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dairyminki · 1 year ago

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Inked By Fate - FIVE

↬ pairing/s: park seonghwa x fem!reader, choi san x fem!reader ↬ genre: soulmate!au, racers!ateez, rivalry, angst, romance, fluff, pining ↬warning/s: profanities ↬wc: 2.1k

*reblogs and feedbacks are much appreciated!

・・・・・★

Another night at KQ-Strip, another race to be missed.

"Yeo, I'll just go to the comfort room, okay?"

"Sure, but be back quick. You don't want to miss my race, do you?" Yeosang had the smug look on and you just can't help but scoff.

"Yeah, whatever." You replied and then you went on your way.

By now, you've totally mastered the whole place, you're also starting to think that one of these days, Yeosang will start to question your frequent disappearances and trips to the comfort room.

Just like always, you go inside the comfort room first, you washed your face and then as soon as you were done, you went out to go look for San, that is, if he doesn't find you first, which he always does anyway.

But tonight, a shocked expression was evident on your face when you opened the door, because not only San greeted you outside, but also another male, who's smirking your way.

"So, she's the one you've been waiting for, right Choi? Or am I wrong?" Hongjoong asks the younger, yet much taller male.

"H-Hongjoong…" You gasp. "What are you doing here?"

The mentioned male just shakes his head, grinning deviously after. "You don't think you're the one I should ask that?" He raises an eyebrow, making you gulp.

You sigh, giving in, not fighting the fact that one of Yeosang's friends finally caught you with your little secret rendezvous with one of their despised, not really, rivals. And it happens to be Hongjoong who has caught you, huh?

"Fine, I admit I've been seeing San. So what?" You retort, trying to act brave, even though deep inside you're scared that your brother will find out that you just so happened to break the trust he has given you.

"Really? You're not afraid that Yeosang might find out?"

"Well, he won't find out if you won't tell him." You counter.

"What makes you think I won't tell him?" Hongjoong replies, and now you two are stuck in an intense eye staring battle, with a quiet San at the side.

Still in the middle of the battle, Hongjoong says, "Why are you seeing a member of Inferno when Yeosang clearly told you not to?"

"Why shouldn't I, when I'm my own person?" You mutter through gritted teeth, San slightly tensing at the side due to the fact that you just used his exact words.

The next thing you knew, Hongjoong was already chuckling.

"Now I know why Mingi has taken a liking to you, Y/N. Feisty, that's what you are." A devious of a smirk appears on the blonde's face. Then his face turns serious.

"But, I really need to know your business with Inferno, Y/N. When Yeosang told you to stay away, he meant it. Tell me what do you keep seeing San for, and if it passes my validity standard in terms of reasoning then I might just let this incident slide and never mention a word to your brother...for the meantime, that is."

What's up with Inferno really? You wanted to ask. Because it's getting a little sketchy and tense whenever someone lets the word slip past their mouths.

Is there something that you should know of?

Your train of thoughts stops when you feel someone tap your shoulder, and when you look back, it was San. And in a whisper, he says to you, "Let me deal with Mr. Tiny." If it wasn't for the current situation, you might've laughed.

"Hongjoong hyung." San speaks, catching the male's attention.

"No cover ups, just speak the truth Choi."

"You want the truth, then I'll give you that." You hear San mutter under his breath as he takes a step closer to Hongjoong.

"Soulmates."

At that, you see Hongjoong flinch. "I-uh? What?" He asks, perplexed by a single word.

"Soulmates. We're soulmates." San repeats, making sure Hongjoong hears it much clearer this time.

Hongjoong was wearing a look of shock and disbelief, and you mirrored him.

Just what on earth is Choi San plotting now?

Did he perhaps know?

・・・・・★

After escaping Hongjoong and sealing a deal with him to keep his mouth shut, you and San run along to his car.

Few minutes into the car ride was pure silence until your companion spoke up.

"I'm sorry about that. It's the only excuse I could make up." There was regret in his voice, but you just giggled silently.

"It's okay San."

So he didn't know.

But he wasn't wrong either. His excuse was…

"Y/N, I have something to tell you, by the way." San speaks again, this time with much urgency in his voice.

Before he could ramble on, you held up a hand and told him to focus on the road.

"I have something to tell you too, San, but can you just drive for now? Our talk could wait, you know?" You mused and San just mumbles a sorry, smiling sheepishly after.

・・・・・★

San rolls up one of his sleeves and shows you his wrist. Now empty.

Your inked name nowhere to be found, instead, the skin was now littered with freckles.

Seeing your puzzled expression, he chuckles, saying, "I know, I was confused too. Because the moment I woke up and checked my wrists, I didn't see your name anymore, just these freckles, which surprised me even more."

Hmm...the tattoo faded, then?

Then that just backs-up the data you've gathered. It makes much more sense now.

"So I did my research," You say, turning San to his attentive state.

"...and the only plausible explanation for our current situation is that…"

"Is that what? C'mon, don't get all suspenseful about it on me now!" San whines and you can't help but chuckle at his cuteness.

Just where did the smirky San go?

"The only plausible explanation as to what the both of us could be is that…..we're platonic soulmates, San."

As soon as you dropped the bomb, San's eyes were wide, not in horror, but in amusement? Excitement? You don't know, but you know it's positive.

"No way—platonic soulmates exist too?" He had a hand over his mouth, like a child who just discovered that Santa Claus isn't real.

"Funny, cause that's what I asked my friend too. Research says that having a platonic soulmate is rare in occasion, having only 8% of the population to have one. Probably why not much knows that this type of soulmates exists." You say, relaying the information you've gathered with Jia earlier.

"So that's why…" San mutters. When you look at him, he wears this warm smile, his dimples still showing up of course.

"That explains why I feel connected to you in some way, even after knowing we're not soulmates- well we kinda are, but not in a romantic, or lover aspect. But we're basically still each other's halves, platonically, and I'm happy," San tells you, smiling so dearly and giggling after, that you just can't help but mirror his joy.

After learning you two are platonic soulmates, you can't help but think that maybe it wasn't attraction you felt for San on that first night, maybe it was indeed the connection your souls have with each other that kept you drawn to him. Because as you stare at San now, only one thought crosses your mind.

Being with him surely feels like hanging out with a friend you've known for years.

・・・・・★

Just as you thought that the night was over, you clearly thought wrong.

San was supposed to drive you back to the underground, but it just made your eyebrows furrowed in confusion once you noticed he was taking a different route. You're pretty aware that the race is finished too. So where on earth is San taking you?

"We're here!" San chirps as he turns off the car's engine. While you stayed put in your seat, San exited the car and went to your side to open the car door.

"Where are we exactly?" You question only to receive no reply as San just grabs you out of your seat.

"You'll see."

The male proceeds to drag you until you two arrive in front of a building. Entering, your eyes automatically scan the whole place - it was lavish.

This place is something you surely know you can't and won't be able to afford.

You gawked as the two of you stepped inside the elevator - even the elevator was high class!

"San, where exactly are we?" You asked San who was in front of you, busily pressing on some buttons.

"Just you wait and see, Y/N."

When the elevator opened, you immediately followed San, only to wince in pain when your face landed flat on his back. You were too busy roaming your eyes around the area to notice that he had stopped walking.

When you peaked, you saw that the two of you stopped in front of a room. San knocked on the door, and instantly, you heard commotion from inside.

"San-"

The door opens.

"Oh goodness, there you are! Where the heck did you disappear—Y/N-ie?!" Wooyoung shrieks as he sees you together with his friend. What on earth is Kang Yeosang's sister doing here?

"Uh-hi?" You awkwardly greeted, and then you turned to San who was beside you, waiting for him to fill you in.

San chuckles, dismissing your look of confusion and Wooyoung's questioning glare. He pushes you inside by the small of your back and says, "Welcome to our dorm, Y/N!"

・・・・・★

They call this a dorm? This place that almost looks like a five star hotel, a dorm??

"When you told me you had a girl friend, I didn't expect it to be Kang Y/N." Wooyoung exclaims to his friend. He was seated on the loveseat which was opposite of the couch you and San are both seated on.

"Trust me, neither did I expect it, Woo," San replies casually, his attention present on the flat-screen television as he flips through channel by channel.

Meanwhile, you're silent by yourself, certainly not expecting today is the day that San would drag you to see their dorm.

"So tell me, what is little Y/N-ie doing inside an Inferno's marked territory even if her brother clearly despises us?" Wooyoung's look was challenging as he sends you a smirk.

And did he just call you little Y/N-ie? Little??

"The audacity to call me little when you're not so tall yourself." You retort, only to send him into a boisterous laughter.

"This is why I like you, Y/N!" Then the next thing you knew, he's already out of the loveseat and is now clinging to your side, one arm looped with yours.

"So tell me, how'd you manage to befriend little Sannie?" He proceeds to ask with an amused smile.

Before you could answer anything, San happily does it for you. "She's clearly uncomfortable with you sticking like glue beside her Woo."

You were almost thankful to San, note, almost.

"Also, how she and I became friends isn't what's important right now Woo. In fact, she's here because of a certain someone." San smiles innocently, and you're sure his statement piqued Wooyoung's interest much more, but not yours.

You knew exactly what San was referring to.

"Is it what I think it is?" Wooyoung chides, then he turns to you, wiggling his brows.

"No! It's not what you thi-"

Your words were cut off due to an abrupt knock from the door.

"Speaking of that certain someone." San whistles as he stood up from the couch and went straight for the door to open it.

You just sat on the couch, defeated and somewhat nervous. Because, he's here.

Meanwhile, Wooyoung was frowning beside you. "Oh, so San meant you're here for him, for Seonghwa hyung," He huffs. "And here I thought you've somehow fallen for my charms and came to see me."

At that your eyes widened. "What the fuck, Wooyoung?"

"Yeosang's sister?" You hear someone speak. And you already knew who it was.

There he was, in his all-black glory, standing beside San with his hands inside his pockets, his face displaying a questioning look. You don't know him well, but you're sure his expression says he's not pleased with your presence here.

Well who would be? When you're the sister of one of his rivals?

You scoffed, standing up. "I have a name, you know."

Your mind might've been playing tricks on you and perhaps, your eyes, but you know you saw that ghost of a smile pass by his lips.

"Sure you have." Seonghwa says, and just like that, he turns around and walks away. To his room, maybe.

But you made sure to stop him before he could enter inside. Why is he like this?

That's it, you've had enough.

"Park Seonghwa, you're one heck of a cold jerk!" You shout at the top of your lungs, surprising the three males inside the room.

Tension and silence wrapped the room coldly for a dreadful moment before you heard a dark, deep chuckle.

"And so I've heard, Kang," Seonghwa spoke in a monotone before he twisted open the knob to his room, went inside and slammed it shut.

You blinked your eyes in disbelief. Soon, your cheeks were tinted a deep shade of red and eventually you fall back on the couch, hugging a pillow to your face as you realize what you've just done.

Did you just do that? Yes, you did!

It's embarrassing for fuck's sake, but there's no way you'll be able to hold back your annoyance on him any longer.

And it also seems like you won't be able to face him anymore.

・・・・・★

taglist: @rockstarsanie @purple-bell @huachengsbestie01 @ellelabelle @annacroft23114 @http-gyu @bluehwale-main @sangiluvem @babyhailey819 @0rangemilk @kmecrazyfor @sallymurda @oahubliss @jxhnnyfav @mingiswow @linoluvr4eva @n18i81 @yourfatherlucifer @kodzukein @likexaxdaydream @altgojo @namjooncrabs @imsodazed (pink ones are those i can't seem to tag !!)

↬ IBF MASTERLIST

#san x reader #seonghwa x reader #pirateeznet #cromernet #ateez x reader #ateez fic #san x y/n #seonghwa x y/n #ateez fanfic #san fluff #ateez fluff #dairyminkiwrites #inkedbyfate #dairyminki_atzsan #dairyminki_atzsh

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compassionatereminders · 2 months ago

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Tw: sexual topics, slightly non-con mention?

So...Im a bit confused...

For context, I have alexithymia and have a very hard time understanding my emotions. Most of the time I can fully understand what Im feeling about a situation only after days after that situation is gone

So...I have a friend who we are in a very weird relationship. Like, she confessed her love to me and I started to date her because I always wanted to be loved (it was my first relationship) and also I was (and still am) in a very big denial of me being aroace so I just wanted to prove myself that I'm "normal" (I know that its horrible and im working on that). But that didn't worked out. She loved me so much it made me really uncomfortable cuz I couldn't say the same back. After less then a week I broked up with her. She was mad, of course, but after a few days we were okay and stayed friends....with benefits. I don't know how that happened to be honest, but we're both very touch starving people and I don't really I divide physical contact into romantic and platonic, so we were both happy with what we had. She could still to things she wanted with me and I could be friends with her knowing that she knows im aromantic

But then it got even more confusing... We were at me place alone and she started to touch me under my shirt. I was okay with that, it felt nice and I just like the feeling of someone's skin touching mine. Then things became more... intimate and she said that she's really afraid of making me uncomfortable, so I said that I kinda was prepared that things will go that way to comfort her (and yes, I knew, she always joked about it and she's a very sexual person, so I knew what can happen when we are alone. I don't think I was waiting for this or something, I just knew it's coming and there's nothing I can do about it). And I guess it was enough for her to get started. So we did it. And I don't know if I liked it. It was my first time and I don't know how I *should* feel, but I mostly feel numb... (A more detailed description of the process is ahead. Sorry if this is unnecessary information, but it is important to me)

She told me not to be shy about my sounds and at first I didn't understand what she was talking about, and then I remembered that I needed to moan. I had to fake my moans because nothing fucking came out of me. When she finished playing with me the first time she asked if she should continue with mockery. I didn't know what to answer because I didn't feel anything. Yes, it was nice, sort of, but nothing more. I didn't feel like continuing, I didn't feel excited, I just wanted it to be over. And I'm not saying I didn't like it, again, it was nice, I know I felt some joy at that moment, but now I don't feel any of that. Just shame. I don't even know if I came (and neither did she)

Since then, she often reminds me of that day, trying to tease me, telling me how bad I will feel when she leaves (Hinting that I would be too excited. I don’t feel anything), throwing sexual jokes and everything like that. I feel disgusting and most often I just keep quiet or joke about it

But here's the problem, I still feel sexual desire. In fact, after that day, my libido seems to have decreased threefold, but I still get aroused sometimes, just... not from her. And not from any living person (usually I like to read about this than to see it and, apparently, feel it myself...) But what if I'm wrong? What if I was just too anxious? I felt good then, I felt so happy when I was thinking back about it (remembering it now, I was thinking about her, and not about what we were doing) Maybe I made it all up and it's worth giving it a second chance?

Another problem is that I can't even talk to her about it. She has a severe fear of hurting me because of personal traumas (including sexual ones) and I know that if I tell her about it, then she will be afraid to even touch me, and I don’t want that. I just don't want to lie to her again the next time she starts joking about it. What if she gets mad again because I "lied to her"? Does that count as lying?? I don't know what to do. Should I feel this way? Is this normal?

In my experience, consenting to sex you don't actually want never ends somewhere good. Even if you say "yes", it isn't going to be a great experience if you wanted to say "no." And even consensual sex can be an unpleasant or even traumatizing experience if you disregard or simply aren't sure of your own boundaries. So I recommend stopping this "relationship" and at the very least saving sex for someone with whom you can actually have an honest and constructive conversation about all of this!

#chat with kat #sex tw

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doverstar · 2 months ago

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I honestly feel like Azula was just as much of a victim of abuse by Ozai as Zuko was. If you read into the comics and their family history, there's clear signs Ozai wasn't any better to Azula, even if she didn't take the brunt of Ozai's abuse.

Are we asking for my thoughts? I'll give my thoughts.

I do consider the comics canon, at least for ATLA. Ozai does not have empathy or affection for anyone. Ozai does not value human life. Ozai values power, and because Azula is powerful, she's useful, and therefore valuable. We can absolutely say Azula is a victim of Ozai's abuse. That's true. But that doesn't excuse Azula's own behavior. Hurt people hurt people, yes, but it was wrong for Ozai to hurt Azula and it was wrong for Azula to hurt others. Azula liked inflicting pain on others. When Ursa said "What is wrong with that child?" it was a genuine reaction to seeing things she herself couldn't imagine feeling or doing. In a child. Her child. Azula is manipulative, violent, selfish, and she did wrong things intentionally and she would do them again. She subscribed to her father's philosophy - power takes priority. She had an end for everything she did, and the means could have looked like anything. Just watching out for Zuko! Just trying to get advice from Ty Lee! Just commiserating on Ember Island! All of it was calculated. Azula may have genuinely thought her mother hated her or feared her or considered her a monster, but she still used that knowledge to her advantage. She herself thinks she's a monster, and she's cool with that. She can say her mother's opinion hurt, and maybe it sort of does? But she still uses it. If the group needed her to relate to them in order to stay bound to her, she'd say what needed to be said. Azula is crazy. Azula did need to go down. Azula was a villain. That was a conscious writing choice and people love to ignore it. Those things are all true of her. They are! And - she was born to and grew up under an absolute psychopath who thought he was destined to become a god. And - her mother said things out loud, in front of her, that made Azula believe Ursa thought she was a monster. Azula, like Ozai, did not experience or understand love. He was contemptuous of it, but she was afraid of it. You can't strategize or plan for something you don't understand. Even when she's seeing hallucinations of her mom in a mirror or a pond, Ursa is only talking about love and being compassionate. That's terrifying to Azula. Azula's not hallucinating that Ozai is coming to beat her, and she's not hallucinating that he's telling her he's disappointed in her. She's seeing visions of someone she never understood or was close to telling her they love her, and they're worried about her, and they think she's confused. That's what scares Azula. Ozai was abusive, but canonically we're shown that he was abusive in the way he manipulated Azula. When she confronted Ozai in the original ATLA, talking back to him, she was not scared of him. She was whining at him. She understands Ozai - she agrees with Ozai. They're perfectly matched. And when he tells her to silence herself, she doesn't. When he warns her again, she is quiet, but she's scowling. She's not Pacifica Northwest getting bell-jangled at. She's just mad she lost her cool. Azula was the one who wanted the world to burn. She came up with that idea! She wanted power, she wanted perfection, and she never showed any canon sign that Ursa's way was the one that intrigued her. Zuko took after Ursa. Zuko chose love. Azula chose power, and she completely destroyed herself. Ozai's hand was in it, but Azula's choices were very much her own. Do you think she didn't have the brains, skill, and talent to get herself aligned with the right side way faster than Zuko could have? If Ursa had turned her compassion more fully onto Azula, instead of letting her daughter remind her of the Fire Lord, maybe something could have been different. If Ozai ever showed genuine care for Azula (for anyone), maybe something could have been different.

Hopefully Azula's story in-canon ends well. Hopefully, after being defeated and escaping custody, she will learn what she's missing, and someone will help her understand that power isn't everything, and love is worth it. I think that's how it'll go!

#asked #answered #ask doverstar #avatar #atla #ATLA #avatar the last airbender #azula #azula avatar #doverstar's thoughts #ozai #fire lord ozai #ursa #fire family

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mistydeyes · 1 year ago

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hi, i was wondering if you're still doing pairings for mw2? if not, just ignore this <3

LOOKS: bi woman with chest-long black hair with the lower half of it dyed red, pale, brown eyes. my style is goth, so i'm usually seen with big eyeliner and black lipstick and wearing my meather jacket, demonias and usually some ripped clothes depending if i wanna dress like a victorian vampire or a homeless ghoul

PERSONALITY: I'm sarcastic and blunt, not afraid to clap back if someone does me wrong, pretty foul-mouthed (as my mum says) and I struggle with showing my emotions which usually makes me seem cold and distant at first, but I'll warm up a bit after some time — i have a soft spot, i'm just tough to crack. I don't like to follow rules which gets me into trouble sometimes, my love language is (gently) bullying my friends but I'm also the mum friend, so I look out for them, give them scary dog privileges when they walk with me and bring them coffee and food to work. I prefer to be alone, usually listening to music, reading books or going on a walk at the local graveyard, but I also enjoy the company of a good friend in silence.

I study psychology and I give tutoring lessons to kids. I also prefer to stay quiet unless I'm with close friends, I'm very attentive and tend to psychoanalyze everything and everyone around me, even myself, so I usually figure out if something's off. I also struggle with my mental health and anger issues, but I'm working on it.

Thank you if you still do the pairings and don't worry if you don't, I'll gladly reread your fics instead <3 Much love – 🕷

Simon "Ghost" Riley (a/n: aww thanks for the kind words anon! hope you enjoy this!!)

How you met: Civilian You sighed as you finished up your tutoring lesson with your group of primary school students. Your group of 6 and 7 year olds learned various homophones and how to spell them. It wasn't your favorite lesson to tutor but you enjoyed giving out stickers for their achievements. As their parents came to pick them up, one of your students sat patiently. "My Uncle Simon is picking me up today," he excitingly reminded you. His father and mother, the Mactavish's, were out of town so they informed you that a Simon Riley would be picking up the young boy. "I see him!" he yelled and was about to run off before you stopped him. "I just need to check his ID and you're good to go," you gently said before he sat back down in his chair. When Simon finally approached, he was much different than what you had expected. He wore a black hoodie with jeans and a face mask. He also towered over you as you asked for his ID. After he presented you with his military ID (you put the pieces together as to how him and Johnny were acquainted), you let the excited boy go. He quickly gripped on to Simon's forearm and swung from it as he signed the sign-out sheet. "Uncle Simon, Uncle Simon, can we get ice cream on the way home?" he asked as Simon looked down to the little child. "As long as you can tell me what you learned today, your parents pay good money for you to get tutored," he laughed slightly and you could see the corner of his eyes perk up. "Thanks again Miss," he nodded to you before leaving. As you packed up your things, you secretly hoped he would be back for pick-up again.

A peek into your relationship: "Alright level 1," you said as you picked up the white card, "what was your first impression of me?" "Why are we playing this again?" he asked as you laid in his lap. "Because Simon, I'm a psych major 'We're not really strangers' is a game that was made for me," you dramatically said as you dangled the card in his face. "Alright," he said as he thought over his next words, "definitely didn't expect you to be a tutor, you looked like a witch or a vampire who eats kids," he joked. You punched his shoulder lightly, "I'm sorry at least I didn't show up looking like the grim reaper." "But after I heard the little MacTavish talk about you, I thought you weren't all that bad and had a soft spot for kids," he finished and you were satisfied with the answer. "As for you, I thought that even though you looked scary, the way you entertained Johnny Jr. and took him out for ice cream was cute," you replied as you smiled up at him. "I also may or may not have asked him some covert questions if you were single or not," you winked and Simon laid a kiss on your forehead. "Yeah, he also might have told me your ideal date was in a fucking graveyard," he replied and you both laughed as Johnny Jr. was correct and the rest was history.

#izziespairings #madebyizzie #cod mwii #mw2 imagine #task force 141 #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #mw2

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mysticalreviewblaze · 2 years ago

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🚫🚫VENT POST🚫🚫

I really honestly personally don't want a job... But you know what I feel like I NEED to have one.

Because I believe I'm not good enough if I don't have a said job. I feel like I'm letting my parents down.

They expect a highly intelligent, no emotions, mature ridden oldest daughter...

But it's like they forget that high expectations BREAK kids, they HURT kids, we feel useless if we aren't useful.

We don't feel shitty if we are not needed which causes us to wonder if something is wrong with us...

... I'm getting a job tomorrow... I'm going to be working... Because I dropped out of highschool.

And you know it's fucked up when I tell my friends and they think I'm going to stay a complete drop out, when I've told them multiple times "Oh no I'm still getting my diploma just not in school online school"..

But it still didn't ring a bell in their heads... They guilt trip me when I stopped going not realizing I was fucking upset I got broken up with, I had drama every single day, I had to take care of my niece, I had to watch my sister, I had to take care of the animals, And I never once got a fucking thank you...

My teachers wonder why I'm so fucking quiet well when you have one teacher ignore you, you kinda just stop doing anything a teacher wants you to do...

You know I told my teacher I didn't want to be a role model at the age of 14 she said I had no choice... I have to ve a role model...

My family is fucked up in all different ways, one second we're happy next second I'm in my room, angry, sad, fearful, or just flat out tired...

Dads a fucking drinker and my mother just laughs it off and acts like it's normal... Not when you're afraid of your drunk dad... No, because he's so fucking reckless one day he may hurt himself badly...

I honestly wonder if I even want to be on this planet but then again I'm afraid of dying so nevermind I'll just deal with this pain until I'm in my grave...

I'm not trying to be an ass I'm not trying to ask for attention I just want someone to relate to me... Because I'm so tired of holding all of this pain in... I'm always waiting till a new drama pops up because it does...

I haven't even lived my life yet and my oldest brother a man who's almost in his fucking 30s is asking an 18 year old relationship advice when I have none... I have fucking opinions, morals, standards... I have only had 2 relationships and they both fucked up... I know nothing about relationships still I'm only just starting and I'm already being used as a therapist for my family... When I got tired of being the therapist 2 years ago, only because my friends would just ignore what I'd have to say...

Sorry this was all over the place but I just needs to get it out Friday may 22 2023 at 5:11am I'm too lazy to put tags on this post later.

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a-mag-a-day · 2 years ago

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MAG 75 - baking in the kitchen (apple something)

"My brother Grant was always afraid of heights. I remember we used to climb trees as children. He would always get scared halfway up, and it would be an hour of coaxing and reassurance before he managed to climb down. He still tried to climb them, though." - I'm the same. I always wanted to climb trees, it looked fun! But at 2 meter up tops I would get scared. Looking down already gave me vertigo and I felt, as though I suddenly lost every sense of balance. Same on ladders.

"Stairs were often more of a problem, especially if there were windows from which he could see the ground getting further away." - As long as the stairs are properly closed off, I don't have a problem. If it's just a railing to put your hands on I'll probably try to stay as far from the edge as possible. I get a lot of intrusive thoughts as soon as I'm somewhere high up with only a railing… It's just like the railway bridge in episode 5 of I Am In Eskew. I'm technically not afraid of heights then, I'm afraid of my own mind.

"I mean, it’s not that I don’t love him or anything, he’s my brother, it’s just that we’d always got on best when we spent most of our time apart." - I don't get (equal) relationships like that, when the focus is on "most of the time apart". I totally get that there are friends you dearly love but just wouldn't want as a roommate, or wouldn't want to spend vacation with. Living together (even if it's only for a week like the vacation example) is something entirely different. But, saying you get along best when most time apart? Why bother? What actually is this "getting along" then? (I get, that this is often something that's referred to family members. When there is a sense of "I have to do something with that person once in a while because we're related". But even then? When there's no reason to interact with that person?)

"Normally I would have reminded him that leaving a window open invites burglars" - on a scale of burglars to librarians, what would Mike Crew be? xD

"I’d love to say that next thing I knew I was on the ground with a broken arm, but I remember every second of that fall. Like it was happening in slow motion." - Oh, there we have the Matrix Effect again, as someone told me it was called in an earlier ask.

"My phone had been smashed in the fall, and when I asked Grant to use his, he got very quiet and told me sheepishly that it, like his keys, was still inside the house." - Who lets their phone at home when going out?? Even in 2006! XD

"I did not invite Grant, which you would have thought would make him think twice about coming with me, but you’d be wrong. As soon as I mentioned it to him, he was online checking if there were any more seats on my flight. There were." - Oh the disappointment, the contempt even at "There were". Also wtf this is so super out of line to just invite yourself like that.

"Then he kept bugging me to change my hotel booking to a twin room until I finally relented and did so. Every time I mentioned something I was planning to do he would invite himself along, generally getting me to arrange it and saying he’d pay me back." - I know someone like this, but hey are also a master of gaslighting so I cut ties. Grant though doesn't sound manipulative or malicious in any kind. He sound just naive. Guess it makes it even more a tragedy for the statement-giver to blame himself. It probably would have been easier to rationalize if he somehow thought his brother deserved it. (Though I'd be careful with this. Certain fates you don't wish your worst enemy.)

"I think that’s why I decided to take him up Tour Montparnasse." - So I googled that building because I also have no idea what that is. The rooftop observation terrace is actually well secured, there's not only a metal railing but a glass box surrounding you when you stand near the barrier. I would probably feel proper uncomfortable standing there, but not totally lost since there is no physical way for me to get over that barrier.

That part with the text messages, the picture and what the statement-giver heard when his call went through is really cool again. I love unlogical spaces like this with no escape (and by love I mean in that way of fascination for horror. I wouldn't actually love being in that situation xD).

"I really hope Grant is dead. Because, if not, I have a horrible feeling deep inside that he’s still on that ladder." - I like the moral dilemma of that statement. The guilt of the statement-giver about something happening that totally was out of his control, but it still happened because of his actions. Who would have thought it could have such dire consequences. Very similar to Jon's arc…

"but it also puts me in mind of the fate of Robert Kelly, the skydiver who fell for far longer than he…" - There a significant change of recording at "the skydiver who fell for far longer than he…". I wonder what happened here? Because these statements surely are never simply in one take, there are always cuts. So why does this one sound so different all of a sudden? Also Jon here making the connection between Crew and Fairchild.

The circumstances of Jon receiving all tapes from Basira are great! Oftentimes you can feel that some things just HAD to happen in order for the story to progress with no other reason behind it. While Jon getting access to all the tapes was still something that needed to happen, it does feel natural and relatable. Basira is angry that the police is so careless and blatantly lying to cover everything up. The police probably also doesn't care about the tapes so Basira takes them to someone who does care. It's like Jon says. The police lost Basira's loyalty. And by the time they notice the tapes gone, it's probably just fine by them. One less weird thing to deal with.

I'll be honest, I'm not sure I'd be able to handle that kind of brother in my life any better than the statement giver did 😬

#a mag a day #tma #the magnus archives #episode asks #mod ashes #tma spoilers #lycanlovingvampyre #mag 75

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thatonewatching · 2 years ago

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Church Boy-Offer

Travis' POV:

I punched him...

Holy shit...

After that, I just walked away. I couldn't let anyone see my fucking sinning face. I went to the bathroom and locked myself in a stall. I tried to hold them back, but I ended up crying like the failure I am...

I stayed quiet, now and then a small sob would escape. After a few minutes, I heard footsteps and wiped my eyes. "Someone in here?" a sweet voice asked.

I recognized it.

Sal...

"No shit, get out."

"Are you okay?"

"What do you think!?"

"...Why do you hate me so much...?"

"Because you and your friends are a bunch of fags! God will never love you, why should I?"

"Y'know, we're not all gay. Except for me and Todd, were super gay."

"...I don't really hate you...or your friends..."

"I didn't think so..."

"..."

"Hey, if you ever want to, y'know, hang out or get away from your dad, you could hang out with me."

"..."

"Just, think about it and let me know. If you ever need anybody to talk to, I'm always here for you. I will never turn you down, my door is always open."

"Thanks..."

"No problem!"

"But, why are you being so nice to me?"

"I don't think you're a bad guy, Travis. Under all that anger, I think there's a good dude who's afraid to be himself."

"You're wrong..."

"What?"

"You're wrong. I am of nothing good. I am a sinner. I am a failure..."

"Travis, don't say that. You aren't any of those things. If I thought so, I wouldn't be here."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Thanks, Sally face..."

"Of course, Travis."

"Hey, um."

"Yeah?"

"It's just...Mrs. Packerton said I needed some tutoring. Do you...know anyone who could...?"

"I could!"

"You?"

"Yeah, if that's okay with you. We don't have to be friends, but I wouldn't mind helping."

"Are you sure? I mean, after what just happened, I didn't think you'd even consider me human."

"Travis, we can be friends...we don't have to be enemies..."

"..."

"Are you free after school? We could start today."

"Yea...I'll have to...sneak out..."

'Oh, no. You don't have to. I could go over to your house! Or we could meet at the park or something. I don't want to get you in trouble."

"Why the hell are you so fucking nice?"

"I...I don't know..."

"..."

"Well, I live in Addison Apartments. Stop by if you want..."

"..."

I felt my eyes tear up again. They wouldn't stop and I didn't put in an effort to make them. Footsteps erupted from in front of the stall and then the bathroom door slammed shut and I heard the bell ring. It was time for class.

I opened the stall and snatched my backpack from the floor. "Shit..." I muttered, running as fast as I could to my next class.

Once I arrived, I sat in the back and pulled out my book. It was about space. I stole it off my dad's shelf, I wanted to read something other than the Bible. He would've killed me if he found out, whatever. Not like he reads these anyways. Just for display.

Just like our family...

Display...

*Time Skip*

I went to my 4th class. This one I had with Sally...That fucking freak. Weird ass blue hair, I never even saw any brown spots at his roots. Was it natural? Weird... And he always wore his hair super feminine. Whether it was in pigtails, ponytails, or space buns, it was feminine. His eyes always shone through his mask. They were the same color as his hair, too.

Baby blue...

They could practically see through me. That's what it felt like, at least, when he looked at me. They were kind of pretty. Actually, I think one of them is fake. When he rolls his eyes at me, only one rolls. The other one stays in place, maybe shift a little. His piercings were kinda cool, too.

He had his cartilage pierced. I think he did all his piercings at home because he had a safety pin through it with a little dried blood. He wasn't a pussy, I could give him that.

"Mr. Phelps, please read the next paragraph for us." The teacher called out, snapping me out of my trance.

I hadn't noticed, but I was staring at Sal. "Uh, yea." I said, finding where we were and continue the article. After I finished, the class grew silent, and I looked around. I noticed Sal staring at me and I quickly looked away. "Mr. Fisher, staring isn't polite. Please turn around." the teacher rhetorically asked. "Yes, sir..." Sal answered, turning back around and looking down at his textbook.

"Alright, for the homework tonight, you are all required to read the rest of the section and write a summary with at least 4 paragraphs and 5 sentences in each. Thank you and see you all tomorrow." he said, allowing us to leave. "Mr. Phelps and Mr. Fisher, do you mind staying back?" he called, standing by the door.

Sal and I shared a look of confusion before waiting with the teacher until everyone else left. After everyone was gone, he started to talk to us. "I have the understanding that one of you is exceptionally gifted in mat but not so much in literature. The other one is the opposite. I recommend that you two tutor and help each other for your own sake. Finals are coming up and I want you all to pass. Please consider this. I don't want to hold either of you back..." the teacher offered, suggesting that we take his advice.

"Now, I'll write you two some passes, and you can get going." he informed, clapping his hands to signify the end of the conversation. Sal nodded and I stayed still, tapping my foot. He finished the passes and sent us on our way.

After getting to my next class, I sat in an empty seat and started reading. "Mr. Phelps, could you please tell the class what has piqued your interest so?" My teacher said, crossing her arms and scowling. "Um...just this book..." I answered, closing the book and putting it on my desk.

"Hmm..." she irritably said, turning back around and finishing her examples. After that class, I finished my next with no interruptions.

I walked out of the class and to my locker. After grabbing my things, I closed it and started to walk away before someone grabbed me by the back of my shirt. I was yanked to the ground and looked up to see Larry Johnson standing above me. "The fuck do you want?!" I yelled, squirming a little. "You wanna pick fights? Huh? You wanna pick fights with Sal, do you? See It doesn't feel good when someone bigger than you pick on you, does it?" he jeered, smiling wildly.

"Larry! What the hell?!" A voice yelled.

Sal...

"What the fuck are you doing to him?" Sal asked, grabbing Larry by the back of his shirt and yanking him off me. When they fell on the floor, Larry fell on top of Sal. Larry was pinning Sal down.

I'm not sure why, but that pushed me over the edge. I got up and threw my biggest textbook at Larry's face. "Fuck you, asshole!" I screamed, watching as blood trickled out of his nose and onto his shirt.

"What the hell, man?!" he yelled back, holding back tears.

I walked away after that...

(Originally posted on May 15th 2023 on Wattpad)

"Church Boy." - Offer - Wattpad

#sally face #travis phelps #salvis #larry johnson #part four #ashley campbell #fanfic #fanfiction #steve gabry #first person #sfw #angsty #wattpad original

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companionwolf · 2 years ago

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pride month drabble challenge fill #2

prompts: 10. Asexual + 16. Now + 14. "Do you think there's something wrong with me?"

fandom: xcom 2 (gen verse)

TWs/CWs: none

It is June 6th, 2035, and the Commander's heart hurts.

Some of the crew have brought back the tradition of Pride Month, have made flags and hung them around the Avenger, Central helping remind them of what order and what colors go on each.

They're missing...

They're missing some flags, the Commander has noticed, and they want to bring it up, because the absence aches, but it feels...

Their chest tightens.

The Commander takes a long breath, reorient the themselves to where they sit at the bar, staring into a drink.

Other crew members, mostly soldiers, hang out around them-- Kelly is flirting with Outrider, which seems to be going well as far as they can see.

The Commander moves to twist a black ring they no longer have, swallows hard.

"Hey," says a voice across the bar. They look toward it. Central is leaning on the salvaged bar, eyeing their drink. "You gonna finish that?"

The Commander frowns at him. "It's mostly diluted with water," they say. "You wouldn't want it, the way that it is."

You wouldn't want me either, the way that I am, they think bitterly. The way I'll always be.

It's Central's turn to shrug. He pulls a bottle from somewhere behind him and doesn't even mess with a glass, just drinks from the source. The Commander frowns again, but stays quiet.

"You seem pretty somber tonight," says Central, leaning over toward them again. "What's up?"

The Commander hesitates.

"I think it'd be easier to show you," they say to him finally as they get up and head toward the door. Central follows.

They take him to the armory, where a lot of the pride flags are hung amongst the shelves. There's a rainbow flag, a lesbian one, a bi flag (Central sew that one himself), a transgender flag...

"We're missing some," the Commander says, almost so quiet they think he won't hear, that they don't want him to.

Central studies the flags.

"Uhh, a nonbinary one is missing, yeah," he agrees. "And genderqueer. And pan."

The Commander tries to steel themselves. What are they afraid of? That he'll say they're not part of the community?

"Ace," they say. It's a whisper.

Central blinks, confused.

"Asexual?" the Commander offers. "Meaning no sexual attraction." They go to twist the ring that isn't there again, feel their face crumple up, try to hide it. "It's--- I'm ace. I noticed my flag wasn't there."

Central looks slightly more like he understands but only just.

"And you felt left out," he says. They nod miserably.

Silence stretches between them. Then, the Commander manages: "Do you think there's something wrong with me?"

Their XO shakes his head. "If there is," he says, "then there's something wrong with me too."

"You're ace?" And there it is, they're crying now. "Really?"

"I mean that'd explain a lot for me," Central says. "But I, uh, you know, so maybe not..."

They shake their head at him through their tears. "It just means no attraction, not that we can't have sex," they say. "A lot of us are repulsed, or indifferent, but you can do whatever and be ace too."

"Then that makes a lot of my life make way more sense," Central says. "C'mon then, let's go get stuff to make a flag-- I'll teach you how to sew so you can help me work on it."

The Commander nods, wiping their wet eyes on the back of their wrists. They're smiling so hard it hurts. "You're really like me?" It's less a question asked, more of a exhale of joy, of relief. "You're really like me."

Central gives them a smile.

"Yeah," he says, "I'm like you."

And the Commander's heart sings.

#wolf barking #hello commander #tailstrokes #pride month drabble challenge #not quite entirely haply w this one but here

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fae-papercuts · 4 months ago

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Community Spirit

Everyone in Ferria knew not to go out after dark.

When it was dark, the streets belonged to the monster.

Every day was filled with light. Filled with the sounds of delight and entertainment, and the lively noises of village life. The hammering of the forge, the tilling of the fields, the soft sounds of spinning and weaving. The gentle murmur of the marketplace, and raucous laughter from the inn. Music and games, dances and village meetings - all the things that brought joy to the heart of the villagers.

But everyone in Ferria knew not to go out after dark.

When the sun began to set, the people would close down their market stalls, put away their work, douse the forges, and wave goodnight to their neighbours. They carried in their crops, put their livestock in their shelters, and lit their lanterns with as much cheer as they went about the rest of their day. Candles would light the windows of every house, while outside grew quiet and still. You might think that they would scurry home in the last light of day, wary and afraid. But you would be wrong.

Because everyone in Ferria knew not to go out after dark.

Sometimes the children would wake in the night to a sound by their window. Perhaps rasping breathing, or low growls. Perhaps thudding footsteps or the dragging of something big and heavy. Perhaps the rough vibrations of something large rubbing against their wall. The youngest children would race to their parent's beds, and leap under the covers in fear. Their parents would wake, bleary-eyed, and hold them close, whispering gentle comfort as they embraced them. "Do not worry, sweet little one, it's just the monster. We're safe, it's alright."

Sometimes adults who stayed up late, reading by candlelight, or playing games with dice and cards would pause at those same sounds, glance at their windows for a moment, then chuckle. "Just the monster taking a turn around the garden," they would say to each other, before the rattling of dice and the soft conversation filled the room again.

You see, everyone in Ferria knew not to go out after dark.

In the morning, they would rouse slowly from their sweet dreams, rising alone or in families to begin the day anew. They brushed their hair, dressed themselves, and those too young or old to dress themselves, then got back to doing what brought them the joys of living. Cattle were returned to the field, mooing their delight at the clouds. The shepherds went out into the fields to count their flock and seek out any who had wandered. Wolves never took any of the animals the villagers relied upon, even the sheep that slept out on the hillside like clumps of mist clinging to the grass.

After all, everyone in Ferria knew not to go out after dark.

No wolves ever troubled the sheep, no bears bothered the villagers who foraged in the woods, and no bandits were to be found for miles around the little village nestled comfortably in the hills. Most of the villagers thought little of this, not knowing much of life beyond the peaceful countryside. Occasionally someone would pass through and remark at the absence of such troubles.

Someone would always reply, "Well, that's because everyone in Ferria knows not to go out after dark."

From time to time, a youth would take a trip to the big city. An adventure to learn new skills, to see new sights, to meet new people. When they returned from these trips they might ask why it was that the world beyond was so rife with struggles very unlike those the village experienced. The elders of the village would smile and ask them if the people in the city knew not to go out after dark.

Some of those young people were unhappy with this reply, though. They knew there was more to it than that, and perhaps they didn't pick up on what was really being said. So the elders would sit them down and explain, always patiently, always kindly. They would tell their young friends, in soft voices and plain words, that the monster kept them safe. Yes, that same monster that their parents had told them about as children, and who could still be heard roving the streets to this day. Yes, the monster no-one ever talked about, not really, because what was there to say?

No, one-one ever seemed to be able to agree what it looked like, or how it sounded. No, no-one knew where it lived or what it did during the day. No, they didn't want the curious youngster to try finding anything else out about it. Calm down, drink your ale, eat your sandwich, and take a moment to really think it through.

Because all the people of Ferria really needed to know was not to go out after dark.

So, no brigands or great beasts troubled the villagers. But every now and then, they would have to deal with a hero.

Heroes would turn up, usually alone, sometimes with little parties of followers and helpers. The most unbearable were the knights, with their fancy horses, silly armour, and squires racing to tend to their every whim. The villagers would roll their eyes at their approach, and argue about who should deal with the newcomer. Eventually one of the more robust villagers would find themselves volunteering, or volunteered, to greet the strange band of clanking people, or the lone, grizzled figure carrying too many weapons to be practical.

All of these heroes came for one reason. After all, Ferria wasn't on the way to anywhere important, or famed for any particularly skilled workers or sages that might be worth making the trip for. Every single hero came to slay their monster.

They all wanted to know where the monster could be found; but there was no answer to that. They all wanted to know who it's last victim was; but there was no answer to that. They all wanted to know what kind of beast it was; but there was no answer to that either. So many questions, always without answer. Almost all of the heroes would be angered by this, and go off to sulk and brood before nightfall would bring out the monster.

Very, very occasionally, though, a hero would listen and be curious. They would ask more questions, carefully, cautiously. They would seek out the elders and ask them yet more questions - or the same questions, just to be sure the answers were the same. And they would leave well before nightfall, or spend the night at the inn before heading home the next morning.

Because after speaking to the people of Ferria, they knew not to go out after dark.

But usually, the villagers didn't get to relax and sigh out their relief. Instead the hero would set themselves up in the marketplace, being dutifully ignored by all the people working their stalls, or buying their fresh food and hand-crafted wares. The people would pack up at the end of the day, as the sun lowered in the sky, occasionally glancing at the shining knight or grubby mercenary who waited for the sunset. They would scurry home, no-one wanting to talk to the stranger who had set their mind on violence.

If the hero had been polite and kind, perhaps someone might pause on their way home and try one last time, inviting the fighter to stay with them, to stay safe and not invite the trouble they were seeking. That never worked, but sometimes someone felt they had to try. But then they would head home alone and behind dozens of locked doors the villagers would rest uneasily in their beds. No games would be played, no books read by candlelight. They spoke quietly to each other, and reassured their families that it would all be ok by morning.

On those days especially, everyone in Ferria knew not to go out after dark.

They might catch sounds of battle through their latched windows and closed shutters. More children than usual might rush to their parents beds, to have hands held over their ears and be rocked back to sleep. There was the bang and clatter of blades, the crash of heavy things hitting fences and walls, the screams of pain in human and inhuman tongues. No-one in Ferria would sleep well that night.

So when morning came, they would rise sleepily from their beds. One by one doors would open, and faces peer out cautiously. Then doors would shut again, one by one. Eventually, someone steps outside with a bucket, mop, apron and gloves, to begin the morning's work. The scattered body parts and scraps of armour were picked up, one at a time, and dropped into the bucket. Someone else would join the work after a while, perhaps after the most gruesome scraps were dealt with. Weapons were found in bushes, tattered strips of clothing stained with blood pulled off walls and out of trees, and the pools of blood were mopped up, buried, or turned over into the mud. It never took as long as it seemed it should, and soon enough the rest of the villagers would come outside to fix fences, patch up walls, and set up the market stalls for the day.

A few of the people of Ferria would gather together the remains of the ill-fated heroes, and take them to the graveyard behind the village. A hole would be made in the soft dirt, which accepted the buckets of flesh with ease. Dirt was piled back in, but no headstone placed atop it. Someone might say a few words if the hero had seemed at least passingly pleasant to the villagers, and perhaps a tear or two were shed by the young, who had not seen this happen before. Then they would depart together, go home to clean themselves up, and get back to living the life they always had.

After those kinds of days, the villagers may haggle more grumpily over prices in the market. They might argue over little things with their neighbours, and be sterner with their children. The sadness and frustration at the senseless waste of life, and the disruption to their happy lives, had to come out somewhere, after all. Some people would drink a little more in the inn that day.

These weren't the only days when someone would drink a little too much, of course. Perhaps a child had gone to town and their parents drowned their sadness at missing them, after a while. Perhaps a heart was broken, young or old, and they wept into their cups despite the comfort offered by their friends. Maybe a wedding was followed by raucous revelry, and one of the party supped a little too deeply on the celebratory wine.

On days like these, the intoxicated were mostly helped home by their fellows. But sometimes the drunkard would refuse to go home before dark. Or perhaps they insisted they were fine, only to be turned around in their stupor, wandering the streets mumbling and stumbling as the sun dropped below the horizon. The lights from shuttered windows casting just enough light to make the familiar roads unfamiliar to the addled mind, and confusing the wayward villager. Sometimes the inebriated soul would sit atop a wall, or plant themselves in the street, drink still in hand, obliviously singing to themselves as the light faded. Maybe they would stamp about, ranting at nothing, angry at the world, until they fell onto the cobbles. Eventually, they always fell asleep somewhere, the slumber taking away their sorrow, their anger or their joy.

The next morning, their neighbours would wake as usual, and step outside to smile in the morning sun. Glancing to the next house along the road, they may sigh, and head over carefully - stepping over the drag marks in their garden, and pushing open the unlocked door. They always carefully ignored the scratches on the doorposts, and the claw marks in the hallway floor. They would peek their head around the bedroom doorway, whether the door remained on it's hinges or not.

With an amused chuckle, they would leave their neighbour to sleep off their over-indulgence. Flopped awkwardly on their bed and snoring peacefully, the drunkard would later have to figure out for themselves what they needed the carpenter to fix, and if the tailor would have any trade from mending rips in their clothes.

After all, everyone in Ferria knew not to go out after dark.

#short fiction #short story #fantasy #monster #Everyone in Ferria knew not to go out after dark #community #village #subverting expectations #fae papercuts original

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casspurrjoybell-24 · 5 months ago

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The Alpha's Boy - Chapter 4 - Part 1

Book Two In : The Alpha's Trilogy

*Warning Adult Content*

Alistair 'Star' Claymore-Phoenix

My heart started to race when the familiar scent and face started to register in my half-awake brain and then the real panic started to set in.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" Darren's voice bombed in my head.

He got off of me and I rolled over giving my head a quick shake.

"Shift," he demanded and I let out a soft whine.

"Nah, you know. I'm good. I just wanted to get some air. I'll follow you back."

But Darren wasn't having that and he was standing in his human form within seconds, his arms crossed as he glared down towards me.

"I said shift," he wasn't asking, so I huffed, my body aching as it shifted from one form to the other.

I looked at Darren, our eyes meeting for a split second before I had to look away.

I knew though, as soon as he saw me he'd know and that would be it.

He didn't say anything, just shook his head and started walking back towards the house and I followed, knowing damn well that if I didn't I was dead meat.

The walk to the house was deathly quiet.

He didn't look back, he stayed looking forward, he didn't say a word to anyone, not me, not the guards we passed as we walked into the town.

My stomach was in knots and all I could think about was how much trouble I was about to be in.

I didn't have a will.

How would anyone know I wanted to leave Ivan my comic book collection without a will?

Patty called dibs on it years ago, we were fucked if I died without setting that straight.

Darren opened the back door to the house and I grabbed my clothes, shoving my pants and shirt on before walking into the door that he held open.

I winced as he slammed it shut behind me.

"Silas," he called out and only a second later was dad down the stairs, looking bewildered as his eyes fell on us both.

Darren pulled a chair out and gestured for me to sit down while he walked over to a nearby basket that we kept at both doors, grabbing a pair of jogging pants because even though we had no issues with being naked around one another.

Having a conversation without your clothes on was a little strange.

"What did you take."

'Nothing,' I signed back.

"What. Did. You. Take."

I wanted to shrink away, wanted to hide.

Silas shook his head as he walked across the kitchen, flicking the kettle on, indicating it was going to be a long night.

"This can't keep happening," Darren said after I waited too long to reply.

"You're leaving us with no choice."

I looked at them both, confused as to what he meant, Silas just sighed.

"We can't lock him away forever Darren."

'Dad...'

"My grandparents own a farm up North."

'No.'

"It's for the best."

'No.'

"I can have Ellis and Jeremy take turns watching the twins for a few nights."

I stood up, my mouth forming the words no but no words came out.

The chair that I sat in hit the ground behind me as my arms and legs shook.

'You can't do this. I'm an adult. I'm nineteen for fuck sakes.'

"Teen, Nineteen. You're a child, you're our child and if you want to stay under our roof, you need to clean yourself up and I'm afraid this may be the only way," Darren started.

"We're doing this to help you Star, not hurt you."

'I'm not your child. You're not my parents.'

It was wrong, I shouldn't have said it, not something that would cut them that deep in anger.

They didn't show it but the way they both paused told me they heard it, loud and clear but I stood my ground and went to walk past them, but Darren grabbed my arm as I did.

"We leave in two nights. Start packing your things."

I yanked my arm away, elbowing him as I walked out, making my way to my bedroom with hot, angry tears stinging my eyes.

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cyanlastride · 1 year ago

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"you're struggling again."

"And you aren't?"

Her brow lowered, just for a moment. She bit back a response, then sighed.

"...fine. *we're* struggling. again."

"Yup."

The two had walked halfway home in silence. They were used to that. Their friendship had survived long enough for the quiet to be comfortable and reassuring. But today, their footfalls were just a touch offbeat, and the sidewalk seemed too narrow.

"remind me why we aren't taking the bus? my hands are freezing..."

"I thought you wanted to walk."

"i wanted to go outside, not freeze to death."

"It's still positive two. You're fine."

"tell that to my fingertips!" She started to reach over to stab icy death into the back of his neck, but hesitated. He glanced at her, eyes still neutral. She quickly stuffed her hands back into her pockets.

He put his hood up. The night air was chillier than he wanted to admit.

A bus passed them on the road. Neither commented on it.

She broke the silence.

"look, i know you don't wanna talk about it..."

"..."

He glanced at her. She peered quizzically back.

"Were you gonna continue that thought, or...?"

"i thought you would cut me off with a, YEAH, I DON'T, or something."

"When have I ever done that?"

"well, i guess you don't usually, but it seemed like the sort of thing someone might--"

"And I'm fine with talking about it, actually. I'd like to. You usually help."

She dropped her shoulders. He realized he had cut her off after all.

"I, uh, sorry,--"

"see, that's the problem. you know i don't really know what i'm doing, right? i'm not this big *real life professional*, or anything. i'm figuring it out, same as you."

A car engine whizzed by, giving them a moment to reorient.

"...i'm worried that if you keep coming to me for help, eventually i won't know what to say. i... i won't be helpful anymore."

He flinched at that last phrase. He reached out and tapped her on the shoulder, making her turn towards him.

"Your advice is kinda bad."

Shock and anger rippled across her face. "what?! no it's no--"

"Like, eighty percent of the time we end up skipping out on classes to hang out with friends."

"!! yeah, and we have a great time!!!"

"We do! I'm not denying that!"

"ssssso shut up! what's your point?!"

"I don't talk to you because you say the right things. I talk to you because you're not afraid to say the wrong ones."

"... i... uh... heh." She smirked. "i guess that's a compliment? not your best attempt, but..."

He chuckles. "Well, it's the best one I have right now. It'll have to do."

"we'll have to work on that. i'll clear your schedule for tomorrow."

"You'd better not, we have like three projects to do--"

"priorities, friend! i'm sure we can find some time..."

They continued to walk, and chat, and laugh. And when the conversation eventually ran out again, the smiles stayed.

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mourningreveries · 4 months ago

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There were many times during the course of listening to Vivienne speak that Victor wanted to cut in and interrupt, but in each and every one of these instances he refrained. He had asked for her to speak, to give him something that would make him believe that everything that he had felt during the night they'd spent together had been felt by her as well, and so he owed it to her to let her talk without interruptions. Her anger towards him, the bitterness in her tone, and the words that she hurled in his direction all told a story of a woman who was much more feeling than his words have given her credit for, and by the time she had finished speaking, he felt like a fool in more ways than one.

Even after she had gone quiet, Victor remained quiet himself for a moment as he tried to sift through all of the things that he wanted to say and determine the best place to start. "I'm sorry" were the first words to leave his lips before he swallowed hard. "I'm sorry for suggesting that it didn't mean anything to you, and for assuming anything about how you felt. I was wrong. I see that now." Nodding his head, he exhaled a heavy sigh.

There was another brief moment of pause, during which he considered carefully each of the things she'd said, and what he needed to say in response to each of them to help her understand the place he had been coming from when he'd been the one spilling out his heart a moment before. "After you left that night I uh, I spent a few years going from one end of the world to the other trying to find you." He spoke in a voice that he was fighting to keep steady. "And, while what you said about time being different for us is true, I can tell you honestly that those few years felt longer to me than entire decades have felt. I wanted to find you so badly that every second that I didn't felt like years. And it was unbearable, so I...I made a choice to keep looking, but also to try and learn to accept that possibility that the things that I felt on that night were one-sided, and that you might have been gone from my life for good." His voice cracked and faltered slightly at the end of this statement, and he took a moment to take a deep breath before he continued.

"I never stopped looking for you, but after that, I started trying to find something that would fill the void. Or someone, I guess. I had convinced myself that if I could find a connection like that once, then maybe I could do it again. It didn't work, and I think deep down, I knew that it wouldn't. I had gone a thousand lifetimes without ever feeling anything like that before I met you, and it was foolish of me to think that I might be able to replace it. But I..I was terrified of the prospect of facing an eternity, not just alone, because I had been alone before and it was fine, but alone after having felt what a connection like that could feel like."

Taking another step towards her, Victor looked down at Vi for a long moment, his eyes seeming to want nothing more than to look upon the face that his heart had never been able to move past or forget. Finally, he offered her a small, soft smile, though there was still sadness and regret etched into the expression. "But now I know that you left because you were afraid. Because you didn't want to be vulnerable. Because you wanted to protect yourself. Which means that you had to have felt what I felt, because that is the only thing that could possibly scare you that badly; I know, because the thought of losing it forever scared me just as badly. And if you leave again, then it's only a matter of time before our paths cross again and we're both forced to admit all over again that whatever this is between us can't be escaped. Not really." He paused to bring his hand gently to her cheek, whilst he looked directly into her eyes. "So I'm asking you to stay, so that maybe we can figure out what this is, and what it means for both of us. Together."

At the sound of Victor's voice, Vivienne's knees wavered slightly. There was such a deep ache and raw desperation in his tone that it took all her strength to remain standing and face him. She had encountered emotional men before, but Victor was different. Unlike her ex-husband, he didn’t frighten her. This was a different kind of vulnerability, one that tugged at her own buried feelings—feelings she thought she’d locked away with Lucinda.

She had been on the verge of answering him, even admitting that she had felt something too and that she might have made a mistake by leaving him all those years ago. But as Victor continued, his accusations began to sting. He didn't even give her a chance to speak! The idea that he presumed to know her mind—that he thought she hadn't been affected by their time together—made her blood boil. Her expression shifted from one of hesitation to one of hardened resolve as he finally paused.

"Get ahold of yourself," she snapped, her voice slicing through the fog like a razor. Folding her arms across her chest, she stared him down, unflinching. "You come here, pouring your heart out, but you don’t know what I've been through. You don’t know what it’s like to be me."

She shook her head, a bitter smile playing on her lips. "Besides, Victor, twelve years is nothing for us. We're vampires, not humans. You've seen centuries pass by, entire empires rise and fall. You act like twelve years is an eternity, but it's just a blink of an eye. And let's not pretend you’ve been pining away this whole time without finding comfort in others. I can practically smell the traces of your other lovers on you even now."

Her words were sharp, her eyes unflinching staring at the other. "And if you’ve been searching for me all this time, you clearly haven’t been looking very hard. I’ve been in Raven’s Peak for over a month now, and this is the first time you’ve seen me? Doesn’t sound like someone who’s been tirelessly looking for the love of his life."

Vivienne took a step closer, her eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and sadness as she considered the man before her. "Do you really think it was easy for me to walk away from you, Victor? You have no idea the sacrifices I've had to make, or the things I’ve had to leave behind." She paused, taking a breath to steady herself. "You accuse me of not thinking about you, but you never even considered that I might have been trying to protect myself."

Her voice softened slightly, the edges of her frustration smoothing out as she looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the hurt in his eyes. "Believe what you want to believe about that night. But don’t think for a second that it meant nothing to me. Because it did. More than you’ll ever know."

#Victor and Vivienne: Thread 1 #viviennebeaufort

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jimlingss · 7 years ago

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Beyond Reach [3]

Chapters 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 (Finale) Words: 9k Genre: Angst, Grim Reaper!Au, Ghost!Au Summary: If someone could see what you could, they’d pass out. But you don't blame them. Who would ever expect for a ghost, a priestess and a grim reaper to be together - much less be rescuing others. Warnings: Death and topic of suicide. Viewer discretion is advised.

He forms from nothing, particles that stitch together in thin air to first reveal his face. He wears a grin, one that rivals the eeriness of the Cheshire Cat. The black cloak comes next, his figure solidifying in front of the bloody scene.

“Lee Eunae. Born November 12, 1988.” His voice booms over the two of them. “Kang Geonsik. Born October 26, 1985. Your time has come.”

“W-who are you?” The woman is quivering and hyperventilating, failing to realize that she no longer needs to take breaths. Yet, she still trembles and cries out, “w-what do you want from me?!”

“I must bring you away. The underworld is waiting. It’s time for your judgment and the world of the afterlife.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you!” The man nurses his wound at his head having not fully grasped what has happened to him. “I don’t know who you are!”

“I am the Messenger of Heaven and Hell. Bridge of all the worlds and the universes.” He grits it out his teeth, exhausted from having to explain to these pathetic humans. “I am the Grim Reaper. And you-”

He points to each of them, “-are dead.”

“N-no…” The woman stumbles back. She grabs fistfuls of her hair and shakes. “I can’t be..I-I can’t!” Her eyes land onto the scene of the collision behind her, the car that she stumbled out of moments ago. She pieces together what she can - the ambulance sirens in the background, the beer bottles rolling out of his car that crashed into hers and the gasps of pedestrians who cannot see them. “You-”

She lunges at the man, tackling him down and he lets her, being in an equal state of shock. The woman rattles him like a rag doll. “Why did you kill me?! Why?! You murderous bastard. If you were going to die, do it alone! Why did you have to take me with you?!”

“You bitch! Get off of me!” He shoves her, the two wrestling on the ground in grief over the loss of their own lives. Namjoon, on the other hand, is tapping his foot relentlessly, sighing and he checks the death list for a second time.

“Okay. That’s enough.” He peels them apart. “Stop it.”

“Why?!” The woman screeches at the top of her lungs, hot tears rushing down her face. “Why does it have to be me?” She shifts onto her knees and kneels in front of him, tugging on Namjoon’s black cloak. “Please. Spare me. Please. There’s so much more I need to do. Don’t take me away!”

“I don’t care.”

The Grim Reaper replies in a chilling tongue and it’s genuine. He really doesn’t. And he doesn’t understand. Dead is dead. There’s nothing he nor anyone in this world could do anything. Why can’t humans just accept it? Why must they fight over the inevitable?

Their existence always leads to death anyways.

“Please!”

Luckily enough, the two souls aren’t holding back. Namjoon is able to summon the door to the underworld, the air next to him tearing apart to glow white. The man shouts at the top of his lungs and the woman continues to cry. He throws them both into the other side. Before Namjoon steps over -

He wonders why they’re so hysterical.

“Why is he still here?”

“Don’t ask me.”

Namjoon turns on his heel, the cloak whisking in the wind like he’s some kind of superhero ironically enough. “You know I can hear you both, right?”

Hoseok smiles sheepishly and you stare back at the Reaper without an inch of fear. “Why are you here?” You hold up the end of your broomstick, poking him away like he’s some rat.

The ghost falls back in laughter and attempts to help you, shooing the being with his hand. “Go away. Don’t you have better things to do? This is a shrine, isn’t it suppose to be on your places-not-to-go list?”

The Grim Reaper scoffs and slaps away the broom. “For the second time, I am not a demon. These little charms, sacred shenanigans and your ceremonies have no effect on me.” Then he shifts to you and narrows his eyes with a smirk. “Secondly, I’m here because of him.”

He then points directly at Hoseok. “That guy is on the top of my list.”

Hoseok bounces behind you, sticking out his tongue to tease Namjoon. But he shrieks when you step aside. “Go ahead. Take him for all I care.”

“How could you betray me like that, Y/N?!”

Namjoon chuckles. Hoseok gasps and chases you around. You focus on sweeping the courtyard, lips nearly twitching into a smile.

A few days have flown by in rapid succession. You and Hoseok have developed a routine, one where he helps you with the chores around the shrine, one where you’re there to keep him sane, one where often times you both don’t need to meaninglessly talk to fill in the silence.

It isn’t so quiet anymore.

And Hoseok watches you from time to time, a large grin always blooming across his cheeks. Slowly but surely, you’re beginning to speak more. You don’t always answer so sharply and coldly. The serious demeanor is melting away. Hoseok is breaking past your barriers without you even realizing.

“Uh...miss….” A child runs and the moment you look over, they slow down to a turtle’s pace. There’s a group of children behind the boy, all observing the scene carefully. They whisper to each other like you’re a monster they’re trying to conquer.

It’s ironic - they way the children in the town are scared of you, a girl once blurting out that you have an intimidating air. But when you were a child, you were the one that was fearful of everyone else.

You follow the young boy’s finger who points to the blue ball that’s rolled near your feet.

On any other day, you’d ignore it and walk away. You don’t like to get involved. Any matter, big or small, with people or with children. But this time, you nudge it with your foot towards the child before leaving.

He grabs it within his hands and dashes away.

“Y/N!” Your grandmother calls from within the house. “There’s a phone call for you!”

When you enter and put the old telephone handle to your ear, it’s a gruff voice that you recognize all too well. “Yoongi?”

“Hey there…” He coughs awkwardly on the other line. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, normal. How are you?” It’s a surprise to hear from him since you expected people to want to distance themselves as much as they could from painful memories. But maybe others weren’t like you. They faced their tragedies head on, something that you were unable to do, something that required courage.

“I’m doing better, I guess.” He exhales in exasperation and clumsiness, a bit speechless on what to say. The corners of your lips nearly twitch upwards. “The weather’s nice these days, huh? I mean...the sun is shining and the sky is...blue.”

“Yes.” You hum in agreement, dawdling around on general small talk. But Yoongi quickly runs out of things to say and there’s only silence, static and tension on the other side.

He then decides it’s more of his nature to cut straight to the point. “So, I’ve been thinking about getting a proper job again. I’m going to get my life back together. I’m going to figure out what I want to do and where I’ll go from here.��

You hum softly, “Kyungi would be proud of you.”

“You think so?”

“I do.”

There’s a shaking exhale on the other line, Yoongi perhaps holding in his tears. Your grip around the telephone handle tightens and you shut your eyes, tuning your ears to listen attentively to him. “I visited my family’s grave awhile back and I don’t feel so angry anymore. I think my sister’s been able to reach her peace. I just...I don’t know. I called to ask how you were and there’s….there’s no one else for me to talk to except for you.”

You understand what it’s like to lose someone and be alone, to find the silence in your own room deafening. You know what it’s like to have loneliness follow you as a parasite, for no one else to be able fathom your grief. Despite hate involving yourself, you find peace that Yoongi’s able to confide in you. “You can call me anytime. I want to hear from you, Yoongi.”

There’s a pause and you can almost imagine him nod. “Okay. I’ll call you.” He clears his throat again, regaining his composure. “I-I might go travelling soon to get away for a bit. But when I come back and everything’s settled down, come visit me, okay? You and Hoseok and Namjoon.”

“We will.”

Yoongi might never be able to forgive the person who’s murdered his sister. But he’s let go of the resentments and anger, no longer consumed by revenge to unknowingly ruin his own life. Though his regrets may not be completely erased, they’ve been consoled by his sister’s words, the last time the siblings spent together that he wouldn’t have if not for you.

Yoongi will move on but he will never forget. His sister will always be his family.

For not liking to include yourself into other people’s problems, you find relief swelling inside your chest to hear about how well he’s doing. You don’t regret helping Yoongi at all.

“Where are you going?”

Hoseok hops off the porch, joining your side and scanning you from head to toe. You’re no longer in the traditional, sacred wear. It’s normal clothes like every other civilian. But the ghost finds that he likes you in whatever you’re wearing.

“I’m going to the marketplace to get groceries.” You turn around to the Grim Reaper. “Are you coming along too?”

“I guess.” He follows and you’re not quite sure if Namjoon’s feet are touching the ground or he’s hovering an inch above the air. His black cloak drapes all the way down to the ground, yet not catching the dirt or gravel. “I have nowhere else to be.”

The ghost scoffs, walking down the stone stairs with you. “Don’t you have souls to reap or other spirits to chase down?”

“No.” He pauses and hums, “This morning I already took a good handful from a burning retirement home.”

You and Hoseok don’t respond. The two of you are in sync with each other, without needing to utter words, picking up your strides away from the killer. “Hey!”

As you enter the bustling marketplace, buying spring onions and the likes, Hoseok shouting in the background about the good deals at specific stands, you don’t notice.

You don’t differentiate between the dead and the alive. They all look like people to you. So when you’re moving around and you find yourself almost colliding your shoulder with another, you apologize and dodge swiftly. “Excuse me. Sorry.”

The wind chimes ring.

The boy freezes in his steps. He cranes his neck around. His cinnamon irises double in size.

“You can see me?”

A grin erupts across the young ghost’s features.

The Grim Reaper watches through the mirror, not amused as to why he cannot see a reflection of himself. He exhales tiredly, crossing his arms to look outside through the parted doors. The sun is bright. Too bright that it hurts his eyes. He rules out that the darkness is a lot better.

Hoseok skims over your traditional wear, the red skirt and white jacket, observing how you tie your hair back with the scarlet ribbon. A part of him wishes he could do it for you, catch all the strays that you miss, lessen your struggle, run his fingers through the strands-

“You should really stop helping people.” Namjoon mutters and you straighten out your clothing by running a hand over it.

“I agree.”

The two follow you out of the room, walking to the other side of the house. “I live with a bunch of cold souls.” Hoseok laughs out, gazing at your backside.

“Technically speaking, you aren’t living anymore.”

Namjoon adds onto you, “And I don’t have a soul.”

The ghost laughs and it dies down when you slide open the doors, finding another spirit sitting across the low brown table; legs crossed, obediently waiting for you and orbs twinkling at your presence. His fingers play with a blue rubber bracelet around his wrist. The stranger is a youthful boy, one that has boyish features, rounded cheeks and a crescent-eyed smile. If it weren’t for the sickly colour of his skin, he would look like any student walking down the street.

You feel slight...guilt for how the rest of his life has been wasted, the tens of years that he’ll never be able to live. But you shouldn't feel that way. It’s not your fault. You don’t even know him.

This is why you hate involving yourself. If it wasn’t for your curse...

“Hey!” The spirit jumps up and then bounces back down when you take a seat. “Y/N, right? Thanks for helping me.”

“I never said I was going to help yo-”

“Are you a ghost too?” The boy looks over at Hoseok inquisitively. “I haven’t ever seen another ghost around! This is amazing! How long have you been wandering? It’s been a few weeks for me. Can you remember anything? I can’t. I wonder why that is.”

He looks like he’s one minute from exploding into a sugar high. The grin on his face is unmistakable. Hoseok is gaping for a second before he, too, smiles. “I can’t remember anything either.”

“And who are you?” The boy quiets down, darting his eyes to Namjoon who’s leaning against the wall. There’s a long silence and the ghost has mysteriously calmed down. “You’re a Reaper, aren’t you?”

Namjoon shrugs and he glances at his wrist like he has a watch. “Listen, you two.” He looks at you and Hoseok. “I have a lot of work to do...and this…” The being uses his finger to motion to the ghost boy. “..this isn’t really my thing. I’m leaving.” Namjoon grabs a hold of his cloak, spinning it and disappearing into a shadow until there’s nothing there. His slithering voice echos, “I’m coming back for you, Hoseok.”

The ghost doesn’t move until you turn around and begin addressing him after a long sigh.

“What’s your name?”

“Jimin.” He answers with confidence and a gentle smile, holding onto at least a little bit of information on who he is. He taps the silver name tag on his blazer. “Park Jimin.”

“Well, Jimin.” You hate being involved. And you won’t start to like it any time soon. “I’m sorry but there’s nothing that I can do for you-”

“Please.” He interrupts, “there’s something really, really important to me. I can feel it.” He pats his chest where his heart should be. “And it’s on the tip of my tongue. I-I just can’t spit it out. But if you help me, I think I’ll find out what it is. Please, can you just help me? For a little while?” His thumb and finger raise to show a tiny space. “Just a little?”

Hoseok gazes at you, waiting for your reaction. You mull over Jimin’s pleas. This curse of yours that will never set you free. You don’t want this. Any of this. But you feel your companion of a ghost staring at you, boring his eyes into your flesh. Hoseok is making you weak. And you’re already dreading the decision that’s creeping up over your shoulder like a monster.

“Pretty please.” Jimin shuts his eyes tightly, scrunching up his face and he holds a single finger up to you. “One day. For one day.”

A smile grows on Hoseok’s face when he knows what you’ll say and he looks away, staring back at the boy who nervously sways from side to side. “Fine.”

“Really?!” Jimin’s eyes light up, practically twinkling like stars. Then he lunges over for a tight embrace, forgetting that he can’t grab a hold of you. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you so much!”

“Uh huh.” You scoot yourself back, not enjoying how the spirit is ‘in’ your body. “But what do you need me to do?”

The ghost points to the insignia design on his uniform blazer. On closer inspection, it’s a school’s crest: JHS High School.

“It’s there.” Jimin says in the most seriousness since you’ve met him. “What I’m looking for...it’s there.”

The train rumbles on the tracks, jostling around the people and belongings inside. There aren’t many people around when it’s mid-day and mid-afternoon. A man wearing a suit takes a seat across the aisle but beside you is empty and across from you, a very familiar ghost is seated.

Hoseok notices the way you’re fiddling and biting your lower lip every so often. You’re nervous.

“Do you not leave the shrine often?” He asks you, looking over at Jimin who’s a few seats down, peering at the phone screen of a teenager who’s playing a game. Hoseok redirects his attention to you when you don’t respond, “Y/N?”

The scenery flashes by too quick for you to truly soak in the beauty of nature. It makes you nauseous. “No.” You peel your eyes away from the windows, swallow hard. “I don’t.”

It’ll take two trains and one bus to reach the destination. Just thinking about the journey makes you resent the luck that you have - to run into the ghost, to fear being surrounded by strangers, be able to see the dead in the first place. You aren’t normal.

“But truthfully…” You’re not sure why you’re willing to share your secrets with this ghost. A ghost who hasn’t left your side, holding both the record for the longest time and your courage within his hands. “I’m scared of returning to a school.”

The classmates and teachers you encountered at the time you were a student...were less than kind. Rumours spread about your abilities and you were ostracized, not even openly ridiculed or teased. You were feared. You were feared by those who were younger than you, the same aged and those who could be as old as your parents. And they treated you like a disease.

“I’ll still be here with you.”

If Hoseok could - he would reach across and hold your hands within his, intertwine his fingers and grip you close in his arms. But as someone who no longer lives, he can’t. “You don’t have to be scared.”

You take a deep breath, lips twitching slightly. He almost thinks it’s a smile. But then it disappears just as quickly as it came. “Do you remember anything?”

He racks his brain. Picks it apart piece by piece. He screams within the hollow space. There is nothing no matter how hard he tries.

“No.”

Every second that passes, Hoseok is terrified he’ll be taken away from you. He panics at the sight of a shadow, a black cloak materializing out of air, a booming voice that rips in his ear. And he is even more frantic to find his past. He is desperate to his very core. The ghost would dig through dirt with his fingernails, would sacrifice his very soul simply….to know.

“So this is it?”

Jimin opens his arms wide at the school in front of him; students who are giggling together, enjoying their lunches and the sound of whistles blowing in the distance, signalling the beginning of a baseball game. They’re dressed similarly to how Jimin is; boys in white shirts, navy blazers and pants while the girls are in the same colours but skirts that end at the knees, paired with high socks. It’s like any other school, groups of kids together, teachers passing by without a care in the world. You catch wind of the latest celebrity news, complaints about classes and gossip. A group of girls pass by in sly whispers and you’re suddenly propelled back into your own days of schooling.

You sigh, “You’re not sure?”

“Well...I don’t really remember anything.” Jimin shrugs and walks ahead with his hands fiddling with the blue rubber bracelet around his wrist. If you didn’t pick him apart from the crowd, Jimin would blend in with the rest of the kids running around. “You should try asking about me.”

You enter the school, questioning the safety when no takes a second glimpse at you. You’re a complete stranger and the teachers don’t seem to recognize, passing by without doubt. It’s not like you’re even in their uniforms. You’re in regular clothes. You’re a grown woman.

“I guess you still look like a student.” Hoseok laughs, a desire to ruffle your hair and mess it up cutely. To him, you look lost and confused, wondering why you haven’t been kicked out yet.

“Seems like a relaxed place.” Jimin muses and nods with satisfaction. “Exactly my style.”

The boy keeps walking into the halls and you’re about to ask where he’s leading you but then he halts, tilts his head and his eyes spark. “It’s here. This classroom. I remember now…” Hoseok raises his brow, curious as to how Jimin can recall. “It’s slowly coming back to me.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am.” The ghost looks up at the sign. “Class 3B.”

Before your hand can wrap around the silver handle to slide the door, it opens automatically. A young girl does a double take on the person blocking the way and she pouts her lips. “Oh. You don’t go here.” She turns around, scanning her chatty classmates to see if it’s anyone they know or if someone is waiting for you. But no one is paying attention.

“Um...student.” You glance at Jimin for a split second. “D-Do you know who Park Jimin is?”

“Park. Jimin?” She tips her head and frowns deeply.

Another girl bounces up to her. “Hey! Seulgi! Who’s that?”

“This lady’s asking for Park Jimin.” She replies in all of her confusion and then she looks up at you. “Who are you, though?”

“I’m his…umm-….tutor. Yes, I’m his tutor and I haven’t heard anything from his family.” It isn’t the worst lie you’ve ever told. The two naive girls seem to buy it after swapping expressions with each other.

“He used to sit there.” The other girl who’s name tag reads ‘Jeongyeon’ says. She spins around and points to the vacant desk.

“Used to?”

“Yeah.” Seulgi nods. “Haven’t you heard?”

They say life is full of coincidences.

Maybe it’s part of the way fate plans it out, how destiny has already set its path. Perhaps they really are merely accidents, serendipities or happenstances. Chances and flukes that may make or break our next courses of decisions. Whether or not it has been planned by some higher deity or Heaven, at the exact same time that she’s about to tell you, a crowd of boys come down the hallway.

They’re holding soccer balls, fooling around like any other boys their age would. But in the other direction, another is walking past. And he is forced to move to the side, passing through Jimin’s body and colliding his shoulder against yours. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You brush off the stranger quickly, looking at the girls. “What exactly happened?”

The two girls shift closer together, lowering their voices into soft murmurs. “Park Jimin drowned in a tub.”

“The rumours say he killed himself. But no one knows for sure.” She looks around, making sure no one is listening. Gossip over the incident has been banned. “If you really want to ask someone...ask Taehyung. He should know more.”

You don’t realize that Jimin is no longer paying attention. His eyes have drifted off into the distance, down the hallway. Right where the other boy went.

“Who’s Taehyung?”

Hoseok stares at Jimin, interested as to what he’s thinking. Seulgi nudges her head in the same direction the ghost is looking in. “That boy who just bumped into you-”

“He’s Kim Taehyung.”

Jimin has not spoken a word since the news has been broken to him. You’re not sure what he’s suppose to be like, his personality and his likes and dislikes. Frankly, you don’t really want to know or get yourself further involved. What you do know, however, is that this seems unlike him.

Jimin has been bubbling with energy, beaming and giggling ever since you met him. And now you feel obligated to say something. You’ll damn your curse and your moral responsibilities as many times as need be.

“I’m sorry.” You stop on your heels. “I know it’s not what you want to hear but at least now you know. You wanted to know, right? It’s time to face the music. There’s another place where you belong and it’s not here-”

“That’s not it.” Jimin interjects. He isn’t in grief about the way he went. No. “It’s-...there’s... something,” he hesitates with a sharp breath, “familiar about him.”

“Who?”

The ghost’s pupils pin on someone behind you and when you spin around, you recognize the student who bumped into you earlier. “Taehyung. He’s familiar. Kim. Taehyung. ”

Jimin enunciates each syllable carefully like it carries some kind of weight or meaning to him.

You run to the so-called Taehyung, calling out his name until he freezes. The boy is taller than the ghost by your side, sculpted features and rather handsome for his age. He has a naturally mischievous look to his face, a bit of a playful and troublemaking demeanor even. But his blonde hair and honey shaded irises help to create a warm aura.

“Do you know who Park Jimin is?”

Taehyung frowns and tilts his head to the side. He looks genuinely confused. “Who?”

You try to reason with Jimin but as the student walks away, the ghost decides to follow him.

“What do we do now?” Hoseok asks as the pair of you watch Jimin’s backside disappear with Taehyung’s.

“What are we supposed to do?” You exhale while grabbing your wallet to prepare for the bus ticket. “There’s nothing else we can do. We go home.”

There’s a hope within you that the ghost has found his peace. That he has been brought safely to the other side. That he will no longer wander aimlessly on the Earth, lost and driven insane by being invisible. What you don’t anticipate is to see him again.

“Y/N.” Hoseok pronounces your name gently as if calling an infant awake. It makes your throat constrict but when you look up at him, he wears an expression that you can’t decipher.

Your fingers wrapped around the broom handle freezes, “What’s wrong?”

He steps aside and you’re met once again with the boy. Except, he’s no longer cheerful and full of the life that he doesn’t have. Jimin is painstakingly desperate as he falls onto his knees.

“Please.” The ghost begs you, “Help me.”

Your tone of voice is sharp and cold, “I already did.”

“No.” Jimin stumbles on his feet and chases after you when you walk away. “There’s something about him. I just know it. Kim. Taehyung. There’s something about him that’s so important. It’s ripping me apart, I can’t remember. I need your help, I can’t do it alone. Please, Y/N. I’m begging you. Please!”

It’s your curse. Your moral obligations that you try to forget, poking you in your back like a steel fire iron. It’s your ancestors that have weighed their dead weight on your shoulders. Your blood that has tainted your eyes to see beyond. Your sense of responsibility, your conscious screaming inside your filled head. A fear of regrets. It’s in the way Hoseok gazes at you with softened eyes, full of fondness and curiosity, to know what you’ll do, to know what you’ll say.

You can’t ignore it.

“This is the last time.” You clench your fist, looking into the eyes of the spirit who grins at you with a boyish smile. “Don’t ask me for anything again. Understand?”

Kim Taehyung stares at you. You stare at him. The two ghosts are looking back and forth, all the spaces in between. No one flinches. No one changes their expression. The student looks entertained while you’re unimpressed. “I told you-”

He tilts his neck back, taking a huge inhale of the sky. “I don’t know who he is.”

“Where are you going?!” You shout after him as the carefree student walks away. Jimin chases after him and you feel compelled to follow in his footsteps. “Kid, are you not gonna answer me?”

Taehyung spins around on his toes with a humongous boxy grin, “Why don't you find out for yourself?”

The town is larger than your own, though still in the suburbs and far from the metropolis area. Run down shops owned by families fill the populated market, teenagers leaving convenience stores with popsicles in their hands and toddlers peering at the fish tanks out in display. It’s noisy, students like Taehyung and elders like your grandmother and everyone in the middle age range have come to the same place. They walk all in different directions, going to different places, focus their eyes downwards, immersing themselves in conversations selectively within their groups. No one looks twice at you. No one bothers to say anything aside from shouting advertisements and cheap deals. No one sincerely smiles or looks within your eyes.

You can understand why someone can feel so alone in a crowd full of people.

“Hey lady.” Taehyung breaks the quiet that has lingered with you two (or rather, you four). He raises a brow mischievously. “Do you have money?” He’s stopped at a pastry stand, licking his lips at the food.

You’re still unamused. Taehyung’s been leading you around for the past half an hour. And you’ve been following for god knows why.

“No.” You scoff, “And my name’s Y/N. I’m not ‘lady’.”

“Aww…so no money then?” He pouts at you and exaggeratedly slumps his shoulders. Then, as he’s about to protest, Taehyung becomes momentarily distracted, eyes move behind you. When you turn, the video game music and strobe lights from inside flash erratically.

“You want to go inside the arcade?”

“N-no.” He clears his throat, “no.”

Jimin joins Taehyung’s side as he begins to walk again. From a distance, they look like two regular- “Friends.” The ghost says, “Ask him if he has any friends.”

If there’s anything you’ve learnt from being involved with both alive and dead beings - it was easing into the conversation to truly get the information you want to know.

“Where are you going?”

“Just wandering around.” He answers and you would think that he’s the ghost. Taehyung is withdrawn. The boy doesn’t speak as much as adolescents his age who have a knack for whining and complaining, babbling on nonsensical things and constantly giggling.

“Do you have any friends?”

“One.” He smiles and lifts up a single finger, “one true friend.”

Taehyung doesn’t say else more and you don’t press on. There’s an inkling that if you push him to tell you who that is, he’ll crawl back to the recesses and confines of his mind. Instead, you follow him a few more blocks down, leaving the market and towards the river. Hoseok keeps close to you in the meanwhile.

“What do you think will happen if I fall down?”

Taehyung propels himself on top of the ledge of the bridge. You jolt in alarm, lurching forward to grab onto his ankle to keep him from falling. But he simply laughs and balances himself with his arms out, like it’s some sort of balance beam. “What are you doing?! Get down!”

The fencing barrier is simple metal that keeps someone on top from plunging downwards. Yet, the boy has no care in the world as he continues to to walk across as if it’s a tightrope.

Jimin is solemn and without a smile, watching his same age companion closely. Hoseok, on the other hand, is by your side, yearning for some way to help but coming up empty. The ghost condemns himself for being powerless once again. And he prays that he’ll be able to remember; be like Jimin who at least knows who it is that’s important to him.

“Do you think anyone would miss me if I jumped right now?”

Taehyung thinks out loud, not expecting any answer from you. He keeps his eyes down to the murky waters. “Will my parents be sad? Will anyone cry for me? I think…..I think they’d eventually forget anyways.” The boy meets your eyes and smiles with sorrow. “Why do we live?”

Jimin fiddles with his blue rubber bracelet, gnawing on his bottom lip, looking to you desperately.

As you open your mouth for words to come tumbling out, Taehyung bounces safely on the concrete and twirls around to you. After coming up his own conclusions about you, he’s decided to admit the truth-

“I know who Jimin is.”

Jimin frowns and as his hands touch the indented words in the cheap wristband - he remembers.

It comes back, tumbling at the door to his heart, breaking down the hinges, smacking him across the face. The realization makes him stumble back, shell shocked. Tears mark down his cheeks and he crumbles to his knees and begins to weep. Jimin sobs within his hands.

“Park Jimin is my best friend.” Taehyung says with a beaming grin. “Was and always will be.”

“But he hates me.”

Hoseok lowers himself to comfort the other ghost and you pin your eyes on the boy’s backside as he leans over the barrier of the bridge. Taehyung stares down at the waters again.

“Maybe if I was a better friend, he wouldn’t have done what he did. Would he come back if I apologized?”

You reply bitterly, more with the grief still stowed away in your own soul than to intentionally harm Taehyung. “The dead can’t be brought back.”

Hoseok looks up at you with a blank expression. Taehyung laughs at your remark that couldn’t be any more honest.

“Jimin most definitely did not have a tutor.” He smirks, unaware that his dead best friend is crying in front of him. “Who are you?”

The boy is shoving his face with the noodles, smearing the sauce across his cheeks and lips with his vigorous eating. You feel guilty for lying to him earlier about not having money but he wiped it all away with some laughter, saying he knew it all along. He’s practically inhaling the food and you wonder why he left himself starve.

“Can you slow down?” You feel like a mother and part of it disgusts you while the other part causes your heart to warm, mostly when Taehyung lifts himself and grins.

“You know…” He says mid-chew and then swallows. “The last time I ate this...it was with Jimin.”

Unknowingly, his named friend is sitting across from, gazing at him with tear-stained cheeks.

You end up sending him Taehyung safely home, his house is not out of the ordinary in the least bit and you stand by until he’s entered inside. But before doing so, he waves and grins, thanking you for feeding him. He even winks and shoots finger guns at you, promising that he’ll catch you some other time.

You scoff, all too aware that his playful demeanor is a cover-up to hide his suffering.

“Now you know what you want to know. It should be good right?” You coax JImin softly when he doesn’t budge, eyes kept at the door that his friend has left through. “Jimin?”

“Hmm?” He peels his orbs away, meeting yours in brown hues.

“Go to the other side.” The moment it comes from your parted lips, Hoseok frowns and feels a barrier being lifted between you and him, a clear line drawn in the sand. “No good comes here if you’re wandering around. You’re only hurting yourself. There’s a place where you belong. Go and rest peacefully.”

You end up leaving him at the front gate of Taehyung’s house.

Hoseok is alongside you, once again, making the trip home. But he’s oddly silent, not babbling on about how much he adores the other ghost, about the circumstances of their situations, about you and if you’re okay.

“What’s wrong?”

He’s surprised when you can catch on so quickly. “Nothing. It’s just...every ghost we’ve encountered...they can remember but why-…”

“Why can’t I?”

He wants to rip out each strand of his hair, pull apart his brain and unravel it on the ground to inspect. He wants to curl up in a ball, rock back and forth, call upon help from the highest Heavens. He wants to scream and shout, lash out his anger and misfortune. He wants to cry.

Hoseok wants to let the droplets of his eyes speak what his desperate soul cannot.

“Why don’t you tell me to leave onto the other side?” He changes the topic, the sides of his lips upturning as he focuses on the profile of your face. “You’ve said it to everyone thus far. Everyone but me.”

You stay quiet, stealing a glimpse of him for a mere split second. Hoseok for a moment removes his smile, grown serious. The barriers are falling. The line is being washed away by the wave kissing the shoreline. He’s going to get through to you-

But you don’t say anything.

“You can leave too.” You tell him. “If that’s what you want.”

The walls build higher, brick by brick, until he can no longer see you or know what you really mean. What are you trying to hide? Who’s made you this way? Why?

When Jimin is left on his own, he enters the house.

It’s unfamiliar to him, the memories he withholds are few and far in between, fuzzy in images. The ghost has no other choice but to follow the sounds, stalk it like a shadow - the noises of crying.

When he enters the bedroom, he finds photos of himself and the boy who’s curled up on the bed, stuffing his face with a pillow. There are frames on his desk, pictures pinned on the wall. Some of which they’re making silly faces, others more serious. And they vary in age, one that doesn’t look much different from how Taehyung looks now but another where the two of them look like they’re merely age four or five. Jimin wonders just how long he’s known Taehyung for.

“I-I should just die too.” Taehyung hiccups, sobbing until his eyes will run dry, until his body will give up, until sleep will take him and give a moment’s peace offering. “Jimin. Jimin! I’m sorry.”

Jimin drops to his knees, trying to grab Taehyung's hands. But the ghost’s skin passes through the boy’s flesh. Jimin tries again - to hold Taehyung, to wrap his hands around his shoulders, shake the sense back into him. The spirit fails each and every time until he roars out in frustration.

“Don’t. Please. Don’t do it!” He cries over and over again, the two weeping their souls together. “Live. Taehyung, you have to live!”

“Live!”

Taehyung can’t hear him.

Another week comes and goes; Namjoon too busy to stay long, Hoseok going off by himself and insisting that he has to regain his memories, you cleaning every inch of the shrine even when it doesn’t need to be and managing the supplies even when nothing ever goes amiss. It feels like you’re wasting away your time, letting it pass by without a care. There’s nothing else to do, this is your fate. Somewhere along the way, you’ve learnt to accept it without complaints or longing to know more about the world.

“You haven’t left yet?” You stop dead in your tracks, lifting a brow at the ghost several meters away. “I thought I already helped you.”

“Y/N.” Jimin fidgets with the blue rubber bracelet, arms pulled close to his body and he nibbles on his bottom lip. “I-...Taehyung-”

“I told you that you should leave. I’m not going to help you anymore. You can only help yourself.”

“What’s going on?” Hoseok appears behind you and he looks stunned at Jimin’s sudden appearance. “Hey kid...what are you doing here?”

“I-” Tiny, crystal beads flood down the boy’s face, the droplets hitting the concrete and dissipating. His shoulders shake and he lowers his head, staggering to hunch over. The spirit’s knees kisses the cement and his head soon follows, bowing in the courtyard, in front of you.

“Taehyung’s going to try to kill himself.”

The blood in your veins pulse, sympathy controlling your limbs to draw forward. You can feel it. The curse of your empathy makes your soul lurch as you watch Jimin. The desperate and heart wrenching emotions of the ghost has seeped into your skin, making you want to gouge out your eyeballs with tears. You want to cry until death - soil your hands into the ground until your fingernails fall off - keep walking until your feet bleed - if that meets you’ll find a moment of redemption.

You know this regret.

Instead of the words ‘help me’, you hear a torturous begging request. “Save him.”

It’s two trains and one bus, the fastest you’ve ever raced to the station, one where Hoseok is without a smile. The only thing that relieves you is that you don’t smell it. The scent of death, the distinct ash smell that has been entrenched into Namjoon. It’s absent from the air.

You arrive by evening, before night time has fallen. Taehyung’s parents don’t know about his whereabouts, confused on who you are as you pummel their door with your fist. But as you address yourself as a family friend of Jimin’s, they ease and tell you of how distressed Taehyung has been ever since the death of his dear friend.

The worry on Taehyung’s mother’s face tells you she can recognize your panic. You don’t tell her the condition of her son, fearing that they’ll criticize you, find you no less than an insane asylum patient, contact the authorities to take you away - it’s happened one too many times in the past. When you leave, Taehyung’s father waves you off and you’re reminded of how uncanny the resemblance between the parent and son is.

“Where could he be?” Hoseok paces back and forth. “Jimin, there has to be a place.”

You nod, looking at the boy, “Try to remember.”

Jimin cradles his head within his hands. He rubs his temples, muttering underneath his breath. It takes a full minute for him to finally gaze up at you, his brown orbs twinkling and a slight smile on his lips. “The rooftop.”

“Oh! It’s you again.” A girl sipping on the juice box in her uniform points to you. She’s with her friend, Jeongyeon, the two of them loitering around the school grounds in front of the main doors. She smiles at your out-of-breath form. “Are you okay, miss?”

“Tae-” You heave a giant breath. “Taehyung.”

You hate involving yourself. You should’ve never done this. You would have never had to leave the shrine, the place of your comfortable home to go running half across the region with two ghosts. You wouldn’t have to feel. This desperate need. This pain. The sadness. The feelings you had tried to ignore for so long.

“I think I saw him head to the rooftop.” Seulgi frowns and then becomes startled when you bolt past her. “Hey! You’re not allowed inside the school, you know!”

Hoseok runs ahead of you and for once you’re chasing his backside.

Luckily, the doors are still open and the pair of you sprint up the stairs, numerous times where you nearly take a misstep and tumble down the flights. “The doors to the roof are always open.” Jimin shouts as the memory flickers back into his mind. You’re on the third level, about to step onto the last one but the ghost stops you - “Y/N!”. His scream ricochets down the empty hallways and Jimin points to a locker, his own.

“Do you think life’s worth living?”

Jimin is laying on the grass, staring up at the cloudless sky, wondering if there was an escape out there for his pain. He shuts his eyes, feeling the warm sun rays kiss his cheeks. If only life was always like this...if it was...he wouldn’t want to die so much.

“What are you even talking about dude?” Taehyung laughs and nudges him. “Are you having an existential crisis? Stop being so sappy.” He turns away and scrolls through his phone, finding a silly photo he had saved earlier. “Take a look at this.”

Jimin peels back his eyes, smiling sorrowfully but his best friend doesn’t notice.

“I should have listened to you.” Taehyung stares up at the sky. The ceiling that his friend had spent so long counting clouds and memorizing the hues of blue in. Nothing’s changed, the sky is still the same but yet everything in Taehyung’s universe is different.

Namjoon is waiting. He is tapping his foot, checking his list, looking over at his non-existent watch. Any time now, the boy will jump and the Grim Reaper will be able to take his soul.

“What are you doing here?!” Hoseok treads to him, extending out his arm to catch Namjoon’s cloak but the Reaper disappears before the ghost can do so, materializing behind him. Hoseok turns around, “You’re not going to take him! The boy is going to live!”

The Grim Reaper laughs and he replies in a bone-chilling voice. “This is how life works. He’s going to die.” Namjoon is amused, “No one can stop him aside from himself.”

“You’re an asshole.” He spits it out in blind rage, “You know that?”

It’s an argument, one that they almost never have. But it happens. It happens like in all relationships, a breaking point, a bump in the road, barrelling forward before either can realize.

And Taehyung doesn’t remember what the reason is anymore. He doesn’t know how this started, if it was his fault or not; if it was because his friend always sided with his parents and never him, always too understanding, always too kind for Taehyung’s liking. He’s infuriated that no matter how much he provokes Jimin, his best friend just stands there...and takes it.

“I don’t care about you or your little problems, okay?”

At this point, Taehyung is throwing out everything he can think of to hurt his friend, anything at all so that they’ll be a change in his expression, so that Jimin will lash out like Taehyung is. So that Jimin won’t look like the victim and Taehyung won’t feel like the villain.

“Frankly, no one cares about you, Jimin. Not even me. No one would miss you. You should just….die.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Taehyung cries again and again, words that he’s repeated every single day since he found his best friend in the bathroom. The ice, cold water that splashed over the rim and soaked into his clothing. The night where Taehyung’s hands trembled but he still used all his strength to drag out the person he’s known his entire life. The minutes that Taehyung cradled Jimin’s lifeless body in his arms, calling his name until his voice gave out. “I’m sorry.”

Taehyung’s foot nudges towards the edge. “You’re my best friend! Why did you have to die?!” His choking voice screams at the top of his withering lungs, for the clouds to listen, for the birds and the bowing sun, the green fields and the empty buildings. Taehyung screams to the world that hasn’t changed and for his life that has. “I didn’t mean it….Jimin! Jimin! Why?!”

Taehyung. Jimin. The two of them carry a single burden. A regret for what they’ve done.

Something that can never be taken back - the cannot be undone - that can’t be repeated once more.

“You punk!” Jimin yells at him, a crescent moon smile with his infamous rounded cheeks. He shoves the screen of the game closer into his face, fingers pressing haphazardly. “Tae! Stop it!”

Taehyung grins, his mouth moving into a boxy grin and he laughs. “I don’t think so, Chim. You’re going to have to try harder that that.” The pair of them are leaning against each other, focused on the competition and being what they were suppose to be…...children.

His eyes linger at the corner where a few months ago, his best friend and him had played together, when they still laughed, hugged each other and shoved the other one off. A time that was simple, taken for granted. It was when Jimin was still alive. When Taehyung was ignorant to his best friend’s suffering.

“Don’t!” You scream, stumbling onto the roof. “Don’t jump.”

Taehyung shifts around and smiles gently at your presence. He wipes his cheeks away with the sleeve of his shirt. “Hey.”

“Taehyung.” You slowly approach him with your hands out. “Don’t do anything rash.”

He asks you suddenly, head tipping to one side. You stop in fear he’ll slip off the edge.

“Do you think life’s worth living?”

“It is.” You tell him in all sincerity, “We live for those moments of happiness, for the people who love us and those who we love. If today was bad, then tomorrow can be better.”

“If we die, then we won’t ever find out what happens when things get better. And they will.” There’s a slight pause and you go on, “we just have to keep having hope.”

Taehyung smiles again and he exhales a long breath, “That’s a good answer...I should have said that to him.”

“What do you think I could’ve done? Where did things go wrong?” He asks you, tears marking his face again. “Could I have been a better friend? D-do you think I could have saved him?”

“Jimin wouldn’t want you to die.”

“You think so?” Taehyung smiles slightly, it’s not full of mirth but agony. “You don’t think he’s angry at me? That he’s resentful? He must hate me.”

“No. I’m not mad at you, Taehyung!” Jimin wails out, below his best friend, trying to wrap his arms around Taehyung’s abdomen to carry him down. But each and every time, Jimin’s skin passes through his best friend’s flesh and he cries harder. “I was never angry at you! I never have been! Taehyung!”

“There was so much we had to do together.” Taehyung sobs into his arm, shielding his eyes away. “I don’t understand. I cared about him so much. It hurts...it hurts. Y/N. It hurts so bad.”

The boy’s blazer whips in the breeze, his hair whisking and carding through. The tangerine light pierces his backside. It’ll take one step to join the other side. “Jimin...w-why?”

Namjoon watches, no longer impatient for time. Hoseok is by your side. Jimin falls to the ground, crying with his friend. “I’m sorry. I-I thought no one cared about me.” The ghost laments his regrets, apologizing to the person he’s left behind, the person he never considered. “I’m sorry! I regret it! I regret it, so...don’t kill yourself. Don’t die, Taehyung. I-I don’t want you to die.” Jimin hiccups and he gasps out his words, “I’m not mad at you, Taehyung! It isn’t your fault!”

“It isn’t your fault!”

“Do you want to know who I am?” You calmly stride forward and Taehyung hiccups, finally removing his limb to look at you. “You’re right. I’m not Jimin’s tutor. But he came to look for me.”

“I can see ghosts.” It’s the simplest explanation and one that you don’t know if he believes in. “Jimin came looking for me. He hasn’t been able to move on. He begged me to save you.”

Taehyung falls off the ledge but forward, onto the concrete of the rooftop. You immediately drop to his side but the boy recovers and grabs your shoulders, his eyes pinned into yours.

“W-Where is he?” It’s the first thing he asks you.

Taehyung stumbles over his words, searching your face for any lies, rushing desperately. He shakes you and weeps out his words, “W-Where is Jimin?”

“He’s beside you.” You look over to where the ghost is. “He was never mad at you. And he says ‘it’s not your fault’.”

“You idiot.” Jimin sobs out like a baby born into the world, releasing his heartbreak without restraint. He shouts to the sky what’s the most obvious to him. “How could I hate you?! You’ll never stop being my best friend!”

Taehyung laughs lifelessly when you repeat Jimin’s words. He believes you. And he turns to the empty space beside him. “We were suppose to graduate together and now I’m alone. We-we had so many things planned. How could you leave me behind?”

“I’m sorry. I should have never…” Jimin shakes his head, looking back into the warm eyes of his friend, “But you’re not alone. I’m here. I always will be. I’ll be with you, Taehyung.”

“There’s something Jimin was suppose to give you.” You dig in your pocket, the small item that you had found in Jimin’s locker. It was in the back where no one noticed, part of a broken compartment. You take Taehyung’s wrist gently into your hands, slipping on the rubber blue bracelet. Jimin holds up his own hand, revealing the exact same one.

The stupid thing that Jimin had won at a crane machine game in the arcade so long ago.

Taehyung cries even harder, “You really don’t hate me?”

“No. Taehyung.” Jimin giggles and rubs his eyes, “You’ll always be my best friend.”

Namjoon’s list alters and he sighs, disappearing into the shadows. Hoseok watches you and he smiles softly. Jimin attempts to hug his friend, putting his arms around the boy without touching him, the closest he can possibly get for being on the other side of life.

Taehyung fiddles with the bracelet, fingers grazing the grooves and the indented words. A tiny grin appears on his face and he calls his friend’s name under his breath, recalling the sound of his giggles and his smile. The boy that will always be in his memories.

The bracelet reads: Friends forever.

#bts fanfic #hoseok angst #hoseok fanfic #jimin angst #taehyung angst #i cried buckets writing and editing this #i know it's a pretty sensitive topic especially for this site #But I think we should still talk about it #and not stay quiet because we're afraid of saying something wrong #anyways this is probably one of the most emotional chapters of the series #Jimlings

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