed their username so I can't find out now when I tried searching for them again. (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)

I've always wanted to learn and understand the human mind more when I was in high school but my grades didn't allow me to pursue psychology in college (in my country you'll have to be the top percentile to get into courses like psych) so I ended up diverging from what I want, to something that piqued my interest as a child, which was design. Loved it as a pastime and as a getaway but I couldn't churn anything out for assignments. I decided to just follow what I really wanted in uni since I was still set on studying psych even after meeting with a college guide + I had a window of opportunity and now here I am as a year 1! ( ꈍᴗꈍ)

I enjoy alcohol but my tolerance level isn't high :-( so I usually drink with caution unless I'm with the people I trust! I prefer cider more though bc of the crisp and light taste! Talking to you feels like a writing to a penpal; we are living our own respective lives, but we make time for each other to write back!!! I enjoy talking to you sm like there isn't any pressure to immediately reply back and it's really like receiving a letter but in asks form!! ❤️❤️❤️

English is my first language, but i kinda winged it the entire time when I was younger! I learned a lot of English words from reading; I was an avid reader until I was 17 when I started using smartphones, my reading habit disappeared. But when it comes to grammar and sentence structure, embarrassingly, I'm extremely bad at it. (´ . .̫ . `) my vocabulary is pretty strong bc of the books I've read over the years! I just started picking up reading again and have just finished the miracles of namiya general store & the seventh day, both recommended by wonwoo! I'm so happy I managed to read a little everyday and still retaining the same eagerness and anticipation (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)

Do link me your drabbles if you ever do write, I'd love to read your works!!! ( ◜‿◝ )♡ aw man i wish I was a heavy sleeper like before ㅠ ㅠ feels like growing older made me a light sleeper. The first was worst in terms of soreness, the second was mild— felt like they didn't administer the vaccine at all ahskskdlflr but I did felt a little feverish during the night but everything is fine! How about you, are you feeling better now?? If I ever get married to hao that is (≧ ᴗ ≦) but I'd love for hao to just be a friend who I can speak freely to under the stars hehe.

I realised I haven't asked about your major, also why did you pick that major?

I hope you're doing well in the cafe! Damn, makes me wanna work in a cafe too... There's vacancy at my uni's Starbucks but it's too far of a commute for me to consider </3 ㅠ ㅠI hope interesting things happen at the cafe so that it spice up your vacation break hehe.

[goldenscript]

bffs to lovers!kino

literally the sweetest sunshine of a best friend that you could ever ask for

kang hyunggu, a dancing and music prodigy who can sing, dance, and rap,,, like who knew? well, ofc you did

you’ve known him long before he was accepted into his music academy and hit it off really well all over the place

he’s not signed or anything yet but he should be - actually, he wants to get his degree first before he focuses on all that stuff so on top of music he’s being extra studious

anyway hyunggu and you have been bff’s since you two were kids, you two were inseparable after being seated together and since then it’s just been you and him as two peas in a pod

as you two grew older,,, like into 5th grade and onward, you noticed his affiliation for music and how much he adored being able to sing and play instruments

the way he lit up at the sound of music was more than enough of a telltale sign that he was meant to play and perform

you just knew,, and you’re certain a part of him knew too

he just needed a push from someone

his parents couldn’t really give him the money to play piano or anything, so they weren’t an option

however, the music teachers at your school helped him raise funds because they saw so much potential in him like you and even though he said it wasn’t a big deal if he couldn’t get lessons, you knew it was

he did a bunch of yard work, house work, lots of side jobs that could help him fund that dream of his and he saved up A Lot

sometimes when he wasn’t looking you’d put in a few bucks of your own allowance to his little lessons fund too

instead of giving it to him directly because the last time you did he got really upset, you would give it to the teachers and made them promise not to say a word about it

so you continued to encourage him to keep pursuing his music despite how shy he was with any of it,,, like talent shows? nope. showcases? Heck no

your middle school music teacher begged you to convince him because to no avail the poor shy boy just couldn’t find the gets to get on that stage with other people watching him

you knew how much he wanted to perform and share music he had trapped in that little notebook of his and you just,,,

you made it a goal of yours to convince him

you wanted to give him that strength to do it not only by talking to him about all his anxieties so he’d feel lighter but also by showing up to every single practice

you would always stay up with him to listen to his latest piece and you even showed up to his first performance with a rose because you couldn’t afford a bouquet but he loved it

he really began to love music and performing and the idea of making it a career really dawned on him when he was contacted by a scout for a big arts academy

next to your support, he decided to take a music career path more seriously just to show his parents that instead of running a grocery store with them that he wanted to make music and write lyrics and sing and all that good stuff

they were pretty skeptical because practicality and tbh they actually hadn’t seen him perform

he was also so shy to mention it to them because it was always about the store with them so you told them about it and it was a later performance that would really seal his fate in the music world

he performs this song about growth and doing better things and it’s just so beautiful with his voice and the melody and he hit this gorgeous high note,,,, like he automatically got that scholarship

you and his parents were so proud,,, y’all even cheered the loudest and as embarrassed as eighth grader hyunggu was, he was so elated that you three were there

in the end, they decided to support him and his decision to accept the scholarship to the arts academy in the city and it dawns on the two of you what this meant

school of performing arts in seoul  (SOPA for short) meant bigger and way better things for him and you didn’t want that to be wasted just because he would be leaving

despite how visibly torn he was at first, you definitely talked him into going because you absolutely refused to be the reason why he didn’t follow his dream

so in those for years you exchanged a few words and saw each other in the beginning

sometimes you visited or he visited but a lot of the time you had to go there during his free time which began to get sparser and sparser as the school drew on

and eventually he just grew busier and busier to the point where visits didn’t happen anymore

you’d get a few texts every now and then - eventually those stopped too

at first, it hurt a lot to know that he couldn’t respond but you also understood that the workload there is vastly different from your average high school and if he wanted to keep a spot there then he needed to put 110% in

plus, over the years, his stuff was taking off - from performances to demos to even melodies because his producing was just as good as his singing and dancing which you actually had no clue about

at least until your old music teacher saw you volunteering at the middle school and watched some videos at you and you were just,,, in awe because he really became something amazing like you knew he would

you didn’t have any hard feelings over all - his parents often gave you updates about him since he did his best to send them some updates every now and then and it made you happy

you even enjoyed his music, often sending him a few encouraging messages even if they weren’t answered since he just needed to know you loved it too

your graduations fly by but by then the two of you have gotten new phones and numbers so you just hope he’s doing well

his mom tells you he is before you leave for uni and she even drops a few hints that he’s asked about you too so it makes you happy that he’s still thinking of you

she reacts a little funny when you tell her you’re going to seoul university but you brush it off since you were absolutely certain that hyunggu would wind up getting signed after high school but guess what??

you both wind up at the same university!!!!

you actually had no clue all that fall and winter quarter, only sparsely hearing about how knnovation was at the school but it slips your mind that this is kino aka your childhood friend hyunggu

until,,,,,

you’re both in music theory that spring!!!

he kinda ok really sucks LOL

it’s almost appalling how badly he’s doing in the class since he’s such a superstar in the underground music world but when you see him with his tufts of dark hair and the tip of his tongue at the corner of his mouth,,, you swear he looks familiar

you don’t really find out until a few weeks into the class that it’s him until the professors asks to see you and him after class

at that point where you finally get a good look at him and he gets a good look at you, you both recognize each other immediately

and you’re both like !!! “omg it’s you!!!”

the professor just laughs at you two and says “well it’s good thing you know each other!!” and he turns to you like “can you pls tutor him??”

hyunggu’s pretty sheepish about saying his grade but he looks at you pleadingly since you’re actually the top student in the class and you’re like “yeah ofc!!!”

so you both get reacquainted and shyly exchange info for studying

tbh this winds up being excuses to wander the city together and you attempting to explain certain concepts to him

he sorta gets it but he gets really distracted bc holy fuck you’re so cute and so sweet and he feels like crap for hardly messaging you back but you actually have no hard feelings and it makes him feel worse so you’re like !!! “ace the next quiz and i’ll forgive you”

and he gets really cutely determined and feels his heart singing like it did before he left you and in truth he kinda stopped responding to you bc he always got these weird fuzzies in his tummy and you consumed his mind a lot,,, it was really distracting

it wasn’t until he was older that he realized he really liked you and seeing you again reignited those feelings!!!!!!!

he invites u to his dance competitions and singing recitals and you go to like every single one with roses even tho he tells u not to but you’re like u never invited me to the ones in high school so i need to make up for lost time

and hearing that, makes him feel even more !!!!!!!!!

and anyway he winds up acing his exams with your help and his own determination to impress u

and in all that time of studying and getting reacquainted, you two have gotten so close, knowing each other’s lives like you were never separated,,, and he sees just amazing you are and how much it makes him never want to see you go

it also shows him just how much you’ve affected him because he’s reminded of those nights in high school where all he could about was you and how much he wanted to text you back and all that but he was scared

he heard horror stories about best friends falling out because one of them fell for the other and how drastically different things were

like even worse because it becomes painfully awkward and imagining a life like that with you?? hurt,,, a lot,,, so he just stayed away

he hoped the feelings would go away

and for a while they did but it was never enough for him to forget you or remember your phone number even when he’d get a new phone

each performance, he’d remember you there with a single rose and it’d always make him work harder

it was sort of his thank you to you for encouraging him and giving him strength to perform

one night you two are just hanging out watching some movies and you look over at him with this gorgeous twinkle in your eye and say, “i’m really glad that you’re in my life again, hyunggu”

and instead of responding, he kinda just leans in to kiss you but he’s about to pull back since ??? ‘@ me wyd!!!!’ 

but

tHEN

you kiss him

it’s really brief and quick but your lips are tingling and so are his

and when you pull away to say, “i’m really really really glad - god i’ve been dying to do that!” he gets so flustered and happy and he admits that he has too

of course, he’s a lil embarrassed that you did it first but he’s like “how abt a date then?”

you break out in a beautiful smile and agree before you cuddle in his arms and continue watching movies

just to really encapsulate your relationship with hyunggu, i just wanna say you two balance each other

he’s prone to overthinking and wondering if what he’s doing is ever good enough but you are always there to encourage and lend him some strength because you believe in him more than anyone in this entire world

and for you, you’re prone to overworking yourself because you want to have a good future and sometimes you tend to take on more than you can handle or you always strive for the best grade and sometimes you get so burnt out but then hyunggu’s there

he’s a sweet soul and he’ll always tell you to take it easy, sometimes taking you away from your desk just to have a break because those dark circles and your growling stomach are all telltale signs that You Need To Rest

he’ll even sing you a lullaby when you want to sleep but can’t and he can’t help but break out into a beautiful grin because you recognize it as a song he sang to you when you were in middle school

and he admits he wrote it for you

because next to giving him strength, you really motivated him to do better,,, you always have

him going to college wasn’t just something his parents suggested, but it was something that he knew even you would talk him into because of your value of education and working for something

he admits that you showed a lot and taught him a lot and it puts you in awe because even though he was really busy with his music,,, you were still on his mind

and honestly it makes you feel even more love for him because he’s truly a loving soul who only wants the best for people he cares about

it’s the night after finals when you’re exhausted and way too lazy to go anywhere but your dorm

he comes over and asks how they went and he laughs when you groan but open your arms up for his usual cuddles and as you both lay there, staring up at the ceiling for nothing in particular,,, you tell him,,,

“i love you”

it takes him by surprise because he’s thought of telling you and thought of the idea of loving you and it really struck him when it hits him that he really wouldn’t be where he was without you 

he tells you that and as you’re at a loss of words, he presses his lips to your forehead and hums that song of yours and says “i love you too”

[resbang-bookclub]

AMA Transcript: TRAVELLERS LOST

To kick off our AMAs, @sleepdeprivedfemale stopped in to answer some questions about her Resbang, TRAVELLERS LOST. Here’s some of what went down!

Q: To start us off, how about you tell us what inspired this AU? Why Sunless Sea, why now?

SleepDeprivedFemale: Probably a silly reason, but I had a lot of free time this summer and I spent a lot of time playing Sunless Sea. I got sucked in by the lore and mystery. And then when lore parts such as the Judgements and the Dawn Machine's capability to control people came up, my mind basically went, 'hey wouldn't it be cool if SE characters took part?'

Q: Generic question, but since this was your first Resbang how did the experience treat you? Did you feel like you grew as a writer?

SleepDeprivedFemale: hahaha, well I somehow managed to write 100k in a few months so I guess something went either right or terribly wrong. But I did like having a deadline which pushed me to actually write instead of 'meh, I'll do it tomorrow.'

Q: What was writing 100k in a few months like?

SleepDeprivedFemale: Like a fever dream. There were a couple of days where I wrote 5k and my brain was mush.

Q: What's your writing process like? How do u Churn out the words?

SleepDeprivedFemale: I just do? Like usually, I generally plot out roughly what's going on in the chapter, and then I roughly write out dialogue and basic descriptions, then slowly go back and fill the parts in. Exceptions were made in places heavy in description like Black Star's visit to Frostfound.

Q: Neat! Sounds like you have a good system in place.

SleepDeprivedFemale: Haha yeah, it's a process that kinda grew organically.

Q: I wish I wrote like that, give me your advice!

SleepDeprivedFemale: I mean, it helps when I don't exactly know where a chapter is going. Like, write out a dialogue and have a solid plot down, and then add the 'fluff.' Of course that doesn't always work out and there were chapters (like the climax), where I had the plot in mind and just wrote the entire thing in one go.

Q: How do you keep track if you write non-linearly?

SleepDeprivedFemale: It depends on the day usually. If I don't have a lot of time, I focus more on getting the dialogue out and only in small stretches of the chapter. If I have more time, I sit down and fill in the gaps, going by scene or chapter (I usually aim to finish a chapter in a sitting so I don't lose my train of thought). And for the chapters I've finished, I just put on a giant (FINISHED) tag on them.

Q: What was the hardest part to write? Was there anything special about it that made you determined to write it despite the difficulty?

SleepDeprivedFemale: Haha my dude, chapter 41. (Aka the chapter where the gang is forced to drink red honey and painfully relieve their memories). Red Honey was among the most horrifying concepts in Sunless Sea, and I hoped I'd [do] it justice. There's also the part where I had to write the Drowned Man cause [it’s] so vague and there's a lot of things that are still a mystery.

Q: What's your fave part you wrote?

SleepDeprivedFemale: Aaaa there were a couple of scenes I liked for different reasons. Kim and Jackie's subplot was fun to write cause of their relationship dynamic (aka Jackie liking Kim but not being able to say it, vs Kim's issues of trust). For sheer comedic value, Kid accidentally flashing the entirety of an island was another one. In general, I try to make it so there's something I like in every scene I write, and not necessarily like in a literal sense, but something I want to write about. I also loved writing the stuff with the abnormal formatting -THESUNTHESUNTHESUNTHESUN-, chapter summaries and generally the 4th wall breaking stuff.

Q: Did you make yourself a playlist as you wrote, or are there songs that remind you of certain scenes/arcs?

SleepDeprivedFemale: Yes, I used a couple of compilation to get in the mood, hold on. This one was all purpose: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tquugHbliK8&index=3&list=PL5NETqX6IwDY6QTCRBhh5PqQ2sfcRD0yc

For scarier scenes: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=on-xvGdFTIU&index=1&list=PL5NETqX6IwDY6QTCRBhh5PqQ2sfcRD0yc ; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IryFtcBJeZE&index=5&list=PL5NETqX6IwDY6QTCRBhh5PqQ2sfcRD0yc  And https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fp5o0cIQvrA&index=6&list=PL5NETqX6IwDY6QTCRBhh5PqQ2sfcRD0yc for all-purpose creepy Victorian vibes. And this for the climax: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VEC0gZvMVAI aka KILL THE SUN)

Q: Did you notice your style grow or mature over the course of writing this? Anything you finally felt 'click?'

SleepDeprivedFemale: Honestly, I am not sure. I think there's an improvement when it comes to writing more fluid descriptions, but overall, my prose still is on the wordy and sometimes unnecessarily complicated side. Plus, I still hate prepositions.

Q: Any plans for a next project, or are you taking a well-earned break for now?

SleepDeprivedFemale: So far my plan is to continue my ongoing stories, cause I got two of them, one is an AU that has already spiralled out of my control in size (150k+) and the other is a crossover that takes a long time to plot. But so far, I've taken a break for Christmas and may not write much this year due to uni stuff.

Q: Was there anything that you wished you could have added if you had more time/energy?

SleepDeprivedFemale: Oh yeess. First of all, I wanted to bulk up some of the shorter chapters (such as their visit to Pigmote Isle). I also wanted to add a visit to Abbey Rock where there are fighter nun, but there wasn't enough time. And in general, I wish I had more time to double-check spelling etc.

Q: Did you work with any betas or bounce ideas off of anyone besides your artists? How was it working with them?

SleepDeprivedFemale: Ba-sing-saying [@ba-sing-saying] helped beta parts of the fic (unfortunately there wasn't enough time to go over the entire thing). He also helped me with the contents of a couple of chapters where it felt like I went overboard. My beta and artist didn't really know about Sunless Sea, so though I couldn't bounce ideas of them I could see if my writing made sense from an outsider's POV (which I hope it did :P).

Q: How was it working with your artists?

SleepDeprivedFemale: It went well! Never done this before, so I don't really have a benchmark for how much communicating we were supposed to do, so we talked a bit and I liked the result.

Q: Any desire on Resbanging again sometime?

SleepDeprivedFemale: Yes, definitely. Actually finishing a long fic felt so cathartic, and I have a lot of WIPs that are sort-of-abandoned, so I want to see if I can use the deadlines to make myself actually finish them.

Q: Did you have a particular character you liked to write the most?

SleepDeprivedFemale: Kid. I will always write Kid, he's my boi. I also loved writing Liz, Black Star and Kim, but this story also helped me get more experience in writing characters I don't usually write, such as Maka, Soul, Tsubaki, Patty and the rest of the secondary cast. Kid and his dad are your friendly neighbor eldritch abominations.

Thanks again to SleepDeprivedFemale for coming to hang! Keep your eye out for more AMA transcripts, coming soon!

[sept-dix]

college au! aron

summary: you and aron are uni roommates genre: fluff a/n: requested; i feel like i’m trying to singlehandedly end the aron drought here lol hope u enjoy!!

yknow the myth about art students living off of virtually no sleep and no money is not entirely false

as a visual arts major who’s only still alive thanks to 20 cent instant ramen and the discovery of the red bull + coffee mixture, you would know

what you didn’t know was that journalism majors had it almost worse, bc with all news platforms having to publish their stuff at the break of dawn it was a given that they had to slave away while the rest of the world was asleep in order to even get something meaningful done during internship periods

the workload is also intense so even during non-internship periods they’re buried in work

you learnt this (and more) from aron

at the start of your second year in uni your existing roommate had dropped out of college, leaving you with an empty apartment which was both too big and too expensive 

and as you’d been aimlessly walking around your campus after school one day trying to think of possibilities for a better living arrangement, you’d fatefully come across an advertisement for someone looking for a roommate

the thing that had caught your eye was the shockingly low rent 

given the rlly cramped and small nature of the actual flat of course the rent wasn’t unexpected but you couldn’t care less about space at that moment

so yeah, you called and this guy called aron picked up and you two became roommates just like that

aron was so relieved and thankful when you called him and eventually became his roommate bc just like you, he was rlly tight on money

but let’s just say he just got even more thankful with time

when he first opened the door to you it would be an understatement to say that he was surprised

because well..,,, he looked at you once and got overwhelmed by how good looking you were

and you were moving in all your thousand of art supplies and the whole time you kept apologising bc you had to make so many trips and you kept getting in his way and he thought that was so cute

that first night you insisted that you make dinner as thanks for him letting you be his roommate

but he insisted that he make dinner as thanks for you wanting to be his roommate in the first place

so the both of you just ended up making dinner together 

it was nothing fancy you guys just made pasta lol

but you two had so much fun making it!!! 

you were exchanging pasta sauce recipes and tips with each other and aron tried so hard to stop himself but every now and then he kept finding himself thinking about how cute you were

somewhere in the back of his brain, there were warning sirens ringing trying to tell him that he shouldn’t be thinking like this about you because you were his roommate,,, it would mess things up big time

but what can i say aron ignored those sirens lol

both of you were naturally very sensitive of each other’s needs and preferences so it was almost too easy for you two to fall into a comfortable routine

like you’d wake him up before you left for your 9am class on tuesday because he had a 9.30 one

and he’d do the same for you on thursday when the situation was reversed

it just so happened that you came home earlier on 3 days of the week and he came home earlier on the rest of the days

so you’d cook the both of you dinner when you were back first and he’d do the same when he’s back first

and towards the end of the month there were always those few days when you guys had to make do with instant ramen lol rip

you two never rlly meant for this to happen but you guys ended up bonding a lot through these shared dinner times

admittedly it wasn’t too often that the two of you actually ate dinner at the same time 

but when those times did come, you two always ended up just talking or watching a tv show together

as it so happened you guys loved the same tv shows so that’s great

and he loved hearing about your art stuff bc well he’s an aspiring journalist and he loves to hear about everything

and you loved hearing about what he’s studying just bc you never really knew much about it before and he made it seem super interesting

you didn’t know this but during all those times aron was thinking to himself ok so not only are you super cute you are also interesting and ambitious and passionate and nice???? not fair 

but it wasn’t exactly that he had a crush on you or anything

lol jk he had a crush on you

a small teeny tiny one that grew concrete and huge over one fine weekend

which wasn’t so fine because well,, aron was sick

he was down with the flu and he had a high fever and he couldn’t even get out of bed

not only was he physically sick but yknow when people are sick and away from home they get extra homesick and emo

so yeah he was feeling like shit in all aspects of the word

and he had gotten sick when he was still living with his old roommate

that time he had just had a slight case of the flu he didn’t even have fever or anything

but his roommate had avoided him like he had the plague or something just bc he didn’t want it to spread to him

so naturally aron expected you to do the same and stay far away from you but what did you do instead?

that’s right

you made him soup

and you stuck a thermometer in his mouth

and you forced him to tell you any medical allergies he had so you could go out and buy him flu medicine

and then you came back with the medicine and forced him to eat it with soup and then stayed by his side for another 15 mins just to make sure he was okay

15 mins might seem like a short time but considering the huge assignment you had due in 2 days which you hadn’t even started on, 15 mins was as good as half a day

and i guess you could say that’s when aron knew he was in trouble

you’re cute and nice and interesting and everything but you’re also good at taking care of him

it’s all too much for him

so he decided to consult his bro minki on the situation

and minki being minki told aron to confess asap in the most corny and cringey and extravagant way

and aron wanted to follow that advice (at least a part of it) but when he got home that day and saw you smiling at your phone for god knows what reason

he realised that he knew all sorts of things about you but he didn’t know whether you had someone you liked or someone you were already dating or whatever

and of course he was too nervous to ask you about it at that moment bc you were already smiling at your phone meaning there was a high chance you were already being sent lovey dovey text messages from the love of your life

but you would have told him if you had a boyfriend right?

right?

well idk but that’s all that went through aron’s mind that day

and he tried to look for more signs that you were already taken throughout the course of the next few days but he didn’t catch anything else except for that one smiling at your phone event

so he reported this back to minki and minki all but hit him 

“why tf you doing all this when i clearly told you to just conFESS??”

 so aron tried another time

this time, thankfully, you weren’t doing anything suspicious like smiling at your phone

you were just on the floor in your room working on a huge canvas painting for one of your classes

as soon as you noticed him walking in you asked him his opinion on the piece

“it’s supposed to be a study of movement, i’m not exactly sure if this is what my professor wants but what do you think?”

“oh well it’s great”

bc duh aron doesn’t know anything about how a proper study of movement should look lol

he just stood there watching you work for a little longer before you noticed him

“is there a reason why you’re just standing there looking at me, aron?”

“no! i mean well, yes, actually. yeah, i mean yes”

you chuckled at his clumsiness and that put him at ease for a moment

“ok then, what is it?”

he took a deep breath and

“i was just wondering if you wanted to have dinner with me this saturday?”

“.... aron are u ok we always have dinner together on saturdays unless one of us is busy or smth lol”

“yes but this wouldn’t be our usual dinner. i could bring you to that japanese place down the road from here and we could perhaps catch a movie afterwards?”

ah

“... are you asking me out?”

“yeah i guess you could say that”

the few seconds you spent looking at him then almost made him pass out bc they convinced him you were going to say no but-

“sure, it’s a date!”

needless to say the date went great bc well,, it isn’t an unknown fact that you two match each other super well

in fact, it goes so well that one date turns into two, which turns into a few

and before you know it, you’ve been introduced to minki as the person aron’s in an actual relationship with

aron finds out months later that the moment you started falling for him had been the same one when he’d been so sick that he was out of his mind

and he had looked up at you and whined that “he would have really missed his mommy if you hadn’t been there to make him soup”

that’s so cute

soon you guys become one of the established College Couples in campus

with him walking you to your classes all the way in the arts building

and you hanging around in his editing studio while he types away about something or the other

and the both of you always grabbing dinner together at the end of the day

what can i say uni isn’t so bad when you’ve got someone like aron by your side hehe

[artificialqueens]

Not Nineteen Forever (12) (Branjie/Scyvie/Ninex)- Ortega

a/n: hey friends! here’s chapter 12 of Not Nineteen Forever, i’m sorry it’s so late but i want to thank everyone who waited patiently and was so polite and encouraging while waiting. it really made me smile! remember i always love and am so grateful for sweet comments either on AQ, through reblog, or on my blog, so keep them coming bc they motivate me no end!! hope u all enjoy this chapter (p.s. finally accepted the ninex in this fic is not in any way background any more xo) xxxxxxx

trigger warning: alcohol n naughty texts xo

please note: this fic contains young adults often behaving in irresponsible/unadvisable ways with regards to alcohol, drugs and sex. if you are someone who feels as if they could be heavily influenced by fic and incorporate what happens in the plot into ur own life, pls steer clear!

summary: Brooke, Yvie and Nina are three flatmates who forged a friendship in their first year of university and picked up some other waifs and strays along the way. Now in their final year, there are feelings that need to be unravelled and confessions to be made whilst navigating drunk nights, hungover mornings, takeaways, group chats, library meetups, cafe gossiping, and the small matter of getting a degree.

last chapter: Monet and Nina continued to be adorable, Yvie and Scarlet continued to be cute, but Brooke wasn’t sure if she wanted the same for her and Vanessa.

this chapter: there’s library woes, a flat party, a lilac-haired, tattooed bombshell, and Yvie confides in Scarlet.

***

Scarlet let a long puff of air out of her cheeks and blinked at her laptop, bored. She’d been so eager for Uni to start back again, so excited to get back to the city and see her friends that she slightly forgot about the whole academic aspect of everything. Lectures had started that week and in between trying to force four different modules’ worth of information into her head she had caught up with Vanjie, chatting before, after and in between lectures when they could. It was interesting, Scarlet thought. Before Christmas she could never get her to shut up about Brooke and how things were going with her but ever since the holidays it seemed as if Brooke was a subject to be avoided. Scarlet knew something must have changed but she didn’t want to push Vanjie for information if she wasn’t ready to share it. They still seemed to be together, anyway, even if things seemed a little strained.

At least she could say that wasn’t the case for her and Yvie. After many long evening Skype sessions during the holidays, the pair of them had decided that they couldn’t bear to be apart a moment longer and so Scarlet had taken the six hour train to go and stay with her girlfriend at her family home for a few days. She had been a bag of nerves at the thought of meeting Yvie’s family, but her Mum had been lovely (and seemingly just relieved that her daughter had settled down), her Dad had been welcoming, if a little quiet (“He’s under strict instructions not to speak because every time he opens his mouth he embarrasses me”), and the brothers and sisters that were still at home and not out somewhere or back to uni themselves were kind and friendly. In the three days they spent together, Scarlet and Yvie went for cold, crisp walks along the beach, curled up on Yvie’s old battered leather sofa the family had had since she was small and watched Disney films, gone ice skating, and looked out over Yvie’s city on a rickety ferris wheel that had looked as if it would take one good sneeze to knock it down.

But all that movie-screen romance was behind her now, as the most romantic Scarlet had been with Yvie in the week since they’d been back at uni was a Tesco Finest £10 meal deal cooked in Yvie’s flat and then watched in front of the TV as a perfect accompaniment to Coronation Street. They were both busy and waiting for their academic life to slow down a little again. The same could be said for their whole friendship group, really. The whole gang hadn’t done anything all together since their Christmas dinner, and Scarlet was itching for a night out where she could get absolutely off her face and forget that she was working towards the degree that would define the rest of her life. Sighing again and feeling the words on her laptop merge into a big blur, Scarlet looked up at the big clock on the wall. Five o'clock. She turned to Akeria who was sat at the desk beside her. She and Silky had come to join her mid-study, the latter having been dragged into the library by her flatmate because she still hadn’t handed in an essay that had been due since before Christmas and Akeria was quite frankly concerned.

“Akeria,” Scarlet whispered, the other girl quickly finishing a sentence she was working on, turning away from her laptop towards Scarlet and pushing her reading glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I want a night out. This is shit.”

“This is what we signed up for, baby,” Akeria gave a small laugh and shrugged, turning back to her laptop. Akeria’s dissertation wasn’t due until May but she had already started writing it, which struck the fear of God into the majority of their friendship group and made them all feel like slackers. “This is uni. This is our fuckin’ degree, girl.”

“You’re really making me feel better,” Scarlet rolled her eyes, Akeria giving another laugh under her breath.

“Hey,” Silky said from her position at the desk across from them, her voice entirely at speaking-pitch and causing a few heads to turn their way. “What’re you hoes talkin’ about? I want in.”

“We’re bitching about you,” Akeria deadpanned, tapping away at her keyboard.

“Fuck off, Kiki.”

“I want a night out,” Scarlet hissed over to her as quietly as she could. “But Little Miss Law Degree wants to stay in the library from dusk til dawn every evening until she graduates.”

Scarlet’s face lit up as Silky bellowed a laugh so loud it caused the girl beside her to put a set of earphones in. Looking at Akeria and hoping she hadn’t been offended, she was relieved to see the other girl giving her a wry smile.

“This bitch can be so savage when she wants to be, Jesus. Ouch. No, I’m just sayin’! This was what we chose to do, so quit complaining,” Akeria rolled her eyes, leaned back in her chair and stretched. “That being said…I do think I’ve earned a night out.”

“Well me fuckin’ too, bitch!” Silky exclaimed incredulously, Scarlet laughing in spite of herself.

“How much have you written, Silk?” she asked, the girl opposite looking down at her laptop, clicking a few times, then looking back up to the girls in front of her.

“You know what…it don’t matter how many words I’ve done, it’s the level of mental energy I have needed to use in order to-”

“Silky, how many words,” Akeria demanded, fixing her with a stare that looked as if it could slice her in half.

“Ninety-four.”

“Jesus Christ on a crystal meth binge,” Akeria sighed, Scarlet letting out a splutter beside her. Silky looked at them both pleadingly.

“Hey, now don’t make me feel bad! We only been in here-”

“An hour and a quarter,” Akeria stared at her.

Silky threw her hands up. “Well I been doing readings an’ shit! Do you know how hard it is to get any articles that have the exact quote ‘Boris Johnston is a piece of dog shit’? Fuckin’ hard!”

“Why the hell are you looking for that?” Akeria blurted out, unable to keep herself from laughing. Scarlet was laughing so hard she thought she would pass out.

“Because, bitch! I want to use that exact wording in my essay but I need some academic shit to back me up.”

“Fuck me.”

“To be fair, that is the worst,” Scarlet shrugged, not wanting Silky to feel too demoralised. “Searching for three hours to find one reference that can back up one of your points. Like, why can’t you just make the point because you want to? You know? Why is your opinion only valid if it’s been previously thought up by a white man in a suit?"

"Very profound,” Silky nodded emphatically. “Anyway, this bitch needs to get her drink on. I’m going to ask the girls."

As she watched Silky pick up her phone, Scarlet was reminded to check her own. She’d deliberately sat on it and put it on flight mode in an attempt to force herself to do work. Now, she felt as if she could excuse a small break. Turning off flight mode, she watched as a small flood of notifications came through. There had been fifteen new group chat messages, Nina had tagged them all in a meme, and she had two messages from Yvie. She checked the latter first, wondering if she would ever get tired of the feeling of her heart soaring like a balloon every time she saw, heard or spoke Yvie’s name.

Y: if i told u i was considering buying a set of faux-leather underwear would that be weird or a turn-on

Y: also that lasagne is even better on the second day u need to have some of it when ur round

S: Sorry this took me so long!!!!!! I turned my phone on flight mode in an attempt to get some work done

S: No such luck

S: Leather look underwear is a yes from me but i’m inclined to ask for pics first xoxoxoxoxo

S: Also yes i want lasagne

S: That’s not a euphemism btw i actually really do want some lasagne

Y: 😈

As Scarlet gave a soft laugh to herself, she checked what had been going on on the group chat since she’d been studying. She wondered what exciting plans could have been made, or what drama could have happened, or if anyone had any exciting or interesting news.

Okay Then: oh my god

Kim Kardashian-West: ??????

Okay Then: has anyone seen the state of Simon Cowell’s face

Scarlet gave a colossal roll of her eyes. She should have known that, at times, the groupchat could become one massive shitpost.

Kim Kardashian-West: No??? What’s he done to it?? Has he been in a crash?

Okay Then: he might as fucking well have been

What followed was a picture of what seemed to be a man whose face had been partially melted with a blowtorch, until Scarlet looked closer and realised that it was indeed the TV talent show judge.

mose: Jesus Fucking Christ what’s he done to himself

Scarlet’s bitch: that’s frightening

Okay Then: RIGHT???

Scarlet’s bitch: that’s what i see in the corner of my room when i have sleep paralysis

Kim Kardashian-West: That is TRULY the stuff of nightmares!!!!

Brooke’s Ford Transit Vanjie: Fucking hell Plastique don’t fucking frighten us like that!!!

mose: He must surely see that he looks like shit? Like how could you not?

Okay Then: how can he see anything when his eyebrows are now entirely obscuring his eyes

Kim Kardashian-West: I am actually quite frightened guys

At this point, Scarlet caught up to the current conversation.

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: AS TERRIFYING AS SIMON COWELL’S FACE IS

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: CAN WE TALK BUSINESS FOR A SECOND?

Kim Kardashian-West: Of course!

mose: I’m all business

Brooke’s Ford Transit Vanjie: Sure you are baby xxxxxxx

Scarlet’s Bitch: that is fucking vile keep that shit off the groupchat u big gays

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: YA FAV BITCHES ARE IN THE LIBRARY AND WE ARE GAGGING FOR A NIGHT OUT

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: WE AIN’T HAD ONE IN AGES

Okay Then: yaaaaaaaaaas bitches let’s do it

Okay Then: thursday night fever

Kim Kardashian-West: Well Monet invited me to this flat party she’s hosting tonight

Kim Kardashian-West: I could ask her if you guys could come too?

Brooke’s Ford Transit Vanjie: Omg yes I’m down!

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: YES BITCH FLAT PARTY!!!!

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: AND IF SHE SAYS NO JUST SAY SHE AIN’T GETTIN ANY PUSS FOR THE FORESEEABLE FUTURE

Kim Kardashian-West: SILKY!!!!!!!! THAT IS DISGUSTING!!!

Yvie’s Bitch: We were all thinking it xoxo

Brooke’s Ford Transit Vanjie: AHAHAHAHAHA SILK

Okay Then: YES Scarlet

Kim Kardashian-West: You’re all horrible. And uninvited.

mose: Ninaaaaaa

Okay Then: Nina pls

Scarlet’s Bitch: fuck i’m not even sure i can do tonight ladies

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: YVIE DONT YOU DARE

Scarlet’s Bitch: i’ve got a 9am tomorrow and i want to get that first u know

mose: Yvieeee the last time we were all together was literally over a month ago

Scarlet pouted to herself, disappointed at the thought of Yvie being the only one not out. Suddenly, an idea began to form in her head. Biting back a smile, she took to her chat with Yvie.

S: Yvieeeee

Y: Scarleeeeet

S: Please come to the flat party :(((((((

S: I’ll do anything you want

Y: anything i want?

S: Yesssss

Y: that sounds like a challenge princess

Scarlet crossed her legs and felt herself squeezing her thighs together. Looking around at the rows of silent people, she turned her phone brightness down to make extra sure nobody could see her messages, just in case the conversation turned the way Scarlet thought it was about to.

S: Well it depends on what you want me to do x

Y: wellllll

Y: i’ve been wondering if u can take a strap like a good girl

Scarlet felt briefly as if she’d been shocked by a defibrillator. Yvie always seemed to go from 0 to 100 real fucking quick, and Scarlet couldn’t help but love it.

S: You know I could baby

Y: i know you could, you’re such a good girl

Y: so how about if i come to this party i get to watch u bounce on my dick until u cum all over it

Scarlet could feel her face growing red. She and Yvie had messaged like this before, when they had been at home and miles away from each other and alone and very much not-in-a-public-place, but this was so fucking different.

S: Christ Yves I’m in the library!!!!

Y: shut up u started all this!!

S: Yeah I kinda did

Y: deliberately getting me to tell u what i want to do to u later when ur sitting in public in a fucking silent building

Y: jesus fucking christ Scarlet that’s so hot

Scarlet felt an urgent pulse of heat between her legs and she squirmed in her seat.

S: Where are you just now?

Y: i’m in bed

Y: touching myself at the thought of u sitting absolutely soaking wet and being able to do fuck all about it

S: So you’re coming to the party baby?

Y: how about

Y: if u can get to the flat before i cum i’ll fuck u into the mattress and i’ll come to this party or whatever

Scarlet nearly jammed her fingers in her laptop in her haste to get it shut, wrenched her charger out of its socket so hard it almost broke, and muttered a near-breathless goodbye to a confused Akeria and Silky all in the space of about twenty seconds as she struggled into her coat and sped out into the stairwell.

Five hours later Scarlet had managed to fit a lot in. She’d hurried round to Yvie’s to find her in bed in the black lace underwear she knew drove Scarlet crazy, and they’d fucked twice (fast, rough and passionate then sweet, tender and gentle) before Scarlet had reluctantly dragged herself out of Yvie’s bed to head back to her own flat and get ready for the party. Nobody seemed to know what the dress code was, least of all Nina who had sent about nine different outfit options to the group chat for opinions, so Scarlet settled on a tight black bandage dress that stopped at her calves, with trainers to dress it down a bit. She’d hurriedly munched down a bowl of pasta a la whatever-was-left-in-the-fridge, then set off across town to meet the girls at the edge of the park, where they had decided they would all meet then walk together to Monet’s flat.

Scarlet heard her friends before she saw them, Vanjie’s distinctive laugh ricocheting off trees and mixing with Yvie’s Bond-villan one letting Scarlet know she was heading in the right direction. Finally reaching the group, Scarlet gave them all a hug in turn and took in each of their outfits. It was still icy and cold, so most of them had opted for trainers over heels- save for Plastique, who always wore them for any night out and Vanjie, who was wearing chunky heeled boots. Much of their clothes clashed with the weather, though. Plastique and Akeria were in tight dresses, Brooke and Silky were in short skirts and tops. Vanjie had chosen some loose-fitting ripped denim jeans and a tiny bodysuit which left little to the imagination. Nina had gone for a light blue t-shirt dress and a chunky pair of trainers, her nerves palpable even in the group dynamic. Scarlet thought Yvie looked the best though in her burnt orange velvet skirt and tight black long-sleeved bodysuit, her unruly hair tamed and brushed into two huge bunches.

"You look nice, Nina!” Scarlet complimented her in an attempt to calm her down.

“Aww, Scarlet! Do I actually?” Nina smiled brightly, then cringed at herself. “Fuck! Why can’t I just take a fucking compliment like a goddamn normal person? I do this with Monet all the time!”

“Because you got a big-ass crush,” Silky shrugged. “It’s almost as big as Akeria’s ass. Not quite, though.”

“Shut up,” Akeria rolled her eyes and shoved her friend.

“Does it even count as a crush if you’re seeing the person in question?” Scarlet wondered out loud. Plastique shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

“Don’t know. Ask Brooke or Vanjie.”

The group exploded into laughter, something about it not quite meeting Brooke or Vanessa’s eyes. They were both standing close together, hands entwined, but Scarlet didn’t know. There seemed as if there was something off. Forced, even.

“Okay, let’s go, motherfuckers. I’m freezing my vagina off,” Vanjie said decisively, Nina moving first and making to lead the way.

“Right, a few things before we arrive,” Nina began speaking at a mile a minute before Scarlet could even compliment Yvie on her outfit. “Monet has somehow got it into her head that you guys are cool enough to be invited to this party. She doesn’t know the truth yet, so just try to act like a group of normal fucking human beings?”

“The truth? What the hell is that meant to mean?!” Brooke let out a laugh.

“That you’re all fucking weirdos! And she, for some reason, still likes me, so I am not having you all put that in jeopardy, capiche?” Nina snapped back, only half-joking.

“Jeez, thanks,” Akeria rolled her eyes, Nina instantly protesting.

“I’m joking! I’m joking. But not really. Like Silk, please try not to overdo it tonight?”

Silky raised her eyebrows and sucked her cheeks in. “I’m making no promises, girl.”

“Akeria, please don’t accidentally make out with anyone’s boyfriends?”

“Oh my God Nina! That happened ONCE!” Akeria cried out incredulously.

“And Vanjie, don’t-”

“Nina. We’re not going to embarrass you. Chill the fuck out,” Yvie rolled her eyes and squeezed the shoulder of the girl in front of her.

The girls all finally reached Monet’s old, red-brick building and her front door, and Nina pressed the buzzer nervously. There came a crackly screech of mayhem through the intercom which contained unintelligible speech, and then the girls were all quickly buzzed in. Scarlet looked to Yvie questioningly as she wondered if she’d heard any words, but she also appeared to be as clueless as she was. It didn’t seem to faze any of the other girls though, as Vanjie was already bounding up the stairs with Akeria as fast as her chunky heels could carry her. They didn’t have to walk far, as Monet’s flat was on the first floor. Vanjie moved to open the door first when it was suddenly wrenched open from the other side to reveal a tiny, skinny blonde girl with her hair curled and loose on her shoulders. Her pink dress was as tiny as she was, but regardless of her size she looked ready to fight.

“Who the fuck are you?” she addressed Akeria, barely acknowledging the others. “You here to sell us girl scout cookies, or an Avon catalogue, check our meter readings maybe?"

Just as Akeria looked as if she would instigate a full-scale fight, Nina poked her head out from behind Brooke’s tall frame. "Cracker, don’t be a dick!”

The girl’s face immediately relaxed into a wide, shameless smile. “Nina! Oh my God, you bitch, I never saw you! Come in, God!”

Akeria still bristling and Vanjie not too dissimilar, the girls all trooped into the flat which immediately struck Scarlet as something out of an American teen Netflix special. The hall was dark with the occasional string of fairy lights, and was packed full of people. Scarlet instinctively reached for Yvie’s hand in the crowd and got a squeeze back without even having to look at her. Nina and the girl, Cracker apparently, led them through to a huge bedroom which had obviously once been a living room but had been repurposed by a money-hungry landlord. The room was quieter but still had its fair share of people dotted about in amongst the Morrocan market wall-coverings, tiny elephant incense stick holders, and swathes of printed photos and posters that covered the walls like tiles. A huge bed sat to one side where Monet sat sprawled out with her shoes kicked off, chatting to a black girl with a huge afro that otherwise looked so identical to her Scarlet assumed they must be sisters. Cracker flung herself down on top of the mattress and joined them, gesturing vaguely to the girls.

“Neens!!” Monet suddenly squealed as she looked up, throwing her arms out as Nina launched herself half on the bed and half on top of her. Monet continued, muffled, as the rest of the girls awkwardly lingered. “I’m so happy you came, oh my God, this is so amazing!”

“I brought everyone too. Is that still okay? They can leave if not,” Nina instantly reeled off, Brooke bellowing out a laugh. Monet’s face lit up.

“Oh my God of course not! Brooke! Scarlet! Yvie!! Oh my God, come and hug me,” Monet beamed, her intoxication showing ever so slightly as Brooke graciously leaned down and hugged the other girl them got instantly pulled onto the bed. Monet gestured for everyone to come closer. “Guys! It’s so good to see you all, thanks so much for coming! There’s, like. Endless booze in the kitchen. Feel free to just drink us out of house and home.”

Silky’s face lit up and she immediately grabbed Akeria and Plastique, making to drag them through. “Vanj, you comin’?”

“Get me something? I'mma stay here with my girl,” Vanessa shouted back, giving a smile back to Brooke but finding the other girl looking down at her phone instead. Scarlet frowned involuntarily and then was suddenly distracted by a squeeze of her hand from Yvie (who still hadn’t let go).

“I’m going to go make sure Silky doesn’t give herself alcohol poisoning. You want me to bring you back a drink?” she offered, Scarlet unable to help the smile that spread across her face.

“You’re a sweetheart. Surprise me.”

“A pint glass of tequila it is,” Yvie deadpanned as she walked away, too quick for Scarlet’s hand that swatted at her in response. Scarlet tuned into the conversation that the girls were all having on the bed. It was big, but it was still a bed in a student flat, and so Brooke had her elbows resting on the mattress and her lower body on the floor and Scarlet had had to squeeze up to make room for Vanjie to sit beside her.

“She was guarding the place like fort fuckin’ knox,” Vanessa was saying, a playful side eye being cast to the blonde girl, who let out a laugh.

“You’re an animal,” Monet’s potential sister rolled her eyes. “A living guard dog. We should put a collar on you. One of those ones with spikes.”

“Nah. That’s only reserved for people who want to fuck me. Do you want to fuck me, Bob?” the girl asked easily, before taking a swig of the cider bottle she was holding. Monet hooted a laugh and the other girl didn’t even break her expression.

“I wouldn’t eat your pussy if it was made of chocolate fuckin’ fudge cake. Get the fuck out,” she retorted, Nina looking up at them all from her position on Monet’s tummy.

“Is that not that Lana Del Ray lyric? My pussy tastes like chocolate fudge cake…”

Scarlet let out a laugh that was more like a scream, the others on the bed doing much the same thing. Monet wiped her eyes and took in a deep breath.

“Oh my God, okay. For those of you that haven’t met before- this is Cracker and Bob. Two out of the three girls I have the blessing or curse of living with, I haven’t figured out yet,” she gestured to the two girls in turn and then turned to Scarlet. “And this is Scarlet, Vanjie and Brooke Lynn. They’re Nina’s friends, so they’re obviously amazing.”

“Nina could throw up on your bed and you’d say it was amazing,” Cracker looked pointedly at Monet. Monet shrugged and threw her arms around Nina.

“And what?"

"Nice to meet you guys. Are you two sisters?” Scarlet asked, curiosity getting the better of her as she pointed between Bob and Monet. Monet laughed and Bob rolled her eyes.

“Are you saying that all black people look the same?” Bob asked her with a piercing stare, Scarlet’s entire stomach dropping at the thought of having offended her.

“Oh my God, no! No no no, I just thought-”

“She’s kidding, Scarlet. Being a dick, as usual,” Monet cut off Scarlet’s frantic protests and immediately calming her down. “No, we’re not related. We just look spookily alike.”

“You fuckin’ wish you looked even a tenth as good as me. Hey, where the fuck is Monique?” Bob asked suddenly, both Cracker and Monet shrugging.

“Flatmate number four,” Monet quickly cut in to explain.

“Away making some chaotic cocktail, probably,” Cracker shrugged. Bob gave another roll of her eyes, then turned and smiled at Brooke, Scarlet and Vanessa.

“Nice to meet you anyway. Are you all flatmates too?” Bob asked politely, ignoring the position of the slit on her long skirt as she crossed her legs.

“Not us three exactly. Brooke lives with Nina and Yvie, that’s my girlfriend,” Scarlet explained, her stomach full of fizzy fireworks at being able to say that for real. “Vanj lives with Silky and Akeria over on Antigua Road.”

“They’re the best hoes in the world. They’re through in the other room getting drunk, but you’d love them,” Vanjie cut in. Cracker let out a laugh.

“Oh yeah, shit. Sorry I was so mean to you.”

Vanessa smiled easily, the free alcohol that the flatmates were providing clearly making up for any perceived slight. “Don’ worry about it, girl. We’d probably do the same if some hoes we didn’t know turned up at our party.”

“What about you, Scarlet?” Bob asked politely, instantly seeming far less intimidating.

“I’m over on the South Side. Kinda far out. I found this girl on SpareRooms to live with, but she’s a bit of a dick,” Scarlet explained awkwardly. Cracker leaned in, her eyes shining excitedly.

“What’s her name?”

“Fuck, I don’t want to say in case any of you are friends with her!” Scarlet laughed, but no protestations came. She lowered her voice as she continued. “It’s Ra'Jah? Ra'Jah O'Hara?”

“Oh, FUCK!” Bob cried out, holding onto Cracker for support as she almost fell off the bed. “I know who that is! She’s in my Econ tutorials! Oh my God, she’s an actual fucking moron. I had a group project with her once and she did literally nothing but talk about drugs and bitch about people on our course.”

As Scarlet was about to launch into how horrifically messy a flatmate she was, Yvie came back from the kitchen with two bottles of beer and a tall black girl with a shock of lilac hair swept up into a ponytail and a matching straight fringe. She was wearing a black pair of jeans and a tiny black cropped t shirt which showed off her many tattoos, and in her hand looked to be an elaborate mojito-style concoction.

“I made a friend!” she cried, before slumping herself down beside Vanjie, Scarlet growing ever more squashed up against the bedpost.

“Oh, the wanderer returns,” Cracker deadpanned. “What did you make?”

“Margarita mojito,” the girl shrugged, sipping her drink to punctuate her sentence. “It’s basically a mojito with a big-ass shot of tequila in it. Guys, this is Yvie! She’s Nina’s friend!”

“Oh, you’re Scarlet’s girlfriend!” Bob smiled at her in recognition, Yvie clambering into a tiny space on the middle of the bed, handing one of the beers to Scarlet, and casting her a look through narrowed eyes.

“What have you been saying about me, bitch?” Yvie smiled playfully, the look she was fixing her causing a sudden flash of heat to strike between Scarlet’s legs.

“All good things, baby,” Scarlet smiled innocently, Yvie relaxing and leaning back against Scarlet’s chest.

“This is Bob and Cracker. They’re my other flatmates. You’ve already met Monique, then?” Monet introduced the girls to Yvie.

“Yeah, we bonded over watching Akeria flirt with people. The bitch is a fucking mastermind. She walked into the kitchen and had a guy talking to her within, like, one minute.”

“Introduce me, introduce me!” Monique bounced on the mattress excitedly. Vanjie came dangerously close to falling off the bed and Monique quickly noticed, reaching a hand out to her and pulling her up with it. “Shit, sorry girl!”

Scarlet watched as Vanessa swept some hair out of her face and cast a quick appreciative glance to Monique’s toned arm. “Holy mother of Jesus, I gotta start goin’ to the gym.”

Monique let out a bark of a laugh. Cracker caught her other arm and held it steady, the tequila/rum combo threatening to fly out of its glass.

“Brooke, Scarlet and Vanjie, meet Monique.

Monique, this is Brooke, Scarlet and Vanjie,” Cracker pointed to each of them in turn, finishing with Vanjie who still seemed to be casting her eyes over Monique.

“Well, Vanessa. But these girls call me Vanjie. Or Vanj. You choose, really,” Vanjie explained to Monique, the girl’s ponytail swishing as she cocked her head.

“You ever get called baby?” she asked, feigning innocence. Scarlet couldn’t help her eyes shooting wide and her brain almost went into meltdown trying to register everyone’s expressions at once. Vanjie was laughing, but her face had flushed pink, clearly flattered. Cracker was screeching a laugh, Bob looked long-suffering. Nina and Monet were looking at each other urgently, and Brooke was properly looking at Vanessa with interest for the first time since they all sat down on the bed. Scarlet couldn’t see Yvie’s face, but she’d felt her tense up, and she couldn’t blame her.

“Yeah. By Brooke Lynn over there,” Vanessa finally said through her laughter, Monique not seeming fazed as she cast a glance to Brooke, who was smiling patiently but inwardly seething if the red tips of her ears were anything to go by.

“Oh, sorry girl! I didn’t know she was taken,” Monique laughed pleasantly.

“Yeah, we’re a thing,” Brooke opened her mouth, breaking her silence. Vanessa was smiling at her from across the bed, and Brooke met her eyes and smiled back.

“A thing?” Monique let out a short laugh, spilling a little of her drink. “A thing is, like, a noun. Not a relationship.”

“Technically a girlfriend is a noun too. Thing, place, person,” Nina piped up, presumably in an attempt to diffuse the increasingly awkward vibe.

“Are you a primary teacher, Nina?!” Cracker asked, clutching her chest in faux-surprise. Nina sighed.

“If I could reach a pillow, I’d thump you."

"Monet, you hearing this? Your girlfriend is practically chatting me up,” Cracker laughed, then stopped suddenly as her face became a mix of horrified and regretful, Bob giving her a not-so-subtle thump on the arm. In lieu of gauging Monet and Nina’s facial expressions, Scarlet whispered her thoughts to Yvie.

“When the hell are they actually going to become official? It’s been ages!” she hissed into her ear, Yvie craning her head round to reply.

“Nina would have to be on a cocktail mixer of cocaine, Es and alcohol to gain even half the confidence it would take her to ask Monet, so she’s waiting on Monet to do it for her. The thing is, I think Monet’s not as confident as we all like to think either. Maybe sometimes Nina’s panic can present itself as disinterest.”

“So Monet’s maybe waiting until she knows where she stands with her?” Scarlet nodded in realisation.

Yvie sipped her drink and took Scarlet’s hand, tracing round her fingers absent-mindedly. “I think so. I mean, we all know Nina’s absolutely ass-over-tit in love with her because we’re her friends, but she’s not going to let that show to Monet until she’s ready.”

Scarlet watched as Yvie played with a large turquoise ring on her finger. Her brow was furrowed as she thought about the situation, and Scarlet’s heart felt like an enormous water balloon- incredibly fragile and full and feeling as if it was about to burst. She thought back to Yvie’s words on Christmas dinner night, the ones she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since she’d said them.

Suddenly, she was pulled out of her thoughts by a screech from Vanjie, who was looking at Monique with enrapture as she told a story. Admittedly, most of the other girls were looking at her too, but Scarlet didn’t miss the sparkle in Vanjie’s eyes as she listened.

“And there it was, I swear by almighty God, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit…a whole baggie of weed, in the bin, covered in Cracker’s vomit.”

It was an odd moment for Scarlet to tune into the story but judging by the roar the girls on the bed gave, it seemed to be over. Vanjie had doubled over laughing and was clinging to Monique’s arm for support, the girl in question smiling down at her as if her reaction was the only one that mattered. Scarlet frowned and leaned into Yvie once more.

“Hey. What the hell is the deal with Brooke and Vanjie?” she whispered, making sure to keep her voice extra low. She instantly felt Yvie tense up in her lap.

“What do you mean? They seem fine to me?” Yvie murmured back. Luckily for Scarlet, she knew that Yvie lied so rarely that it was easy to spot when she was telling one.

“You know something. What is it?” Scarlet hissed urgently in Yvie’s ear. Hearing her give a big sigh, Yvie shifted and then rose on the bed.

“Me and Scarlet are just getting another drink, save our seats,” Yvie announced to the circle, receiving a cheer from Nina.

“Enjoy your sex!” she cried after them, and Scarlet, confused, simply followed Yvie to another room. The hall was quieter now, but the same could not be said of the kitchen, where as they walked in they saw Silky, Akeria and Plastique ringleading a game of The Good, The Bad and The Ugly. Ignoring their friends, Yvie turned to Scarlet urgently, concern covering her face.

“Okay, Brooke told me this in confidence but you’re my girlfriend so I kind of can’t really keep anything from you, right?” she began, Scarlet nodding quickly and desperate to hear what Yvie knew. “But you CAN’T tell anyone about this, babe. Honestly, it needs to stay between us. Do you promise?”

“I promise,” Scarlet said instantly, her mind in overdrive. Yvie pulled a pained face for a moment, seemingly incredibly conflicted, and then looked to the floor.

“Brooke is having second thoughts about being with Vanjie.”

Scarlet’s face dropped. “What?!”

“Brooke told me that she felt everything was getting too intense, and that Vanj wanted more than Brooke felt she could give her. She’s sticking it out to see if it’s just a blip, but…yeah. Now you know why they’ve both been so weird,” Yvie explained, biting her lip and looking at Scarlet with concern.

Scarlet didn’t know what to think. It all made so much sense, the oddly distant vibes between them both, the strained atmosphere, Vanjie flirting with Monique. Suddenly, a thought occurred to Scarlet. “Does Vanessa know?”

Yvie rolled her eyes. “Yes absolutely, Scarlet, Vanjie is very happy staying with someone who isn’t even sure if she wants things to go further with her, Brooke’s told her everything!"

Scarlet’s mind seemed to fuse. "She needs to know.”

Yvie’s expression dropped. “Oh my fucking Christ, you literally just promised not to tell anyone.”

“Well I didn’t know what it was you were going to tell me! I mean shit, Yvie, imagine that was me and you and I was having second thoughts! Would you want to be kept in the dark?”

Yvie bit her lip and looked to the floor. Scarlet gave a snort. “Exactly, bitch. I’m going to go find her right now-”

“Scarlet, please,” Yvie stopped her quickly, reaching out and grabbing her hand. “Brooke would be fuckin’ raging at me. I told you this shit in confidence. I know it’s hard because you’re close with Vanjie, but can you please…I mean hold off at least. If she asks you about it then, fine. You can tell her. But don’t run through there just now.”

Scarlet’s head felt as if it was a mess. She tapped her foot against the linoleum floor. “Who’s she told?”

“Just me,” Yvie said sincerely, looking into Scarlet’s eyes. “Nina doesn’t know. It’s just us.”

Scarlet rolled her eyes. “Fine. But I’m pinning all the fucking blame on you if she finds out I know, you know that?”

Yvie nodded understandingly. Scarlet let out a big sigh. The silence between them hung heavy in the air, at odds with the party happening around them. Suddenly, Plastique tottered into their line of vision, her eyes glazed and drunk.

“Oh my God guys! I haven’t seen you like all night! Selfie!!” she cried, sticking her phone in the air. Scarlet felt herself smile weakly but luckily the photo seemed to be too blurry for anyone to notice. Plastique immediately walked off again.

“Okay bye, nice seeing you,” Yvie deadpanned after her. Scarlet pressed her lips together to stop a laugh escaping them. Yvie caught her eye and snorted, and Scarlet couldn’t help but let out the laugh she’d been holding in. The tension had been diffused by a drunk Plastique, and Scarlet was relieved. She ran her hand down Yvie’s arm and squeezed her hand.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I should’ve just kept the fucking secret,” Yvie sighed, lacing her fingers through Scarlet’s own. She smiled at Scarlet, showing the little gap in her teeth, and Scarlet felt her heart jump. “Hey, I kind of want to go get chips, cheese and gravy and then head back to the flat and watch the Scooby Doo movie. You down?”

Scarlet smiled. She was kind of over the party. She’d been so eager for a night out, but all she wanted right now was a night in with her girlfriend. “Sounds amazing. Let’s go.”

The two headed back through to the bedroom to grab their jackets and say goodbye to the rest of the girls. Notably absent from the room were Brooke and Vanessa, and Scarlet was about to mention this to Yvie when they walked back out into the hall and spotted a tall, blonde girl and a small brunette kissing furiously in a darker, quieter corner. As Yvie opened the front door, she turned to Scarlet.

“I feel like they won’t be far behind us. Brooke must have sorted her shit out, then.”

As Scarlet grabbed one last look at the two girls against the wall, she desperately hoped Yvie was right.