#at the same time my attempts to break into IT after graduating with a diploma are going nowhere with no junior or entry level jobs around

[help-me-find-a-name-please-lol]

help I need career advice.

on the one hand I can keep trying to get a job in IT in my ongoing struggle to break into a new industry. these jobs, if I ever land one, will no doubt be entry-level pay and a lot of grunt work, plus potentially arduous car travel all over the region, in a field of IT I don't even really care about necessarily. on the plus side, I get something relevant on my resume, some references/referees in the field, and get to work and network with some people who can maybe help me get to where I want to be. one of the jobs (the one with travel) is only 2 days a week, so the money will suck, but I'll have time to work on my own projects.

VS.

a job currently going at my local council to be the coordinator of the vet clinic and the community programs aimed at improving the responsible animal care and management in the city. as an experienced veterinarian I have immediate skills I can apply to this, plus a thousand and one ideas to revolutionise pet care education. it pays significantly more than I ever got paid as a vet, and more than the IT jobs I feel I have a reasonable chance of getting. BUT I am terrified that it will mean I'll be responsible for managing the budget of the council's vet clinic and animal shelter, and deciding the number of animals that get saved vs put down. (my city gets no support from RSPCA, there's only the council pound and 2 volunteer rescue organisations). I'm worried that the vet clinic management side will completely consume all of my time and leave me no room to implement my desired drastic changes to pet care education. I left the veterinary industry to salvage my mental health and don't want to get badly caught up again. I'm also worried all of my new IT skills will languish and I'll never get closer to launching a career in this industry. but otoh, a lot of the stuff I want to do with IT involves trying to bring about change to improve the lives of pets ...

wwyd???

[perpetuallyangerygoatmom]

Tw // suicide, eating disorders, abortion

General vent

40 weeks pregnant today. Incredibly terrified, never thought I’d be having a child in my LIFE let alone at 19 years old (20 if she’s born on or after this Sunday); but despite my overwhelming fear, I’m also incredibly excited.

I’ve struggled with suicidal ideation from a very young age, had many attempts. The night before my 16th birthday I had an attempt which damn near succeeded, I gave myself a black eye - and fractured my orbital socket - in the process and spent my birthday in the ER and the next several weeks in a mental hospital. Recontextualizing it later I believe nothing in my life has or ever will be the same since then. (And that the Holy Spirit himself interviewed that day. Although that realization did not come to me until several years later)

It wasn’t until the year after that when I hit my lowest point however. I became even more deeply entrenched in my ed; my bulimia morphed into anorexia and as it got worse I isolated myself from every last one of my friends. My mother moved across the county for the sake of her own mental health, and I just sort of spiraled into myself. Eventually I broke down to my stepdad that I felt completely hopeless and like I had no control over my life, that my ed was controlling me and I wanted to die. He helped me to get on a meal plan, fill my day with tasks to keep my mind occupied, take my medication regularly, and motivated me to get my high school diploma. Without him I would have been truly lost. During this time I also began going to church, got saved, and generally THOUGHT I was doing a lot better.

However it was mostly an illusion of control, my ed had morphed into orthorexia; I would have breakdowns if I didn’t know every ingredient in my food, the exact number of calories, or if I didn’t do a very specific routine before and after I ate. Every day had a specific (self created) schedule which I felt as if deviating from could kill me or set back months worth of progress. I had to wake up at 5:30, make my bed, pray, do a half an hour of yoga and an hour of workouts, shower, brush my teeth and hair, write in my journal, work on school work until noon, workout again, make lunch, eat SLOWLY (it had to take me 45 minutes AT LEAST to eat), do the dishes, go back to school work until 5, workout for about 2 hours, eat dinner, watch exactly one movie, pray, and then sleep. If any of those steps were missed or delayed I would go ballistic. And despite having a better diet I was still over exercising and losing weight. I got down to 80 pounds and at one point had to be admitted to the hospital because my heart rate was so low they were afraid it would stop if I fell asleep. I was also - during this time - incredibly paranoid that I was being watched at all times. I was afraid to leave the house and felt as if I would be followed and reprimanded if I did. It’s honestly hard to explain exactly the mental process but I just thought everyone and everything was out to get me; my anxiety was at an all time high.

Eventually my mother came back for my high school graduation and the idea came about of me going back to PA with her for the summer before I was to start college. I decided to go, and the freedom I experienced, the break from my routine, was very hard to deal with. I began to feel again as if I had no purpose, nothing to fill my days with, and I also started to binge and purge again. Although the weight gain was necessary, I felt as if I was betraying myself and all the “hard work” I had put in to lose. My body dysmorphia became unbearable and I generally felt horrible. It was at this point that I got my first job; it helped a lot to give me a sense of purpose. After a lot of fucked up shit there I got another job. Starting something new always helps me to regulate myself and my eating patterns for a while, but once I got comfortable again at this new job I fell back into binging and purging. I was biking 2 hours mostly uphill to and from work everyday, so I did begin to lose weight again, but just in general I wasn’t doing great. I moved in with a man twice my age and ended up giving him LOTS of money for various things. I felt sympathetic towards him but was greatly taken advantage of, I now realize.

Then I met my current partner. Things moved incredibly fast. Within the first month I moved in with him and his parents, which got me out of my situation with my abusive roommate. And for the first time since I was probably around age 10, I began eating regularly. “Regularly” might not be the right word, but for the first time I began to break the YEARS of food rules I had built for myself. (Drinking regular soda, eating desserts, eating at restraints without purging, eating full meals in general without purging, eating during the day, not counting calories, eating multiple meals a day, eating on consecutive days) and while I did have immense guilt over it, I do consider it the true beginning to my recovery. I healed my body enough that my periods became regular for the first time since I began to menstruate. And within our 3rd month of dating, I became pregnant.

There was much talk of abortion; at one point I actually had one scheduled, but for one reason or another I decided to keep the baby, and here I am today, days? away from giving birth, terrified but excited. I feel a new sense of purpose in my life and a motivation to heal my disordered habits. While I do still struggle with disordered thoughts - especially in the advent of pregnancy and the weight gain it causes - I have faith and hope that I will be able to overcome them. My biggest fear is passing this onto my child. My grandmother and mother have also struggled with disordered eating and if I can give my child ONE THING, it will be a healthy relationship with food, but I know I cannot do that unless I am healed myself.

I’m also incredibly worried at the moment that my child will be born unhealthy, a fear which started a few days ago and has become more and more persistent. Prayer and talks with my mother and fiancé have helped to ease it slightly.

Anyways that is my completely unnecessary trauma dump 🤙

[starrgaziinggg]

FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS | lee minho

You finally meet the man your friends Felix and Hyunjin have been blabbing about for the past couple months, and he's a royal pain in the ass.

Lee Minho is a legacy at your university. He received an honorary award when he graduated, got a position as a dancer in a company a week after receiving his diploma...and was renowned as the schools famous ice-cold fuckboy.

After coming back from a three month tour, you're introduced to him through your uni friends...and your life does a 180. It's hard enough to pass classes whilst also trying to navigate your failing relationship...but the added tension that comes with the dance prodigy you seem to be spending more and more time with?

Some would say it's too much to handle.

|Non idol AU|university AU|friends to lovers|

part four

"Jesus, you're soaking, come in," Minho rushes. You're honestly surprised he's in on a Friday night, but you're not complaining. He runs a hand through his messy brown hair, furrowing his eyebrows as he steps aside. "What are you doing here?"

Your voice catches in your throat when you attempt to answer him. What were you doing here? Sure, he'd told you that you could talk to him if you wanted to, but Hyunjin and Felix were also ten minutes down the road. So why had you come to Minho's? Maybe you'd never know.

"Honestly? I'm not sure," you rush, taking off your jacket and placing it on his outstretched arm. "You said you'd listen if I needed to talk shit about my ex, and I don't know if you were being serious, but -"

"I was," he cuts you off, placing your jacket on a radiator in his hallway. "Your ex?"

"My ex," you confirm. He raises his eyebrows with a sigh.

"Why don't I give you some dry clothes to change into, open a bottle of wine, and we can talk all about it?" He offers. You only nod, following him to wherever he was going. You end up standing outside his bedroom, nervously teetering in the doorframe as he picks out clothes for you to wear. Once he's done so, he places the clothes in your arms.

"You can change here. I'll be in the living room," he gives you a half smile before turning on his heel. You close his bedroom door, changing into a pair of grey joggers similar to the ones he's wearing, and a loose fitting t-shirt. It's only when you look at yourself in his mirror, clad in his clothing, that you start thinking this was a stupid idea.

Despite yourself, once changed you join Minho in his living room, where he's got two wine glasses and a bottle of red on his coffee table. He looks up at you with an expression you can't really decipher as you take a seat on the sofa, keeping a small distance between the two of you.

"So," he starts, breaking the silence and pouring you a glass. "I take it something happened for you to come here?"

"Yeah," you take a sip instantly, needing alcohol to get through the situation you'd created for yourself. "I was going to talk to Seungmin about it, but he was out with his team."

Minho nods. "What happened?"

You sigh, holding your glass as you lean back into his sofa. "It's a long story."

"We have all night," he points out, taking a drink from his own glass.

"I was meant to go talk to Doha today, question him about if he was seeing someone else," you start to explain, trying to keep your story as short as possible. The quiet sound of whatever show Minho was watching plays on the tv, helping to reduce the awkward silence between your words. "I went, expecting him to say yes, whatever, and go our separate ways. I wasn't going to cause a fuss since I knew we weren't working out, but that didn't happen."

"Don't tell me he was with her went you went to talk to him?" He guesses. You shake your head.

"Worse than that."

"Worse? What could be worse than walking in on them?"

"Walking in on them, and your best friend is the girl he's been cheating on you with," you answer him, your voice cold.

"Fuck," Minho breathes out, his eyes wide. "The she-witch?"

"The very same. We'd been friends for our whole lives. And the worst part is, I was planning to go to see her after I'd seen him to finally tell her we were breaking up, since I hadn't told her yet," you almost laugh.

"How did they react?" Minho asks, and you're honestly surprised at how invested he is in your story.

"Doha just looked shocked, but didn't really seem to care. Sooyun though, she chased me out his dorm crying, practically begging me to hear her out. I told her never to talk to me again."

Minho whistles, a look you could only describe as pride on his face. "Good for you. You not more sad about the whole thing?"

"More angry than sad," you answer, scooping the rest of the contents of your wine glass. "I'm fucking pissed that I spent four years with him, defended him when you guys would talk shit. I feel like a fucking idiot, like, was I that blind?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Minho says, reverting back to his annoying, brazen self, earning himself a scowl. "But, you were only blind because you were in love. People tend to ignore the bad parts of a person when they're trying to make things work."

You nod, letting Minho refill your empty glasses. "I guess. He's just not the same person I fell in love with."

"People change. They forget themselves, it's not hard to do."

You cock an eyebrow.

"Trust me, I'm not making excuses for him. He's a cunt, end of. I'm just saying that it's not your fault," he explains himself. "I'm saying it's easy for people to lose track of what's actually good for them, in favour of what they think they want. That's nothing on you, so don't think that. You don't think that, do you?"

"No," you say instantly. You know you weren't the reason your relationship failed, you wouldn't do yourself the dishonour of pinning the blame on yourself. "It's just...I dunno, the only thing running through my mind is why her? Why, of all people, my best friend? What did she give him that I couldn't?"

"Maybe sex more than once every two months," Minho says without hesitation, and as much as you want to kill him, you snicker at the comment before you can scowl. "I mean, that's just ridiculous."

"It wasn't like I didn't try!" You laugh, squeezing your eyes shut out of embarrassment. "He was never in the mood, or he'd brush me off. I just thought he was going through a phase, fuck knows. I should have known he was fucking someone else."

"Mm, you should have. That's practically inhumane," Minho chuckles.

You scoff. "Okay, not everyone is a sex crazed maniac like you, Minho."

He shakes his head with a laugh, "And how would you know anything about my sex life?"

"Oh come on," you fire back instantly. "Don't act dim. Lee Minho, our universities ice-cold fuck boy. I think every student in the past four years knows the details of your sex life."

"At least my reputation still proceeds itself," he takes another drink. "Wish people would mind their own business more, though."

"When you fuck half the girl population of a university, it pretty much becomes everyone's business," you point out, picking up the bottle of wine to refill your glasses, until you realise the two of you have already finished an entire bottle. Minho gets up to get another from the wine rack by the dining table. "You keep your wine in your living room?"

"Just the red," he answers from the other side of the room, choosing another bottle. "It's warmer in here. Anyway, I definitely didn't fuck half the girls. I'm picky."

"Oh really? That's not what I heard."

"And what did you hear?" Minho questions, returning to the sofa with another bottle, popping the cork and refilling your glasses as you talk.

"What didn't I hear? 'Lee Minho, the most good looking guy in our uni, slept with me. Albeit only once and he never spoke to me again'," you mock a conversation you'd overheard once.

Minho raises an eyebrow. "Who was that?"

"I dunno," you respond lazily, crossing you legs. "Some girl in my year at the end of last term. Doesn't matter, point is I'm right."

"Oh really?" He challenges. "Did you know half those stories were made up? Sure, I've slept with a fair amount of people, but not half as many as people think. A lot of girls started this stupid bet to see who out of their friend groups I'd sleep with, so I just stopped going for uni girls."

You give him a look, and he shakes his head, almost as if he's embarrassed.

"I don't even know why I'm telling you this," he sighs. You point to the bottle on the coffee table.

"It's the wine, makes you tell all your secrets. Do you have any other interesting stories from your university days?" You ask.

And that's how you spend the next hour, talking about whatever springs to mind regarding horror stories from your uni. It was interesting to you, hearing what happened from Minho's point of view. It gets to the point where your opening your third bottle of wine, definitely feeling it's effects, laughing as Minho talks.

"They got caught in the cupboard?" You question, listening to another one of Minho's stories.

"It was awful, the second hand embarrassment I got that day - I'm pretty sure they both dropped out."

"No wonder," you scoff. "Getting caught having sex in a cupboard during a lecture is pretty much the most embarrassing thing that could happen to you."

You were honestly shocked at how well this night had turned out, considering you were running on anger and stress when you'd arrived at Minho's, half expecting him to turn you away. But here you were, laughing at chatting like life long friends.

"Tell me about it," Minho laughed. "You have any interesting stories?"

"Have you heard about the time Hyunjin ripped his trousers in dance practice?" You said excitedly, noticing your empty glass.

"No, I most definitely haven't," Minho replied with a smirk, looking forward to poking fun at his friend. Before he got the chance to, though, you'd gone to reach for the wine bottle and accidentally knocked it over.

"Fuck," you said lowly, the two of you standing up as you caught the bottle. Only a small amount had spilled, and luckily Minho's living room had wooden flooring, but you felt terrible all the same.

"No, it's fine, I'll get paper towels," Minho said, being chill about it and heading to the kitchen. He returned quickly, handing you a couple sheets. You dipped down, using the paper to soak up the wine. Minho did the same thing, moving closer to you to get the bits you missed.

Once you'd managed to clean most of it, he took the used kitchen towels from you gently. "There," he said with a smile. "Not a problem."

It was only at this point you'd noticed the proximity between the two of you. Maybe it was the tension in the room, the two of you drunk off the wine you'd been drinking. Or maybe, you were just feeling rejected, lonely after the awful scene you'd walked into earlier in the night. But for whatever reason, you felt your body leaning towards his, time coming to a stand still.

Until Minho places a hand on your shoulder, slowly pushing you back. "I, uh, don't think that's a great idea."

You literally felt your stomach drop at the words, snapping out of whatever trance you'd got yourself into. Seriously, what were you doing? Throwing yourself at Minho the second you had an opportunity? Sure, you were only doing it because you were drunk, but still. How were you ever supposed to make a good impression in front of Hyunjin and Felix's friends like this.

"God, sorry," you say, backing away from him and standing up instantly. "That was so stupid of me."

"No, just -" Minho started, though it was clear he didn't really know what he was trying to say.

"No, I should go," you say hurriedly, just wanting to get yourself out of there as soon as you could. "Thanks for everything tonight. Sorry."

"No, it's so late - you're drunk, you can't walk back -"

"I'll be fine, seriously," you say, grabbing your jacket from the radiator and heading to the door. "I'll give you your clothes back the next time I see you."

"C'mon," Minho looked at you with wide eyes, hesitant to open the door for you. "You don't need to leave like this."

"Please let me go," is all you say, and you can tell he can read your expression as he wordlessly opens the door and lets you walk out.

You practically fled down the stairs, not looking back. Fuck, what the hell had you just done? You'd taken Minho's unusual kindness for granted and used it as an opportunity to go for him. You felt like such an idiot, for the second time that day, as you sped walked back to your dorm. You went straight into your bedroom without a second thought, closing the door behind you.

You wanted to scream. Your brain felt like it had been blended, unable to pin a single thought down. You snapped out of it when you heard a knock at your door.

"Hey, you there? Minho's just texted me asking if you got home okay," you heard Seungmin say from the other side of the door. You couldn't help the tears that spilled from your eyes, the caring sound in his voice sending you over the edge.

You opened the door slowly, looking at Seungmin through your eyelashes that were thick with tears. He just wordlessly pulled your towards him, hugging you without a second thought.

You spend the rest of your night in your room with Seungmin, telling him everything that had happened, starting from your bus journey to Doha's and ending with you fleeing from Minho's apartment. He didn't judge you for going to Minho's, knowing you only went because you were angry, upset and stressed. He'd even apologised for not being there for you when you got back from Doha's, but you'd told him not to be silly.

You'd sat together on your bed, cross legged as he listened intently while you spoke, cried, whatever. You were so thankful for the boy in front of you. You'd known him less than a year, been close with him less than two months, yet here he was being a better friend than Sooyun had ever been to you. You'd drifted off somewhere in between talking, sound asleep when Seungmin put your bedcovers over you and left.

The next week was consumed with your sulking. Hyunjin and Felix had been given the shortened version of events, the one that didn't include you going to their friends house and making a move on him. Seungmin had promised to keep it a secret, and you knew he would. He also said Minho probably wouldn't tell anyone else, since he wasn't that type of person, which you were thankful for.

When it got to Thursday, you felt drained, a million thoughts running through your head. You were in the library with Felix and Hyun, and you could feel their eyes on you.

"Yes?" You said, looking to and from your friends. Hyunjin quickly looked away, diverting his eyes from your gaze, whereas Felix only increased his sad look towards you.

"I'm sick of this," Hyunjin announces, unable to take your miserable moping anymore. "You need to be reminded of how fun life can be when you're not tied down by a rotten man."

Felix nods enthusiastically, blonde mullet shaking. "It makes me sad seeing you so sad."

You sigh. "What do you suggest?"

"We're all going out tomorrow. Clubbing. We'll get the guys in on it too, what do you think?" Hyunjin suggests, an enthusiastic smile on his face as he waits for your answer.

"I dunno, we've got our mid semester examination next week. I know it's not that important, but still," you counter. It's a weak excuse, and you know that.

"Oh come on, you really think we're going to give in to that?" Felix says sweetly. "We just want to see you smiling again."

That's what gets you. Felix's kind words and Hyunjin's pleading eyes. You end up giving in quickly, and it's not long until you're throwing all the clothes you own onto the ground, unable to find anything club suitable.

Seungmin, Jeongin and, unluckily for you Minho, had been roped into coming clubbing too. Lucky for Chan, Jisung and Changbin, they had valid excuses for not being able to attend, unlike you.

"You ready yet?" Seungmin shouted through to you, clearly waiting for you so you could head out together. You'd planned to have a couple drinks at your dorm with the boys before you went out, so you were rushing to get ready before they showed up.

"No," you answered with a groan. Seungmin pushed open the door to your room and rolled his eyes. "I have nothing to wear."

"You have heaps of clothes," he counters, leaning against your door. "Wait till Jeongin comes over, he's good with fashion, get him to pick you something."

"Okay," you sighed, deciding to put your faith in Jeongin.

"Good, I'm going to the shop to get drink so if the boys come, buzz them in," he lets you know, so you nod up at him. "And, for the love of god, stop sulking. Makes you look ugly. We're gonna have a good night."

You flip Seungmin off, but stand up and attempt to shake yourself out of the bad mood you were in all the same. Not long after, you heard your intercom buzz and pressed the button to let them in, heart rate spiking. As much as you hated to admit it, you were nervous about seeing Minho, after making nothing short of a fool out of yourself in front of him a week ago. You were lucky Jeongin was the first one to walk into your dorm.

"Hey," you said, giving him a wave. Hyunjin smiled at you from behind him, the other two boys behind him. "Seungmin said you could help me pick out an outfit?"

Jeongin seemed to light up at that, a grin appearing on his face. "Of course I can!"

"Good, cause I'm about to have a meltdown," you laughed, motioning for him to follow you to your bedroom. You shouted through to the boys. "Seungmin's at the shops but there's some alcohol in the kitchen."

They nod and chat amongst themselves as they make their way through to the kitchen/living area of your dorm as you lead Jeongin to your room.

"Oh my," his jaw drops upon walking into your bomb site of a room, clothes strewn everywhere. You laugh at his reaction, thankful that you got to see him before inevitably facing Minho.

"I'm the worst when it comes to putting an outfit together. I haven't been clubbing for ages," you explain, watching as he starts rummaging through your clothes.

"Don't worry," he says cheerfully, and you swear you've never seen him without a smile on his face. "I'll sort you something out."

You spend the next ten minutes laughing and chatting with Jeongin as he picks out your outfit, spending a while putting different things together until he picks you out something you honestly never would have chosen, but end up loving it as soon as you put it on. Spending time with Jeongin had honestly loosened you up a bit, since you'd been stressed about seeing Minho all night.

When the two of you walked through to your kitchen/living area, Seungmin had returned and the boys were already downing shots like they were going out of fashion. You're instantly handed a shot on arrival, as is Jeongin, and you both give each other a shrug as you down them. You were going clubbing after all, and everyone knows it's only fun once you get a drink in you.

"So, you excited for tonight?" Felix asks you as he pours you a proper drink using the alcohol Seungmin had bought, the two of you in the kitchen area of the room. Hyunjin and Minho are talking on the sofa, whereas Jeongin and Seungmin have perched themselves on the breakfast bar stools.

"As excited as I can be, I guess," you say nervously, trying not to look at the man sitting on the sofa to the left of you. You'd assumed Minho hadn't told the other boys what had happened between the two of you, since you know Hyun and Felix wouldn't hesitate to berate you for your poor decision making and drunk antics. What better way than to try and forget about them by drinking again? Hair of the dog, as Hyunjin would say.

"Oh cheer up, bubs," Felix smiles, nudging your shouldering with his own from beside you. "You don't need either of them. You've got us now."

"Stop being cringe, Felix," Jeongin screws his face up with a wide smile. "He's right, though. We can have fun dancing tonight so you can forget about them!"

Seungmin scoffs. "Easier said that done, Jeong," he faces you. "You just need to fuck someone else to get over him."

Jeongin's innocent eyes widen as you laugh. "Two very different opinions," you point out as you all but down your drink, wanting to feel the effects of the alcohol you were drinking.

"Regardless," Felix speaks up. "Drinking always solves life problems."

"I'd say it creates more," Seungmin counters. "Every time you drink you say you're never drinking again."

"Whatever," you hear Felix huff as the two younger boys laugh at his reaction, giving him a nudge.

You were lucky that Hyunjin and Minho kept their conversation going almost the whole time you were in your dorm, the two of them seemingly forgetting the rest of you were there. God knows what they were discussing, but you paid it no mind as you got yourself drunk.

You all decided it was time to leave when Felix's drinks were capped, Hyunjin swooping in to stop his best friend getting too drunk too quickly. You all took two Ubers to the club, the group splitting in half. And, surprise surprise, Minho just so happened to go into the Uber you hadn't gone into, Hyunjin and Lix joining you instead.

It wasn't until you were all actually at the club that you thought he was avoiding you, lights flashing and music blaring, as you realised he was seemingly making every conscious effort to steer clear from you.

You'd all walked into the club together, all gotten drinks together, sure, but had Minho spoken one word directly to you? Not a single one. Seungmin had even flashed you a strange look at one point, noticing the weird behaviour of his friend.

You paid it no mind as you danced with Jeongin, laughing and smiling with the younger boy who was beginning to become one of your favourite people. You knocked back drinks with Seungmin, the only one out of the group that could keep up with your drinking pace. You'd even ended up sandwiched between Felix and Hyun at one point, the two of them whipping out the worlds worst dance moves to make you laugh.

And you were having a great time, you really were, but the fact that wherever you were Minho was not was starting to drive you insane. You knew you'd fucked up by trying to kiss him last week. You were well aware of it, in fact. But it didn't mean the two of you couldn't be friends, right? So, why was Minho being so insistent on icing you out?

You didn't even get time to dwell on it, because after you'd rejoined with Felix who had waited outside the bathroom for you so you weren't wandering around on your own, you caught a glimpse of the man of the hour with his arm slung round some leggy brunette.

Realistically, no part of you should have felt any jealousy in this situation. You're both single, so uninvolved with each other that you couldn't get farther apart, and yet here you were, giving them the daggers. Luckily your blonde best friend was far too drunk to notice your pathetic pining, just grabbing your hand to lead you back to the rest of the boys.

Maybe you were only jealous because he rejected you. Maybe it was because even though he rejected you, you actually got on well with him a lot of the time and still wanted to be friends, yet he seemed not to care less. Or maybe, you wished you were in her position.

You couldn't help it. You were infuriatingly and undeniably attracted to the cocky, endearing and witty man that was looking into the eyes of the girl beside him like he wanted to fuck her. It was just a stupid crush, a result of hearing about how god like he was from Felix and Hyunjin for months, and you knew that. But it didn't take away the burning feeling in your chest.

It was somewhere between the sixth shot or fourth drink of the night that you noticed him leave the club with the girl, her leading him through the crowd. You'd only noticed because of Jeongin's comment.

"There he goes again," he said with a chuckle. "At least Jisung doesn't have to hear him anymore."

Your hangover lasted the whole weekend. You'd lost any memory of the night from after Minho had left, but Seungmin had informed you that you'd all stayed maybe an hour longer before he took you home. He had admitted you were not in a great state, but neither was he, and from what he remembers of coming home he'd helped you brush your teeth and sent you to bed. You'd woken up with your makeup still on, your clothes from last night clinging to your body, and a killer headache.

When you'd showed up to your classes of the week after spending the rest of the weekend dying on the sofa and watching old movies with Seungmin, Hyunjin and Felix almost felt as bad as you looked. The sunglasses and hoodie you'd sported on Monday had made you look like Maddie from Euphoria, and the boys had fully understood their essential purpose, the bags under your eyes unfit to be viewed by human kind.

You'd decided you'd contracted some sort of illness when, on the Wednesday, you were still feeling like shit. You couldn't go to a lecture without coughing your lungs up, falling asleep or having to take a couple of paracetamol tablets. It couldn't have come at a worse time, since your mid semester practical dance examination was on Friday and you still hadn't even finished choreographing your two minute routine.

Trying to ignore the fact you were feeling rotten, you'd booked one of the modern dance studio rooms to at least finish choreographing your routine. Felix had promised to join and help you, so imagine your surprise when none other than Lee Minho pushes open the door to the room your attempting to dance in.

"What the fuck?" You can't help but breathe out, your thoughts getting the better of yourself as you start coughing, out of breathe. "Where's Lix?"

Minho saunters in unfazed, as if you didn't try to kiss him two weeks ago, or he didn't ignore you the whole night last weekend. He looks great, you hate to admit, baggy black trousers and loose fitting white t-shirt hanging perfectly on him, leaning against the mirrored wall as he speaks up.

"He didn't tell you?" He questions, which you shake your head at as you take a sip of water from your bottle. "He's not gonna be here for another hour and a half, and he said you only booked the room out for three hours so he asked me to help you until he could make it."

You groan, your lifeless body slumping onto the floor. "Why can't he be here?"

"You act as if you aren't excited to see me," Minho says, his tone jarring. "I'm doing you a favour, here."

"No," you retort huffily. "You're doing Lix a favour."

"I'm here helping you, aren't I?" He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and looking at you with a fed up expression. "Felix said it's your mid sem exam on Friday."

"Yup," you answer, not knowing if you're loving or hating the fact he seems to not have any interest in discussing the topics hanging in the air between to two of you.

"So, show me what you've got so far," he raises an eyebrow, holding his hand out as if to say, go on.

So, you heave yourself off the floor, play the music you'd chosen for your exam and start to dance. You took a quick glance at Minho's expression a couple times, unable to read what he's thinking until you finish dancing before the music stops and he nods his head.

"What you've got so far is good," he starts, pulling himself off of the mirrored wall.

"But?" You say, breathless as you wait for him to continue.

"I know you can do better," he chooses to say, and you huff in a bratty manner.

"You know, I've never even seen you dance," you point out. "You're always so quick to critique me when you could be shit for all I know."

He thinks for a second, looking up as if searching his brain for the information he's looking for, until he finally decides what he wants to say. "How about this. I dance for you, show you I actually know what I'm talking about as if you're not already aware I'm a good dancer, and you stop being a brat and let me help you."

You choose to ignore the cocky comment hidden in his statement, choosing to nod your head and move to sit beside the mirrored wall instead, as Minho moves to the middle of the room. It's only a small practice room, one of the ones in the new building, but it works for when you want to practice in peace.

Minho uses his phone to choose a piece of music to dance to wordlessly, looking as though he couldn't care less about having to perform in front of you. You have a million bitchy comments ready on the top of your tongue, but you're stupidly shut up when the man starts to dance.

He's incredible. He makes every move look easy, performing them flawlessly without a second thought. He's captivating to watch, and you realise you're biting back every comment you wanted to make, entranced as you watch the man before you move.

He doesn't even break a sweat when he's finished, as if this is easy work for him, which you guess it is since he literally dances for a living. He turns the music off, and as soon as you're waiting for him to make some cocky, snarky remark, he only tilts his head in your direction. It's at this point you wonder if he actually was nervous to perform for you, his eyes looking straight into yours to look for any sign that you didn't enjoy it.

"Okay, so you know how to dance," you say, not wanting to lick his ass too much. "Help me fix my dance."

He chuckles at you, a hearty sound that makes you realise you've missed hearing him laugh, since everything got too heavy between you both. All your doing, you know, but still.

He spends the next hour watching you perform for him, fixing your positioning in places you're lacking and dancing alongside you to add in new moves. You tell him he can't change it too much, since you're supposed to choreograph the majority of himself, and he starts asking you questions. It's weird, how Minho can turn you voicing your ideas into actual moves that flow perfectly in your dance. You realise everything that's been said about how spectacular of a dancer Minho is was true.

At one point, he's behind you, watching you move from through the mirror. You only scuff up your move because you feel him staring at you, eyes piercing through you with a stone cold expression. He stops you all the same, catching the arm that moved when it shouldn't have done in his hand and gently pulling it back down.

"Thought you could let that slip past me, huh?" He shakes his head, narrowing his eyes at you as he moves in closer behind you to reposition your arm. Your breath catches in your throat when he puts his free hand on your hip to move your body to the side. "Again."

You try not to let your facial expression falter as you redo the move, knowing he's watching you from the mirror. He raises his eyes in approval when he watches you complete the move correctly, but doesn't make any attempt to move away from you, instead moving impossibly closer to talk into your ear. "Much better."

You can't take it any more. You practically shake yourself, slipping out of his hold to turn your back to mirror and screw your eyes shut, shaking your head as you talk.

"Stop it," you say to him, opening your eyes to his half smirk.

"Stop what?" He says stupidly, playing dumb.

You sigh, exasperated. "You know exactly what you're doing."

"Enlighten me."

It's like a challenge, the way he says it. Tell me what you're thinking, he's saying in less words. Tell me why you don't want me to touch you.

"Stop playing fucking dumb, Minho," you almost groan in defeat, knowing how easy it is for him to get you to crack. "You flirt with me, act like a cocky bastard and push me to my limits just to brush me off and ignore me. It's impossible - you're impossible."

He stays quiet, just eyeing you up, until he says, "You're hot when you get all riled up like this, you know."

You want to scream. "What?" You say, fed up with the mixed signals.

"You heard me," is all Minho says, refusing to back down.

Your back is almost right against the mirror now, and you don't know whether that's because Minho's moving forward or your just instinctively moving backwards.

"You have no idea what it's like to be on the receiving end of this torture," you huff, but you don't get another word in edgeways when Minho actually does take a step closer to you, minimising the gap between you both.

"No," he starts, taking his restraints off. "You don't understand what it's like to have you consume every thought I have."

Oh?

"I hardly know you, yet I can't stop thinking about you. You act as if I'm being mean to you by ignoring you, but I'm doing you a favour," he goes on to say, and you're even more confused. "Do you know, when you leaned into me that night, how badly I wanted to kiss you?"

Oh?

You know you look like a mess in front of him, out of breath from dancing and the way he's staring at you with those eyes.

"It took everything in me to push you away, because I knew if I didn't, I wouldn't be able to stop. And that wouldn't have been fair to you. You were so upset, and angry, and I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I'd taken advantage of that," he explains, his jaw clenching as he talks, as if it's taking just as much restraint as it did then, now.

"Why didn't you explain that instead of ignoring me?" You manage to say, your voice quiet.

"I would have, if you hadn't run out of my apartment without a second thought."

Ah. That kind of shuts you up. "I don't really know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything. I just wanted you to know that I didn't not kiss you because I'm not attracted to you, or I don't like you. Cause it's pretty obvious, I do."

"Didn't stop you from going home with that girl the other night," You can't help but say, regretting the words almost as soon as they leave your mouth.

Minho almost laughs, but appears to stop himself. You already think he's making fun of you for this whole thing, whatever that is, but looking at how adorable you looked asking about that girl cracks him.

"I put her in a cab, sent her home and went home myself afterwards. Don't start getting clingy now, though," he warns, the raised eyebrow he sports making you feel all kinds of nervous. "It was your night, I didn't want to make you uncomfortable after what had happened the week before."

"It would have made me less uncomfortable if you'd have just talked to me," you point out, tilting your head at him. He moves closer, almost, almost touching you.

"If I'd have spoken to you, the night would have ended with you back at mine and that pretty little outfit Jeongin chose for you on the floor."

You don't have a second to react, since cockblock of the century Lee Felix opens the door to the studio as you pretty much shove Minho away from you, acting as if he didn't just admit he wants to fuck you.

"Hey, hey, god I'm sorry! I forgot I had an assignment for one of my extracurriculars, so I've been in the library since class ended working on it!" Felix explains, rushing his words and dumping his bag on the floor. "Has Minho helped?"

You can't even begin to find the words to reply to your best friend, so your thankful when Minho steps in in an attempt to save the situation. "Yeah, choreo's done, just needs cleaned it up."

"Great, you gonna stay longer?" Felix asks Minho, who shakes his head.

"Nah, I have to get back to feed the cats," Minho says, giving you a wink that goes undetected by Felix and makes you want to hit your head against the wall whilst he says his goodbyes to Lix and leaves the room. You cant focus when Felix starts babbling, putting his dance trainers on and tying his hair up.

And even though you're so confused as to whatever the hell had just happened, the one thing going through your mind was, Minho has cats?

PART FIVE HERE!

taglist

@miamyre @skzgallll @kgllmre @tangerminie @nepytune @jeyelleohe @dis-baku-bitch @judeduartewannabe @endzii23 @mitchinggoni @vixensss @odhnlzl101 @yoonguurt @trashieforchannie @xcookiemonsteer @kingsoowolves @woahsehun @laylasbunbunny @multifandomtrash-dree

[minimel-fics]

Unexpected Blessings - Part 2

Creeper Vargas (ProudDad!Creeper)

An unexpected late night encounter brought them together so long ago. Oh how things have changed. 

Probably not what you were expecting, believe me when I say this was not what I was expecting either, this is a product of dehydration and heat stroke 🥵

Part 1

Masterlist

Warning: Mentions of illness leading to death and the breakfast club.

----

Creeper felt out of place as he sat in the high school auditorium, all of the parents surrounding him were wearing formal clothes while he stuck to his best pair of jeans and his kutte- he had only ever really worn a suit in a courtroom and seen no point of making himself uncomfortable on the hot summer day. He glanced over his shoulder as the lighting dimmed, his eyes scanning across the men standing along the back wall, all wearing the same leather on their shoulders. The Mayans Santo Padre charter had lost and gained many members over the years, every current member managed to attend after receiving a special invite from the valedictorian himself. Creeper turned back toward the stage as the principal began the commencement, his eyes hesitating as they passed over the empty chair to his left. In an ideal world, his wife would have taken the seat but as Creeper had accepted a long time ago the world was less than ideal and instead of saving two chairs he was only saving one for his daughter. 

Lauren winced as she walked down the center aisle with a slightly crouched stance, the clicking of her heels drawing more attention than she would have liked. She had spotted the familiar bald head from the back of the room and she was glad that he had chosen seats directly in the aisle. She slid her body onto the empty chair, adjusting the child she was carrying on her hip so that the boy was sitting on her knee. 

“Sorry for being late,” She whispered, her eyes glancing over to her stepfather, “My exam took longer than I was hoping and Matt’s sitter wanted to chat about an incident at the playground today.” 

“Don’t worry little ma, you ain’t missed anything yet.” Creeper reassured her as he gently lifted his youngest child from her lap and onto his own. 

This was a big moment for the Vargas family, they had endured and overcame so much in the past year. Julia, the matriarch and glue of the family had fallen ill unexpectedly and passed away not too long after the birth of Matthew. It had been a hard hit for the family as Creeper adjusted to being the sole parent for their three kids. Lauren was in college but felt a lot of pressure as the eldest child to step in and care for her family, Matthew was too young to understand what was happening but the cries for his mom never failed to break Creeper’s heart and Diego had struggled to come to terms with the fact that his mother was no longer around to push him toward his goals. 

Creeper felt his chest ache as he watched his eldest son walk across the stage to accept his diploma- Julia would have been so proud to watch this moment, to know that their baby had gotten into Stanford just like he had dreamed. The ache was drowned out by the overwhelming sensation of pride as the principal announced to the audience that Diego had been voted to be the valediction of his graduating class.

“I don’t have some epic speech prepared, I’m not going to remind you of how you wanted to be a princess when you were six or that time when you were nine and you decided that being a firefighter would be cool after you got to play with the siren on the firetruck during a field trip.” The lighthearted nature the boy held caused a quiet wave of laughter from some of the parents who could clearly remember those stages of their children's lives, “I’m going to let myself be a little self-indulgent today because there are some people here today that I would like to thank.”

Creeper glanced over to Lauren who was crouched down in the center aisle, attempting to capture a few decent photographs of this moment for her brother. 

“It’s no secret that this past year did not start off well for me, a lot of you probably heard my name in roll call but noticed that I was never there to answer ‘Present’ or ‘Here’, or I’m sure you’ve heard about me claiming the title of this schools ‘John Bender’ as I racked up the most detentions ever given to a single student in the first 3 months of our year here at Santo Padre High. Honestly, I wish that this speech was just about screws falling out of things because the world is an imperfect place but it won’t be that light and I hope you take some sort of lesson from it.”

Creeper had not yet heard his son’s speech, Diego insisting that it was better left as a surprise when Creeper had volunteered himself and the club as a test audience.

“Last summer I lost my mom and it was hard, she had always been my rock.” Most of the people in the crowd did not know Diego well enough to hear the slight wobble in his voice but Creeper caught it, feeling his own throat start to tighten as his emotions flared along with both of his eldest children.

“The only reason I am able to be standing here on this stage today is that I had people there to pick me up when I fell. Teachers who gave me extra credit work to make up for missed assignments and raise my grades when they could have easily turned me away, friends who didn’t hesitate to let me borrow their notes even if it meant cutting down their study time.”

Diego raised his arm, pointing across the sea of people to the row of leather-clad men that lined the back wall. “All of my uncles that were there to support my family every step of the way.”

The loud hollers of appreciation that some of the more rowdy members of the club released earned laughter from the audience as well as Diego.

“My sister, Lauren, this girl would drive home every weekend from Oregon just to sit with me at the kitchen table to help me study even when she had her own work to do. I don’t think I could have asked for a sister better than her.”

Creeper clutched his daughter’s hand into his own to bring her comfort as tears began to stream down her face.

“And last but certainly not least… my dad.” Creeper’s leg halted the slight bouncing that was lulling Matthew to sleep as his eyes met the ones that mirrored his wife’s from across the dimly lit room, “He didn’t hesitate for one second to miss a day’s work if one of us needed him- no matter how important it was. One day, nineteen years ago he met my mother in a pharmacy as she struggled to quell the cries of her sick baby- the cries of my sister Lauren and he stepped in to help her without a second thought. Despite how intimating he may look or the reputation he is rumored to have, he is one of the kindest and most caring souls in this room right now and I am so damn thankful to have him in my life and to be standing on this stage right now making him proud.”

Creeper didn’t care who saw him at that moment as he let the emotions he felt leak from his eyes in the form of tears. There had been a point at the beginning of his relationship with Julia where he had questioned his ability to be a father but at that moment he felt that he and Julia couldn’t have raised better kids than they had.

“Take this home with you, stew on it, think about who you have in your life that has made a positive impact and thank them while you still can because I never got that chance once and I will never make that mistake again. Thank you.”

[babyspiderling]

Love Undercover   one

“Leiman! I got a story for you! Go undercover as a high school student, do a piece on teen culture or whatever the parents need to hear about their kids. This could be your shot kid!” Flashes of my own high school career three years ago plague my mind. “Sir, are you sure this is a good story? I mean, there are harder hitting stories than a piece on teen culture.” Mr. Edward's eyebrow simply raises in response, and I slink back to my desk. I raise my desk phone to my ear and ring my older brother, Anthony. “Tony, they’re making me go back to school. I thought I would never have to go back. It was hell.” I hear him chuckle through the phone. “Why are they making you go back? You lose your diploma or something?” I scoff into the phone. “No, Tony. They want me to go undercover since I’m the only one who can pass for a child here. I start on Monday. Shit, I gotta attempt to dress like a high school girl again. Thank god I’ve been the same dress size since my junior year. See you tonight Tony, we still on for dinner?” I hear him confirm for me into the microphone and I click the phone off. Standing and gathering my things I peek my head into my editor's office. “Mr. Edwards, I’m headed out to get ready for my assignment. I’ll see you soon.” He nods at me, letting me know he’ll enroll me this afternoon for Monday’s classes and I take my leave. 

Monday arrives sooner than later. I feel like a freshman again, out of my element and out of my comfort zone. My hair had been trimmed to a popular cut and I had been trained on how to style it. My journalist instincts took over at the mall, taking in what teens were wearing and how they were wearing it. For my first day I bought a striped blouse with a longer skirt to seem neutral. The end of winter chill caused me to grab a cardigan on my way out and I climbed into the front seat of my old “Mystery Machine” ready to go back to high school. 

“Well, three new students in a month, must be a new record. Tom and Doug McQuaid and now Y/N Leiman. This way.” The balding principal tosses my schedule at me and walks off in large, commanding strides. “Tell me Miss Leiman, are you a troublemaker like the other newcomers?” My eyebrows pull together in confusion. “No, no sir. I’m not a troublemaker.” He pulls to a stop in front of a door. “This is your first class. I’m sure someone will show you around. Prove yourself to be on your best behavior Miss Leiman. Wouldn’t want you to be labeled as a hoodlum.” He turns to walk away but is distracted by a skipping student roaming the halls. I tuck my hair behind my ear and fix my appearance. I take one last breath of confidence and open the creaking door. The click of my heels only adds to the attention as the entire class watches me with curious eyes. I feel the girls sizing me up, the boys appraising my value, and the teacher annoyed at the interruption. “This is Mrs. Dustin’s class right? I’m new here.” The woman takes the papers from my hands and catches herself up. “Yes, you’re in the right place. Please take a seat.” I nod and take one of the only seats left open, next to a boy dressed in leather and an earring in his ear. I struggle to remind myself that I’m at least three to four years older than these students, too intimidated by their stares to fill with confidence. I tuck my hair away from my face as I pull out my pen and notebook from my bag. I start to write a mixture of notes for the class and notes for my story when something sharp stabs into my thigh. Turning my head with pinched eyebrows I look at the boy reeking of trouble. “You got any gum? Teach made me swallow my last piece last period.” I nod and rummage through my bag. “Mint, cinnamon, or bubble?” He looks at me in a bit of shock at the number of choices. “Bubble.” I nod and hand him a piece, pulling a lollipop for myself. In my years of studying and writing and taking notes, I know that if somewhere else on my body is moving, focusing is easier. With my mouth occupied with the sugar, my brain is on a roll. Trouble leans in once more, the sugary smell from his mouth fills my nostrils. “You got anything else in that bag of yours? I could use a coke too.” I roll my eyes and smile a bit. “Oh, hush. I have a sugar addiction.” At the sound of our whispers, Mrs. Dustin clears her throat loudly. “Mr. McQuaid, Miss Leiman, is there something you’d like to share with the class?” I shake my head and duck my head back to my notes. McQuaid lifts his chin and smirks at the teacher. “Just Miss Leimans sugar addiction, teach. Probably why she’s so sweet.” My cheeks heat at his comment and I don’t know how to react. My brain berates me for my flustered appearance. He is sixteen, maybe seventeen! You are old enough to drink! Get your head together girl! I keep my head down until the bell rings, no matter how many pokes to the thigh I earn. 

I glance down at my schedule and attempt to find my way around the giant high school. An arm drops itself over my shoulder as I look up to find Trouble staring right back at me. “Can I help you? Need more gum already?” He chuckles a bit and pops his gum. “Nah sweets, my brother and I were wanting to invite you to sit with us for lunch. Unless you’ve got somewhere better to be?” His eyebrows raise at his question and my face heats. “Oh! Uh, no. I don’t have anywhere better to be. I guess I can eat with you guys?” McQuaid smirks around his gum and leads me to a table occupied by another boy who is dressed similarly to trouble. With a steady hand on the small of my back, trouble eases me into my seat. I unpack my bag and come to a realization. “I just realized we haven’t Introduced ourselves! I’m Y/N, I just moved here, and I’m a senior.” Trouble and the other boy smirk at each other. Trouble turns his body to me. “I’m Tom McQuaid. This here’s my big brother Doug. He would've graduated last year, or the year before that, but he just can’t seem to pass classes.” Doug gives a shout of defense, tossing a French fry at his brother, who catches it in his mouth, grinning triumphantly. I roll my eyes and give a small smile to their antics. “So you’re the McQuaid brothers. You’re new here too. And troublemakers from what I’ve heard.” They look at each other and laugh. “Well, sugar, what can we say? It’s much more fun to break the rules than to follow them.” After fishing out my lunch I pull another sucker from my bag, strawberry flavored as opposed to the cotton candy flavored from earlier. “Damn sweets, not gonna share with us? I’m hurt.” I roll my eyes and toss the older boy the bag of sweets. “Leave me the mango flavors. Those are my favorites.” Doug chuckles under his breath and tosses the bag to his brother. Tom rifles through the pouch of candy, and just hands it back to me. “I’ll just take another piece of gum when I’m finished eating.” I look from my salad at his burger and fries. “How can you eat that all the time and still look like that? I’m just looking at it and I think I gained ten pounds.” Tom shakes his head as he gives a once over to my figure. “Nah, you look the same. You look fine the way you are. Promise.” I giggle and play with my fingers in my lap. The line of playing the part and enjoying the attention continues to blur at my embarrassed reaction. I swallow my bite of rabbit food down and smile. “So, McQuaid brothers, tell me a bit about yourselves.” Almost evil smirks cross their faces. “Sweets, lets just say we’re not the kind of guy you take home to mom and dad. You’re too sweet and naive to know guys like us. Sugary thing like you’d get eaten alive with us. Too pure for the dark things we’ve done.” I hear the teasing in Tom’s voice. “You’re making fun of me. I know I’m not the “baddest” out there, but I know about the world. I want to be a  reporter. I’ll appreciate it if you don’t underestimate me.” I look back at my hands. “And if I’m too sweet and naive to be here, to be involved with you, why was I invited to have lunch with you two? I’m sure there are plenty of defectives like yourselves to hang out with.” I move to leave the table to sit anywhere else. A hand latches onto my wrist. I follow the hand up to Tom's face. His eyebrows are furrowed and his lips are twisted into a pout. “Look, sweets, I’m sorry. You seemed lonely and everything. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” I sigh and gently pull my hand from his hold. “I accept your apology.” 

I move to sit back down and hear my beeper go off. I fish it out of my bag and read the message from my editor. Both boys crane their necks to read the message. I shove it back down into my bag in defense, thinking up a quick excuse for the interruption. “Oh, it was my brother. I’ll give him a call later.” I swipe a fry from Doug's plate. “What about you guys. You do anything after school? Besides the Dark stuff of course. What kind of records do you listen to?” Looks I don’t understand continue to pass between them. “Well, Doug here is his own entrepreneur. Me, I’m more of a car guy. I’ve got the blue mustang out there.” My eyes widen. “That one’s yours? She’s a beauty. I’ve got the old yellow mystery machine out there. She’s a great road trip car.” Both boys nod. “Our dads a bit of a hippie. He’d love you, flower power. What music you listen to?” I think for a bit, attempting to decide between my true likes and what a teenager would like. “Well, I’ve always loved Bowie. Ziggy Stardust is an absolute masterpiece, and one of the first records I ever got. Prince is pretty good too, but I love a nice mix of rock and funk. Something with a heavy drum beat I can move to.” They nod along, taking in my answer. The bell rings, signifying the end of the lunch period. 

I begin my journey to my next class, and choose a seat near the middle. Once I watch the class, looking around at the students and everything about them. And just my luck, Tom McQuaid walks in with his gum popping and a smirk painted on his face. As the student body shuffles into their seats, the teacher has us stand right back up. “I am your History teacher for this semester, Mr. Devo. I will be choosing your seats for my class, please let me know if you need to be seated at the front end of the room.” Two kids with glasses raise their hands and they are seated in the first two rows. 

“Anyone else? No? Alright let’s get started. When I point to you, I want to hear your name, your grade, and hmmmm, your favorite record.” He points at several people, pointing at their desks. He points to me pretty early on surprisingly. “Oh! Y/N Leiman, senior, and hmmmm, give me a second. Prince’s Sign ‘O’ The Times. It cost me a bit to get the four disks, but it’s an amazing album.” Mr. Devo nods a bit. “I haven’t heard the entire thing yet, but I do enjoy Prince. Here.” He points to the desk front and center. As if the whole thing was planned, Tom is pointed at next. “Tom McQuaid, teach. Senior like Sweets here, and I like Bowie's Young Americans. If you don’t mind, Sugar here fuels my gum addiction, so if I could sit near her, I’d appreciate it.” Mr. Devo gets a strange look on his face. The journalist in me would describe it as a cross of frustration and possibly… jealousy? But I don’t understand the jealousy part. I shake it off and get myself prepared for class. McQuaid gets sent to the classroom, possibly the farthest seat from me. With a smile, Mr. Devo starts his class.

I walk out the front doors of the school with a slight limp. “I made a mistake today. I can not believe I made the decision to actually wear heels to school. What was I thinking?” Two arms snake around my shoulders. “Well, Flower Power, if you’re hurting so bad, how bout we carry you to our car. We can get you home and drive your car for you.” I look at Doug and roll my eyes. “I’ll be fine. It wouldn’t be the first time I drove barefoot. I appreciate the offer boys, but I should probably head home. See you both tomorrow?” They nod and head to their Mustang. I climb into my mystery machine and kick off my shoes, heading home.

[bangtansbun]

Endgame || End This Way

pairing: jeongguk x f. reader

genre: just sad :(

word count: 2,011

warnings: mentions of hypothetical alcohol use, just grab the tissues

a/n: and this is it. the last part (part 19) of past yn and guk. in a way, i feel really sad leaving these sweet babies behind, but there’s so much to come (some good things too!!)

It’s the morning of your graduation ceremony. You knew this day was coming and you should be feeling excited, right?? Finally getting to leave the hell that is high school and move on to bigger and better things. But you’re not excited. You’re not even the tiniest bit happy. The reason being that you won’t be celebrating this momentous day with your best friend and love of your life.

You’d both dreamt of this day. You’d planned to have an innocent sleepover with movies, popcorn, sweets, and maybe the tiniest bit of alcohol mixed in with your soft drink of choice (sprite for you, coke for him) to celebrate. You’d wake up together, not even hungover because neither of you like to go past tipsy, and have a large breakfast courtesy of your wonderful mom. You’d get ready together and then head for the ceremony. It would be long and boring but you two would entertain each other by making faces at one another through the rows of chairs. You’d both have your names called, being handed over that coveted diploma, and the rest of the day would be filled with graduation parties and laughter.

That wouldn’t be the case, though. Instead, you’d woken up alone, sent a text to Guk asking if you’d be able to see him today (even though you knew it would likely go unanswered), and ate your mom’s delicious breakfast sadly. You really weren’t sure if you’d get to talk to him at all today, but you still held out hope.

Your mom helped you get ready for your walk across the stage, but your sadness was palpable. You tried to keep your feelings at bay, though, because you knew this day would be much worse for Guk than it would be for you.

It was three weeks ago that you got the call. It was just past five in the morning, and you knew the saying: bad news was the only news that couldn’t wait until morning. You picked up the phone with dread, already knowing what it would be about.

“She’s gone.”

Within seconds you had leapt out of bed, threw on your hard-sole slippers and went straight to his house. Guk was inconsolable, understandably so. His whole world came to a stop that day and there was nothing you could do to help. Sure, you could be there for him, but that didn’t change the fact that is mom was now gone and his family forever changed.

The funeral was just a few days later, on the weekend and you had never felt so sad in your life. His family was basically like your own. You can’t remember your childhood without his mom in it - always feeding you guys snacks or making you picnics in his back yard. Jeongguk was brave, though. He kept it together for the most part and you had never been so in awe of him. You knew he’d break down later, in the quiet of his bedroom, but for now he needed to be strong for his dad.

To your surprise, Guk asked to stay the night with you that night. He said he couldn’t bear to be in his house after everything that day. People were still there from after the funeral and he just wanted some peace and quiet. The couldn’t stand the thought of having to hear one more “I’m so sorry about your mom” or have to stomach the food provided after the funeral (how could anyone eat after that??). You held him in the dark and he cried into your chest. Long drawn out sobs, the kind that can only come from someone in mourning. The two of you fell asleep in each other’s arms, Guk’s cheeks stained with tears as his breathing evened out. You were glad you could do something, anything for him that night.

When you woke up the next morning he was gone already. He’d left a post-it note on your desk thanking you for the night before, and that was the last you’d heard from him despite your attempts to reach out. You understood for the most part. You couldn’t imagine losing your mom at such an early age and you didn’t want to push him. He needed his time to heal and you’d give him that, save for a few texts here and there just so he knows you’re still thinking about him. Still doesn’t change how much you miss him.

You arrived at school with your family and you felt utterly lost once they left you to find their seats in the audience. You were supposed to be doing this with Guk and now you had to figure it all out on your own. It made you feel sad, but even sadder for him because he’s having to do it all alone too.

You desperately wanted to find him, even if he didn’t respond to your text this morning. You wanted to see him, hold his hand, and have him know you were there even if he tried to distance himself. You knew he didn’t mean to, Guk had always been sensitive and he tended to shutdown when wrought with emotion.  

You showered the crowd of students all in the same outfit. It was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Your head kept whirling around in every direction, searching with no luck to find your love. Did he even come? you thought to yourself. He doesn’t technically have to walk across the stage to graduate. They could just mail his diploma to him. Maybe he just decided not to show up, the event too much for him without his mom to be here. That honestly made a lot of sense to you. You probably wouldn’t have come either if you were in his situation. Unfortunately for you, the announcement was made that you’d have to take your seats before you were able to find him.

You sadly trudged to your spot, but you felt a tiny flicker of happiness when you saw Guk sat in his seat. This was good. You’d easily be able to get to him after the ceremony now that you knew where he was. He turned around in his seat and made eye contact with you. You gave him a wave and a weak smile appeared on his face. He was definitely sad. You could tell that much for sure. All the signs were there in the way his smile was barely there, his eyes not creasing like they normally do, a glassy quality to them now.

The ceremony was long and boring, just as you expected it to be. You were beyond ready when they had gotten through all of the formalities and started actually calling out names.

You’d never yelled louder than you did when they called Jeongguk’s name. Jeon Jeongguk, they announced. He stood proud and tall as he walked across and received his diploma. A firm handshake given to the head of your school and then he took his seat once again as the other students’ names were called.

Soon enough, your own name was called and you felt a wash of overwhelm come over you. High school was over and your life was about to become so different. Again, you were supposed to be happy, but you weren’t prepared  for the future and you certainly weren’t prepared for one without Guk.

The head of your school gave a final speech, you all stood up and cheered, this was it. You quickly made your way to where Guk was seated, hoping he hadn’t already bolted. Amazement written all over your face when you finally spot him.

He saw you, and although you expected him to ignore you and run, he didn’t. He waited patiently for you to make your way through the crowd.

“Hey,” you say to him, feeling unsure of what to say in this moment. You really didn’t care what was said, you just wanted to be with him. “Hi,” he supplies back to you. You both stand there awkwardly for a moment, and then he surprises you by bringing you in for a tight hug. You’re quick to wrap your arms around him. Taking in his clean, fresh linen scent one more time. Wanting to commit it to memory just in case. It takes you a moment to realize he’s started crying, but you just continue to hold him. Soothing circles being rubbed into his back.

“I’m so sorry,” he says to you, his voice sounding wet. You know what he means even without context. He’s apologizing for not answering you back and practically not seeing you at all. “No, don’t be sorry. You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for,” you try to comfort him. Then, “I miss her so much.” That absolutely breaks your heart. Lost for words, you give him a comforting squeeze.

He doesn’t let go for a while, but when he does his face devastates you. You wish you could change everything, take all of the pain away, make everything better. Anything to not have to see him like this. But you know you can’t do that.

“You’re leaving soon aren’t you?” he asks you. You both had to get comfortable with the idea that you wouldn’t be going to college together anymore, therefore seeing less and less of each other. You would be leaving in a week to get settled in your apartment near campus and start your summer job there. You nod your head, not wanting to say a word because that would make it too real. “I don’t want you to leave.” God, you would drop everything for him if you could. You would risk it all for him if it wasn’t for the fact that your parents already took out student loans for you to go to the school of your choice. You feel tears starting to well in your eyes. Your emotions starting to get the better of you. “I’ll visit you as much as you want. Just tell me,” you try to reassure him with a shaky voice. A small smile creeps on to his face at that.

“Will you be able to make it to my graduation party?” You knew he had decided not to have one, but your parents insisted that you did and you hoped he’d come. “I’m not sure, I was thinking of just having a quiet dinner out with my dad. This is hard for him too.” You smile at him in understanding. However, the realization that this might be one of the last times you see him hits you like a truck. “Well, if you need anything tonight, let me know.” He nods at you and brings you in for another hug. You finally let the tears fall and he pulls you tights against him when he realizes you’re crying. Let’s you nuzzle into his chest. He gives a kiss to the top of your head, “I love you.” You sniffle before pulling away from him, “I love you too.” He knows the weight behind this moment just as much as you do, but he knows you have to part ways now, your families waiting for both of you. He gives you another kiss, but to your cheek this time and he walks away. Just like the night he told you about his mom, not looking back because he doesn’t think he’d be able to walk away from you if he saw your face again.

Neither of you wanted it to end this way.

The rest of your day should have been filled with party after graduation party, excitement, and laughter. Instead, it’s filled with fake smiles, moments of crying in the bathroom between saying “hi” to guests, and dread enveloping you as the day comes to an end and you have to start packing up your things. The week would come and go quickly and soon enough you’d be hours away from your hometown and the love of your life. This was it.

taglist: @ggukkieland​ @hecticwonderer​ @kookiepout​ @koochiekoo​ @secretlycrazyhummingbird​ @imluckybitches​ @madaboutjeon​ @mybiasforsure​ @thequeen-kat​ @betysotelo18​ @scentedsope​ @apollukee​ @nightapple4jk​ @xtrataerrestrial​ @peachthi​ @pimpnameyannie​

[nneogram]

think about it — part one. get laid!

pairing: jaehyun x reader (f)

genre: enemies to lovers!au, college!au, fluff

word count: 8.4k

warnings: language, mentions of sex but not really (oc keeps being told to get laid “emotionally” idk), jungwoo gets scolded about the importance of consent, jungwoo’s in a frat but not really but yes really, quick reminiscent phone call w/ bestie jungkook, oc has unhealthy studying habits but dw it gradually gets better from here

a/n: i’ll say it for all of us - FINALLY, an update on here. this is result of my own college shenanigans, stories from my friends, and far too many fantasies whilst in quarantine. jeni needs to lay off the k-dramas, sheesh. i’d also like to note that this is unedited! there may be a few grammar/spelling mistakes.

▸ playlist (to be linked later)

Your roommate claims that you need to, in the simplest terms, “Get laid.” You are vehemently against this proposal, despite her insistence and clarification.

“Emotionally. You need to get laid emotionally, Y/N,” Megan whines. That’s all she can do from where she is sitting, tucked safely away beneath the blankets on her bed. It’s cocoon-like, she’s explained to you before, “like being in the womb.” Safe. Secure. Warm. You think that if that was her cocoon, then Megan would emerge a butterfly. If you were in her place? You would emerge a moth.

“I don’t think any getting laid needs to be done, regardless of if it’s emotional or not.” You take another flashcard from your prepared deck. Strong Acids. HCl, HBr, HI… HClO4? A hiss leaves your lips when you flip the card over to see the answer. You were missing two more acids. You reluctantly place the card into the pile to review again, which sat next to a much smaller pile of correct cards. The goal for the morning was to move all the cards in the “wrong” pile to the “right” pile, but considering the size difference of the two stacks, that goal would not be achieved.

Megan’s sigh pulls you from your focus. “Dude. Do you see yourself right now? I don’t think I’ve seen you doing anything other than studying for the past two weeks. I’m going to ace this chem midterm and I’m not even in chem. I’m not even a STEM major.”

You frown. “Sorry. Was I being too loud? I can go-”

“No, don’t worry about me. This is about you. I’m concerned for you - you’ve been cooped up more these two weeks than you were in the entirety of fall quarter. Have you taken a break recently?”

“I slept for eight hours straight, I think that’s a good enough break?”

“No, like a real break. Away from studies and school and just doing something… I dunno, fun?”

You shake your head. The past few weeks had been nothing but relentless studying. In an effort to maintain your pristine GPA, you shoved aside what little downtime you allotted yourself in fall quarter to focus on school. It was the least you could do, considering that you were on track to apply to medical school at the end of your undergraduate career. You were only in your first year, so all of the other requirements for med school - clinic, shadowing, research, the works - were inapplicable for the time being. There wasn’t much to get you ahead other than your 4.0.

Megan knows this, but she also knows that you have little to no social life outside of the bare minimum. It’s an unspoken truth that the two of you being assigned as roommates was a blessing in disguise: your studious tendencies help motivate Megan to stay on task while Megan’s more laidback nature reminds you to take a breather sometimes. 

This was one of those times.

“I’m telling you,” Megan crawls over to the edge of her bed to get closer, “You should relax a bit. Just a teeny, tiny bit. Have some fun, live out your first year of college! Make some art, go to the gym, I dunno, step out of your comfort zone. Get laid!”

“You say that last one as if talking from experience,” you tease. 

What was the charge on sulfide again? Fuck, it was two minus. Another card goes into the “wrong” pile.

Megan scoffs. “Please. I’ve only ever had one boyfriend, and that was in middle school. The most we did was hold hands. Besides, we don’t need men… I just want one.” She mumbles this last part as an afterthought before returning her focus to you. “I think getting a boyfriend would be a great distraction for you.”

You gawk at your roommate, eyes flitting from her to your toppling stack of incorrectly answered cards and back to her. “Do you see this? I don’t need any distractions right now.”

“No, no, I - fuck. I got that all wrong, didn’t I.” Megan facepalms. “What I mean is maybe you should befriend some people, or find some kind of emotional outlet. As much as I pride myself on being your source of positivity, I’m not around all the time to tell you to take a break and relax. You tend to be hard on yourself, y’know?”

Your gaze once again travels to your flashcards, their amount of use prominent in the worn-down corners and smudged ink. “I guess…”

There’s a smile of satisfaction on Megan’s face. “Think about it,” she concludes, then crawls back to her cocoon of blankets to take a nap.

--

The gloom of the rainy weather hits most forcefully in January. With the merriment of the holiday season behind you, it seems there is nothing ahead but cold, and rain, and emptiness. Only so many mugs of hot chocolate could keep your heart warm, and it wasn’t even the good type of hot chocolate - it was the powdery stuff that you mixed in with your lukewarm water because the water kettle you brought with you to the dorm was buggy and never fully heated up a pot of water. 

Yeah, you could buy yourself a cup of cocoa from the coffee shop on campus, but as the college kid stereotype proved, you were broke. So you settle for your half-assed attempt at a comfort drink, taking extra effort to stir the dregs that tend to settle at the bottom of your styrofoam cup.

“So you need to get laid?” Jungkook’s voice crackles over the phone.

You sigh. For getting into one of the most prestigious universities in the country, Jungkook lacked the ability to draw proper conclusions from given information. He clearly hadn’t paid attention to your five minute spiel on your deteriorating motivation for life and your roommate’s unusual suggestion. “No,” you begin slowly, because if you didn’t control yourself you were going to get annoyed quickly, “I do not need to get laid.”

It’s dusk, around that time of the evening where the world slows down as the sky is painted a myriad of pinks, purples, and oranges. Even in January the sunsets in your college town never failed to astonish you. However, it’s also the time of the day when loneliness hits you most, and for a fraction of a moment you get homesick and usually end up calling someone from home. In this case, you end up contacting a close friend - though you’re beginning to question Jungkook’s title as a close friend, considering he completely missed the point of your rant.

“Well it sure sounds like it,” Jungkook refutes. There’s a loud crunching noise on the other end of the call, and you have to bring the phone away from your ear as the crackling continues. You know for a fact that Jungkook has bitten into a chip, most likely the barbecue ones he always had on hand. The audacity to snack on junk food in the middle of a conversation about your existential crisis - you sometimes wonder how you and Jungkook became friends in high school. 

Then again, you were on the other end slurping the remnants of your hot cocoa. Maybe there was something going for the two of you.

“Think about it.” You’re reminded of that afternoon when Megan said the exact same thing. “You’re unmotivated. Why? Because you’re lonely. How do we fix that? You need to get laid-”

“-Emotionally. Emotionally laid-”

“-Yeah yeah, same difference. They go hand in hand,” Jungkook brushes off. “The point still stands. When was the last time you were in a relationship?”

You hesitate to answer. “I’ve never been in a relationship,” you mumble.

“I couldn’t hear you. What?”

“I said I’ve never been in a relationship,” you repeat with a sigh.

There’s a beat of silence. “You’re kidding.”

You shake your head, momentarily forgetting this is a phone call and not an in-person conversation where Jungkook can see you. Students begin to flood the sidewalks outside of the dorms, likely the last wave of students returning for their later classes. A girl - Megan, you realize after squinting - waves at you from across the street. You wave back, gesturing to her that you’re on a call. She nods and goes on her way to the dorm. 

You return your focus to the call. “No, not kidding.”

“I’m taking that lapse of silence as you actually having to think about it.” You roll your eyes, another gesture that Jungkook cannot see. “How? You’re telling me all four years of high school you never got with someone? Not even a fling? Not even that weird ‘talking’ phase kids do these days? What have you been doing all this time?”

Your mind immediately goes back to your high school graduation. “Valedictorian, weighted GPA of 4.8, Y/N Y/L/N, attending…” You remember the smile on your face as the principal handed you your diploma. You remember the smiles on your parents’ faces, the pride and joy in their eyes. That was when you knew it had all been worth it - no one but you, your parents, and your own pure ambition fueling your fire for the four years of high school.

Maybe the closest you got to any sort of romantic relationship was… with Jungkook.

You liked Jungkook before your brain could fully process it, denying it as platonic affection for the better half of three years as he took you under his wing your freshman year. It was comforting to have someone older than you help you navigate high school, but as much as you tried you could not view Jungkook as an older brother as he so claimed to be.

Of course, nothing was ever to happen. Jeon Jungkook was a boy entirely out of your league - star student, star athlete, poster child for all things good and right in the world - but most importantly, he was your closest friend. It was this label that helped set a boundary for your affections, and your crush became more of a pastime to delve into when you wanted a break from your studies. A fantasy that would never come true.

It wasn’t until he moved away for college your senior year that your crush subsided, hitting you like some sort of epiphany when he returned for his winter break. You had been beyond elated to reunite with your friend, but when you looked in his eyes it dawned on you that the weight of his words and actions no longer affected you as much as they did in the past.

That was your only stint with romance, and you were fine with it staying that way. Yeah, it was a fruitless endeavor, but look what you got out of it: a great friend! And only at the price of three years of unnecessary emotional turmoil and relentless unrequited pining. What a bargain.

“I’ve been busy with school, mainly.” It’s an insufficient summation of your high school experience, but it got the point across. Technically, it wasn’t a lie.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of you and all - and I respect your decision to be single! Human rights and all that - but maybe it’s time for you to get into a relationship.”

You snap your fingers loudly enough to startle a group of guys walking past. You hope the grimace on your face is enough of an apology. “Oh my God, thanks Jungkook! Now that you mention it, let me just hit up one of the many young eligible bachelors pining over me, because there are so many right now.”

The feigned enthusiasm in your voice does not entertain Jungkook as much as you would have liked it to. “I’m sure there are, Y/N. There were plenty in high school.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” The playful smile you sport falls from your lips as he proceeds to dive into a list of names. 

“The one guy with the yellow hair… Yugyeom thought you were cute… Oh, Taehyung liked you too-”

“-Taehyung?” You gawk. “The Kim Taehyung. The guy two years older than you, editor of the yearbook and captain of the lacrosse team? The Kim Taehyung who was Prom King. Him?” It’s difficult to process a senior that you had regarded so highly had taken  interest in you in your lowly freshman year.

“Yeah, I know, right? I told him he was out of your league-”

“-Hey!”

“-But I said that out of jealousy. Heck, even I liked you at some point, Y/N. You’re quite a catch, just super oblivious.”

The reminder of your phone call with Jungkook consists of your disbelieving laughs and Jungkook’s reassurances that yes, that many people liked you in high school.

“I’m sure there’s plenty of people interested in you. You just have to see it for yourself first.” Oddly prophetic for someone who claims he could survive solely off of energy drinks and barbecue chips, but considering he was studying at an Ivy League, he had to have some credibility. You end the phone call possibly more confused than you had been before the conversation. Swirling the contents of your cup absentmindedly, you realize you’ve drunk all of your hot cocoa. All that is left at the bottom of your cup are the clumps of cocoa powder that hadn’t been properly stirred. The dregs. Of course.

You relay your findings to Megan the next day over a lunch of poorly cooked rice and under seasoned chicken. “Food crafted by the gods to remind us of our inferiority,” as Megan liked to call it.

She claps her hands like a seal. “So I was right!” She cheers over a mouthful of food. “You need to get laid!”

You’re a bit too late to cover her mouth, her ambiguous words now out in the open for others nearby to hear and assume the wrong thing. Glancing around, you’re relieved to find that no one seemed to notice, save for one boy at a nearby table surrounded by some of his friends. He gives you a look but you refrain from making eye contact.

“I feel like you and I heard different stories just now.” You keep your voice down. “Meg, I just found out my high school crush - debatably, my first love - liked me at some point when I liked him. Do you know how big that is?”

“Do you know how big that isn’t?” Megan shoots back. “Because nothing came out of it. You never acted on your feelings. And something tells me that even if this John Cook-”

“-His name is Jungkook, but okay-”

“-Even if he had acted on his feelings, you would never believe it.” Ouch. She really went for your lack of self-esteem right there, and that shit hurted. Regardless, she’s right, and you both know it.

“You know when we say this, we’re not trying to force you into anything you don’t want to do,” Megan clarifies. “I’m not saying you should get dicked down by the first guy who gives you attention, but wouldn’t it be nice to let someone - someone who genuinely cares for you - to let them into that dark and twisty mind of yours? God knows what’s going on up there.” She gestures to your forehead with her spoon.

Brushing aside Megan’s crude wording near the beginning, you’re at a loss for words. Unsure of how to respond, you mumble, “But there’s no one like that in my life. Other than you, that is.”

“Because you never let anyone close enough to truly know you. Just…” she pops another spoonful of rice into her mouth, “Just think about it.”

-- 

D-1 until your midterm. Nomenclature and ionic charges are now extremely familiar to you, having taken the spot from Megan as Number One Friend. And yet, you still haven’t successfully completed your flashcards.

Strong Acids. You suck in a deep breath, swerving in between groups of people as you make your way to the cafe. Walking quickly with your head down as the sure fire way of getting to any destination as quickly as possible. Okay Y/N, you got this… HCl, HBr, HI, HClO4… HNO3? You flip the card over and hiss. You were missing one more response. You truly hated it here.

The cafe is bustling with students on their laptops and scribbling away in notebooks, all likely studying for their respective exams. The scent of freshly ground coffee beans pervades the entirety of the interior, drawing you further inward until you’re standing at the cashier. 

“One tall vanilla latte, please.” You hand the girl behind the counter your money and stand aside to let the next person in line order. Once your order is called, you grab your drink - Ah, nothing like a fresh cup of capitalism to revitalize your motivation to study - and search for a place to sit. As if by the grace of God, someone leaves their seat at the barstools just as you turn around. Beautiful.

“Excuse me,” you tap the shoulder of one of the people next to the open seat. “Is this seat taken?” He shakes his head no, and you take that as your signal to sit.

You find yourself sandwiched between two young men, each immersed in their own studies. The one to your right, the one you had talked to briefly, appears to want no further interruptions, both earbuds in his ears. The one to your left never turned around to begin with, head down as he types away at his laptop. All you can make out are his broad shoulders in a brown leather jacket and a mop of strawberry blond hair. An interesting choice of hair color, but you weren’t one to judge. He’s nodding his head to some tune, and it’s only then you realize he has one earbud in. You wonder what kind of music a cute man like himself would listen to -

Get a hold of yourself, Y/N, you chastise yourself for showing sudden interest in a complete stranger. The day before your midterm at that - there was no space in your head for an unknown young man who was probably good looking, too - No! Focus. Flashcards. You fumble in your jacket pocket for your index cards.

Chemistry nomenclature, round fifty-six.

As you’re reviewing, you overhear the conversation proceeding next you with the cute guy and a girl. “Excuse me, is this seat taken?” The familiar words make you think of mere moments before when you were asking the same thing.

“It isn’t, but… you can’t sit there.”

Huh? 

“I’m sorry?” The girl seems to mirror your confusion.

“You can’t sit here. I’m sorry.”

“But someone else can?”

Your flashcards go ignored as you choose to eavesdrop on the full conversation. The man stalls, looking at the girl up and down. “... Yeah, maybe.”

Trying your best to not draw attention to yourself, you turn your head in slow, languid movements to look around. Was anyone else seeing this? Hearing this? Were you the next unsuspecting victim on an episode of What Would You Do? You were half expecting a game show host to step out and introduce himself at any moment. Y/N, you’ve just been Punk’d! 

Unfortunately (or fortunately, you couldn’t decide which scenario was better), no game show host steps out from behind a curtain, and it sinks in that this guy wasn’t joking. He was intent on not letting this girl sit next to him.

“Look,” the girl runs a hand through her hair, a habit of frustration, maybe. “I really need a place to sit and work on things, and this seat is open. That, and it’s a public space. So if you’ll excuse me-”

The young man easily lifts his backpack from his chair with one hand and places it in the open seat. “There. It’s taken now. Sorry.”

The girl’s eyes widen, and you can only imagine what your face looks like right now. You’re in just as much shock as she is. 

You scoff, and this time you don’t care if he hears. And he does: the stranger finally turns around in his seat to reveal an extremely attractive face. Chiseled jawline, deep brooding eyes, dimples even when he was scowling. You freeze and your breath hitches in your throat. It’s a shame he had to go and open his mouth.

“Excuse me,” you cut in sweetly, making a point to only make eye contact with the girl. “You can sit here. I’m about to leave.”

The girl’s eyes go wide at the addition of a third party. “Oh, no, you don’t have to! Thank you so much though.”

You shove your flashcards into your backpack and stand up from the seat. “No no, I insist, it’s fine. Besides, I didn’t want to sit there anymore.” Only then do you shoot a glare at the young man. “I couldn’t focus.”

Judging by the way the girl eyes the strawberry blond next to you, you think she doesn’t want to sit there anymore, either. Nevertheless, a seat was a seat. She thanks you profusely and you head out the doors and down the path to return to the dorms. 

Naturally your mind drifts back to the stranger. Who was he to have so much pride as to deny a seat to someone he didn’t know? A seat that wasn’t his, either? The thought that people like him exist irks you.

He was so good-looking, too, your subconscious proceeds to remind you. 

But alas, a jerk was a jerk, and at the end of the day you had far more important things to worry about than an indecent stranger whom you doubt you would see again. More important things such as -

Your phone rings with an alarm notifying you of your next scheduled event: Final Review B4 Exam! You sigh. Looks like it was back to the books (and flashcards) for you for the rest of the night.

It doesn’t hit you until you crash land into your desk chair: in your anger-fueled exit from the cafe, you had completely forgotten your barely touched vanilla latte sitting at the barstool counter. At this point you’re ready to tear your hair out at the roots. You’re five dollars and one fresh cup of caffeinated capitalism short for the night’s study session. You really hated it here.

If Megan were here, she would whip you into shape real fast, shouting at you that you’re a “Bad Bitch!” or some other expletive motivation that would comfort you. Except Megan isn’t here, attending some kind of club meeting, leaving you alone in the dorm. Another sigh escapes your lips and you tilt your head back to stare at the ceiling. 

Maybe, just maybe, you needed to follow through on this whole “getting emotionally laid” thing.

--

The midterm you had so diligently studied for was a success. Inorganic Chemistry A5 didn’t know what was coming when you rolled up with your beloved flashcards - all successfully completed, mind you - ready to fight. Needless to say you were able to enter the weekend with no qualms. You now had much needed time to recuperate and as Megan had said before, to “take a break” (among other things you were not going to address anytime soon). 

Some students recovered from the trauma of frequent exams via partying, deciding it was better to be under the influence in order to get over their academic standing. Some would meet up with their friends, maybe gossip about the latest episode of the hottest reality TV show. In your case, you decide to binge watch as many k-dramas as humanly possible. While you preferably do so in the comfort of your bed, tonight Megan has taken authoritative control over the dorm room. Meaning, she had a psychology midterm the following Monday and needed to be able to focus on nothing but the role of the amygdala without the OST of whatever drama you were watching in the background. You know for a fact if you were in the room minding your own business Megan would ultimately get distracted and join you in your k-drama marathon. Thus you are thrown to the streets with nothing but the clothes on your back and your belongings stuffed into your backpack.

You take extra care to avoid the puddles forming on the sidewalks, the result of on and off rain throughout the day. There are noticeably less people outside, and you have a feeling that any building you choose to house yourself in will be quite the opposite, likely packed with students. 

After milling about campus for a few minutes, you finally settle down in the Student Community Center - a fancy name for yet another building on campus where students could lounge about and study slash socialize. As predicted, there are significantly more people crowded in the lobby area of the two-story building. Your boots squeak against the tiled floor as you make your way down an inconspicuous hallway. Tile turns to carpeting when you step into an almost empty study room. Only a handful of people are present in the room, scattered across the tables and couches. No one ever bothered to check the rooms at the very ends of the hallways - only those more dedicated to being unbothered ever made it that far - and you were grateful for this as you settled down at one of the open couches.

Hotel Del Luna is the show of choice for the evening, and you cuddle up to the armrest of the couch as you press Play. You had watched this one before, having been forced to do so with Jungkook at its release. Curse him and his admiration for IU - some of the ghost scenes kept you up at night the weeks after watching. You much preferred the more lighthearted slice-of-life k-dramas, but following your phone call with Jungkook you were drawn to the darker show. Call it nostalgia, call it an attempt to relive the happy memories of the past, call it denial of reality, whatever.

You’re two hours into your binge watch when you notice an unfamiliar presence at your side. A boy, and a breathtaking one at that. When he had joined you, you’re not sure, but you catch him glancing at your laptop screen every so often. He doesn’t stick out too much, black hair hidden beneath a black baseball cap and similarly monotone attire with a black hoodie that was definitely way too big for him. Yet no amount of nondescript clothing could cover up his impeccable bone structure. This man had a jawline and a nose bridge that were to die for, and although you haven’t made eye contact with the stranger you’re already feeling self-conscious. There’s no way in hell you’re initiating any sort of interaction with him.

But there’s no need to worry, because the stranger does it for you.

You’re on episode three when there’s a gasp from beside you. “Lee Jun-Ki!” You crane your neck to see the stranger leaning over to watch your laptop screen. The work in front of him - whatever that mess of hieroglyphs and symbols was - is completely forgotten as he scoots closer. 

It’s not until you lean a bit away from him that he realizes his actions. “Oh, sorry. I kinda needed a break from studying or else I was gonna lose it.” His ears turn a bright pink as he explains himself. “Is it okay if I watch with you?”

“Uh…” Now that your full attention is on him, you give the stranger a proper glance-over. He was indeed studying, some sort of language of shapes and numbers that was foreign to you sprawled across his notebook in a variety of colors. Other than the all black attire (which was reasonable for college - wasn’t everyone attending their own funeral during exams season?), he didn’t look too shady… “Sure.”

“Sweet.” He extends a hand to you, pulling back the ginormous sleeve that threatens to hang over his fingers. “My name’s Jungwoo.”

You tentatively take his hand. “Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you Y/N. Are you a first year?”

You nod your head, and Jungwoo smiles. “Cool. Me too.” He moves back to his side of the couch, but quickly scoots back to sit directly beside you after he has shoved all of his work into his backpack. He settles beside you on the couch, slouching down similarly to you. “Alright, let’s do this.”

You crack a smile at the boy’s unabashed boldness. He immerses himself in the episode alongside you, clear adoration in his eyes whenever IU makes an appearance on screen. “You like IU, I take it?”

Jungwoo shakes his head. “Not half as much as one of my friends. He idolizes her. I just... look at her very respectfully.”

“Me too, actually,” you confess. “My friend forced me to watch with him. I usually watch happier things. My favorite is Weightlifting Fairy.”

Jungwoo’s eyes go wide. “I love Weightlifting Fairy!” His theatrical gasp attracts the attention of the few students nearby. This newfound information seems to make something click in Jungwoo’s head, because he wiggles all the more closer to you. “You’re quickly becoming my best friend, Y/N.”

“I’m a friend?” 

“Duh. This was established when you didn’t run away from me in fear when I was quite literally looking over your shoulder. And that’s happened before with other people. Twice.” He seems to feel the need to add in the last few details, much to your amusement. “Now shush. Lemme admire IU in peace.”

--

That interaction with Jungwoo is only the first of many, many more. While you’re the type to keep to yourself and not approach others, Jungwoo was the opposite. You’re only a bit surprised when he yells out your name from across the street a few days later, sprinting towards you with unbridled excitement on his face. The last time someone was that happy to see you was when your dog greeted you after returning home for the holidays.

“Good morning, Y/N! Where you headed? I have Material Sciences in an hour. I got time, so I’ll walk with you wherever you’re going!”

Much like your first encounter, you agree with some hesitance. Jungwoo seemed to not have a bad bone in his body, no ill intentions whatsoever. It was refreshing to be in the presence of someone who wasn’t already jaded by the world. 

As promised, Jungwoo walks with you to your destination, the coffeeshop, even waiting with you in the insufferably long line. You find out that Jungwoo is the same age as you, a Mechanical Engineering major, and is a part of some sort of club that allowed him to connect with upperclassmen of different majors but with similar interests.

“It’s called Nu Kappa Tau, everyone there’s really nice! I’ll bring you with me to the next social event.”

“Nu Kappa Tau?” You test out the syllables on your tongue. “Greek? Are you in... a fraternity?”

Your tone of voice insinuates something bad, and the way Jungwoo reacts quickly tells you he has a similar stance on the Greek life in college. That similar stance being that frat boys were vermin. “No, no no no no. It’s Greek, yes, but we are definitely not a fraternity. It’s more like… a social, cultural, and academic club?”

“Jungwoo. That’s exactly what a fraternity would say to make it seem like it’s not a fraternity.”

“Okay, but in this case we’re actually not a fraternity, I promise.” He tugs on your shirt sleeve and looks at you with pleading eyes. “You should come with me to the next event. It’ll be fun, and I’ll prove to you it’s not a fraternity. Please?”

You remain silent, eyes turning to the coffeshop’s menu. Even when your gaze is somewhere else you can sense the way Jungwoo is staring you down with those puppy dog eyes of his. This was what, the second time you were talking to him, and already he wanted to go to a social event with you? “I don’t know. You’re nice and all, but I’m not the type to warm up to people easily. I’ll have to hang out with you more first. No offense.”

Most people cower at your denials, retreat to more comfortable territory where there’s no fear of rejection. Jungwoo, however, beams at you. “None taken, Miss Y/N. You know why?” He pauses for dramatic effect, quirking an eyebrow in mischief. “Because that wasn’t a no.”

A few people in line crane their necks to peer at the two of you as a resonant smack rings out in the coffeeshop. 

“Ow - Y/N - Ow!” Jungwoo rubs at his upper arm. You know you didn’t hit him hard enough to elicit this sort of dramatic reaction, but it’s what he deserves. 

“You can’t use that logic, Jungwoo,” you scold, bag poised in the air ready for another attack. “The only means of consent is a yes. Say it with me. The only means of consent is a-”

“-Yes, yes, okay! I got it, I’m sorry. I sincerely apologize.”

--

Fast forward two weeks later, and you know Jungwoo a bit too well for your liking. Following your rejection of his offer, Jungwoo goes ahead and makes it a point to see you for at least an hour a day, weekends included, in order for you to “warm up to him.” Some days, it’s lunch shared in the cafeteria between classes. Other days it’s hours upon hours of studying together in the back of the library, you and Jungwoo taking shifts napping while the other crams for their classes. 

He forces - “heavily insists” - you to share your location with him on your phones, so it’s of no surprise to you when he starts showing up outside of your lecture halls after class. It’s when he’s walking you back from your last class of the day that you find that he lives a floor above you in the same building. Of course.

Dare you say it, it’s easy having Jungwoo in your life. He walks with you everywhere, always initiates conversation, and eats as many meals as possible with you - or as many as Megan allows. 

“Hey Y/N,” your roommate greets you with a warm smile which quickly turns into a steely glare when he acknowledges the young man standing by your side. “Ahem. Jungwoo.” 

If Jungwoo was a legitimate candidate for your mission of “getting laid,” Megan would be ecstatic. However, you explain to her that Jungwoo is nothing more than a friend, and suddenly Megan thinks he’s out to take her spot as Y/N’s Best Friend (insert trademark emoji here). 

“Megan, always a pleasure,” Jungwoo croons. If he’s perturbed by your roommate’s aloof greeting, he doesn’t show it, a smile growing on his face. Jungwoo turns to you. “See you at nine?”

You nod. “See you at nine. Bye.”

“Bye.” Jungwoo waves then walks down the hallway to the stairs. You wait until he’s out of sight to turn back to Megan, who has one eyebrow raised.

“What’s going on at nine?” She questions.

A defeated grin makes its way onto your lips. As much as you had been dreading what was to come, you couldn’t deny the excitement building up within you at the thought of something… new, for once in your life. “I’m going to my first party.”

--

Jungwoo, as promised, picks you up from your dorm room later that evening. He texts you an ominous message of i’m outside ur dorm lol for you to find him in the driver’s seat of a car far too expensive for any broke college student to own.

Hesitantly, you hop into the passenger seat and gingerly close the door. You’re not sure who he borrowed this from - or maybe it was a rental? - but you wanted to make sure you took no part in any damage fees he’d pay later. “I thought first years couldn’t have cars on campus.”

“I know. I’m a rule breaker, Y/N. I can’t be stopped… And maybe I borrowed it from a friend.”

Jungwoo insists on manning the aux, which you oblige to as you don’t trust your music taste to be liked by others. Something about the artist name Sergio Rachmaninov didn’t always hit well with the young folk these days. The queue starts up as he pulls out of the parking lot, a bass-boosted R&B song filling the expanse of the lush interior. 

“I’m going to warn you, this music queue is all over the place.” All over the place is correct, because after the R&B song finishes a ballad comes on, followed promptly by the song “Good Time” by Owl City. It’s a good song, a tolerable one, but after the second run, and third run, and even a fourth run you can’t help but wonder if the queue is glitching.

“Jungwoo.” He grunts in response. “Did you mean to put this song on loop?”

He shrugs. “What can I say? It helps me focus.”

You’re really questioning the sanity of the man behind the wheel.

Four and a half plays of “Good Time” (or fifteen minutes) later, you and Jungwoo arrive at your destination.

You audibly gulp. “Jungwoo. You are so in a frat.”

“No I’m not!” The man whines. “I swear!”

You and Jungwoo must not be looking at the same house, because the one you’re looking at is nothing less than a mansion: two stories, covering a wide expanse of vivid green lawn, with pillars on either side of the double-door front entry. Windows line the top and bottom floors, and hedges line the cobblestone walkway in the front. It looks like something out of a Southern period drama with the Victorian, colonial style architecture.

“You sure?” You can’t break your gaze away from the three enormous Greek letters placed above the entryway. “‘Cause no normal house emblazons the symbols of their group name across the front like that.”

As soon as you step foot in the door, you regret your decision to come. “Kim, I think I left something in the car-” 

You’re rudely interrupted by Jungwoo swinging an arm over your shoulder a bit too harshly. 

“Relax,” he reassures you. “My friends don’t bite. Only I do that.” You’re given no time to question that statement before he leads you further into the house.

If there’s one thing you can count on with Jungwoo, it’s his ability to socialize. It seems he knows everyone in the house, proven to you by the way he either nods his head or does a handshake with every individual present. He leads you to the kitchen where two guys are conversing, one looking like an overgrown man child and the other looking like… well, an actual child.

“Hey, look who finally decided to show up,” the much taller boy croons. “And he brought a friend.”

“Johnny, this is Y/N. Y/N, Johnny. He’s in his fourth year.” You shake hands with Johnny, who grins at you. He seems nice, other than the fact that he continues to stare at you through the duration of the handshake. Perplexed, you refuse to break his gaze.

Johnny is the first to look away, turning immediately to Jungwoo. “Oh, I like her. No one has yet to win my staring contest this year, other than you, Y/N. Congratulations.”

You force a laugh. “Thanks?”

Jungwoo steers you to the second boy, this one noticeably shorter - or was he still tall? Anyone standing next to Johnny seemed to be dwarfed in his presence - with dyed blond hair. He has a cap over his head and circle glasses, and you can’t help but think he looks awfully young to be at a frat-but-not-really house party.

“And this is Mark. He’s a fellow first year, but he’s our baby.” Jungwoo coos the last word, making Mark huff. Lowering his voice to a stage whisper, Jungwoo explains, “He was born in 1999, so we have a good year on him.”

You click your tongue. Ah, that explains why he looks so young. You deem Mark to be far more approachable than Johnny and shake the young boy’s hand eagerly.

“Where’s Peaches?” Jungwoo asks Johnny. The older boy shrugs. 

“I dunno. Not my problem.”

“Oh, I don’t think Jaehyun’s coming,” Mark cuts in. “Texted me saying something came up. Something about a paper due. Wait. Didn’t you take his car?” He points to Jungwoo, who shrugs with a look of Whoops, sorry on his face.

Johnny groans. “Oh, shoot. That’s right. We have a paper due tomorrow morning.” As quickly as the realization hits him, the worry is gone. “Eh. It’ll be fine.”

The three boys converse a bit longer, exchanging pleasantries and whatnot, before you and Jungwoo make your departure. The most that comes out of your mouth are feeble courtesy laughs and the occasional sarcastic quip to keep Jungwoo’s chaotic energy at bay. You wait until Jungwoo’s led you away to voice your thoughts. “What kind of name is Peaches?” You repeat.

“Right. One of the upperclassmen got the nickname because he smelled like them his first day of recruitment. Apparently he lives near a peach tree orchard or something. Therefore, he’s Peach Boy.”

You make a mental note of the phrase recruitment your friend uses. One day, you’ll compile a long enough list of evidence proving Nu Kappa Tau was a frat, and the word recruitment was one of them. “So what’s your nickname then?”

“Me? I’m not technically initiated yet,” - did this man use the word initiated? Yet another piece of evidence for the fraternity agenda - “but if I had to choose…” Jungwoo pauses and drums his fingers against his chin. “I’m Cheese Boy.”

You pause, letting his name sink in. The laughter bubbles up within you, threatening to spill out in a snort. It instead comes out as a strong exhale through your nose.

“Whatever, Cheese Boy,” you tease. “How much longer until I can go home?”

--

The next time you see the boys of Nu Kappa Tau is when Jungwoo drags you to yet another one of their events but a few days later. “This one’s right up your alley,” he insists. He also bribes you with the promise of buying your lunch, and the kabob food truck was on campus today, meaning you were eating well this afternoon. Making an appearance at his frat was but a small price to pay for your beloved meal of choice.

Jungwoo’s right - this event is up your alley, because you recognize the route he takes across campus. “The library?”

He nods. “NKT Study Hall.”

As you enter the building Jungwoo pulls you down an unfamiliar corridor then up a flight of stairs. An unspoken farewell is bid to your usual study spot by the second floor window as you continue up, up, up, until finally stopping at the fifth floor where no more stairs remain. You didn’t realize the library went up that high, and you probably frequented the building more than all of the boys combined - not that you knew any of the Kappa Tau boys yet.

Though they do look extremely threatening now that you’re standing in front of them.

Jungwoo brings you to stand in front of him. “Men and Mark Lee-” (“Hey!” Mark complains,) “-I introduce to you my partner in crime, Y/N.”

You give a feeble smile to the young men surrounding the table. You recognize a few of them from the party, Johnny and Mark being the only ones you can put a name to. The two wave to you and you feel a little more welcomed. Aside from the duo, everyone else is unfamiliar, giving you emotionless head nods and scowls.

“Y/N, you know Johnny and Mark, over there’s Lucas, and that’s Sicheng.” You nod at the two of them, who seem nice enough. The latter actually gives you a soft smile, so you consider that a win in your book. “And over at that table is Doyoung, Ten… You know what? I’ll just introduce you to everyone later. Have a seat.”

You trust your friend to guide you to the safest open seat, directly across from another empty chair at one end of the long table. Immediately you pull out your biology notebook and pens, hunkering down and getting to work without further notice. If you couldn’t feel welcomed by the boys at the table, you could at least get some decent studying done. You felt far more familiar with the speciation concepts in front of you than the actual human beings next to you. You allow your head to burrow itself closer to your notebook, dwelling in this small comfort in an environment of unfamiliarities.

The moment of peace doesn’t last long.

“Peaches!” Johnny’s bellowing voice makes you jump in your seat, your beloved biology notes neglected.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” Huh. You’ve heard that voice before. You can’t place where you know it from, but it causes a sneer to form on your face. Glancing up from your notes you can’t help the strangled gasp that leaves your lips.

It’s him. You’d recognize that faded pink hair and smugly complacent upturn of lips anywhere. That, and he’s holding a coffee cup that violently catapults you back to the incident from a few weeks ago in the coffee shop. You left your perfectly good vanilla latte behind because he made you mad, that jerk.

“Oh, Jaehyun.” Jungwoo leads the man to the open seat across from you. Pointing to you, he says, “This is Peaches - I mean, Jaehyun. Jaehyun, this is-”

“-Y/N, right?” Jaehyun interrupts with a grin. You lower your eyes at the dimple that forms when he smiles. “I believe we’ve met before.”

Jungwoo looks from your displeased state to Jaehyun’s smug smirk. “Uh, okay. Cool. Well then. I’m gonna go ahead and grab lunch, I’ll be right back.” You watch as Jungwoo beckons Johnny and Mark to join him, the only three familiar faces present at the table now leaving.

Jaehyun leans back in his chair, arms moving to rest behind his head. “Looks like it’s just the two of us.”

You weigh your options. You could recognize that the two of you have indeed met before, and try to get past your differences. Or, you could refuse to acknowledge Jaehyun’s presence a mere few feet across from you at the table and try your best to study until Jungwoo returned with your food, at which point you would then flee the scene as fast as your non-athlete self could. Only one of these outcomes enticed you, and it wasn’t the one that involved talking. 

“So, Y/N,” Jaehyun leans forward. The width of the table is enough to keep him at a safe distance from you, yet he’s still close enough to invade your personal space somehow. It’s suffocating, how whatever musky cologne he’s wearing wafts over to you - he smells nothing like peaches. “How’s your day been?”

“Fine.” You keep your eyes glued to your biology notes. Allopatric Speciation occurs when two populations of the same species become isolated from one another due to-

“Aw, just fine? That’s it?” His voice is low. With Jungwoo, Johnny, and Mark out getting food, you’ve been isolated at one end of the table with Jaehyun. Lucas and Sicheng are present as well, but both seem to be deeply immersed in their own studies. It’s just the two of you.

“Yep.” Allopatric Speciation occurs when two populations of the same species-

“C’mon, I’m sure someone like you has had at least one interesting thing happen today.”

Allopatric Speciation occurs when - Someone like you? What was that supposed to mean? You sigh, but refuse to look up from your notes. Allopatric Speciation-

“Are you a first year? I took that class last year. If you ever want notes or something-” Jaehyun jumps a little when you slam the notebook shut. Good. Serves him right.

“I don’t like you, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun tilts his head, a smirk tugging at the end of his lips. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough.”

He leans in by resting his forearms on the table, leveling his gaze with yours. “I don’t think you do.”

“You know what I think? I think you’re distracting me.”

Jungwoo comes back at the most opportune time, wielding a kabob skewer in each hand - one untouched and the other halfway eaten. “One chicken kabob for Y/N.”

Deeming the conversation with Jaehyun at its end, you stand up from your seat and grab your backpack from the table. Jaehyun fixes you with an intense gaze but remains silent. Whether he was sizing you up or not you didn’t care.

The tension is palpable at the table, and Jungwoo clears his throat. “Did I interrupt something?” 

“No,” you respond quickly. Grabbing your food from Jungwoo, you give him an apologetic smile. “Something came up. I gotta go. Sorry, Kim. See you tomorrow?”

You despise this man. You don’t even know Jaehyun - he is nothing but a familiar stranger - but you despise him. Him and his ethereal appearance. Why were the terrible ones always the ones blessed with above average looks? Why’d he have to open his mouth?

“Wait.” You do not, in fact, wait, but instead continue marching forward. It’s not until the figure stands right in front of you do you stop. It’s Jaehyun. Holding your biology notebook in the air. “Don’t want to leave anything behind. Like last time, right?”

The last few words out of his mouth have your blood boiling and your fists clenching at your sides. That explained the foreign lightness of the bag on your shoulder.

“Oh, right, the vanilla latte.” You fake a cordial laugh. “You mean the time I was so desperate to get away from your insufferable presence that I left behind a perfectly good coffee? The time when you treated that girl as if she wasn’t a human being? That time you couldn’t be a decent enough human being that you were that disrespectful to someone you didn’t even know?” 

Jaehyun stands before you with an astonished smile and a hand frozen in the air. You pluck the notebook out of his grasp and stride away before he has a chance to respond.

“I’ll see you around, Y/N,” Jaehyun calls.

“I’ll see you around my ass,” you mutter under your breath. You’re willing to go out of your way to avoid interactions with Jaehyun, no matter what it takes.

a/n 2: hope you enjoyed part one of this series! it’s been a while since i last posted a fic on here so i apologize for my rusty writing skills. part 2 is projected to be posted in one week from now, but that’s tentative. we’ll see where life takes me and if i have the capacity to post in a week from now. in the meantime: stay safe! 💕

[simplybakugou]

Dial Tone

↝ Following the death of your sister you have a habit of texting her phone number in an attempt to ease the pain you’re feeling. After some time, someone finally responds to your texts.

BINGO SPACE: Wrong Number

⋆ PAIRING: prohero!kirishima x fem!reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: slight angst; talks about the death of a loved one; fluff  ⋆ WORD COUNT: 2818

A/N: yes this is another @bnhabookclub​ bingo piece lmao. this was inspired by the time that i received a text from a dad who had told me his late daughter owned my phone number and it broke my heart. i’ve seen similar stories to this on twitter and i wanted to do my own spin on it but through a fic!

thank you to the anon who requested for kirishima for this prompt! and the transparent kirishima cap in the banner is from the bnha bookclub google drive.

FULL BINGO MASTERLIST

✐posted 08.15.2020✐

The air felt heavy as it usually did whenever you visited that dark and eerie place the same time every month. The sky was filled with dark grey clouds and soft rain droplets began pelting your body as you clapped your hands and bowed your head in front of the tombstone. You rose to your feet, placing the fresh bouquet of flowers you had purchased in front of the urn beside the tombstone and dusted off the dirt on your kneecaps.

Each raindrop harshly attacked you as they fell as soon enough you were drenched as you walked towards your car, your tears melding with the droplets streaking your cheeks. Finally you arrived by your car, sitting in the driver’s side as the leather seat became wet from your body.

This time of the month was always the hardest for you, the suffocating feeling that always remained in your chest never left since you had visited your sister’s grave.

Nonetheless you knew you had to keep moving on, knowing that if you sat around with your thoughts you would just make yourself more upset than you already were. You started your vehicle and pulled out of the cemetery and onto the main road, making your way home.

Although it didn’t seem like it, life wasn’t always so miserable for you. There was a time when you were happy, a time where you could look back at with adoration.

When you were starting high school, you were attending the esteemed U.A. High, pursuing your dream of becoming a hero just as every other kid your age attending a hero school was aspiring to do. Your parents had both passed away in a car accident when you were young and you were left in your older sister, (S/N)’s care. She supported you all the way, acting as the mother and father you had no memory of but desperately wanted as you could only feel envious of the other kids who had their parents attend all of their ceremonies and functions.

But it wasn’t so bad, having your sister supporting you as best as she could to make do with the unfortunate situation you were both put in.

Although things were bright for a short period of time, you were granted a heartbreaking and life changing call one day after school. You were just about to finish up your first year at U.A. and if constantly dealing with the League of Villains or schoolwork wasn’t enough, you found out about (S/N) having a terminal disease.

The doctors gave you and your sister their condolences, explaining that (S/N) was undergoing a disease as a result of her quirk not being able to maintain her body as it was slowly killing her from the inside out. Since you were informed of this unfortunate event, you dropped out of the hero course in U.A., having to pursue a part time job on top of taking online classes to balance paying for your sister’s medical bills as well as wanting to still be able to have a high school diploma (even if it wouldn’t be as a hero).

It broke your heart to have to leave your friends and not be able to chase after your biggest dream but nothing meant more to you than your sister’s health. She had taken care of you for so long; now it was your turn to return the favor.

Although you had left U.A. High, your friends that you had gotten quite close to made sure to visit the hospital in which you were temporarily staying at from time to time after school. Sero, Kirishima, Mina, and Kaminari were the ones who visited the most and they would even get Bakugou to come along on certain days as well. It made you feel reassured to have people being there for you during a difficult time in your life.

But as the years passed and your previous classmates graduated, their frequent visits turned to occasional texts here and there as their lives took a full 180 as they were thrusted into the craziness that comes with being a pro hero. You understood the position they were in and would often watch the news with your sister, feeling proud as you heard story after story of your friends saving people during their times of need.

Unfortunately with time, (S/N) lost her long battle with her terminal disease and even though you knew it was bound to happen, there was no way you would ever be able to subsidize the pain you were feeling following her passing. 

For the longest time you felt alone and there were times you still felt bedridden with sorrow and desolation, still feeling the pain of your sister’s passing as it had only been a year since her death. 

In order to feel somewhat at peace, you would still text your sister’s old phone number everyday. When you were still in school and she was looking after you, you had to let her know if you were eating, what time you got home, and things in this similar nature as (S/N) was often working and wanted to check up on you when you were home alone. This became a force of habit and you didn’t want to stop, using this new texting method as a way for you to settle your own mind and give yourself some peace by not breaking this procedure that your sister had you do.

You would even call her phone every now and then, wanting to hear her sweet voice through her voicemail. It was silly, you knew it was, but this was the only thing that was keeping you sane. When you lose someone you love in your life, someone who was by your side at all times, they don’t dissipate in thin air right when they die. You lose them slowly. From when you wake up and realize breakfast isn’t ready or when you realized you didn’t have anyone to talk to, that’s when it hits you. Your sister was gone and now you had to learn how to live without her.

You pulled into the parking lot of the bookstore, letting out a sigh as you exited the vehicle. The first day of every month for the past year since your sister died you would visit her grave for a little chat. It gave you a peace of mind to be able to speak with her in what seemed like the closest thing to “a talk in person” as you could. Sometimes texting her number or listening to her voicemail on repeat wasn’t enough.

“(L/N)! You’re here!” Aiko, one of your employees, exclaimed as you walked inside. “I thought you weren’t going to come in today.”

You shrugged, slipping off your soaked coat onto the hanger by the front desk. “I didn’t feel like staying home alone so I might as well sell some books instead.”

Aiko nodded, getting up to put back some misplaced books that customers had strewn around randomly. You sat down as she went to the back, leaning back in your chair as you stared up at the ceiling.

The emptiness inside you, a feeling that you had grown accustomed to by now no matter how much it hurt, felt stronger than usual that day. You pulled your phone out from your pocket, sending a quick message to your sister to let her know you had gotten to work safely. Within minutes, just as you were about to put your phone away and get to work, the usual “delivered” sign under your message changed into “read,” indicating that someone had seen your message. That’s weird… maybe a glitch?

Still it was unsettling so you decided to call (S/N)’s number, waiting patiently as the phone began to ring. With each ring your suspicions lessened as you assumed the read receipt was a mistake. Just as you were about to hang up, you could hear someone pick up their phone from the other line.

“Hello?” A man’s voice asked from the other side and you nearly slipped off your chair from shock, not expecting to hear a live voice. You immediately hung up, looking back at your sister’s number as you were completely discombobulated from what had happened. You assumed that one of these days (S/N)’s number would be given to another person but you still were taken aback to hear another person’s voice.

***

The events from the day before were quickly vanished from your mind as you had to tend to customers right after the mysterious man picked up your call. You returned home, already tired from visiting your sister and working the whole day didn’t help with that. You even sent the number a message about what you had eaten for dinner, the lack of a reply making you forget once again.

In fact, you couldn’t even remember what had happened yesterday as you absentmindedly texted (S/N) as you usually did.

Y/N: I’m heading out. Hopefully today will be better than yesterday. Love you and I miss you!

Just as you hit the “send” button for the message, realization sets in as you wanted to smack yourself for forgetting that another person had gotten the number. Right when you were about to send an apology message, the unknown man sent you a message back.

MAN: Um… Who is this?

You were quick to write up an explanation.

Y/N: Sorry, my older sister used to own this phone number. She used to make me text her whenever I ate or left the house so I got used to sending these messages. She passed away a year ago and I still send the texts. I’m sorry for bothering with these silly texts. You won’t have to deal with them from now on.

You sent your explanation, deciding to delete the messages and shoving your phone into your pocket. It was nice to maintain this habit of yours while it lasted but it was time to let bygones be bygones. You didn’t bother to read the man’s response as you left for another day of work.

***

The rest of the day passed like every other day did, slow and filled with your own loneliness. You bowed to and thanked your last customer of the day and let out a big sigh as you began closing up the shop, putting away any books dispersed around the shelves and taking the cash from the register.

You turned the small TV in the corner off as well, smiling at the sight of Bakugou and Kaminari finishing up a mission and successfully catching a villain as they were acknowledged for their bravery on the news. You couldn’t express how proud you felt when you saw your friends, or any of your classmates really, on the news for their achievements as they continued to save as many people as they possibly could. 

Just as you were grabbing your things to leave, your phone buzzed on the table. You glanced at it, furrowing your brows at the sign of your sister’s name, which you still hadn’t removed from your contacts, sending you a message.

MAN: Did you eat dinner?

You were beyond puzzled. Did he mean to send this to you? 

Y/N: I think you have the wrong number…

MAN: You’re the one who sent me a message about my number belonging to my sister, right?

How odd… It wasn’t a mistake then.

Y/N: Yes, that’s me. But why did you ask if I ate dinner?

MAN: Oh well I saw your text from two nights ago talking about what you ate for dinner. At first I didn’t think about it but then you explained why you texted this number and I just wanted to know if you ate dinner? Since you usually let your sister know if you did.

You smiled at the message. Whoever this man was, he seemed genuine and considerate. 

Y/N: You’re very sweet. You don’t have to worry about those texts I used to send. It was a force of habit and I won’t bother you with them again.

He almost immediately responded.

MAN: Don’t worry about that. I’m gonna take that as you didn’t eat dinner.

You didn’t reply initially as you were trying to figure this guy out and before you could muster up a response, he beat you to it.

MAN: From your area code you must be from Musutafu, too. This might be a lot but do you want to grab some dinner? There’s a great place on the intersection by U.A. High School. 

The request was definitely an odd one. You’d never been asked out in this manner, then again it was rare to be asked out like this, but you didn’t want to say no. The mystery man seemed nice and it would be good for you to actually make a friend instead of being alone all day long. If it weren’t for Aiko or your customers, you probably wouldn’t meet another human at all.

Y/N: That sounds nice. Can we meet in an hour if that works for you?

MAN: Sounds good! I get off work then so I’ll see you soon.

***

It got colder just an hour after you closed the bookstore. Miniscule snowflakes fell from the sky, littering the roads and the outside with a white blanket. You waited outside the restaurant that the mystery man told you about. As it was close by U.A. you and your close friends would stop by after school so you knew exactly where he was talking about. You smiled as the memories of the times you spent with your friends whom you missed dearly flooded your mind, reminding you about how lonely you truly were now.

A shiver went down your spine as you rubbed your arms in an attempt to warm yourself up. You checked your phone for the time, realizing that he was an hour late. Maybe he got busy at work, you told yourself as you let out a sigh, preparing to leave and go home.

“Hey!” A voice called out from down the road. You turned to the source of the sound, squinting through the snowflakes as you identified a man waving at you with his blinding red hair being the one thing that stuck out like a sore thumb.

As he got closer and closer and you got a better look at his face, your eyes widened as you realized who the man was. “Kirishima?”

Kirishima stood in front of you, giving you a perplexed expression. Usually when people recognized him, they addressed him as Red Riot due to his popularity as a pro hero. But there was something about you that seemed so familiar, something that he couldn’t quite figure out. “Do we know each--” He stopped mid sentence as his eyes grew into the shape of saucers. “Y/N?!”

Before you could say anything else, Kirishima’s face lit up as he was stoked to finally see his old friend again. “How have you been? You look great! Even better than how you did back in U.A.!”

“T-Thank you.” You grew flustered, not expecting to be praised in such a manner. “So you’re the one who got my sister’s number?”

“Yeah. I had to get it changed after a fan ended up leaking my number and I kept getting a ton of messages from random people,” Kirishima said with a laugh, rubbing the nape of his neck sheepishly. His expression faltered into a more serious one as he glanced down at you. “And I'm sorry to hear about your sister. I know she meant a lot to you and I should’ve visited you guys more after graduation.”

You shook your head, a small smile on your lips. “It’s okay. I know you’ve been busy being a hero and all.”

He looked down at you, taking his scarf from his neck and wrapping it around yours. You looked up at him, moving to remove the fabric from around your neck. “Oh no, it’s okay. You don’t have to—”

“You look cold. It’s the least I can do for making you wait so long.” Kirishima smiled, wrapping the end of the scarf over your shoulder once more. “Well I’m glad to see that you’re okay. To be honest I did miss you after all this time.” 

Kirishima opened the door to the restaurant, gesturing for you to go in. “Come on, we can catch up over dinner.” You grinned, entering the building as he followed suit. 

You couldn’t remember the last time you felt genuinely happy like this and you couldn’t ask for a better person to bring back the happiness that you had been lacking in your life for quite some time. 

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[sadachmesarthim]

peter learns to shut the fuck up challenge

oh my god hi okay i’m (kind of) freshly back to tumblr and haven’t written content like this in over half a decade please be nice to me i am a broken 21 year old who can’t take criticism for shit

marvel cinematic universe: peter!centric, eventually starker 

content: graphic depictions of violence, extremis!flash, selective mutism, brief talks of dying but it’s not that bad tbh, slightly aged up peter (he’s 18), use of slurs and derogatory terms, both in reference to self and someone else

summary: peter’s taken enough shit in his life. he lost his parents, he lost ben, he’s dealt with the number of shitty men may brought home - flash was like the cherry on top of the shit sundae. after a particularly bad day of taunting, peter is fed up, and decides to teach flash a lesson - but our baby boy is in for a big surprise when he discovers he isn’t the only freak kid at midtown tech. 

............................................................................................................................

Peter'd been categorized as a loudmouth for years - by May, his friends at school, the Avengers he fought (and fought beside) in Berlin.

Never able to stop his nervous ramblings, his mouth tended to run away with him. He somehow never developed a filter, often getting himself into quite a bit of trouble. Usually his pretty face and quick thinking kept him from any real repercussions.

But there was one such instance he... couldn’t exactly get out of.

He'd been struggling with Flash's bullying for years. He'd called Peter names, hurled slurs, spat out indecencies - normally, Peter could take it. But after the bite... they all landed so much harder.

Peter didn't understand it - spiders didn't have emotions, did they?? Even if they did, that doesn't explain why he's so sensitive. If anything, you'd think the bite would make him aggressive, or argumentative, or angry - spiders were predators, not pussies. What was his problem?

He'd finally had enough one day at the end of his senior year. Flash was being particularly snide - excitement from graduation pushing his normal antics into overdrive.

"Oh come on, Penis. You gonna fight back one of these days or are you just gonna keep hanging your sad faggot head around town?" Flash followed him out of the school building, laughing at his own "joke".

What he wasn't prepared for was an actual answer to his question.

"Yeah, actually. I will."

Peter turned around, grabbing Flash by the straps of his backpack. He glanced around, checking for spectators, before shoving his bully into a secluded alley just ahead of them.

Flash, surprised (but not entirely put off), worked himself free of the backpack and slid behind the smaller boy. Sure, Peter was enhanced, but Flash still had a good head on him height wise.

"Finally decide to manhandle me back, huh Parker? That's so cute." Flash smirked, looking him up and down as he crowded Peter into the corner. "If you're feeling so big and brave, go ahead."

Peter looked up, confusion warping his soft features. Flash... wanted Peter to hit him? Why?

Before he could actually ask, he found himself collapsing on the ground, gasping for air. Flash drew his fist back, shaking off the punch he'd just thrown into Peter's side. He snatched his bag off the ground, tossing it away from Peter & beside a nearby dumpster.

"Christ, you look so pathetic down there! I almost forgot how small you were for a second," he laughed, taking a second to gloat. "Come on, Parker. What happened to finally fighting back?"

Peter'd always been a bit overzealous - I mean, c’mon, the kid grew up listening to stories about Steve Rogers for fucks sake, how could he not develop an underdog complex? He'd spent his childhood defending his family name, his teens protecting May from overzealous asshole boyfriends, and the most recent few watching over all of Queens.

So yeah, of course Peter was going to take this opportunity to kick some ass if he could.

He struggled to his feet and stumbled forward, regaining his balance and breath as he met Flash's eyes. The tiny success was short lived, though, as he felt himself flying backward and up into the brick wall behind him. What the actual fuck?

Peter's senses never failed him - and yet, they just had, twice in the last five minutes! What the fuck? How was Flash able to hit him without warning? How was Flash able to throw him?

The confusion must've been all over his face - Flash laughed as Peter crumpled & didn't attempt to get up again. He crowded into Peter's space, getting close to the little spider's ear.

"You really think you're the only special one in Queens, don't you Penis? You think you're the only one that can break a grown man in half?" Peter groaned, wincing at the pain behind his eyes. "Newsflash, freak. You're not special, you're not important, and you're not leaving this alley alive."

It was then, as Peter glanced back up, that Flash's eyes were glowing a sick green-grey unlike anything he'd ever seem. The senses that'd previously failed him so tragically now did a full 180, sending a wave of cortisol through his system. The need to runclimbswingescapego washed over him, the spider inside completely overriding the human.

As if he'd read Peter's mind, Flash quickly grabbed him by the throat, cutting off both his airway and any potential escape route. He squeezed hard, dragging Peter up the wall until they could look each other in the eye. He crowded closer, setting Peter's skin on fire in the worst way possible.

Peter was choking, clawing at the hand on his throat and trying to kick the monster in front of him away. Flash, annoyed, tightened his grip until Peter's hands dropped and his face turned purple.

Flash chuckled, dropping a now barely conscious Peter into a puddle on the rocky ground. He opted to trade his hands for the steel toed boots he'd so carefully laced up that morning, lips curling as the idea took shape in his head.

The first kicks landed on Peter's stomach, forcing air and blood from his mouth. The next were more stomps than anything, not aimed with any thought or finesse. Each landed heavier than the first, quickly pushing Peter toward a complete blackout. The spider was still screaming, but Peter couldn't do jack shit about it.

He lay back, resigned to his fate. I'm going to die here, he thought, desperately wishing he'd just kept his fucking mouth shut. A little bit of bullying was so much better than dying a week before graduation.

But, somehow, he didn't. Sure, Flash beat him all to shit - May had the hospital bill and the new grey hairs to prove it. But Peter lived.

It took Flash a while to get it all out of his system. The more pain he inflicted, the brighter his eyes got, slowly taking over any illusion of empathy his once brown irises had. He did, eventually, tire, and grow bored of kicking the same stunned spider. When he’d had his fill, he reached down for his backpack, hooking it onto his shoulder and smiling to himself.  

Before leaving, though, he turned back to Peter, crouching down and settling mere inches from his face. 

“Looks like I got Peter Parker to finally shut the fuck up.” Flash looked down at him as he rose, spitting on Peter’s face as a last hurrah before ditching him and the alley completely. 

Peter crawled his way out of the alley after Flash left, blood soaking his shirt and face so swollen he was nearly unrecognizable. He dragged himself to the nearest shop, the kind (and very distraught) owner calling an ambulance the second she'd seen him.

............................................................................................................................

6 weeks later he was back to 100%, diploma in hand, ready to get the fuck out of Queens and up to Cambridge. He'd spent enough time being coddled, people hovering over him and tending to wounds he knew would take care of themselves. These took significantly longer, the extent of the damage worse than anyone thought - but he still healed, and was ready to stretch all eight of his metaphorical legs and get back to school.

The only problem? He couldn't speak.

Okay okay, maybe that's a bit dramatic - his vocal cords and tongue and everything still worked perfectly fine. But every time Peter opened his mouth, words failed him.

It was like Flash's hand was back around his throat, forcing air out of him and the words back inside. How the fuck was he supposed to go to school if he was effectively mute? Peter’d learned Italian in school, not ASL (a choice he was quickly regretting), but even if he had, he wasn't sure his hands would be willing to speak for him either. All forms of effective communication were stolen from him. 

He had less than a month before he was supposed to be in the MIT dorms and starting class. 90% of his prereqs required group discussion and verbal participation, so Peter was well and truly fucked if he couldn't figure this out.

Besides, what superhero couldn't talk? How lame was that? Half of his whole schtick was sassy one-liners. At this point, Spiderman was becoming synonymous with snark!

His first night back in May's apartment, he cried himself to sleep thinking about it. This sudden feeling - all grief and loss and shattered expectations he didn't even know he had... his whole world was suddenly gone, and he didn't know what the fuck to do. 

The worst part?

He didn't even have the words to ask for help.

[jalapeno-princess]

What if I Never Get Over You?

(He’s so pretty ugh God really does have his favorites)

Mark Tuan X Reader

Genre: Angst (A lot of curse words) (Angry Mark) (God bless)

Word Count: 8.9K

Summary: Mark was just seconds away from falling asleep after a long, exhausting day of work until Jackson comes over to his place, angry with the fact that Mark has been avoiding all of their many attempts to get him to move on. However, Mark has come to the realization even in the beginning of your break up that there is simply no getting over you.

A/N: Hey guys! So, this imagine is based off of the song “What if I never get over you” by Lady A and honestly it is one of my favorite songs ever and I’ve been listening to it on repeat for the last couple of weeks so I highly recommend that you listen to it while reading the lyrics hit me so hard for someone who has never been in a relationship once in the 22 years of my existence and I just found myself unable to stop typing this specific story. I’m currently in the middle of finals so I will be able to focus more on writing (If I’m being honest, I focus more on writing than I do on my education who am I even kidding LOL). This one is a little more on the sad side but the ending (I don’t know how I feel about it) but I consider it happy I guess? Please enjoy!

It's supposed to hurt, it's a broken heart But to movin' on is the hardest part It comes in waves, the letting go But the memory fades, everybody knows Everybody knows

What if I'm tryin', but then I close my eyes And then I'm right back, lost in that last goodbye? And what if time doesn't do what it's supposed to do? What if I never get over you?

“Mark Yi-En Tuan—open the damn door. I have a bone to pick with you.” 

The word exhaustion couldn’t even describe half of what Mark was currently feeling. He had just finished work less than half an hour ago and against his friend’s pleas to grab a drink with them at the bar they normally frequented, he made a beeline back to his apartment. All he wanted to do was change out of his scrubs and sleep for the next twelve hours. 

Being a registered nurse was actually the last occupation Mark would’ve thought he’d ever get in to. As a young boy, all the way up until his senior year in high school, he never cared about anything other than playing baseball, video games, hanging out with his friends and eating junk food. He desired to “live in the moment” as much as he possibly could while he was still young and he decided he would worry about his future once he graduated from high school. Even when he did move on to college, he had no idea what his plans were. 

Like a lot of his friends, he was attending university in order to please his parents and to get a degree. In what—he didn’t care. Honestly, he thought about studying many different majors—engineering, kinesiology, biology, criminal justice and at one point—culinary. But he could never see himself settling in to any of those careers. His younger brother Joey knew that he wanted to be a pharmacist and unlike Mark; his soul purpose was to be successful in his education. 

At the time, Mark considered the younger boy to be a loser. He wasn’t living his high school life to his fullest potential—or at least that’s what Mark thought. On the day of his graduation, his principal began announcing each and every one of his classmates; what college they were attending, whether or not they received any honors and what they planned on majoring in. When it was his turn and the principal called his name, he was excited to finally be over with that chapter in his life. 

He expected to take the diploma and walk back to the bleachers like everyone else was. However, he felt exceptionally stupid when it was made aware that he had no idea what he was going to do after high school. Even his good friend BamBam—the class clown and the student with the lowest gpa in his graduating class had plans to go to college and major in hospitality. It made him feel pathetic and although the audience clapped right after he shook hands with his principal, he couldn’t help but feel as though some people were probably laughing at him. 

Hell, if he were to be sitting in the crowd and someone were to be in the same situation he was in, he would’ve laughed too. How could someone who was eighteen years old have no clue what he wanted to do for the rest of his life? That made him realize that Joey wasn’t the loser—Joey was extremely intelligent and planned for his future before he even realized what a future was. He was also the reason why Mark ended up going in to the medical field seeing as how his goal was to become a pharmacist and open up his own pharmacy one day. 

The younger boy; along with his parents and his friend Jinyoung coerced him in to attending med school because they witnessed how much of a people person Mark was and they felt like he would be very successful in whatever career he were to obtain. It wasn’t an easy road to success—in fact, he found himself wanting to give up more times than he could count on his fingers. 

College was already frustrating as it is, but majoring in nursing was one of the more difficult fields and a lot of the students who started off in nursing did not end up graduating with a nursing degree. Mark had no idea how he ended up getting his bachelor’s—let alone his master’s degree; especially because he felt there were so many students who were smarter than him and had more knowledge than him when it came to nursing who ended up getting kicked out of the program. 

Whenever he felt like giving up; when the multiple all-nighters he would pull in order to study for exams that he never seemed to be able to pass no matter how hard he tried, or the numerous amount of nights he found himself crying because he was afraid he wouldn’t make it and become the successful nurse everyone was expecting him to be—he remembered why he was going through all of that pain and suffering in the first place and it only gave him the motivation to continue until he finally achieved his goal. 

It took him almost six years, but it was worth it. He loved his job; although it could get very hectic almost every single day, he would get yelled at by patients for things out of his control, he got thrown up on, urinated on and even had families of patients threaten to get him fired, he also witnessed many miracles throughout the walls of the hospital and he got to meet a lot of people who would change his life. One person in particular that was the sole reason why his younger friend was currently pounding on his door—wanting to reprimand him for something he did a few days prior. 

Mark sat on his couch and weighed out his options; he could just let Jackson continue knocking on his door until he either got tired or came to the realization that there was a chance Mark was fast asleep by now. As good as that idea sounded, he was afraid that he would get noise complaints from his neighbors and the last thing he needed was to get evicted from his apartment over a ruckus he wasn’t even causing. 

Mark took in a deep breath and prepared himself for any confrontation Jackson might let out. He was expecting his rowdy and extroverted friend to bother him sooner, but then again —it’s not like Mark ever really hung out with his group of friends all that much in the last few months. If only he could say it was strictly because his job was working him to the core and making him exceedingly tired; if only it were that simple. 

He took a look in the peephole; curious as to whether or not Jackson was alone and if there was a chance he was drunk. The older boy released a sigh of relief when he saw Jinyoung and Yugyeom with him—he knew they would probably act as the mediators of Jackson went too far and said something to infuriate Mark. 

It’s happened many times in the past; Jackson Wang—bless his soul; but he had to be one of the most attention seeking and loud mouthed people that Mark knew. He also had no filter and said things like they were; he wasn’t afraid of hurting people’s feelings. Especially if those people just so happened to be his six good friends. As soon as he opened the door and saw the aggravated look on Jackson’s face, he had to stop himself from slamming the door and heading back to his room. 

“It’s almost midnight. I’m so fucking tired Jackson, this couldn’t have waited till the morning? Or at least an hour where I’m not drained of all my energy and won’t be able to fight back if the situation called for it?” 

Jackson ignored his comment and walked right past him—plopping himself on to Mark’s couch. The two other boys gave Mark apologetic expressions; it was obvious that they felt bad for bothering him at such a late hour—especially seeing that Mark was ready to knock out at any second. 

Neither of them wanted to be there, but when Jackson gets drunk—which he was currently plastered at the moment; heightening his confidence that Mark was quickly growing irritated with, he has a tendency of admitting things he would never say when sober and because their conversation at dinner consisted of Mark and his personal life, the five other guys knew leaving Jackson alone with Mark was not the best idea. 

One of them would end up with a black eye and a busted lip and there was a ninety-five percent chance that it would be Jackson. Mark was never a physical person; he never believed in violence and he tried his best to solve problems verbally before having to get physical. He’s been best friends with Jackson for almost sixteen years now—this meant that he was extremely comfortable with putting the younger boy in his place if he had to. 

There were only a couple times that Jackson and Mark either disagreed or actually fought over something and it was usually Jackson who’d instigate a lot of their quarrels. One time, Jackson said something that really got under Mark’s skin and he ended up with a busted lip. It wasn’t like the two of them stayed mad at each other for too long though; all it took was a few apologies, a couple of beers and some takeout that would get the both of them back on speaking terms. 

Jinyoung and Yugyeom weren’t too sure about what would happen between their two oldest friends tonight. Jackson was furious with Mark—he went in to great detail about how he was going to give him “a piece of his mind.” They didn’t completely agree with the points that Jackson made; especially because Mark was old enough to make his own decisions and nobody, not even his really good friend could tell him how to live his life. 

“Why did you tell Sophia that you weren’t interested in a long-term relationship? She called me crying this morning saying that you no longer were interested in her—“ 

Mark rolled his eyes at Jackson’s complaints. He knew he would get an earful sooner or later about how he’s been avoiding Jackson’s and even the rest of their friend group’s many attempts at trying to set Mark up with someone they knew—whether it was a coworker or a mutual friend. A couple of weeks ago, Jackson introduced Mark to a friend of his girlfriend. 

He wasn’t going to lie, Sophia was very pretty; she was also very smart—had a bachelor’s degree in family law and she was still in school trying to get her master’s. However, Mark wasn’t interested in her—or any of the girls that the rest of his friends tried to get him to go out with. He understood that his friends were only trying to help him “get back in to the game” or whatever BamBam said—but the eldest boy did not want anything to do romantically with anyone his friends were trying to set him up with. 

“Because I’m not. I was never interested in her to begin with. I was just going on these dates with her to get you off my back. She’s a nice girl; all the girls you guys tried to introduce me to are nice girls—but I don’t want a relationship right now Jackson nor do I even have the time to focus on another person, I barely have time to take care of myself. I know you guys are worried about me, but I’m fine. I’m twenty-seven years old; sure I’m not as young as I used to be, but settling down in to a relationship is the least of my worries. If you’re just bothered by the fact that I’m the only single guy in the group and you pity watching me sit by myself while you’re all accompanied by your girlfriends, I just won’t go out with you guys anymore.” 

When Jackson let out a scoff, the two younger boys looked at each other cautiously. Shit was going to hit the fan soon and they were afraid if they didn’t leave within the next five minutes, punches were going to be thrown. They also grew worried that if both Mark and Jackson were to argue, especially over the topic of Mark’s love life, that it might actually ruin their friendship with no promise of reconciliation. 

“Stop giving me that shit Mark. It’s not because you’re busy—you’re still hung up over y/n! That’s why you’ve been pushing away everyone from your life and I’m sick of it! It’s been almost seven months Mark, you need to move on. She obviously isn’t coming back. If she genuinely still loved you, she would have never left in the first place. Stop trying to look for y/n in other girls and stop letting another chance at being in love again slip through your fingers because you have this stupid hope that one day, she’ll realize that she made a mistake in breaking up with you—“

“Jackson, shut up—“

“For all you know, she’s already moved on—“

“Jackson, if you know what’s best for you, you would shut up—“

“Maybe the reason why she left is because she found someone else—someone who would give her the love and attention you failed to give her towards the end of your relationship and that idea alone is what’s messing with your head. Thinking about her loving someone else, finding solace in someone else, fucking another man—“

“SHUT THE FUCK UP JACKSON. YOU DON’T KNOW SHIT. YES, I STILL LOVE Y/N. I’M ALWAYS GOING TO LOVE Y/N—IT’S ALWAYS GOING TO BE Y/N. I HAD THE FUCKING RING AND EVERYTHING SO DON’T YOU THINK FOR ONE FUCKING SECOND THAT I’M EVER GOING TO MOVE ON TO SOMEONE ELSE. I TOLD YOU ALL AFTER THE SECOND FAILED DATE YOUNGJAE TRIED TO SET ME UP ON THAT I HAD NO INTEREST IN CONTINUING THESE BLIND DATES. I DON’T NEED ANYONE’S HELP IN FINDING ME A RELATIONSHIP BECAUSE I DON’T FUCKING WANT TO BE IN ONE AT ALL IF IT’S NOT WITH HER. GET THAT THROUGH YOUR FUCKING HEAD.” 

Once those last few words fell out of Mark’s mouth, the entire room fell quiet. Yugyeom and Jinyoung were stunned—Mark was a very soft-spoken and timid individual. Most people who were newly introduced to him could get a couple of words out of him if they were lucky. A lot of his patients at the hospital could go on and on in conversation and he would simply just him or nod his head as a way to communicate with them. 

However, whenever it came to his friends and family, the eldest boy could talk up a storm. Mark was a very kind-hearted person; he was known for having a lot of patience and understanding—but he also had a huge temper. It took a lot for something or someone to piss him off; especially because he didn’t want anyone to look at him in a negative light. Normally, he could keep his ill-feelings at bay, but there were a few occasions where he allowed himself to yell or grunt in frustration. 

Your relationship was a very touchy subject. Sure, it’s been over half a year since that night where you told Mark you no longer could handle being suffocated in your toxic relationship and usually most men were known to bounce back after a week. But Mark wasn’t like most men and you weren’t just any ordinary woman. You were the love of his life—his soulmate, his best friend, his person, the one he wanted to settle down, start a family and spend the rest of his life with. 

He was devastated when you told him you were leaving and he even tried his best in to getting you to change your mind. He made so many promises of bettering himself in order to be a boyfriend you were proud of. He repeatedly told you that he would be nothing without you and that he would do anything in his power to get you to change your mind, but it wasn’t enough. Mark was well aware that his job play a huge role in your breakup. 

Most of his time was spent at the hospital—but you were very considerate and understanding that his career was one of his main priorities other than his friends, his family and you. However, during the small amount of free time that he had, Mark had a tendency of spending that time either playing video games, going out to bars with his friends or playing with his dog Milo. As his girlfriend, you’ve witnessed how exhausted he could get from work; he was constantly on his feet for ten to twelve hours a day. 

It was only natural for him to want to relax and unwind doing the things he was interested in. You wanted to be there for your boyfriend in whatever way you could, but you also had your needs and desires—not necessarily sexual, but there was a point in your relationship where you went weeks and even months without being intimate with Mark because he was always so tired and never had the energy to love on your body in the ways that he used to. 

There was a time—a long amount of time in your relationship where the two of you could never keep your hands off of each other to the point where your friends would purposely have to sit between the two of you on nights you would all go out together in attempts to get the two of you to stop kissing or simply just showing any kind of affection towards one another. Unfortunately, towards the end of your relationship, you were only getting a peck on your lips if you were lucky. 

Your relationship no longer had the spark that would send flames to your entire body just being around him—you no longer felt butterflies in your tummy whenever you looked at him. Sometimes when you’d gaze at him, you felt as though you were looking at a stranger, not the man you spent four years of your life with. You never understood where it went wrong; it just felt like the love and adoration Mark had for you just stopped out of no where. 

He no longer called or texted you on his breaks to check up on you and see what you were doing, he stopped complimenting you on your outfits or if you did something new to your hair and the two of you could no longer hold a conversation for longer than five minutes without it feeling forced. You wanted to believe that he was just acting like this because work took up his entire being—physical and mental health. But he would go out with his friends right after a shift and sometimes he’d stay out for hours on end. It made you wonder if you were the problem. 

Maybe he stopped loving you or your relationship became a chore to him and was no longer a priority to him as it used to be. The constant need to be around each other, the comfort you felt from being wrapped in his arms and the happiness that came from just knowing that he was yours no longer existed. It disappeared completely along with any kind of feelings you harbored for him and you didn’t think there was anything that could bring it back. 

The thought of no longer having Mark in your life; no longer waking up to his devastatingly handsome face—no longer getting to kiss his pretty, pink lips, and no longer being the lucky person who got to love him—it slowly tore your heart apart, but what could you do? You felt as though the only reason why Mark continued to stay with you was because he grew comfortable with the routine in your relationship. Having to go out and start another relationship with someone new wasn’t something you even wanted to think about. 

Deep in your heart, even if the two of you were going through , Mark Tuan was the only person you saw yourself wanting to get married to. All you ever wanted and could ever need was Mark. He owned you entirely; your mind, your body, your heart and soul—it was all his and it would always be his. But you couldn’t continue going on like this. Your relationship was slowly tearing you apart; it was suffocating you to the point where you felt as though you were going crazy. 

Every now and then, you’d find yourself going back to that fateful night where you told him you were leaving. It took you weeks to come to that decision; hell, even months really. Every time you built the courage to finally give up on Mark entirely, you’d look at him as the two of you were lying down in bed and time to time, you would cry. He seemed an entire world away even if the two of you were just inches apart. 

He might have been in the bed with you—but it genuinely felt like the bed was so spacious and empty. However, as you would gaze at him while he slept soundly, there was a little voice in your head begging you to wait a little longer. Something told you that things were going to get better and your life would turn out miserable if you were to break up with him. 

You prayed and prayed that the voice was telling the truth; you wanted your relationship to work so badly. He might not have been giving you much attention these days or treating you the way he used to, but you would rather continue to stay with him and try your best to fix your crumbling relationship than to be happy with anyone else. When he saw your luggage lined up at the door he didn’t even flinch. It’s as if he knew this was coming; and it didn’t seem to bother him one bit. 

That’s what hurt you the most; his blank expression only confirmed your worries—he no longer loved you or cared enough about you to even ask why your bags were packed or where you were going. He just simply stared at you for a couple of minutes before tilting his head in the direction of your bags. 

“Where are you going?” He didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the fact that you were seconds away from walking out of his life completely. 

“I’m leaving you.” 

The words were bitter on your tongue—there were a few times in your relationship where the two of you argued and it would end up with him sleeping outside on the couch—but that’s the worst it’s ever been. This was the first time you were actually throwing in the white flag; you were mentally exhausted. You refused to continue fighting for a relationship that was barely even existing anymore. If you were to continue putting your time and effort in to Mark knowing that he no longer did the same for you, you would probably develop some form of depression. You loved yourself too much to allow him to continue breaking your heart and taking advantage of your love. 

“Why?” You scoffed—he had to be joking right? Did he think that the two of you were okay? Was he fine with the fact that your relationship was no longer what it used to be? Did the lack of intimacy or time spent together not bother him at all—the way it was quickly ruining you? 

“You don’t love me anymore. I don’t know when you stopped—but all I know is that you did. Our relationship turned it to this toxic partnership. I don’t know what happened or what went wrong, but I’m so fucking unhappy Mark. I look at you and I don’t see the love of my life—I don’t see the aspiring nurse I met all those years ago who showed me and taught what love is. All I see when I look at you is a shell of the person you used to be. You’re like a stranger to me Mark and I hate—I fucking hate that things turned out like this and what’s killing me the most is that it doesn’t seem to bother you. You hardly make time for me—for us. It’s like you have to force yourself to genuinely enjoy being around me these days. Go look at your missed calls and all of your text messages. It’s all me. I’m practically begging for your attention and any kind of reaction out of you and nothing—literal nothing. I don’t know what to do anymore; I don’t want to leave Mark. I don’t want to be without you. But why should I continue putting in effort to a relationship that is just moments away from ending completely—“

“What makes you think that I no longer love you—wait—don’t answer that.” 

He took a deep breath in before walking towards you and doing the unexpected; he brought his hands up to cup your cheeks and gently placed his forehead against yours. This was the first time in such a long time that you were this close in proximity with him—having him hold you, touch you, looking at you in such an apologetic way; you honestly didn’t know how to feel. You wanted to be happy; anytime Mark would touch you, kiss you, hold your hand or your waist, wrap his arm around your shoulder—any form of intimacy with your boyfriend always made your heart flutter. Unfortunately, you felt nothing and it broke your heart. 

“I know, I haven’t been all that great these days, I’ve been a terrible boyfriend and I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner. I’m so fucking sorry baby—so fucking sorry. There’s no excuse—I can’t say it’s because of work or come up with any other logical reason. I guess I just got used to us doing our own things. I was content just having you around. I don’t know how I went so long with the distance—or being absent even if I’m physically there. I just—fuck, I know it sounds wrong but I just assumed because I plan on spending the rest of my life with you that a little bump in the road wasn’t going to do anything to hinder our relationship. If I knew that it was going to cause you to question the love I have for you and even get you to pack your bags with the intention of leaving me, I would have done something—“

“But you didn’t Mark. You knew something was wrong but you didn’t do anything about it. You just assumed that whatever we were going through was normal. News flash—it wasn’t. Our relationship is falling apart at the seams Mark. Did it not occur to you even once that the distance—the fact that we could no longer hold a decent conversation, that we haven’t had sex or been intimate in the last few weeks—it’s not normal? You obviously never put my feelings in to consideration. I’m dying Mark—mentally, you’re breaking my fucking heart.” 

You allowed yourself to take a quick breath; you could feel your tears continuously building up at the brim of your eyelids. As much as you didn’t want Mark to see you cry because you didn’t think he deserved it—it was too hard for you to keep your crying at bay.

“The love you have for me—that’s a joke right? You no longer love me. I don’t know what you think you feel for me but it’s definitely not love or at least it’s no longer love. If you still loved me, you would continue to show me and tell me like you never failed to do before. Showering me with your love, attention and care shouldn’t stop just because you have me—I don’t care if you’re used to our relationship or if you’ve grown comfortable where you don’t feel the need to contact me or check up on me—I don’t even care if I’m not your main priority. I’m completely understanding that your job takes up your time and energy, but I need you to know how shitty I feel every time I see you staying up to play video games or going out with your friends. I never wanted to be that girlfriend; I want you to be happy—your happiness is all that I care about, but it would be nice if I could be your happiness. Tell me Mark, when did you stop caring about me? When did you stop caring about my mood, my thoughts, how I was feeling, how the state of our relationship was? I can’t even remember what your lips feel or taste like, does it not bother you at all?” 

You saw him inch closer to you; you assumed he wanted to try and pull you back in to his embrace but you found yourself stepping back. When Mark saw you try to get away from him, that’s how he knew it was over. Once you were to get everything from off your chest, you were going to leave and there was nothing he could do about it. 

He could continue to persuade you to stay—he could promise you that he’d change and that your relationship would return back to what it used to be, but there was no use. Hearing to confess how lonely you felt; how heartbroken he made you and how you didn’t even feel like you were in a relationship with him at all shook him to the core—he knew you were leaving, no matter how hard he’d try to get you to change your mind. You were the kind of person that when you set your heart to something, it would always prevail. A break up was no different. 

“Y/n, please. I can’t—I can’t do this without you. I need you. I’m nothing without you. If I lose you, God I don’t think I’ll ever love again. You’re it for me baby, I mean that. You’re all I could ever want and need for the rest of my life. I’ll do better, I’ll be a better boyfriend—I’ll make up for all the lost time and I promise you, we’ll be okay again. Please baby, find it in your heart to forgive me. Everybody makes mistakes, we’re only human—“ 

As soon as he felt your dainty fingertips cup his cheek ever so gently before you placed a kiss against the corner of his mouth, it felt as though his soul left his body. You didn’t have to say anything; your actions spoke volumes for you. Your fingers were featherlight on his skin; it took every bone in his body not you pull you closer to him and hold you as tightly as physically possible. He didn’t know he was able to actually feel his heartbreak. Whenever someone would describe suffering from a broken heart, he thought they would be hurting mentally, psychologically or spiritually but right now, he could feel his heart crying—begging for you to give him one more chance. 

“Y/n—please—“ 

You could have sworn your heart sank to your stomach once you heard his voice crack. Your bags were already packed and you made the decision to finally leave months ago, why were you suddenly regretting your decision? You mentally prepared yourself for this reaction although you’d be lying if you said you expected him to break down and beg you not to leave like he currently was right now. If anything, you expected complete silence—with the way he’s been acting in the last few weeks, you just assumed he no longer cared about your presence or being in a relationship with you. To see him on his knees crying and begging for you to change your mind—you wanted to just say fuck it and pull him in to your embrace. 

He was trying—he promised he would change and do better; you wished his words could be enough for you. There were so many doubts in your mind telling you that he was all talk. That—he would try and put more time and effort in to your relationship, but it wouldn’t last long. He would get tired of having to prioritize you—tired of having to please you. You couldn’t put yourself through all that unnecessary pain again—the pain of not feeling good enough for him to want to spend and make time for you. 

You couldn’t force him to love you the way he used to—you loved Mark, God, did you love Mark. Honestly, you would do anything to make him happy; you would sacrifice your own happiness to make sure he was always smiling and thriving. But during the distance, since you didn’t feel like you had a boyfriend to love, you began to fall in love with yourself. While you were losing Mark, you were finding yourself.

“I have to go Mark. One day, you’ll see why I made this decision—why I felt as if this was the only choice I had. I love you Mark. Just because I’m leaving doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I don’t think you will ever be able to fathom just how much I love you and how I would go to the ends of the earth just to make sure you’re well taken care of. Your happiness and well being is all I care about. You are all I care about—I just—I need time to heal. I need time to grow and to rediscover happiness. I need to learn to live without you. Who knows, maybe being apart will lead us to want to come together again. I love you and you love me—if it’s meant to be, we will find our way back to each other again. I’m really going to miss you. Please take care of yourself.” 

With one more kiss on his lips, you took your luggage and left. Mark couldn’t describe just how heartbroken, helpless and genuinely miserable he was now feeling. He wanted to run after you and yank your bags out of your hands—he knew he could try harder to get you to stay, but he didn’t want to make things worse. The first few weeks were the hardest; Mark felt as if he could die from a broken heart. He couldn’t eat—he had no appetite. 

His mind kept replaying the way you left so easily—taunting him like a bad dream. He felt like he was having a nightmare that reoccurred every single day. He couldn’t stop thinking about you—how you were going about the entire breakup, where you were staying, if you were suffering even half as much as he was or if you were regretting your decision even just a little. 

As the months went by, nothing changed—even if he tried his best to move on, he felt in his chest that there was no getting over you. He meant what he told you on your last night together, he was genuinely afraid that he would never be able to find closure nor would he ever be able to fall in love again. He didn’t want to be in love again if it meant with someone else. You owned Mark entirely; his mind, his body, his heart and his soul—they all belonged to you and they always would. 

Jinyoung and Yugyeom knew it would be best to get their older friend out of there before Jackson said even more things he probably shouldn’t or before Mark grew physical. 

“We should uh—we’ll get going here. Mark, man I’m genuinely sorry this happened tonight, we shouldn’t even have come here. I should have tried harder to stop him but you know how Jackson gets when he’s drunk. I’m really fucking sorry dude about everything. You know what Jackson said isn’t true and I’m sure he doesn’t even know what he said. He’ll probably wake up tomorrow morning completely brainless about everything—“ 

Mark gave Jinyoung a sad smile before pulling him in for a hug. If anyone understood what Mark was going through, it was Jinyoung. Mark wasn’t the type to tell people of his problems—no even the people closest to him. If something bad happened to him, he would suffer all by himself because he didn’t want other people to worry about him. 

However, Jinyoung was the only one Mark allowed to see him in such a vulnerable and fragile state. Sure, Jinyoung also tried to set him up with one of his friends, but that’s only because he wanted Mark to get another chance at love. He hated seeing Mark so sad—so dejected and moping around, living but not really existing. Although Jinyoung really liked you for his older friend and believed that the two of you were soulmates, he also believed that if you still wanted to be in a relationship with Mark, you would. 

No matter how hard relationships could be sometimes, you never give up on someone you picture spending the rest of your life with. If you genuinely love someone, you’re going to fight for them even if the battle can be too much to handle. He saw Mark through so many phases of depression and grief; he’d witness Mark finish bottles of wine in one sitting while crying at every single thing that reminded him of you. Unlike Jackson though, he wasn’t going to force Mark in a relationship if he didn’t want to be in one. He was a grown man—he could make his own decisions himself. The last thing he or anyone in his situation needed was for his friends to get involved in his personal life. 

“Jinyoung, do you think you could do me a favor? I um—I think I want to be alone for a couple of days. Do you mind telling the other guys to let me be for a little while? I just—tonight was too much for me. I don’t want to get angry with any one of you. I can’t say how long I plan on being away I just—I don’t need this right now.” 

There was so much Jinyoung wanted to say—he didn’t think it was a good idea for Mark to be alone and he wished Jackson just kept his mouth shut, but he also knew that nothing he could say would get Mark to change his mind. He nodded in agreement—not wanting to make the older boy even more upset before motioning for Yugyeom to pick up Jackson’s sleeping figure from the couch. 

“Promise me you will call me if and when you need me. Oh, and please look after yourself. If you’re not going to allow me to come and check up on you can you at least make sure you’re eating all your meals and getting enough sleep?”

“I promise. Let me know when you get home alright? Thank you Jinyoung, I really don’t know what I would do without you.” 

Mark didn’t know if he liked it better now that the three boys were gone. He might have been angry with Jackson’s obnoxious outburst, but now he was alone with the thought that you might be seeing someone else. You did mention that you would always love him; but if you missed him the way you claimed you would, wouldn’t you have come back running to him a long time ago? There might have been distance between the two of you while you were still together, but no longer being in a relationship was a extremely different scenario. 

At least while the two of you were still together, he knew you were his and that he could come home to you. But now, he didn’t know anything that was going on in your life. For all Mark knew, you could have moved to another state or even another country—and now Jackson’s words were messing with his mind. Were you seeing someone? Did you already move on to somebody else and if so, did you see a future with that person? Did your mind ever wander over to Mark and how he was doing? 

His skin began to crawl at the thought of you being intimate with someone else—he knew he had no right to, you were no longer his to get jealous over and he was the reason why you could now go out and start dating whoever you wanted. He wanted to scream—he was already doing so bad as it was, why did Jackson have to make him feel even more shittier than he currently was? 

He found himself looking through his cupboards for any kind of alcohol, he honestly didn’t care at this point. Mark was not a heavy drinker; he never understood why his friends enjoyed wasting their money on alcohol only to get drunk, not remember a single thing and wake up with an extremely painful hangover. He wanted to take his mind off of you and the only way he could do that was if he was inebriated. 

These last few months, his mind seemed to be filled with the thought of you every single day, but never did he feel like he wanted to stop thinking about you. Now that he knew there was a chance you had another man in your life, he wanted to completely rid you from his thoughts—at least for the time being. When he found a bottle of tequila way in the back of the cabinet, he released a frustrated sigh. Mark hated tequila—it had to be one of the worst kinds of alcohol there was. Not only did it taste nasty, but it felt even more horrible going down.

At this point, he didn’t care—it was all he had and he was going to take what he could get. He pulled off the cork and took a few big gulps. It made him gag a little—drinking straight from the bottle wasn’t something he was used to. Especially because tequila was meant to be either mixed or taken as shots, not to be consumed like it was water. He could feel tears building up at the brim of his eyes at how hard it was to drink it, but slowly and surely, he could feel himself getting lightheaded and moments away from completely being plastered. 

When his vision grew hazy and his movements slowed down, he decided he would make his way to his room with the intention of falling asleep. It took him a while to get up from the floor and he was grateful that Milo was fast asleep in his doggy bed. He loved his little puppy more than anything and for the last few months, Milo was his own personal therapist. He made Mark smile when Mark didn’t think he was capable of that motion anymore. 

However, he didn’t think he was in the right mind to take care of himself—let alone a dog. Walking in the direction of his room felt like such a hassle. What usually took him a good ten seconds felt like hours—his feet were heavy against the hardwood floor and finally, once he opened his door and flopped on top of his bed, he hummed in content. Luckily he was already changed in to his pajamas before the guys came over so he didn’t have to do anything. He didn’t realize just how much tequila he consumed; his eyelids felt heavy and he was dozing in and out of sleep. 

Right as he was about to completely enter dreamland, he felt something vibrate. The buzzing noise sounded so far away, even if he knew his phone was nearby. It was probably just Jinyoung telling him he was home now—it could wait until the morning. He continued to try and fall asleep; ignoring the constant buzzing that seemingly wouldn’t stop. With a grunt, he went on the search for his device, moving his hand all around the bed until he found it. He knew whoever was trying to get in touch with him didn’t seem like they were going to stop anytime soon, so he rubbed both his eyes in attempts to break him out of his exhausted and drunken haze before checking his notifications. 

Once he saw your name, he had to do a double take—there was no way you sent him a message, he had to be hallucinating. How high was the percentage of alcohol in the tequila? His mind was definitely playing tricks on him—or maybe he was actually asleep and it was his conscience coming up with what he wishes would happen? He abruptly sat up; causing him even more dizziness, but he had to make sure he was actually seeing what he thought he did. Seeing your name in his phone after seven months of not hearing you sent so many emotions and feelings to his chest and he felt overwhelmed. 

Was he happy? Sad? Angry that you took so long? Excited? He couldn’t help but feel as though something was wrong. Were you okay? Did something happen to you? Did you finally come to the realization that you missed him and that you were willing to give your relationship another chance? A part of him—probably the part that was still upset with you for breaking his heart told him to ignore the messages—he wanted to lie and say he didn’t care anymore and that he was genuinely going to do whatever he could to forget about you completely. But who was he kidding? There was no getting over you. Ever. His heart begged him to click on your contact and that’s exactly what he did.

Babe: Hey. 12:54 A.M.

He mentally cursed himself for not changing your name in his phone but he couldn’t find it in himself to do so. He didn’t have the right to call you any term of endearment anymore, but once he were to change your contact to your actual name, it cemented the idea that things were actually over and he wasn’t going to give up on you just yet. Until he were to find out you were seeing someone else or that you had no intentions on getting back with him ever again, he was going to continue holding on to that tiny string of hope that one day, you’d be back in his arms again.

Babe: I’m sorry it’s so late. I mean that in more ways than one. 12:54 A.M.

Babe: I—I honestly don’t know where to begin. Let me just start by saying I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Mark. And I miss you. I miss you so much. 12:56 A.M.

Babe: I know it’s been a while and I don’t know why I felt like I could just text you out of nowhere. I understand if you’ve moved on or if you want nothing to do with me anymore. 1:02 A.M.

Babe: I’m not going to lie and say that I made a mistake breaking up with you. I knew it’s what was best for the two of us at the time. But I will admit, I’ve thought about you every single day since I left. I’m sure you’re wondering what took me so long to come to the conclusion that I’m still so in love with you—which, I am by the way. I love you and I don’t think I ever really stopped. 1:05 A.M.

Babe: If you’re in a relationship or seeing someone else, please disregard all of these messages. I hope you’re doing well and I hope you’re taking good care of yourself. Well, Goodnight. 1:06 A.M.

Maybe months go by, maybe years from now And I meet someone and it's workin' out Every now and then, he can see right through 'Cause when I look at him Yeah, all I see is you

What if I'm tryin', but then I close my eyes And then I'm right back, lost in that last goodbye? And what if time doesn't do what it's supposed to do? What if I never get over you? Ooh yeah What if I never get over? What if I never get closure? What if I never get back all the wasted words I told ya? What if it never gets better? What if this lasts forever and ever and ever?

As soon as you sent the last text message, you allowed a couple of tears to fall but brought your hands up to your mouth in attempts to prevent yourself from sobbing. The last thing you needed was to wake up the man who was currently sleeping in bed right next to you. You felt as if you made a complete mistake trying to get in contact with Mark—you should have just left him alone. It was you who initiated the breakup in the first place. 

You’ve stayed away for seven months; what person in their right mind would respond to your messages and want to take you back with open arms? You had to be crazy to think Mark still wanted anything to do to you—he probably deleted your messages as soon as he received them and you couldn’t blame them. If the roles were reversed and he did to you what you did to him, you would have blocked his number entirely. You placed your phone back on the nightstand and turned over to look at Minho; releasing an exhausted sigh before gliding your finger along his cheek. 

Trying out a new relationship and seeing someone new sounded like a good idea in hind sight. He was a friend of a friend’s—your friends tried to set you up with so many different guys similarly to Mark and his group of friends. They hated seeing you so sad and heartbroken yet they didn’t understand why you were still so hung up over Mark when you were the one who decided to call it quits. Minho was very soft spoken and gentle; in a way, he resembled Mark and that’s why you felt you were attracted to him.

He was quite the gentleman—he’d always ask you how you were doing, he’d ask you if you were okay with him kissing you and holding your hand and you were sure your friends must’ve told him about your past because he was very adamant on taking your relationship at your pace. Looking at him right now, lying in your bed made you realize just how quickly things were going between the two of you and you didn’t know how you felt about that. It took you a while to sleep over Mark’s apartment and he didn’t see yours until five months in to your relationship. 

However, you were beginning to believe you were rushing things because you missed having someone around all the time; you missed having the presence of someone you loved—you missed Mark. You also assumed that you were acting this way because you wanted to force yourself to like Minho so you could completely move on from Mark, but you didn’t understand why you wanted to get the thought of him out of your mind completely. 

The more time you spent with Minho, going on dates with him, calling him when you couldn’t see him; you’d find yourself picturing Mark in his place. You really missed how Mark used to treat you like you were the most important person on the planet. You missed holding him and being held by him, you missed playing video games with him and coming home from a long day of work with a table full of your favorite food. Even if you were doubting his words when he told you he was going to do better, you wondered how life would be like if you did give in to him that night. 

As much as you liked Minho—or at least felt like you did, a huge part of you believed that you were only staying with him for his sake. He was such a nice guy who genuinely seemed to care about you, but nobody was ever going to be Mark. You weren’t going to ever care or love anyone the way you did with Mark and you didn’t want to continue leading him on knowing that your heart belonged to someone else. You decided that you were going to call it a night, you didn’t expect Mark to get back to you any time soon if at all for that matter. 

After placing a gentle kiss on Minho’s shoulder blade, you curled up in to your pillow and slowly closed your eyes. Unfortunately, you couldn’t find it in yourself to fall asleep; your mind was too busy thinking about whether or not Mark read your messages and if he did, how he felt about hearing that you missed him and that you still loved him. Taking one last look at your phone, you felt your heart swell up as a small smile rose on your face.

Mark: I’m all yours. 1:36 A.M. 

What if I never get over? What if I never get closure? What if I never get back all the wasted words I told ya? What if it never gets better? What if this lasts forever and ever and ever?

I'm tryin', but then I close my eyes And then I'm right back, lost in that last goodbye And what if time doesn't do what it's supposed to do? What if I never get over you? What if I gave you (what if I gave you) everything I got? What if your love was my one and only shot? What if I end up with nothing to compare it to What if I never get over? Oh, if I never get over What if I never get over you?What if I never get over you? Oh, what if I never get over? Over you

[kzuhadovey]

omg please i beg of you a part 2 of I Love You w Atsumu the amount of times I read it because it was so heart breaking yet just the right amount of yearning of that makes sense. I absolutely loved it 😍

I’m stupid for loving you... aren’t I?

character: miya atsumu x reader

type: angst??? fluff???

warnings: -

song rec: mr loverman - ricky montgomery

click this to read part 1!!

ahhh hello anon!! this is my first ever request, i’m so excited!! this took rlly long for some reason, i’m so scared to disappoint yall with this 😭😭 well here you go, a part 2 to i love you :)

You were doing fairly great after the incident. Life was peaceful, your grades were skyrocketing, you quit the volleyball team and chose to pursue fashion design- life was good. You graduated Inarizaki as one of the best students in your class and first place in the 49th Japan Fashion Design Contest. You could almost remember the feeling of graduating, on stage, receiving your diploma, being cheered on by your friends and family, with a particular blonde boy eye-ing you with adoring eyes.

The after-party was hectic, never-ending drinks, maybe a make-out or two, but overall, you were ecstatic. An interesting thing that happened during the party, was your interaction with Miya Atsumu. He was still as lively as ever, a bright smile on his face wherever he was. Once he saw you that night, a drink in hand and your arm over your friend’s shoulder, a small smile popped on his face. He went still for a second as all the memories rushed back and you spun around. You were sweaty and drunk, but in his eyes, you looked heavenly. You remember glancing at his eyes for a second, he still had that same honey-toned eyes, a slight lovey-dovey look in his eyes. That was the only interaction you had for the night, and what you thought was for the rest of your life. Or so you’d thought.

Life was pretty much hectic after graduation. College, then joining one of the most successful fashion designers, to actually having your own brand. Who knew design could be so stressful? You slump down in your office only to be greeted by more piles of fabric and paperwork. Another load of presentations to investors and other businesses- yet your company seemed to be going nowhere. “Excuse me, your 4 o’clock meeting is here.” Your assistant suddenly says, making you flinch. “Geez- at least knock first.” You say, standing up and fixing your outfit. This client was particularly important to your brand- they had asked for a possibility of sponsorship. It would be groundbreaking to collab with them- a grade-a sports team would be amazing to collab with. You just weren’t expecting for him to be here. 

“Good afternoon, Mister… Shugo?” You say, looking down at a clipboard with all your materials. Shugo was a familiar name- you’ve probably heard it somewhere on the radio. “Y/N?- I-it’s you.” The man says, standing up. You freeze. You knew that voice- it’s gotten much deeper though. His tone is laced with curiosity- it almost felt like a dream. You look up to be met by him. His honey blonde hair was slicked to the side better, a hint of softness in his brown eyes. “Atsumu?” You mutter unknowingly. A sense of nostalgia hit you as your eyes scanned him. He looks older- and he’s surely gotten buffer. It felt like a dream, really. To see your high school crush almost more than 5 years apart. Then it came back. The sequence of events that happened leading up to the fight. It still hurt, of course, but not as much. I suppose you’ve gotten over it. You snap back into reality when Atsumu coughs awkwardly. “I’m supposed to meet- Shugo. Shugo Meian. Wh- what are you doing here?” You mutter out. “Shugo sent me. I didn’t know- this was your company.” Atsumu says, tucking his hands in his pocket with a small smile. He was still as smug as ever. You nod hesitantly- you had to give him the benefit of the doubt though. “Take a seat, Mr. Miya. We should start talking about the offer.” You say, pointing to the sofa behind him. He nods, giving you a small smile. Gosh- his smile was just as captivating as it did in high school. You feel yourself getting uncomfortable from your own thoughts- after all, you were over him. Right?

“Thank you so much for this opportunity, Mister Miya.” You say, bowing. After around an hour of deliberating and talking, you ended up with a beneficial deal for both of you. Of course, despite your troubles, you stayed professional. It was slightly amusing how Atsumu’s eyes would linger on you- admiring your figure more than a mere business partner would. “I look forward to working with you, Y/N,” Atsumu says, smiling widely. “Hey- uh- do you miss… Suna? and Osamu?” Atsumu asks, a bit hesitant. He’s not sure whether you’d like that because of the incident- but your eyes light up in excitement. “Well, a bit,” That was an understatement, of course. “I assume Osamu became a chef like he always wanted?” You ask curiously. You recall Osamu sharing his dreams of being a chef at lunch, a bright smile on his face every time he thought of it. Atsumu nods and you sigh in relief. “Well- you should catch up with us! Osamu’s finally coming back to town.” Atsumu says- which caught you off guard. Of course, you missed them a lot, but- it would bring back a lot of unpleasant memories. Eh, whatever. Seeing them for a bit wouldn’t hurt. “I mean- sure- but-” “Great! Here’s my number.” Atsumu says, scribbling down his number on a random card. “S-Shugo's number is on there as well- by the way,” Atsumu says, chuckling awkwardly. You nod, taking the card. Would you regret this? I dunno.

That day, you ended up in one of the fanciest nightclubs in town, Energize. It was pretty popular amongst rich people and Atsumu had volunteered to pay for everything anyway. You were seated in a booth, quietly waiting for your ex-teammates. Your heart was beating in anticipation- would they look different? You were sure Osamu still had his signature gray hair and Suna’s soft floofy brown hair. Your main concern was if they would show up or not. It was 15 minutes over what time they agreed, and you were getting hesitant. Was this a mistake? Your mind flashed back to the pile of paperwork and you sighed. You took out your phone, checking your texts.

Y/N This is Atsumu Miya, I presume? Atsumu - High School Y/N!! you texted !! Y/N ヽ(￣▽￣)ノ Are we still meeting up tonight? Atsumu - High School yeah yeah ofc !! suna and osamu already said yes :) Y/N I’m excited to meet them :DD Atsumu - High School they’re excited to meet you too btw u don’t have to be that formal with me lol Y/N Ah, no worries. I like being formal. Where are we meeting up? Atsumu - High School Energize, 8 pm tonight don’t be late :DD Y/N I’ll be there. 

You cringed at some particular parts of your conversations- had you always been this dry? You huff as you look around further, looking for a huddle of boys. There’s no one in sight that looks like them- and with that, you roll your eyes. It was an empty promise anyways- he never meant anything he said anyway. You stuff your phone into your pocket and head off before- you heard something. “Oi Tsumu, where the hell are they? We’ve been looking for them all over the place!” A voice says- Osamu. You would recognize that voice everywhere- were they really that blind? You turn around before being greeted by 3 males, one of them being Atsumu. “Y/N? Is that you?”

The air felt awkward yet soft as you fiddled with your nails. Atsumu had rented out a private booth for the 4 of you, blocking out all the noise and music. You leaned back on your chair, trying to observe your friends. Osamu had darker hair now- with fluffed-up ends. Suna, on the other hand, still has his signature fluffy brown hair, it just has more volume in it. “Osamu, you’re a chef, Atsumu tells me?” You finally speak up, the silence getting overbearing. Osamu’s eyes light up and he puts on a small smile. “Yeah. Osamu’s Onigiris- Doesn’t it sound nice?” Osamu asks excitedly and you nod. “I’m happy for you, Samu.” You slightly cringe- it was too soon to use that nickname. “What about you? What did you end up… becoming?” Suna asks, leaning on his elbow. “I’m a designer now. I own a company- it’s pretty small though.” You say, chuckling. “I knew it. You’ve always been good at drawing and design and… stuff.” Osamu says, a proud smile on his face. You felt a bit comforted by them, a sense of happiness. It felt nice- just to escape reality for a moment and be with your old friends. Atsumu, however, felt a little different. His heart was beating quicker by the second, and you could swear you saw him blush when he saw you. You could say that he was crushing on you.

The loud music was deafening as you made your way through the crowd, hanging on Suna’s shoulder. Everything felt vibrant as you looked around- people dancing, making out, and having fun. It’s been a long time ever since you loosened up and had fun so this was great. Osamu was laughing his head off about something and Atsumu was blabbering about how he was plucking girls from all over the country. After that awkward encounter, Atsumu had volunteered for heavy drinks and well, this was the outcome. “Mmmh- I think I need another drink,” Osamu says, pointing to some chairs. “Yes. Let’s get a few shots- then go home- because I feel like throwing up.” Suna says, a slight smirk playing on his face. “Mister bartender! 4 shots of vodka please!” Atsumu shouts as you all slump against the table. “Yo, Y/N, question… are you single?” Osamu asks as the shots arrive. You nod your head. Your love life so far has been a little boring… just a few hook-ups and dates along the way but no one really stuck. “Ah, you’re the same with Tsumu then!” Osamu says, giggling. Atsumu rolls his eyes and downs the shot in an attempt to push out what Osamu just said. “I mean- ever since you broke up with him, his girlfriend literally broke up with him too- and he never got over you- aFTER 6 YEARS!” Osamu says, chuckling. Atsumu nearly choked on his drink as he processed what Osamu just said- “Excuse me?” You questioned, glaring at Osamu. It takes Osamu a big fat second to realize what he said before a light blush colored his cheeks. “Hey, Suna! Didn’t you say you wanted to check out the toilet earlier?-” Osamu asks suddenly, standing up and picking Suna up by the hoodie. “Wait what?-”

“That was an interesting comment… wasn’t it, Atsumu?” You muttered, downing your shot. Atsumu shoots you a small glare before his cheeks flare in embarrassment. “I mean- Osamu is- a bit correct- I’m still single- but- that wasn’t true, I’m over you- pfft-” Atsumu said, giggling nervously. You chuckled because you’ve noticed that he’s grown more transparent over the years- you can see by the tone of his voice. “Are you sure, Tsumu?” You ask teasingly, leaning in slowly. Atsumu’s eyes widen before downing the rest of his shot. “Y-yes- I’m sure- of course-” Atsumu stutters, a light pink blush on his cheeks. You could just remember that Atsumu did the same thing to you, in high school. The way he made you flutter and smile joyfully- it was amusing. “I’m joking, Atsumu.” You said, giggling as you saw his flustered reaction. “Mmmm- I feel sleepy.” You said as your eyelids feel heavier. “Would you like to go home?” Atsumu asks, fixing your hair a little. He’s grown softer over the years, definitely. Honestly, at first, you’d be very mad at Atsumu if you weren’t drunk, but you were tired. It had been a long day- a small ride home would be okay, right?

“I’m sorry I ended up dragging you to my house.” You said softly, turning on the lights as you stumble into the apartment. Wasted, was the only thing that was right to describe you. Atsumu was right behind you, hoisting your arm up even though he was drunk himself. “No worries Y/N. I wouldn’t want you to stumble over and hit yourself.” Atsumu says as you lay down on the sofa. “Do you want me to get you a cup of water? Some meds, or anything?” Atsumu asks, observing you. You shake your head softly, yawning. “I’ll get you some food, wait here a second,” Atsumu says, standing up. Your head feels heavy against the cushions of the couch- and you feel worn out and tired. “Here you go- some bread, and meds- to avoid headaches,” Atsumu mutters, handing you a pill and a plate of chocolate bread. “Thank you, Tsumu.” You say, starting to eat up the bread. Atsumu’s heart fluttered at your nickname, a visible blush on his cheeks. “Hey, Tsumu, was Osamu really telling the truth? Back at the bar?” You ask softly. You’re currently leaning against Atsumu’s arm, him visibly flustering around your touch. He was definitely caught off guard by your question- a light blush coloring his cheeks. “Yeah. Sure. I guess you could say he was telling the truth.” He chuckles, hoping you wouldn’t kick him off the couch. “Why?”  was the only thing you could say. He sighed softly, sitting you up- a serious conversation, you noted. “I mean… somedays, I just remember how I treated you like shit. How I used you for my own benefit- it’s funny, really, how my feelings have grown over the years. I remember that day, the day you snapped- I was okay with it at first- I saw you as merely a game- but sooner or later I missed you- I missed the way you’d laugh at my cringy jokes, the way you attended every practice I had.” Atsumu mutters, looking down. His tears are threatening to spill and he lets out a breathy chuckle. And it’s so stupid because you can’t love me back. Not after the way, I hurt you and the way you ran off like that- I’m so stupid for loving you… aren’t I?” Atsumu asks. He looks up at you, a small smile playing on his face and he’s on the brink of tears. Back then, he could lie to you so easily- it was as if your feelings didn’t matter to him- but you were surprised to find out that the feelings you had for him… were returned. After all these years, he was willing to give his heart to you. You felt bad for him- of course, he’d think you hate him. You did, really, that day, you cried- you considered moving to another school- but here you were, sitting in front of Atsumu after he had just confessed. “Please say something. I- I won’t be mad if you say you hate me.” Atsumu mutters quietly. You sigh- what do you say?

“Atsumu. Look at me, please?”

He raises his head up to be met by a soft smile. “Tsumu. I don’t hate you, okay?” You say. Even if you’re drunk, your opinion on Atsumu was clear enough. “Yes, I was hurt. You had a girlfriend and you were flirting with me- of course, I was hurt.” You quickly said, looking down. “But I don’t know- you make me feel safe. Even after all those years and I saw you- my feelings all erupted once I saw you. Not gonna lie- it felt shitty- the man who broke my heart stand right then and there.” You gave out a breathy chuckle. Unknowingly, Atsumu was staring right at you with hopeful eyes, hoping for you to say that you loved him back. “Atsumu… I like you, aswell- but I just wanna know if you’re playing games with me. I don’t wanna be some kind of rebound- I don’t wanna raise my hopes up just for you to destroy them.” You muttered softly. “Yes, of course! I- I actually like you this time. You make me so happy, I promise-” Atsumu says, leaping into your arms very suddenly. You yelp at the sudden hug, feeling- inflicted.

“I never got to apologize for my actions- I’m so so sorry- I love you, I love you,” Atsumu mutters into your neck, causing you to giggle. It was amusing- to see Atsumu so flustered over you. “Tsumu. It’s okay, I forgive you.” You mutter softly, petting his hair. Atsumu pulls away, a drunken smile on his face. “C-can I kiss you? I didn’t get a chance to last time…” Atsumu asks slowly, a red blush on his face. You giggle softly- goddamn if he wasn’t cute. “Okay, you can kiss m-” You say slowly, before being interrupted by Atsumu’s lips on yours. His lips are sweet tang against your tongue, and his breath is warm and messy against your lips. You’ve dreamt of this moment since you first laid your eyes on him- his lips against yours, and you’re both a warm ball of happiness. Another life came quicker than expected for Atsumu, but he wasn’t complaining. He got to be with you anyways.

[scoundrels-in-love]

If I go (if you ask me to), I'm goin' crazy (Let my darlin' take me there)

On the cusp between spring and summer, Jaime and Brienne say goodbye to a house that was never home.

In Winterfell, there is a fresh start ahead of them. (That's what they say.) At least for her. (That's what he doesn't say.)

--

Angst | Emotional Hurt/Comfort | Pining & Yearning | Hopeful Ending Runaways  | Implied abuse in the past | Implied J/C in the past

Also on AO3.

There are two long knocks, a pause and two knocks again on the door.

Jaime bolts upright from where he's been lying on the lumpy mattress, the Knights of Westeros book falling to the side. (He had been flipping through it, half mindlessly, trying to not think of Tyrion as much as he tried to recall his brother's smile. It's faded, like the picture of Goldenhand the Just that peers up at him. Like the value in the Lannister name.)

There are three knocks now, a brief pause that drags out and boils down to one heartbeat all at once, and four more rapid knocks. That's when the mad scramble begins.

It shouldn't be as haphazard as it is - the little he owns (and even less he is going to take with him) is all carefully stowed away and arranged just for this, but as his knees hit the floor with an impact that sends pain through the limbs, it feels frantic.

Jaime removes the floorboard beneath the bed with too much fervor and it creaks, breaking the silence like whiny thunder and he freezes, wondering if lightning won't strike after, this time. Listens and hopes he won't hear any footsteps, fears Brienne's scream spearing through him if she's been caught.

It never comes and he pulls out the bundle wrapped in rags, peels them away to peer into the contents of the plastic bag beneath, just to double check. Spare, clean clothes to shove in his backpack, some non-perishable foods he has squirreled away from the store he works at part time. (Brienne would disapprove, if he told her. But silence let's her look away from that and also from things Jaime wishes she'd at least steal a glance at. Then he could hope.)

Finally, he dives as deep as he can beneath the bed and fishes for the tin can in the hole. Cuts his shaking hand a little on the sharp edge when he pulls plastic-wrapped money out of it, but instead of that pain, there's a sting in his heart.

To think he has to keep few paper dragons and stags like this, when Lannisters used to...

He stops midthought, reels his attention to more important things. There have been many things that had been true once. There have been even more things that he had thought to be the truth. He thinks it's what you make it, these days. And he has to make his now.

Jaime puts the rags and board back in place, stuffs everything in his bag and moves to take a step, before he backpedals toward the bed and the nightstand beside it, the one that is always leaning away, as if the state of the bed disgusts it and it is any less dingy itself.

He picks up the book (also stolen, from the local library, but no one has even noticed it missing, he's sure) and forces it in the backpack that now won't zip up and hesitates, again. There is a matchbox in the back of the bottom drawer and Jaime knows it'll fizzle in the back of his mind if he leaves it. And it will smolder in his bag if he takes it.

He does it anyway, squishes it in one of the side pockets so it won't get ash and remnants of the photograph all over his stuff, just in case. His twin - them - have left enough marks on him as it is. (And he never did, for her.)

Just a year ago, he would've climbed out through the window, but now there is only searing pain in his right hand that cannot hold his weight and the inevitable loud crash in that direction, so Jaime takes the long road, through the corridor and down the stairs where every floorboard creaks, even when he steps close to the wall where they are less worn, for so many foster kids have used the exact same trick for years now.

But Roose Bolton has not been home for two days, and his wretched son seems to be gone as well. Jaime tries not to think of what Ramsay might be up to or what the Brave lot might attempt to out-trump him in cruelty. He isn't afraid, because he knows the slick warmth of wretched blood already and even the hand they tried to take from him is still strong enough to protect himself or Brienne, but he fears a delay might unravel their plans. (The look she gave him when he asked her to go ahead if he doesn't come to the oak within forty minutes of the signal had branded itself on his heart. Hers, hers not to abandon.)

In the end, he exits the house unnoticed. Still, the tension leaves sharper indents in his shoulders than the straps of his backpack as Jaime slips into the garden that has not known maintenance other than some furious and undiscriminate weeding of anything that grows as punishment for the foster kids.

He sees her peer around the oak tree and suddenly, there's no weight to him at all as he runs toward Brienne and then they are sinking to the ground, half to hide behind the bushes and half in relief that vibrates sharply around the edges. (It's just one step, one step that feels like a mile and hums of all the miles taken before it.)

Brienne's face is lit with bright determination, but even it casts shadows and he almosts asks, but later, later. Instead, he nods to her unspoken question and stands up.

There is just one good bye to say.

Jaime looks at the evenstar carved into the bark and smiles. This house doesn't get to keep anything more of them, only an indent left by hope they made themselves and then made real. His hand had hurt for days afterward, but each line had been a mark of his angry determination, a reminder that they can want more than they've picked up from carelessly thrown, often rotten scraps.

He had tried to add a lion instead of hearts or their initials next to it, but it had been far too complex and so Jaime had scratched the attempt out, furiously. (He tries not to look at it and think how symbolic it really is. Fails.)

Jaime places his palm over the star, asks for guidance one last time, though he's lucky enough to take his guiding star out of here and follow it into the unknown. (Fear of the unknown has nothing on walking the same patterns within your cage until your feet bleed, until the bone scrapes the dirt.)

Brienne's hand comes cover his own, large and warm, and callused, and he has never felt more grounded than in this moment. He tries to memorize this feeling as he meets her eyes, sees it reflected in the blue that has become the criteria to match up all other shades to in the last year.

And then they're off, weaving their way through the edge of the garden and onto the dirt road leading away. He doesn't look back. Everything he wants is walking right next to him, or ahead of her.

---

As they travel toward Winterfell, the cusp between spring and summer trickles through their fingers, leaving hot days and balmy afternoons in its wake.

It's not easy, getting by with less money than all the suspicious stares they earn along the way, though they become less frequent once the school year is over.

He half expects Brienne to eventually explain why that evening, why then and not a month later when high school diplomas, as unalike in their grades as the two of them are, would've been crumpled up at bottoms of their bags. But she never does. After all, there is a fresh start ahead of them. (That's what they say.) At least for her. (That's what he doesn't say.)

In unspoken agreement, they don't call Catelyn Stark the first week or the next, or any afterward. As if having the Starks coming to pick them up from anywhere else than their front door could make them change their minds.

He had thought it to be anger, red hot and tight around his ribcage, when she had told him Catelyn had recognized her as Selwyn's daughter and offered to help. That she had thanked and accepted the number, without jumping on the chance immediately. For coming back to this house for more than her bag.

And it had been that, in a way. Anger and desperation, and ache. To know she is safe and happy, even if on the other side of the country. Especially then, maybe. Because it had scared him, the campfires growing wild on the barren, littered beach inside of him, though even distraught, the oceans of her eyes could put them out.

It was that night that he had realized. Love meant the difference between anger contained and welts on someone's skin. And he had never been loved.

There is more to discover about love, still, and he has done almost every day since then. But never more than on this trip.

Some days, they both go more hungry than full. (He gives up on convincing her to take his share after the third time, but offers nonetheless.) Some nights, he whistles her lullaby under the open sky and curls up next to her, unable to steal minutes dipped in this peaceful warmth away from himself with sleep.

And yet, Brienne is often bright with cautious happiness these days and sometimes, it blows to this pure joy that he would never grow tired of watching, even if it would render him blind like the sun.

He does almost sneak away to call the number he has memorized as well as she has, in Moat Caitlin, ready to preserve that light even if it means their parting will be colored red with her angry blush. They're hungry and tired, and no one seems to want to give them a chance to haul some boxes around for a few stags. Their post-graduation adventure story isn't holding up much anymore, just like his shoes.

(He craves a smoke more than he’s craved it since the first month of quitting, but one implied promise broken is bad enough, so he grits his teeth and bears it.)

But when he enters a small family shop, in hopes to borrow a telephone, a different opportunity presents itself in the shape of Pia. His shaggy appearance doesn't deter her from flirting repeatedly, not even when Brienne follows him in and freezes in the doorway before approaching, and in half an hour, they've got an invite to stay for a while at her place, while her parents are visiting her grandmother.

The implication where he's sleeping are quite clear and he hopes his smile doesn't look as acidic as it burns across his lips. There are worse ways his body has been used in the name of love.

And yet, he cannot look at Brienne through the nice (he thinks, he can hardly taste it) dinner, there is sluggishness in him that spreads breath by breath.

Afterward, the hot water of shower feels too much, too much (like it had been over a year ago, when he had been just out of hospital and almost drowning in the bathtub before Brienne hauled him into her arms and back into life) and when doors of Pia's bedroom close behind him, he is numb and logy like his limbs aren't entirely his own. There may be a smile on his lips, Cersei liked when he smiled through everything she gave him, even when there was blood on his teeth.

She gives him one look and frowns. "No, Jaime, no. This... isn't whatever you think it is. I just thought we could have a bit of fun." Pia pushes him out of the room and into the living room, before hurrying off to bring him a blanket and an extra pillow and he just lets it happen, no witty quip in reach where he's hiding away.

"Does she even know?" Pia asks, lingering in the doorway after she's turned out the lights, and his silence in the darkness is an answer. "Well, she should."

"It's better if she doesn't, she won't get as hurt," He won't be as hurt if he doesn't know. The yes or the no and the very sweet, crushing uncertainty in between, or the softness of her lips and the glimpse of the ocean's taste in the sweatdrops on her neck.

"I doubt it protected her tonight," she says before walking upstairs and Jaime stays, sitting in the middle of the couch, buried neck deep in a blanket cozier than any he has known in years. That's where Brienne finds him the next morning.

"Jaime," she calls him as she kneels in front of him and he guesses, by her drawn expression and hand on his shoulder, not for the first time and he tries pull up a smile from the well reserved just for her, but the bucket falls off the hook, and he cannot do anything but lean forward and rest forehead against her shoulder.

"What happened, Jaime? Are you hurt? Did Pia..." she trails off, but he's already shaking his head. "No, nothing happened," he croaks and it grates on his tongue like the lie it is. But there's nothing that he can define or explain. Yet, she understands somehow and takes him to the kitchen, makes sure he drinks the tea and eats the food that he cannot remember later. And then she brings him to her bed and he thinks it to be so warm from her, though it must've been an hour since she got up, and that's where the rest of the day melts away.

When he wakes the next morning, he is crowded in the wall. She's facing him, her hand holding his in the small space between their bodies on the pillow. Jaime lays there watching her and the sun rises in him as it does beyond the windowpane.

He doesn't think he will ever be completely free of the void placed in him, emptiness that Cersei nurtured for it was endless space that sung in echo of all her desires, but in this moment, he knows he wants to build a fence around it, plant trees and little flowers that look brighter for the darkness that lays beyond them.

And that desire, he thinks, is the start to something that may shrink the void some day.

Maybe then, he can tell Brienne that she threw a falling star in the dark and when it wasn't extinguished, he realized there was an edge to it. Maybe then, he can build a home for her laughter, instead of fearing it'll finally break through the sky and escape him. Maybe then...

A million wishes hum softly when Brienne blinks sleepily at him, smiles faintly. He shifts his hand, to free hers, but her fingers tighten just so and he gives up immediately. (It's not like how he used to know it; she doesn't demand him to and the surrender is only for his own indulgence.)

"Looks like sleep did you some good," she says softly and brushes a few curls away from his face and he has to swallow thickly, not from desire for anything more, but the way the warmth and tenderness of her brings a flood of tears pressing against the dams he's determined to uphold.

"Oh Jaime," she murmurs and scoots closer and there are no more dams, just the ocean of her eyes that blur and overflow, in him and through him.

He buries his face in her neck, shakes apart until he's coughing and heaving and is only held together by her arms wrapped around him. Grieves all that could've been, all that has been broken, all that he will never touch with untainted hands, worships regret and guilt and then casts them out.

In their place, he anchors the weight of her hands on his back, the tickle of her hair against his forehead, the soft tremble of her inhale when he pulls back, breathing still uneven.

There's a tear streak on her cheek that he reaches to wipe away, because of course, she's hurting too and he-- But no, he cannot, will not take a new guilt on immediately. (He does, anyway.)

Brienne releases him then, gets up and brings some paper towels from the bathroom for him, because they're saving the tissues in their bags, and he blows his nose again and again. The silence between them should be uncomfortable, somehow, but instead of being embarrassed, he just feels dull and tired, but better for it.

"Fuck, my head hurts," he finally says.

"I'll bring some painkillers and water," she says, already halfway to the doorway and part of Jaime wants her to stay, wants to sink in sleep with her hand in his again, but instead he goes to the bathroom to wash his face.

"What are you going to do?" he asks the reflection that is familiar and unknown all at once, fingers tight around the sink. "What are you going to do?"

And finds the answer.

They leave Moat Caitlin almost a week later, truly rested and with almost-honestly earned food and necessities in their bags, thankful enough to actually plan to keep the promise to let Pia know how everything pans out in Winterfell when they get there. He knows Brienne will want to repay the money Pia has invested in them, if nothing else. Before they depart, their kind host tucks another "tell her" behind his ear, "because otherwise it's really not fair to the rest of us".

This, he cannot promise still, so he only smiles.

When they reach White Harbor, there is a stone in Jaime's chest, all the more heavy and jagged for the knowledge he will try to toss it out soon. He finds them a cheap trashcan of a motel and leaves Brienne to settle in, moves through the streets like the hounded, as if hesitating could mean he never goes through with it, or he just can't wait to get it done. (It's somewhere in the middle)

He stops only on a bridge over White Knife river, the nearest that he could find. The matchbox trembles briefly in his hand, like a flame about to be blown out, but then he presses close to the railing, and the quiver is gone.

Jaime opens it and dumps the content into the river below. He knows that the frail ash will probably never even reach water, but it doesn't matter. What matters is that he's given them burial in the water and the wind. That maybe with time the photograph in his mind will fade, too. That maybe he'll stop asking if it is his fault there's not a shadow of those two smiling children left.

He stays on the bridge for a while longer, thinking about their childhood (because he still can't think of that part of life in singular), about her smile and Tyrion's laughter, about games - the ones that didn't hurt anyone. The good things you're supposed to speak of at funerals. There hadn't been much good said at Tywin's, but he's seen the proper sort on TV.

When the sun sets and he comes back to the hotel, Brienne greets him almost wary, looking him over as if looking for injury. "Are you okay?" she asks, offering him a sandwich as Jaime plops down on the bed next to her. (They'll be sharing again and he doesn't mind in the slightest. Brienne had not complained either, not that she was one to do so.)

"Yeah, I am," he tells her, honestly, and realizes that there had been no splash when that stone had fallen into the river along with the ash, but it's gone nonetheless. There is empty space now, saved for a smile, and he does so, luring one from Brienne in response.

(When they're falling asleep, he presses the kiss to her forehead that has been aching on his lips.)

---

Winterfell is not as cold and miserable in late summer as he imagined, but it's no dream destination. Still, Jaime tells himself he's glad he won't have to make a home here, because even colorful ads don't bring much life to Wintertown. (What kind of name is that, even?)

It's not a lie that holds up when they're standing in front of a phone booth. They stare at the chipping paint on the door like it holds all answers to questions they don't even know, before Brienne turns to look at him, grabs his hand and pulls him inside.

The booth would barely hold her and the backpack, but with him, quite literally folded into it as well, it becomes absolutely cramped. Still, she finds a way to grab his hand somehow, after she's paid the fee.

"Hello Mrs. Stark? This is Brienne Tarth, daughter of Selwyn Tarth. Last year, you extended an offer - I was wondering if it was still open?" She listens and it's her grip that betrays her emotions, not her steady voice. They had discussed what to say, beforehand, but it had not been revibrating around them in a tiny phone booth then, so real and with the possibility to change their lives.

She looks at him, eyes wide and stormy and nods to not keep him in suspense, before continuing: "Thank you, Mrs. Stark. I am currently on the corner between Builderstreet and Ravenroad in Wintertown. And I have brought a friend with me. This is non-negotiable, though I understand if it changes your mind."

Brienne squeezes his hand, jaw set in challenge that rings clear in her voice and he is felled by it, frozen though he should grab the receiver and shout "no, no, I don't matter, forget about me, just please take her in". But he wouldn't even be able to locate it, he can only see her face and think that it almost glows somehow. He is no match for her in this moment, no one is.

"We will stay there, yes. Thank you again." And just like that, the time resumes, but he is still swept up in the river of her determination, not its flow.

"Breathe, Jaime," she tells him, smiling so brightly that he is suckerpunched by the reality of the sun's gravity and the almost tangible heat of her power, and he thaws, inhales deeply and shakily.

It would be so easy to tangle himself further into her and press a kiss to her mouth, a thank you and worship in one, to brand his lips with hers just so he could always remember I was hers, briefly, brilliantly. Here, in this space still bobbing along independent of everything beyond it.

And it would be the most unfair thing of all. To ask even more of her, to hurt her if Stark kindness runs thin when they learn just who is her companion, to give her only something so brief and not him whole as she deserves. (But will there ever be more of him?)

So, he pulls them back into the sunlight.

They are holding hands still as they wait for the Starks, strings of tension humming the same tune in both of them, but there is fierceness in Brienne's smile. It runs hot enough to light a kindling in him, not the destructive sort he's grown accustomed to, but a more dangerous one. Because like this, she looks like a knight that will champion for him, no matter the odds. And win.

He still wants to kiss her, like a favor given and taken before the battle, and the way she's looking at him right now, defiance melting into reassurance and warmth, something sparkling he can't define within, when their eyes meet, he can almost believe she wouldn't mind. But there is a world between not minding and melting into his touch like it's home. And no time to find out.

So he presses kiss to her forehead instead, breathes her in and swears it's not the last time, knows more than ever he can't let her go, and then they are ready to face the future.

Together.

[fictionaffliction]

Better Forgotten

Chapter Four

Summary: Dr. Ingrid Hansen is a respected psychologist struggling with the aftermath of the Snap as well as her own trauma from an accident she endured many years ago. Her world is thrown into utter chaos when she meets a dangerous man posing as a client. Dr. Strange is reluctantly tasked with protecting her, but in order to do so, he must first help her recover who she truly is. While she is grateful for his help, she has to wonder, are some things better forgotten?

Rated M

Chapter Warnings: Canon typical violence, memory loss, chronic pain, ophidiophobia, thalassaphobia

It was only when the sun rudely shone on Ingrid’s face through the open curtains that she woke up. Normally, she wasn't one to sleep in, but her sleep that night had been frequently disrupted by sudden bursts of anxious energy that shook her awake like an earthquake. She did not have a moment of forgetting where she was when she awoke, but she envied the temporary forgetfulness enjoyed by characters on television when they briefly do not remember the previous day’s events after waking. Maybe if she shared that condition, she might be given a moment of rest from the terrible sense of dread constricting her chest.

She checked her phone. No messages. Not even an email from a patient. Soren and the others must’ve kept their word and taken care of things at her office. Annoyed at the dead silence of her inbox, she threw the blankets off of herself and got up. After getting dressed and doing her makeup (which seemed to appear on the dresser the moment she realized she didn’t have any with her), she headed into the hallway.

She slipped her phone into her back pocket and was wondering where Dr. Strange might be when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned, ready to say something but yelping in surprise instead when she was met with the sight of Dr. Strange’s cloak, floating on its own in front of her. The cloak’s edge folded and waved at her, mimicking a hand beneath it. Unsure of what else to do, she waved back.

“H-hi,” she stammered, not wanting to be rude--that is, if one can be rude to a cloak. The edge folded again, gesturing for her to follow. She obeyed, careful to keep her hands clasped in front of her so as not to accidentally disturb any of the artifacts. They found Dr. Strange and Wong with a number of books surrounding them, sitting below the large circular window she had seen from outside the day before. They looked up when they heard her footsteps.

“Oh, good. We can get started,” Dr. Strange said.

“With what?” she asked apprehensively.

“Getting to the bottom of whatever the hell Loki wants with you,” he replied. “But we’ll start with those migraines.” He held out his hand in invitation.

Ingrid suddenly felt unsure. A million questions ran through her mind as she felt herself move a step backwards. The cloak scooped her up and carried her closer to them before settling on Dr. Strange’s shoulders.

“Have a seat, Dr. Hansen,” he said, gesturing to a wooden chair behind her that had not been there a moment before. She did so, still feeling uneasy. He settled in a chair across from her, Wong remained standing, watching them both closely. “When did you start getting migraines?” he asked, his tone suddenly clinical.

“About thirteen years ago,” she said. She was familiar with this conversation. She’d had it with a dozen neurologists before him.

“What prompted them?”

“A boating accident.”

“Tell me more about that.”

The conversation was practically verbatim each time she’d had it. This time was no exception.

She sighed heavily. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not go into the specifics.” It was painful to recount each time.

His eyes narrowed at her refusal. “Oh come on, Dr. Hansen, you know how this goes,” he said. She stayed quiet, keeping her face neutral but resolved. He let out a breath in exasperation. “Fine. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” He removed his gloves to reveal five long, pinkish scars etched into the back of each hand, running from the tips of his fingers to his wrists.

Staring at his hands, she nodded slowly. He kept his gloves off. “I don’t remember much,” she admitted.

“That’s okay,” Wong said kindly. “Just tell us as much as you can.”

She swallowed and took a deep breath. “My parents and I liked to go fishing and my dad wanted to go out on the water for a few days to celebrate...something.” She struggled to remember but it was hazy. The two men watched her carefully as she squinted at nothing in particular, searching her mind. “A birthday maybe? Anyway, we rented a little small boat and when we went out the weather was clear, but then...” she trailed off. The two men waited patiently for her to finish. “It got stormy on the second morning. We tried to get back to shore, but we couldn’t beat it.”

She recalled the lightning crackling across the sky as her father attempted to navigate the huge wave that slammed into the side of their boat. She heard her mother cry out for her as she reached for her hand. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she fought back the panic that kicked at the inside of her chest. You’re safe, she reminded herself, though safety seemed relative at this moment.

“The last thing I remember is getting hit in the back of the head and hitting the water.” she finished.

“And your parents?” Dr. Strange asked.

She shook her head. “They never recovered them or the boat,” she replied quietly, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. Wong offered her a tissue, which she took with a rueful smile. Dr. Strange and Wong exchanged a look before he continued with his interrogation.

“I appreciate you telling me,” Dr. Strange said, his arms crossed firmly across his chest. “That can’t be easy to live with. I seem to recall that you were interested in dementia treatment. Do you happen to have any memory issues?”

“You remember that?” she asked. He nodded. She was impressed. “Yeah, I do,” she admitted. The sorcerer’s eyes narrowed. “The doctor at the hospital diagnosed me with some retrograde amnesia following a traumatic brain injury.”

“Nothing shows up on any scans?” he asked skeptically.

She shook her head. “Nope. They couldn’t figure it out either. According to them, there’s no detectable reason for my memory loss or my migraines.”

Dr. Strange blinked in disbelief. “Bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

“Not you. Them.” He got to his feet and nodded at Wong, who nodded back and stepped closer to them. "Amnesia this extensive doesn't come without significant brain damage. It would show up on CAT Scans and MRIs." Dr. Strange made a circling gesture. As he did, the air around them cracked into a hundred prisms that constantly shifted, reflecting soft rainbows around them. Ingrid gasped, jumping to her feet. It was beautiful, but that didn’t stop her from feeling unnerved.

“What is this?” she asked, reaching out to touch the edge of one of the prisms. Her fingers slipped through it, but did not break through. Wong watched them, or rather, watched in their general direction. He did not seem to be able to see them.

“This is the Mirror Dimension. Anything inside it cannot be perceived. The only way to open and close it is with one of these," he said, gesturing with his index and middle fingers. Across them was an aged gold ring with a simple bar on top. Had she seen it on the street, Ingrid would have thought it was a subtle set of brass knuckles. "This dimension will keep us safe from Loki as we’re working. He won't be able to track us. Well, he shouldn't be able to. If he does, we'll deal with it,” he explained with a shrug.

Her eyes were wide as he went over a couple of book passages in preparation for whatever he was about to do. He looked up and took in her frightened face and felt his expression soften to one of earnestness. He put his hands on her shoulders, and the warmth and weight of them helped calm her nerves.

“Dr. Hansen, I know this is a lot to take in and it's scary, but you've got to believe that I will protect you, okay?”

“Okay,” she squeaked. “What are you going to do?”

He thought for a moment. “You know, it’s easier if I just show you.” He placed his hands on either side of her face and she felt a strange warmth seep into her skin. For a moment she thought her face was flushed, until she noticed the soft electric feeling tingles that accompanied it.

She blinked, and suddenly she was standing with Dr. Strange in what seemed to be a dark expanse of fog. Muffled voices echoed around her and she whipped her head around to look. Two adult figures passed by, their forms faded and shadowed so that their features were only vaguely distinguishable. Ingrid gasped and moved closer to her companion, who watched closely. Another group of figures huddled around a table appeared from the mist, accompanied by a chorus of “Happy Birthday”. The little figure seated at the head of the table was the only one easily recognizable.

“That's me,” Ingrid realized, taking in the mess of blond hair and the single freckle on her right cheekbone. She touched her face where it remained. “What is this?” She asked, turning to face Dr. Strange.

“Your memories,” he said simply. “Though I must say, I wasn’t expecting them to be so…”

Another faded image of what looked to be a high school graduation appeared. “Say ‘diploma’!” the muffled voice of Ingrid's mother said.

“Eerie?” Ingrid offered, watching as it faded away.

“I was going to say few and far between,” he corrected. He put a hand on her back, urging her forward. “Come on, let's see if we can find something we can use.”

The sounds of a storm echoed to the right. A small sailing boat was caught in a swell that it had no hope of out maneuvering. She heard her own voice screaming out to the shadowy figure of her mother.

“Ingrid!” her mother screamed. “Hang on!”

Fear froze her veins as Ingrid helplessly watched her own body plummet into the frothing waves below.

“No, wait!” she yelled, taking a step toward the boat that was already fading away. Dr. Strange grabbed her wrist.

“It’s just a memory, Dr. Hansen,” he reminded her.

She looked at him with wide eyes and swallowed, but stepped back again as they watched another memory unfold. This one was more vivid. Ingrid’s too-pale body lying on a rocky beach as lightning flashed across the sky and waves threatened to wash her back out to sea.

“Hey! Are you alright?” a man’s lightly accented voice shouted over the storm. An aged hand pressed against her neck, searching for a pulse. “She’s alive. Call 911!”

The memory of Ingrid opened her eyes, blinking. Her face was dazed, devoid of any expression besides the wide-eyed confusion. Dr. Strange recognized severe shock when he saw it. The faces of the people faded in and out of focus. A man dressed in a tan windbreaker was bent over her. His hair might have once been red, though age had robbed it of most of its color. A woman dressed in a flannel jacket with long caramel-colored hair joined him. A girl with long dark hair and glasses stood close behind them, already yelling into her phone.

“Don’t worry, you’re going to be okay,” the woman said. “Just hang on.”

The memory faded away and Ingrid’s face looked almost as pale as it had in the memory. Dr. Strange knew couldn’t keep her here much longer. She wasn’t prepared. He looked around quickly. “Come on, we need to keep moving.”

She swallowed and nodded, following closely behind him.

They walked, though it felt like they weren't getting anywhere. Ingrid reminded herself to trust him, but she could not stop the dreadful feeling from gnawing at her gut. They halted as they heard a different voice, very far away. It sounded like that of an older woman and as they listened closer, they could hear someone sobbing. Was she soothing them?

“Where is that coming from?” Ingrid asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Her throat was tight with terror.

“Not sure,” Dr. Strange replied as he continued forward and she grabbed his arm instinctively. He allowed it, if only because her fear was so palpable.

The mist grew thicker and darker as they continued. There were no more sounds or figures of faded family members. Ingrid felt the keen sting of loneliness and loss as she saw how barren her memories were. Suddenly, there was a hiss from the darkness. She looked about, wide-eyed. Her hands tightened desperately on Dr. Strange's sleeve as her head began to ache. Another hiss, this one louder and closer, and the sound of something moving across the ground.

“What is that?” Ingrid’s voice was shaking. There was a flash of black and grey to their left. Another hiss. Dr. Strange shoved Ingrid behind him and pounded his wrists together before he landed in a fighting stance with brightly lit orange sigils spinning about his fists.

Out of the darkness rose a large pair of red eyes that glowed with a hatred like Ingrid had never seen before. Slitted pupils reflected the light of Dr. Strange's magic as it came closer, revealing a massive snake.

They watched in horror as it reared up, its forked tongue flickering out of a mouth that could easily swallow them whole. It opened its maw revealing two gargantuan fangs dripping with darkly colored venom, a set of frills at its neck expanding as it lunged with a terrible high-pitched hiss. Ingrid screamed, not just at the beast but at the terrible, splitting pain that struck at her head as Dr. Strange spun and pulled her to his chest.

The next thing she knew, she felt cold stone beneath her body and the world was suddenly brighter, even through squeezed shut eyes. She was sobbing, from fear or from pain, she wasn't sure which. She turned with some effort and pressed her face to the cool floor, desperate for any kind of relief.

“Hansen, it’s okay, you’re back. You’re safe,” Dr. Strange’s deep voice said from above her as he put his hands on her shoulders to try and sit her up. She waved him off weakly, clutching her head with desperate hands.

“What's wrong?” Wong asked, rushing over as the Mirror Dimension closed around them. He knelt at her side.

“My head,” she whimpered. She felt the pain throb with every pulse of her bloodstream. She opened her eyes to look up at them, but found that the room was suddenly far too bright. There was a greyish spot over part of her vision in her left eye. She clamped her eyes shut against the pain again as the two men kept trying to ask her questions. Nausea roiled against her stomach as she tried not to wretch.

“Alright, let’s get you to bed,” Dr. Strange said. “Can you stand?”

Her mouth didn’t want to form the words that her brain told it to. “I-I don’t know,” she stammered slowly, struggling to enunciate.

Wong helped her sit up slowly, then steadied her as she tried to get to her feet. Her legs wobbled and she nearly fell over, but Wong kept his grip on her as she took a few steps toward her room. “Do you need to be carried?” he asked gently.

“No, it’s fine,” she slurred.

“Liar,” Dr. Strange said as his cape unhooked itself and scooped her up into its aged silk lining. She wouldn’t admit it out loud, but the cape’s magic carpet ride was certainly better than having Wong and Strange watch her struggle all the way to her bedroom.

When they got to her room, Wong hurriedly shut all the curtains, blocking out as much light as they could manage. The lamps were kept off, and Ingrid was placed gently on the bed by the cape, which dutifully returned to Dr. Strange’s shoulders as the man sat down on the bed next to her and conjured an ice pack.

“You didn’t tell me your migraines got this bad,” Dr. Strange said, keeping his voice quiet as he handed it to her.

She took it and gratefully pressed it to her forehead with a sigh of relief at the coolness against her skin. “They usually don’t.”

He and Wong exchanged a look and after telling her that he would be right back, Dr. Strange met Wong in the hallway.

“Something is very wrong here,” Dr. Strange said.

“I can see that,” Wong responded impatiently. “What happened, Stephen?”

Dr. Strange massaged his brows. “I took her into her memories and it was practically a ghost town. Most of them weren’t vivid or even whole, and then there was this...serpent. It attacked us.”

Wong frowned. “Was it a memory?”

Strange shook his head. “I don’t think so. It was too tangible, too aware of our presence.”

Wong thought for a moment, searching his own memory for a clue as to what this might mean. He clapped his hand to his friend’s shoulder. “Looks like we have work to do. You keep an eye on things here, I’m going to follow a few threads.”

Dr. Strange nodded as Wong hurried off deeper into the Sanctum.

[rocorambles]

A Waiting Game

Pairing: Yaku x Lev

Genre: SFW, Fluff, Honestly just tooth rotting fluff

Summary: Lev is always making Yaku wait, but the wait is more than worth it, Yaku concludes. 

Yaku taps his foot impatiently, his already short temper rising even more as the minutes pass and there is still no stupidly tall first year in sight. Kuroo snickers at the shorter third year. “Try and relax, Yaku. I don’t want you to actually kill Lev whenever he does show up.” Yaku is about to retort when the gym doors clang open and a rambunctious teen holding a yowling cat in his hands enters. “Yaku-senpai! I’m sorry I’m late, but look! I found him and he looked so hungry and alone, so I had to take care of him.” 

Yaku wants to be mad. He really does. But the silver-haired teen is shoving the fluffiest tiniest calico kitten into his chest and he can feel his heart curling with adoration as he cradles the little bundle in his arms. Unknown to Yaku, Lev’s heart is also beating faster, but it’s not because of the kitten. The taller boy can’t help but stare as Yaku coos at and nuzzles the little creature and Lev thinks it might be the cutest sight he’s ever seen. So cute in fact that, without thinking, he’s taking out his phone and snapping a picture. The flash startles Yaku and the tender moment is gone as Yaku angrily roundhouse kicks him and drags him off to practice his receives. But after practice, when Lev is alone in his room, exhausted from the grueling drills Yaku made him do, he opens up his camera and fondly smiles at the picture he took before falling soundly asleep, dreaming of cute kittens and even cuter short third-years.   

It takes many more attempts from Lev to get closer to the stern third-year and many more internal debates for Yaku (and maybe some meddling from Kuroo) before Lev finally manages to convince his senpai to go on a date with him. Once again, Yaku taps his foot impatiently as he waits for the teen who’s currently running late, but this time he doesn’t wait long before he hears rapid footsteps hurrying towards him and there is his lanky beanpole panting for breath when he finally reaches Yaku. “Sorry I’m late, Yaku-san! It took me a while to decide on which bouquet to buy.” Suddenly white camellias are being thrust into Yaku’s face and Yaku hates the way his stomach flutters as he delicately takes the proffered flowers. “The flower shop lady said it means ‘you’re adorable’, so I knew it was perfect for you because I think you’re adorable!” Yaku flushes a bright tomato red at how genuinely and without hesitation Lev said that sentence and promptly smacks the younger boy with an embarrassed cry of “shut up”. But as Lev whines about how hard he hit him, Yaku hides his smile behind the beautiful white petals.  

There’s more dates, more direct declarations of love from Lev, more embarrassed smacks from Yaku, but finally graduation comes around and Lev sits in the crowd, his heart sinking in his chest as he stares at Yaku standing on the stage, accepting his diploma. He wants to be happy because he is proud of everything the older boy has accomplished. He’s proud to have been his kouhai. He’s proud to have been able to call him his. But the realization that Yaku isn’t going to be with him everyday anymore and that he’ll be alone on the volleyball court for the next two years without a demon senpai whipping him into shape has tears welling in the corner of his eyes. He can’t bring himself to find Yaku immediately after the ceremony and instead mopes alone, trying to compose himself. But no matter how hard he tries, he can’t get rid of the rock crushing his heart and he sullenly sits until a gentle tap on his shoulder brings him back to reality. He turns to see Yaku nervously looking at the ground and is about to say something to break the awkward silence when Yaku’s closed fist is in front of his face and he is bowing as he asks Lev to “please accept”. Accept what? Lev confusedly takes turns looking at Yaku’s bowed figure and his outstretched hand before holding out his own larger hands and he’s stunned as Yaku drops a button into his palms. Lev’s mind blanks as he stares at the tiny object that suddenly feels as heavy as a ton of bricks and when his brain finally decides to function again, he’s hovering over Yaku’s smaller form, staring intently at his school blazer and sure enough, where there should be a button in the second slot, there’s only a loose thread. Yaku’s still bowed, refusing to look at Lev, but yelps when he’s suddenly being pushed to the ground by the weight of Lev flinging himself on top of the graduate. There, lying on top of each other on the school grounds of Nekoma High School, they share their first kiss (which is rudely interrupted by Kai and Kuroo obnoxiously cheering them on in the background...well more like Kai politely clapping and congratulating the two of them while Kuroo jeers at them to get a room).   

The next few years are tough between making a long-distance relationship work, university keeping Yaku busy, and entrance exam studies occupying Lev, but neither boys have ever been quitters and they’re determined to try their best. They enjoy a couple of years in between where they’re both college students together and they relish being able to complain together about terrible professors while downing far too much coffee. But finally, they begin to really settle down as Yaku enters the workforce and is able to afford a modest apartment near Lev’s school and the two begin living together. 

It’s not always sunshine and butterflies as Yaku angrily shouts at Lev to stop littering the floor with random articles of clothing and as Lev pouts at Yaku for always being so mean to him, but when they wake up wrapped in each other’s arms as the sun peeks in, the slight headaches and little spats are forgotten.  

Time passes and now both along in their careers, Lev and Yaku decide to hike in the mountains one weekend as an escape from hectic city life and as a short reprise from long work weeks. It’s a gorgeous spring day and they don’t talk much as they enjoy the nature around them while holding hands. Yaku’s not entirely sure where they’re going, but Lev insisted on planning their route so he just lets himself be dragged by his excited boyfriend. He’s not fully paying attention to what’s ahead as he takes in the budding rainbow of flowers around him, so he’s slightly stunned when he walks straight into Lev’s unmoving back. Gingerly rubbing his slightly sore nose, he looks up, about to question why they’ve stopped when his jaw drops and his hands fall at the sight before him. 

A field of white camellias is sprawled before them and Yaku’s memory races to the first bouquet Lev had ever bought him (the first bouquet anyone has ever bought him) and his eyes water as he now stares at the vast grounds decorated with the same exact flower. He turns to Lev and the tears begin to stream down his face as he sees the lanky man on one knee, holding out a ring. “I think you’re still adorable, Morisuke, so will you marry me and let me spend the rest of my life enjoying how adorable you are? By my side? As my husband?” Yaku manages to choke out a laugh at how cheesy Lev’s words are before sobbing a yes as he tackles his now fiance to the ground. 

Their relationship has been constantly tested by time and it always felt like one was waiting for the other in some capacity (usually Yaku waiting for Lev), but as they lie there in a bed of white petals, Lev carefully slipping the ring onto Yaku’s finger, they silently agree that the wait has been more than worth it.         

[weathergirl8]

Pranks and Tempers (1/3)

Summary: It was only supposed to be an innocent prank, but Gordon didn't bargain for more.

Moving some of my work on here incase you haven’t already seen it on AO3 or fanfiction.net. (Remember my username on both of those platforms is shadowfox8)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day began with a tranquil start. Of course, things had been quiet lately. There hadn’t been a call for help in days, and that left one Tracy with a need to make life exciting. The question was always - how?

Walking to the balcony of his room, Alan stretched his stiff limbs. He couldn’t help but let loose a snicker as he thought about the only Tracy in his family that would find a need to excite their lives a little. No one other than his older brother, Gordon Tracy.

Now, considering Gordon was his partner in crime, that meant Alan had been asked several times to help his older brother in his acts of…. well excitement. Shaking his head, Alan quickly raised his white flag to his older brother. He wanted nothing to do with Gordon’s pranks this time. The youngest Tracy was still reeling from his last prank on his older brothers. One that had not only left Scott but his father quite upset at him.

Alan had to admit, loading his eldest brother’s bottle of favorite whiskey full of salt wasn’t necessarily the best idea - especially after his father had gotten into the tampered bottle as well. Expensive was a good word for his prank, considering his brother had high standards for his choice of favorite alcohol. Alan was still paying for that one. Of all the luck, the company his father and brother ordered the imported liquor from happened to be shut down for nearly two weeks. The youngest Tracy had to wait a long time to order more, and his family members didn’t make it easy on him.

Yeah, being Switzerland sounded like a great idea.

At twenty-two, Alan was going through a stage where he’d rather stay neutral in his family’s lives. The youngest Tracy was still finding it hard to prove he was no longer a kid, but in fact, an adult. After graduating from college, Alan had hoped his diploma would help his cause. Nope. If anything, graduating from college made matters worse. It was like his family had gone into denial at the fact that he was indeed old enough to not only drink alcohol but be a college graduate from Harvard.

A sudden commotion coming from the hallway stole him away from his thoughts. Hearing what appeared to be a distant voice, Alan ventured back into his room.

“GORDON! I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!”

A knowing smirk followed by a snort escaped Alan’s lips as he heard his eldest brother bellow after the redhead of the family. “Oh Gordo, what did you do this time?” he asked himself aloud.

Hearing Scott edge closer to Gordon’s door, Alan figured it’d be best to stay right where he was. When Scott was in this type of mood, it was best to stay out of his way until he found his target. If you didn’t stay out of his way, you quickly became his new target - a lesson the blonde had learned the hard way several times.

Scott Tracy had a temper that rivaled their fathers. Not that Alan was one to talk about bad tempers. It was no secret the youngest of five had inherited his short fuse from Jeff Tracy. Knowing Scott’s fuse had been tripped a while ago, Alan wasn’t venturing into that hall. Not yet, at least. Of course, that didn’t mean Alan couldn’t listen to the exchange that was no doubt going to happen right across the hall from him.

Leaning against his door, Alan waited for the war to begin. Sometimes he really did love his family. After all, who got to say this type of situation was normal in their household? If he could put money down on it, he’d bet not many.

A loud bang interrupted his thoughts as Scott’s firm fist pounded against the wood. “GORDON!”

The hallway remained very silent as the eldest Tracy waited for a response. Powered by anger, impatience, and a need to kill his brother, Scott pounded harder upon the door of his little brother’s room. “I know you’re in there, Gordon! You better get your ass out here before I force my way in!”

Alan bit his lip, a smile plastered across his face still. He was finding it hard not to laugh, but he knew not to make a sound. He didn’t feel like enduring the wrath of Scott. Hearing the door receive another beating, Alan shook his head. His redheaded older brother knew better than to hide from Scott.

Expecting to hear a door being bust open, the youngest Tracy was shocked to hear Gordon’s voice come from down the hall. A knowing chuckle was escaping the lips of the ginger. If Alan knew his brother, a cheshire cat smile accompanied that chuckle.

“Hi’ya Scott, did you enjoy that shower after your run?”

Alan covered his mouth. Gordy, do you have a death wish?? By now, Alan could picture the scene going on outside of his room. If a cartoonist could draw it, he was sure that steam would be shooting out of his eldest brother’s ears. However, the question remained - what did his brother do?

The first response Alan heard from his irate brother was a huge sigh escaping his lungs. Yep, his older brother was close to losing his temper - maybe even blowing a gasket would describe it better. Alan knew that sigh all too well. He could hear the tightness in Scott’s chest as his eldest brother did all he could not to strangle Alan’s closest sibling.

“You think this is funny?” Scott’s constricted voice spoke. “I’m completely covered in this crap!”

Gordon’s voice didn’t skip a beat. “I just wanted you to appreciate the true color of Thunderbird 4. You shouldn’t insult her striking beauty. Maybe you’ll think better of it next time.”

Okay, Alan was officially interested. Opening his door, it took everything the youngest Tracy had within him not to burst out laughing. In front of him stood an outraged Scott, but his features - brunette hair and tan skin were replaced with yellow. From what his mind could put together in just those few seconds, Alan could guess that Gordon had filled Scott’s shower head with yellow paint. Paint that no doubt had to have come from Virgil’s collection. This had been an old school prank, one the swimmer of the family hadn’t attempted in years.

“What’s going on?” Alan asked, trying to play off he hadn’t heard the whole exchange. The angry glare he received from his eldest brother almost made the youngest step back into his room and shut the door.

“What does it look like, Alan? So help me if you had any part of this!” Scott fumed.

“Whoa,” Alan held his hands up as if to surrender. “I don’t even know what’s going on.”

“Leave Alan alone, Scott. This is between you and me,” Gordon warned.

“I don’t know why any of us bother to think either one of you will ever grow up. It’s all just a game for the two of you.”

Alan walked over to stand next to Gordon. “Now wait a minute, Scott. Maybe you should have all the facts before you start dishing out insults.”

Gordon put a hand on his little brother’s shoulder. “Don’t even try, Alan. This is “Mister Serious” we’re talking about. He doesn’t know how to joke around anymore. We‘re just kids, remember. We’ll never grow up. Well news flash Scott, you don‘t know everything!”

“I’m going to make sure Dad finds something useful for you to do besides acting like an adolescent!”

“You go ahead and do that, Scott. Just remember we’re not ten anymore. Dad doesn’t have much say,” Gordon glared.

Having had enough of his two younger siblings and his temper reaching its limit, Scott shoved both Gordon and Alan out of his way and made his way toward Jeff’s office.

Unfortunately for Gordon and Alan, sometimes Scott didn’t know his own strength - especially in anger. The momentum of the shove caused them to lose their balance as they fell backward along the ledge of the stoop that led to their bedrooms.

Taken by surprise, Alan tried to stop his fall and only managed to save himself by placing his back foot towards the wall. His back fell into the antique table, its sharp edge hitting the small of his back. Landing on his side, he dodged the large glass vase that fell and landed next to him, breaking into pieces. Alan fought the urge to scream “Real mature!” at his oldest brother’s retreating back. The youngest Tracy was surprised the same type of comment hadn’t escaped Gordon. “Well, that went well. Gordo, I think you might be losing your touch with Scott.”

Expecting a smart-alec comment, Alan only frowned when nothing but silence answered him. “Gordon?” Pushing himself up from the floor, Alan looked to his right. Gordon lay on the floor, unmoving. “Gordy?” he tried again.

Moving stiffly along the lament floor, Alan quickly bent over his older brother. Gordon remained motionless, his eyes shut. “C’mon man, this isn’t funny,” Alan protested. Alan quickly scanned his brother for some unforeseen injury. He gasped as he saw a cut on Gordon’s left temple.

Fear quickly overwhelmed Alan’s body. He did the only thing his mind had told him to do since he was a little boy. “SCOTT!! HELP!”

[kireilixie]

Bittersweet Vanilla || Bang Chan

🪐ｓｕｍｍａｒｙ： Getting ice cream after hours of training was a small tradition you and Chan had developed over the years, but when fate decides to tear you apart, leading you on different paths and different worlds. Will your friendship survive? 

🪐ｐａｉｒｉｎｇ： idol! Bang Chan x swimmer! Reader

🪐ｇｅｎｒｅ： fluff, angsty angst, f2l

🪐ｗｏｒｄ ｃｏｕｎｔ： 22k 

🪐ｗａｒｎｉｎｇｓ：Reader later on is mentioned to have depression, anxiety and insomnia because of the pressure, so there may be some triggering stuff.

🪐ａｕｔｈｏｒ＇ｓ ｎｏｔｅ： Hello you mar view the preview here, Okay this started out as like late night thoughts with Channie, like fluffy stuff, but then I got distracted and began writing this :( I had even forgotten I had this drafted in my laptop because of how busy I got with school so here it is. I hope you guys like it! I’d like to thank @lavenderlattaes​ for helping me out with this fic and helping me with the edits and criticism :) also to @smileylino​ for hyping me out cuz idk why but writing this emotionally drained me :( 

 i. 

Getting ice cream after hours of training was a small tradition you and Chan had developed over the years. Walking to the small parlor a few blocks near both your neighborhoods, you both would drop by to try what new flavor was available. While you swore you’ve seen Chan devour with that bottomless pit of a stomach of his every single flavor the parlor had and mixing it up every single time you visited, you preferred to stick with your classic vanilla. 

Every time you visit, Chan asks why you bother with the simple flavor every single time, not bothering to try other flavors you’d always reply the same way not really bothering to explain your affinity with the simple flavor. “It’s what I like, It’s comfortable.” 

And he too would always reply the same way. “Why not try other flavors, go out of your comfort zone once in a while?” 

You never knew how to respond to his question, you would often dodge it with a shrug or by blatantly changing the topic. 

♡ ❤ ♡

This tradition of yours had begun the summer before your middle school, moving a lot at a young age it had been quite difficult for Chan to get settled in, with his distinct features, he barely fit in. Which is why he found himself once again in the corner of his new school’s swim club unsure of how to apply and whom to approach.

His eyes wandered around, scanning the different children doing laps and others warming up. Swimming was not something he had always enjoyed, though it made his father happy to see that he excelled at it hence why he had chosen to continue, he too had admitted it would be a shame not to. 

“Oi, newbie what are you doing here?” The smaller boy flinched at the loud voice, as the owner of said voice approached him. Here we go again the seven-year-old boy thought.

“I c-came t-to a-apply for the swim club.” The boy managed to softly stutter out, his eyes downcast, feeling intimidated by their difference in size.

“And at your puny size, ya think ya can swim fast-”

“Oi, why don’t ya shut up Jacob? A big dumb bully like yourself can’t beat me and here you are trying to scare the newbie being all talk. Why don’t you stop wasting your time picking on new people and actually spend it practicing and actually trying to improve your times.” Chan widened his eyes as he turned to the female voice that had interrupted the boy’s intimidation.

He was shocked to see a girl around his age, twirling her goggles around her fingers as she approached, Jacob, as she had called him, and his crew that currently surrounded the smaller boy.

Jacob, quite flustered with the unknown girl’s statement, attempted to come up with a good comeback but failed to do so as he muttered, “I’m telling you on my mom for calling me dumb.” As he and his lackeys’ runoff.

“What’s your mum’s gonna do about it? Kick me out of the team?” The smaller girl scoffed as the boys rushed off to the other side of the pool.

Chan chuckled at that, noting the confident air the girl carried, she introduced herself, (Y/N) (L/N) he had learned that day, specialized in free where he specialized in butterfly. At the revelation, her eyes glowed in excitement as she tugged the smaller boy towards her father.

“Dad! He swims butterfly! He can complete the relay!” Chan observed, fascinated by the complete 180 in her vibe, wherein earlier she had carried with confidence and sophistication to intimidate the boys, but here she is trying to gain her father’s attention, bouncing in excitement. “We can finally have a relay!”

Finishing his conversation on the phone, her father turned to the pair raising an eyebrow at her daughter’s excitement. Bending down to their height the older man asked for Chan’s name, to which he replied a soft ‘Christopher Bang’ at this the older man’s eyes widened in surprise.

“You’re that boy that broke the record for the 50 m freestyle swim! Your dad called me earlier to inform me that you had transferred here and wanted to join, here fill this up and (Y/n) here can show you your lockers and the shower rooms to change.” 

“Really! What’s your time?! Ugh, I hope it’s not faster than mine.” You had frowned at him, enthusiasm replaced by competitiveness at the information he had broken a record in your specialty. “Come on go change, then we race. Loser has to buy ice cream.”

It was the first time you lost to someone but oddly enough it felt exhilarating to have someone to finally compete with. 

♡ ❤ ♡

As your duo grew up, Chan began to carry himself with confidence through his swimming, with the medals he bagged and the grades he worked hard for, he began to build up a reputation in school as a diligent student. 

And wherein you, were proclaimed as a swimming prodigy, bringing glory to your school and country as a phenomenal swimmer. That’s when the recruitment and scouting began, different schools sending in their best representatives in an attempt to recruit you for their team, but you chose to decline them all so that you could keep your little happiness with your best friend.

And despite the hectic schedules you both had, you stuck to one another. It was that comfort you found with Chan. You would throw all your accomplishments and the path your father had set out for you in a heartbeat if Chan wished for it. You’d do anything and everything to stay by his side. 

And that upset your father greatly, hence why you chose to spend more time in the Bang Residence rather than your own. The arguments your parents would have, made it all the more an excuse to avoid your own household, you were grateful that Chan’s mother, had been completely understanding with the situation after an incident where you had arrived one evening, drenched by the rain and sobbing. You had collapsed in Chan’s arms the moment he opened the door. 

Despite the problems within your household, Chan always found a way to make you happier to distract you from your worries. It was around your middle school when you noticed Chan’s passion for music, and his family was blessed with talent. It was as if when god had been showering talents, and they had been there at the right time and place.  You knew he took some singing classes and played instruments here and there, but you hadn’t realized his passion had been deeper than expected, you hadn’t expected this burning desire within him to pursue it as a career.

“(Y/n), What are you going to be when you grow up?” He had asked you during one of your trips to the ice cream parlor, digging into his salted caramel ice cream. 

The question caught you off guard. What did you want to do? Eyes downcast you began to find the vanilla ice cream, the simple and plain flavor comforting as always, interesting as you picked at it. “I’ll probably continue swimming, that’s what my dad wants.” 

“Yeah that's what your dad wants, but what do you want? Like I want to do something with music! I want to use it as a platform to spread messages, to help people find comfort in music the way I do.” He had looked so bright, so gleeful, like a star so far and out of reach.

“Oh, that’s amazing Chris. Though I really don’t know what I want to do.” How you wish you were just as passionate as Chan, wishing you could break through your comfort zone to chase after the one thing you loved the most.

“Then I’ll help you find something, something you’ll come to love the way I do with music.” Maybe at that time, I had found something to love, maybe I just didn’t know it yet. “But if you love swimming, then you’ll be the greatest swimmer in the world, you’ll be an Olympic medalist!” He raises his ice cream cup as a toast, you clink yours with him, smiling at how happy he looked. 

Chan was your north star, no matter which direction the universe spun, he remained unwavering, shining bright and leading you to home, him, your comfort.

♡ ❤ ♡

It all collapsed as you both graduated middle school. 

Both in your togas and diplomas, he swung your interlocked hands, as you approached his parents and mother. Taking a few pictures together, and just enjoying the bliss and exhilarating atmosphere, how you wish you could stay this way forever. 

Your father hadn’t bothered to show up, though he did text you a small congratulations note and had sent some flowers, with your parents finalizing their divorce papers he had moved out of the house a few months ago.

Your pictures are interrupted as a tall man in a suit taps you on the shoulder to get your attention. He smiles politely before introducing himself as a representative for Griffith University, congratulating you on your graduation and handing you a bouquet as well as an envelope to complete your enrollment. He also thanks you for accepting their scholarship, saying that their Head Coach had personally invited you into their swim program.

Griffith University was very exclusive, you couldn’t get in unless you’re invited by their head coach or the assistant coach. The university had claimed the greatest amount of student-athletes that who had participated in the Olympics. Their swimming head coach was Michael Bohl, and many of his students had competed in the Olympics and garnered gold. This was big, though you never recall getting an offer, or even accepting. 

But you hadn’t applied. You had been determined to continue junior high school with Chan, so you hadn’t made any applications to any of the sports schools you had been recruited by. This must be your father’s doing, and before you could decline the man’s envelope and bouquet, Chan envelopes you in a hug, enthusiastic about having the biggest swimming institute in Australia recruit his best friend and offer her a scholarship nonetheless. 

Aren’t you sad? If I accept this I would have to leave your side. 

The man decides to give you two some space, smiling as he says he would be updating and waiting for your enrollment. Like hell, would I choose that over my best friend. I better confront dad about this. You decide to throw his bouquet later on and delete his messages. You head off towards the Bang Residence for dinner to celebrate your graduation. 

Dinner with the Bangs was always comforting, and the family banters had been very different from the isolated dinners you had in your household. Chan wouldn’t stop bringing up your recruitment and scholarship going on and on about how you’ll take on the Olympics and represent your country. His parents had been thrilled repeatedly congratulating you and saying you earned and deserved it.

Has he not realized this would separate us? Chris can be so oblivious sometimes. 

After dinner you decide to take a walk to have some ice cream at the familiar parlor you frequented ever since becoming friends and after you had lost to him the first time you met. 

Sitting down you both order, asking for your usual vanilla-flavored ice cream, Chan picks the mint chocolate chip which was their special for the week. He’s silent all of a sudden, fixing you with a serious gaze he takes in a deep breath. It made you uneasy all of a sudden as if whatever he would say next would change your fate.

And it did. 

“Y/n remember when I said I wanted to make music?” He asks fiddling with the spoon, nervous which was a rare sight for the charismatic boy.

You humm in response allowing him to continue. “Well my parents and I made a deal, they would allow me to live in South Korea as a trainee, as long as I got into a good company. And well I got in, you’re now looking at the latest Australian trainee of JYP Entertainment. I leave next month!” He points to himself with his thumb, smiling and giddy to hear your response. 

Korea as in Korea within Asia? That's 6828 kilometers away! 

“(Y/n), are you alright? You’re not saying anything, is something wrong.” Without noticing you had turned your head down, allowing your hair to create a curtain between you two. He reaches out to tuck your hair behind your ears and is met of your tear-stained cheeks. “You’re crying.” He says, unsure of what to say and what made you upset. “Are you not happy I got in.”

“No, I'm happy! You’re finally getting what you dreamed of! You’re going to be amazing Chris. I’m crying because of how happy I am for you.” You’re leaving me here all alone with no one. You’re going to be living 6828 kilometers away, in a foreign country when we barely turned 14. I want to be happy for you but why does this hurt so much. “ I just don’t know what to say.” You really didn’t.

You get up all of a sudden wiping your tears unable to control your emotions, you run out the door your vanilla-flavored ice cream long forgotten. 

You run and run, till your legs feel numb and you struggle to catch your breath. You ignore Chan's confused calls for you to come back, but you knew in your heart you couldn’t face him like this. With your emotions in disarray, you feared what you said to him had hurt him, what you would say if you definitely did not take the time off to cool your head would have definitely hurt him. 

Once you reach the doors of your house, you let yourself into your room. Grabbing the nearest pillow you sob into it, you scream into the pillow, wailing as you pour your emotions into it your heartthrobs in pain, heavy with your emotions. 

ii.

You ignore Chan for the next few days, worried, his mother had phoned you a few days ago, knowing you didn’t really have anyone to talk to you poured your heart out to her. Understanding, she decided to give you some space from Chan, even going to further lengths to change your training periods.

Sitting in the booth of your frequented ice cream parlor you play with the contents of your ice cream cup, the bitter coffee almond ice cream you munched on with delight, you had not been expecting a sweet aftertaste. But maybe this was it, where your paths must diverge. You decide to call your dad about the enrollment, you also decide to send Chan a text. 

                                                                                                       Orca (Y/n) 💌  

                                                                I’m at the parlor, come over I’ll treat you.

Bangaroo  💌

Sure, I’ll be there in five minutes.

♡ ❤ ♡

It doesn’t take him long to arrive, though you wondered if he had run here, his clothes disheveled along with his hair. Luckily the ice cream you had ordered for him managed to stay cool with the help of the air-conditioned room, you had gotten him their weekly special NY cheesecake. Taking a seat in front of you his eyes nearly bulge off of his head as he notices your finished ice cream, the warm brown color of the coffee almond contrasting the usual white of your vanilla ice cream.

“That’s different.” He mutters confused but happily munches on his ice cream.

“It’s a risky change, I must admit.”

“It is, did you like it?”

“I did.”

“That’s good.” 

The short responses between the both of you bother you both, it was different which you would admit was inevitable, you had ignored him for the week.

“I leave in two weeks.” 

“I know.” You pause to meet his eyes, tired and red-rimmed, most definitely like yours. His eyes held so many emotions, lingering with disappointment and hurt. "I'm sorry Chan, for running out on you like that, my emotions were too much and I really needed to be alone even for just a bit." It made you feel sick, seeing him so sad especially when you had caused all this.

"You could've told me. I would understand. I would do anything and everything to make you happy." If I were to ask from you the one thing that would make me happy it would be too selfish of me. 

"Chan you don't have to understand why I'm so hurt, why I want to be selfish. Understanding me would only lead to you wavering from making your decisions and ultimately holding you back. And I can't ever let that happen, you've been waiting for this your whole life." And if it really makes you happy, I won’t take that happiness from you. “You’re going to be amazing, I know it.” You reached for his hands, callused from playing instruments and making music, such hardworking hands, you squeezed his hands in reassurance. 

“So two weeks huh? Guess we’ll have to make the most out of it.” You smiled at him, trying to reassure him that everything was going to be alright. But no matter how you tried to reassure him with your actions, your thoughts clashed with one another. 

“Yeah, I guess we’ll have to.” He softly rubs his thumb against your knuckles.

♡ ❤ ♡

The next two weeks had you practically living with Chan’s family, trying to spend as much time with him. You both trained for the last swim meet you would be participating in together, time seemed to pass quickly, you hated it. Though you knew within your heart it would’ve been worse if you had decided not to reconcile with Chan, it would've just added to your long list of regrets.

You both tried to pretend he wasn’t leaving in the next few days, that you wouldn’t be able to see one another in the next few years and maybe the next few days would be the last you’ll see each other. Neither of you had any idea what fate had in store for you both and you could only hope. 

The swim meet came much faster than expected, you were buzzing with excitement as you entered the building. Chan, on the other hand, was nervous at this being his last swim meet, he hoped he could make this as memorable as possible. Though you never say it, Chan knew you loved swimming despite as much as you try to make it out that you only did it for your dad. 

He sees you glow the moment you step into the pool, he knew he made the right decision by sending in your application for Australia’s best swim school. And as much as it hurt him to leave you, he needed to see you grow, to become independent, and to make your own choices for yourself.

He loved the confidence that you had as you walked into the competition hall, ignoring all whispers about you, turning heads at the mention of your name. You have been destined to reign the competitive world of swimming, and he knew he wasn’t as good as you were to reign alongside you. He had accepted that a long time ago.

He walks with you to the locker room to prepare and change, trailing a few steps after you. Observing the looks of awe and surprise as swimmers, younger and older couldn’t help but respect your skill.

You turn to him gripping your gym bag tightly, which he had offered to carry but had been rejected along the lines of you saying that you were a woman that could carry your own belongings or something like that. “Well, I’ll see you later, wish me luck.” You raise your fist to his to-do your signature good luck handshake before every competition. The handshake brought you a lot of reassurance and strength, taking away any insecurities. 

You grin at him one last time, turning at your heels to enter the room, but before you take another step, he pulls you in for a hug, squeezing you tightly, your hands awkward by your sides, unsure of whether to hug him back. “You don’t need luck, go wreck them.”

You scoff at his words, finally deciding to wrap your arms around his shoulder. “Of course see ya later Bangaroo.” 

Up in the stands Chan observes you as you take your positions on the starting block, he smiles to himself as he sees you wearing the goggles and swim cap he had gifted you at your last birthday, he had saved for it the whole year to surprise you with your favorite swimming brand. You had teared up at the gift, before smacking him for the times he had complained every time you invited him to the parlor.

He had never seen you wear the cap and goggles at practice, you had told him you had to save the luck for competitions. He had asked you to explain though you brushed off the statement by pushing him into the pool. 

“It’s nice to see you here, isn’t this your last meet?” Chan blinks in surprise as the older man takes a seat beside him joining him to observe his daughter. 

“Coach (L/n)..” Chan pauses unsure of what to say, the last he had spoken to your father was when he had asked for your father’s help, convincing him to accept the scholarship in your stead. 

“She’s still as amazing as ever.” Your father whispers in awe more to himself rather than Chan. “I was surprised you know, you convinced me to accept the scholarship which she had declined again and again to stay by your side. She put up a good fight for you, you know. I’m even surprised she called me herself that she’ll be accepting the offer.”

The older man stands up all of a sudden patting him on the shoulder, “Well good luck, and thank you for giving her that push. Give her a hug for me later on.” Chan’s surprised by the time your father leaves is just in time you finish the swim, realizing you had already won, he sees you waving at him with a big grin highlighting your features. 

You looked so beautiful that he knew he made the right choice. He waves in return throwing you a thumbs up before he starts heading toward the locker rooms to prepare. He’s stunned by your father’s words, he knows in his heart he made the right decision, and he knows he shouldn’t let this bother him, especially when he’s about to compete. 

He steps into the starting block, slipping on his goggles, snapping it against the back of his head to erase any of his worries. Lastly, he’s putting on his swim cap. Taking deep even breaths, it’s his last swim. Chan wants to make this as memorable as possible.

He closes his palm clenching it, testing to see how shaky and nervous he was, only to see that it isn’t that bad. His heart rate isn’t so accelerated either. They’re given the signals to take their positions. And Chan is surprised there are no unpleasant jitters in his stomach.

Chan reacts to the beep,  kicking off the starting block and then diving into the waters, he feels the pull of gravity just as he surfaces to take his first breath. Rotating from his shoulders, he paces his breathing for the first lap to maintain his stamina. Though once he approaches the end, he gives a powerful kick to the touchpad turning as he accelerates. In the last lap, he pushes himself to go faster, erasing all thoughts and worries. He reminds himself that this is his specialty, the one style in swimming you couldn’t beat him at. He’s slipping his goggles and swim cap before he even realizes he won. 

It’s the first time Chris places gold. And it feels exhilarating, he feels so happy he could cry. He sees you in the stands, grinning and he’s sure he mirrors your grin. 

You take a few pictures after, promising to treat him to ice cream just in time his parents invite you to a trip to the beach for his last day in Australia. On your way home, his parents drop you both off at the ice cream parlor. You give Chan the money and the choice of ordering for you, once he asks whether you want the usual you tell him to surprise you.

And he does, he brings you your usual vanilla-flavored ice cream. You raise an eyebrow at him curious for the reasoning behind it. “It’s your favorite.” He simply says.

You sit in silence, soaking up the comfortable atmosphere trying to let the events that happened today sink in. More scouts had approached you today for an offer and all that, to which you politely listened to despite already having accepted an offer. 

“You know despite knowing you for a long time, I have never heard you sing.” You admit to him which makes him flush in embarrassment, you’ve seen his audition video and heard him hum from time to time but full out singing never. You were always either swimming, playing a few video games or studying with him.

“You’ve seen the audition video.” He argues.

“That doesn’t count!.” You giggle as he tries to avoid your teasing gaze.

“Oh well, then I’ll sing for you tomorrow. Let’s head back and we have a long day tomorrow.” Our last day tomorrow.

iii.

The drive to the beach was spent with Chan's parents singing different songs both in Korean and English, it was really nice seeing them like this. You weren’t exactly sure whether Chan remembered your request, you were hoping he did. Observing them you try to recall the times your parents were like this, knowing that you would never have times like these with your own family.

You arrive a little bit after noon and the moment the car comes to a stop, Chan bursts out the door hopping in excitement as he attempts to drag you towards the direction of the beach. Chan's parents had booked a cottage for you to stay in as you would be heading to the airport the next morning, with Chan’s luggage in the trunk reminding you that this is real, he would be leaving tomorrow and you’re unsure whether you’d see him again.

You try not to let your thoughts bother you as much, as Chan practically dragged you to where you’d be staying, his mother and father leading you both. Chan was practically glowing under the sun’s rays, you found it adorable how excited he was. Not that you’d admit that to his face. 

You both left your stuff in the cottage, letting his parents set up the bonfire for dinner and some smores and allowed you to go swim. You changed into your swimsuit, Chan rushing you as he was already wearing his swim trunks on. “You’re taking so long (Y/n)~” 

“I’m out, I’m out.” You chastise him, pretending to be irritated with him despite your eyes twinkling with amusement. The moment you step out the bathroom door, he’s tugging on your hand and rushing towards the direction of the soft sand. 

Dodging multiple tourists and fellow Australians, you giggle as Chan almost runs into a tall male he quickly apologizes, with the man chastising him for not being careful. The weather was amazing for a swim, the waves not too strong and dangerous, the water was an amazing shade of blue inviting you to take a dip, you see a few surfers up ahead, enjoying themselves.

“You okay? You’ve been dazed for the last few days.” He waves a hand in front of you concerned whether something was wrong.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Come on!” You tug him towards the waves, shrieking as the cool waters hit you. You splash him with the water, accidentally getting some of the saltwater into your eyes he laughs at you, his eyes crinkling into little crescents.

You spend the next few hours playing in the sea, the crystal blue sea so beautiful and captivating it makes you giddy as you swim with Chan, having a few races here and there being cautious not to go too deep. 

Enjoying yourself you float on your back, admiring the view of the blue sky when suddenly it seems too quiet. Planting your feet into the grainy sand, Chan is gone, it fills you with dread with him being out of sight, you yell out his name telling him to stop playing. 

Just when out of nowhere, something tugs at your feet causing you to plunge into the sea, breathing in some of the saltwater, you resurface as quickly as possible as Chan comes into view, grinning innocently with his dimples prominent. He lets out a soft “Boo” letting you smack him scolding him for giving you a scare

“I hate you.” 

“No, you don’t.“ He presses his chin against your shoulder tickling you before he continues to whine. “You loooveee me.” At this you flush, you're not sure why but you feel your heart skip a few beats. 

You avoid his curious brown eyes, teasing as he hugs you from behind apologizing. “You owe me a song and some ice cream.” You pout, furrowing your eyebrows as you cross your arms. 

“Okay~ Come on let’s go eat first, then we’ll buy some.”

♡ ❤ ♡

Dinner passes quickly and comfortably with the Bang family as you eat around the bonfire grilling some seafood and meat, Chan’s mother teaches you how to eat Ssambap, the Bang family teaches you some of the common vocabularies they use. 

“So you call an older sister Noona?” You ask after swallowing your Ssambap listening as they teach you how they address one another.

“Well Noona and Hyung are used by a younger boy to address an older girl and boy respectively, meanwhile, Oppa and Unnie are used by a younger girl to address an older boy and girl,” Chan explains grinning at your pronunciation and at how cute you looked as your brows furrowed in concentration.

“Ahh, but you can only use these to address your siblings?” 

“Well not necessarily-”

“Then you’re my Oppa!” Chan flushes a bright red hue at your statement at this you tilt your head in confusion at his flushed features highlighted by the warm glow of the bonfire, it highlights the specks of brown in his dark eyes. “Did I pronounce that wrong?”

“Well, now it’s just that Oppa is often used by people in a relationship as an endearment to the male it's like babe.” Chan’s mother interjects your conversation, smiling at seeing his son flustered.

“Oh.”

“Well we’ll be taking a walk around, you two enjoy yourselves.” Finishing clean up, the married couple leaves hand in hand giving you the space you needed. 

Chan stands to grab the ice cream from the cooler, two small pints, both being mango swirl. He passes you the pint and then he reaches behind him, pulling out a ukulele which you definitely had not noticed had been behind him. 

“You wanted to hear me sing so here I go.” He sends you a sheepish grin before he begins to strum the ukulele, you immediately recognize Jason Mraz’s song. His voice sounded so soft and sweet, singing the lyrics of the song.

“But I won't hesitate no more, no more

It cannot wait, I'm yours

Well open up your mind and see like me

Open up your plans and damn you're free

Look into your heart and you'll find love love love love

Listen to the music of the moment people dance and sing

We are just one big family

And it's our God-forsaken right to be loved loved loved loved loved

So I won't hesitate no more, no more

It cannot wait I'm sure

There's no need to complicate

Our time is short

This is our fate, I'm yours” 

 At the age of fourteen, you’re pretty sure you have no idea what loving someone is like, loving them romantically rather than platonically. You’re unsure whether it's the lyrics of the song, Chan’s accent, or his voice, the sweet honeyed melody he lets out, it almost reminds you of your comforting vanilla ice cream after a hot summer day, refreshing and relaxing. The song makes you wonder what’s it like falling in love, being special to someone, being loved, and is important to someone.

By now you’re pretty sure that Chris’s your home, your warmth, and your happiness. Though you’ve realized that you can’t keep depending on him like this, you have to find your own way. Observing him, you see how he glows under the bonfire’s light, it highlights his dimple, it seemed natural how he held the ukulele as if he were destined to make music. And maybe he was.

 By the time he finishes the song, you’ve become quiet and it scares him. He’s unsure why but he’s always found your opinion important to him, the criticisms you give when he’s swimming he constantly applies in order to gain your approval. 

“Hey? You okay?” You’ve been out of focus for the past few days and it worried him.

“Hmm. Oh yeah, you sound really good, Chris, you’re going to be amazing I know it.” You smile softly, repeating the statement you’ve always said to reassure him and his insecurities. Though you meant it genuinely, Chris was amazing no matter what he was doing, whether it was sitting in class paying attention to a math problem, or asking for your opinion in his swimming, or just talking to you. He was meant to be amazing.

“I have something to say-”

“I need to tell you something-” You both mutter in unison, before pausing in realization and giggling.

 Chris gestures for you to go first so you continue, “Well, I accepted the scholarship, my dad enrolled me so I’m flying to Canberra in a few days and my dad says he’ll live with me for a while as he got a teaching offer there too.” You pause unsure whether it's the right time to let him know this before deciding you’d rather have no regrets with him. “My dad told me you convinced him to enroll me there.”

“Wait let me explain-” 

“I was hurt, really really hurt. It was as if you were pushing me away. Though later on, I was thankful, really thankful, I needed this. And trust me there’s no way I would be able to bring myself to hate you, Chris. I just needed to get that off my chest.” You hadn’t noticed you had begun tearing up again before he reaches to wipe the tears on your cheek with his thumb.

“I’m sorry, that we have to separate like this. I’m thankful for everything we’ve been through and for meeting you. So I got you this.” He pulls out a paper bag behind him once more. How is he even hiding all these? Inside is a box, you peer at him curiosity tickling your heart. He nudges at you to open it and once you do you find a beautiful necklace inside it, a whale’s fluke as a charm. 

“I hope you like it! It reminded me of you-” Before he could even continue you pulled him into a hug, by this time you’re full out crying unto his shoulder. Sobbing your tears begin to soak his shirt, but he doesn’t let it bother him, instead he hugs you tighter, burying his face into your hair, biting his bottom lips as he attempts to hold back his tears.

“I love it, Chris, it’s gorgeous. Though I’m really really going to miss you! It’s going to be different not swimming with you anymore, not going to the parlor to get ice cream, teasing you for how much you eat, letting me win video games, who’s going to teach me math!? If I weren’t good at swimming the teachers wouldn’t be so patient with me!” Everything comes out rushed as she clutches onto him, trying to let out her fears. Your body shook with sobs and tears tore through his gut, twisting with guilt. “I don’t want you to leave, honestly, but it makes you so happy, music makes me happy so who am I to take your happiness-” This causes his own onslaught of tears and emotions.

“I don’t want to show it but I’m terrified! I’m going to miss you, and everything’s going to be different and new. I’m scared I won’t have any friends there. You have to promise me you’re not going to forget me even when you’re winning all those medals, you have to promise me you’ll come to visit me when you have competitions in Korea. I’ll buy you all the vanilla ice cream in the world if I have to!” Chan’s own set of sobs catches you off guard, his lips trembling.

“What! I’d never forgotten you if anyone’s forgetting me it’s you! How am I going to deal with an Idol best friend!” You yelp exasperated at his claim, you give him a squeeze, rocking back and forth as you try to calm yourselves. “I wanted to give this tomorrow, but well you already gave me your gift so I guess I’ll give you mine.” You pull out the box from your bag, you had used the money you got from your dad as a birthday gift and also some the allowance you get as an athlete to save for this. You had also asked his mom for help in choosing for the gift, not being that knowledgeable in music, you hadn’t known what to get him so you bought him a pair of Bluetooth headphones. 

“This is expensive, how did you afford this?” Sniffling he wipes at his tears looking with you with wide eyes, shocked and astonished. He had been saving up for this pair of earphones for a long time though he had set it aside to buy the necklace knowing that this could be the last time he could see you.

“I think you underestimate the allowance I receive for being an athlete.” You grin at him shrinking under his intense gaze. 

“Have I told you I love you?” huh? You’re not sure whether it’s from the rush of emotions or whether he really meant it so out of stupidity your reply.

“Yeah me too. Well, I’m gonna go observe the sea now haha-” 

“(Y/n)! You can’t shrug this off. I mean it!” Chan pulls you back to take a seat next to him, his eyes twinkling with so much passion, you’ve never seen him look at you like this. You never knew a set of eyes could hold so much emotion. “I know we’re young and I’m leaving tomorrow but I really needed to let you know that-”

You give him a soft peck on the lips, hushing all his unnecessary thoughts. Smiling as you part from him. “Think of this as a promise and also because I don’t think I can handle any Korean girls way prettier than me taking your first kiss.”

“Well, I guess I don’t have to worry about hot swimmers taking yours.” He retaliates.

He’s about to say something else but his parents call you both, telling you to head to bed knowing you’d have to leave early for Chan’s flight. He says nothing else as he fixes up the mats and your bags, tossing the forgotten and untouched mango ice cream back into the coolers saving it for another occasion. 

Thankfully that night, sleep comes easy. 

♡ ❤ ♡

The next morning you’re at the airport to drop off Chan and his mother at the airport, luckily there are no more tears as you bid him farewell. Just a tight hug and a forehead kiss, no promises are made that morning. The next week you’re leaving as well, and off you both go for a better future.

iv.

As Chan toured the group around Sydney, he had felt very giddy to be finally home after so many years being spent training in Korea. Sneaking glances at his members as they neared his home, he chuckled at their curious expressions trying to guess where Chan was bringing them next. 

Stopping at their destination, Chan turned to his members to a grin, announcing they had arrived at their final destination. Glancing at one another in confusion the members attempted to question where they were but were interrupted with the front door opening to reveal the leader’s parents, immediately embracing their son in a warm hug.

They welcomed the boys giving them a small tour of the house as they explored where Chan had grown up. The boys were quite amazed at their leader’s achievements not only academically but especially in his swimming, Chan’s father inviting them to visit his swim club if they had time.

Hyunjin paused at a picture that had both Chan and a young girl showing off their medals, both gold. They both had bright grins with their arms thrown over each other’s shoulders.

 “Hyung, who’s this?”

“Ah, one of my childhood friends.” The older smiled as he began to reminisce how they had met.

Chan’s mother called them over for dinner, the boys finding their places around the table. Chan sighed softly, enjoying the atmosphere as they finished up filming necessary parts for their show. The group made small talk with Chan’s parents asking how they were doing and their plans for the upcoming days.

Chan’s father opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted as Berry, the family’s King Charles Spaniel, began barking excitedly as the front door opened, and was followed by a soft. “Uncle, Auntie I’m back.”

This caused several confused heads to turn towards the entrance, curious to see who had arrived. Chan’s mother proceeded to call her informing the girl that they were in the back. 

“How was training dear, are you hungry? I saved you some food, and please tell me you aren’t working yourself to the bone.” Chan’s mother continued in English confusing some of the boys.

“Me overworking? Where’d you hear that.” Finally stepping into the back, the boys had noticed Chan had gone silent. Eyes watery as he refused to believe that you were here physically, the last he had seen you were three years ago.

“Thank you so much, auntie-” Finally realizing the number of visitors in the house your eyes landed on the blonde, blinking and eyeing what had become different last you saw him. Your eyes watered at the sight of your best friend in the flesh, your emotions hit you like a train.

Before you could say anything else, you were engulfed in a hug, finding comfort in how he seemed to cover your body, his larger one providing security and warmth. It took you a while to realize that his tears had begun to wet your shoulder as you buried your face into his shoulder muffling your sniffles. Pulling away you held his face, wiping his tears as he did with yours. “You’re here, actually here.” 

“I think you need a room, you two” You both chuckled as Chan’s father reminded you that you weren’t the only ones present.

“Wait, that's (Y/n) (L/n) Australia's Individual Medley Gold medalist!” Hyunjin gasps in realization as he clicks his fingers in excitement. Chan chuckled at your confused expression still continuing to wipe your tears, softly explaining what the younger boy had said to you in English.

Turning to your extended family, you asked them if this had been planned. “Actually, not really, it may or may not have happened merely due to good timing, as you rarely come back early from training.” Chan’s dad explained as he stared fondly at the reunited friends, happy to see his son genuinely happy.

Chan then turned to introduce you to his friends, squeezing your intertwined hands in reassurance. Then explaining why Hyunjin had recognized you, was because of his background in swimming. You nodded in understanding then giggled as the younger boy proceeded to talk confidently in English, amazed at his accent. 

“I’m such a big fan” He had told you, proceeding to shake your hand and bow a few times, eyes wide in surprise.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Hyunjin-ssi?” Chan was surprised by your pronunciation and nodded in approval at how you addressed Hyunjin carefully.

The night continued as the younger boys shared their stories of their country, the bright atmosphere hiding the suffocating tension between you and your former best friend. Despite the happy reunion you had just shared with one another, the mixed emotions from the conversation you had a few years back, began to resurface. 

♡ ❤ ♡

You had visited Korea a few years back, but only to attend your Father’s wedding to a Korean woman. Your parents had divorced a few years back and the sudden marriage of your father to another under the short time had not surprised you as he had known the woman even as he was tied to your mother.

Usually, when you felt down you tried to seek a body of water you could swim in, but as aforementioned father had introduced you to swimming it would only remind you of him, making you feel sick to the stomach.

Walking down a few streets, it took you a while to realize you were actually lost. Seeing as your phone had died out, having no means to contact your father nor find your way back.

And just your luck, it had begun to rain, so you rushed to enter the first cafe you find. And in your haste you bump into a taller male, causing the notebook he was holding to clutter across the floor, the male softly muttering something probably in Korean only fueling your confusion.

“I’m sorry” You muttered back in English, not caring if he had understood. You cursed your luck that day, the heavy emotions brewing in your head as you assisted the taller male. 

Not noticing that after hearing your voice, the male’s head had snapped to look at you, eyes widening in surprise. “(Y/n)?” He had asked to confirm if it was really you.

At the mention of your name, this had given you the opportunity to scan his head to toe. Well as best as you could in his crouched form. “Chris?”

Despite the bright atmosphere of the cafe, it did nothing to alleviate the heavy emotions that clouded the two teenagers. Looking back, you could really admit that you were happy to see him, though after explaining why you were in Korea, the male drowned in guilt. 

You had called him thrice the day you received the news that your parents were getting a divorce. 

He had received none of these calls.

I sent him a letter to explain and confide in him about your frustrations, and said letter had accidentally been thrown out by a staff member after he had misplaced it. 

Chan messed up he knew that, but there were times that circumstances like these could not be prevented. He felt upset with himself, being unable to be there for you when you needed him most.

“Sometimes I wish you never left, you could’ve stayed, we could’ve dominated swimming together.” You had softly whispered to him as tears began to well up again, the loud thoughts in your head becoming too much as they pulled at your insecurities to open up to the younger boy about your problems.

“I wish you could’ve picked up the moment I called, but asking for your time and attention would be a tad bit too selfish wouldn’t it. These wishes of mine would be too cruel and selfish of me to ask for, right? When we were fourteen and you asked me to keep in touch, for the first year yeah we managed to but with both our busy schedules, it began to fade. I tried to understand the first time you didn’t pick up, but the next time, I allowed my insecurities to take control as I allowed myself to think I was probably bothering you.” You allowed yourself to speak your thoughts, knowing they would hurt Chan, but they were the truth.

“(Y/n), I’m sorry.” Was all he could muster up, the words heavy on his tongue. 

“I am too Chris. When you asked me if you should go to Korea to follow your dreams, I was reluctant to say yes, but seeing that was where you were truly happy, it made me happy even if I wasn’t a part of it anymore. Traveling over hundreds of miles to follow your dream, not knowing if you'll succeed I admired the guts you had, I remember the night you left, after crying myself to sleep, I promised I would take swimming seriously not only for my Dad or myself but to keep somewhat a piece of you close.” You intertwined your hands, both unable to control your sniffles and tears, you were thankful that the cafe was somewhat unoccupied currently giving you two a tad bit of privacy.

“And when you talked on the phone with me, you seemed so happy to be following your dreams, so I wanted to be proud of you so when you decided that you were too tired to talk to me it broke my heart.” You ended your speech continuing to sniffle as you attempted to calm yourself and wipe your tears. “We won’t be seeing each other for a while again so I hope that you’d continue to be happy here.” Making yourself look presentable as you prepared to exit the cafe as your ride back to the hotel arrived, leaning over the table you pressed a kiss to Chan’s cheek with a soft, “Thank You, Chris.” You barely gave him time to respond before you left him once again.

♡ ❤ ♡

You all had finished fixing up the plates and dishes before the boys began to settle in the living room to sleep. You tossed and turned in Chan’s bed, unable to sleep, as overwhelming thoughts began to cloud your mind.

You were shocked to the door opening softly, a figure trying to enter as quietly as you could. Knowing it could only be one person, you pretended to sleep, attempting to even your breathing.

“Aish, I miss you, like a lot.” the taller male whispered as he laid next to you. “I know I wasn’t able to be there for you, and that I messed up, but I regret not letting you know-” The bed shook with his sobs, you turned to meet his eyes startling him.

“You’ve apologized enough, Chris. Remember we had that video call, the day after I had visited your mom, and then you opened up to me, and I did too. We’ve forgiven one another so no need to be sorry.” You wipe his tears, combing your fingers through his blonde curls as he leans into your touch sighing at how comforting it is. “I’m sorry, that I wasn’t there for you either. You're making me cry again dammit, Chris.” You slapped his hand pretending to be angry with him as he held you close. A lot had occurred over the past few years, and you could notice how much time has changed him physically. Thank the lord for puberty cause he was hot hot.

You both went through your own set of struggles in life, though despite being away from one another you managed to overcome these. You’ve both grown mentally and physically, and you’re so proud of whom he has become, using his music to comfort the people around him, to inspire them to find their way. He really was your north star. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispers as he holds you by the waist, you’re surprised the atmosphere isn’t that uncomfortable between you both. He still reminds you of home, your comfort. 

“I’m sorry too, I should’ve looked at things from your perspective.” You whisper in return. “So have you fallen in love with any Korean girls?” You ask him, eyes twinkling in amusement, flabbergasted by your query. 

“I can’t-”

“Even fall asleep.” You complete for him, saying one of his iconic lines during his reality show. “I hope you’ve been taking care of yourself.”

“You’ve seen our reality show?” He blinks in surprise ignoring your second question.

“Well yeah, the boys are interesting by the way.” Remembering how loud the boys made you giggle, they were a chaotic bunch, especially the younger ones. Though they made Chan light up, even during the dinner, you observed how Chan would look like a proud dad observing his kids from afar, it was really heartwarming.

“You can be honest, they’re a handful. And to answer your question, no I haven’t fallen in love with any Korean girls, how about you, any hot swimmers you’ve kissed recently?” His question stirs up a lot of unresolved feelings. You wondered if kissing him back then was a good idea, it had proven your feelings for one another, though it made you unsure where you stood. 

You’re both 22, adults with very hectic jobs and schedules. And you may have forgiven one another though despite being adults, neither of you have had actual relationships, with Chan’s contract not allowing him to do so and you just never bothering to do so. So pretty much you both had no idea what to do with your lingering feelings.

“Well, not really.” You really hadn’t kissed any of the swimmers, you’ve had a few offers from different swimmers to take you on dates but it made you feel weird. You grimace, feeling the conversation tense up, you curse yourself for bringing up the idea of romantic relationships.

“(Y/n)” He breathes slowly, trying to calm his racing heart. “I can’t. Well not until we hit three years actually. It would not only put me at risk but also the boys.” Despite being out of touch with you, Chan knows about the dating rumors that had been encircling you and a fellow Australian swimmer, though knowing you, you would put aside your own happiness for his.

“Your contract I know. I’m not insinuating anything, it was just a question.” You huff, you roll unto your side, turning away from him. “It’s just that we’ve made a lot of sacrifices haven’t we? I can’t put you into a difficult situation that may tear you apart from your happiness.”

“That’s why I’m telling you to forget about me, go and date, I’m sure there's a lot of suitors waiting for your hand. I don’t want you to feel burdened by committing to me. And if we’re really meant to be it’ll happen.” He presses his chest unto your back, pressing a kiss unto your shoulder. “But I want you to know that I love you, no matter what happens, and that I want you to be happy not only for me but for yourself. Come to the beach with us.”

“Gosh, you can’t just tell me to go on dates then tell me you love me. Has sleep deprivation really messed with your head?” You feel his chest vibrate with his chuckles as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. “This is cruel. But fate is always cruel I guess.” 

“Fate brought me to you.” 

“Gosh, when did you get so cheesy Chris?” You snicker, feeling his hands tighten over your waist, moments you shared with him always felt right. “We’re good right?” 

“Come swim with us tomorrow and then we’re good.” His breathing evens out signaling he’s fallen asleep. His soft breathing eventually lulls you to sleep. 

v.

The next morning you’re picked up in two black vans, the boys having hustled you into joining them swim at their hotel, bold statements claiming they want to see you swim and all that. You agree, only because the younger ones gave you puppy eyes that you couldn’t handle, and because you really couldn’t deny Hyunjin who had claimed he looked up to you.

The drive is loud which is expected, though it really had been a long time since you’ve hung out with a lot of people. It was different from your teammates, they'd invite you to go party with them after competitions, and that was pretty much it. You always found it difficult to grow closer with your teammates with most of them being older. And ever since your family had problems you had become aloof and distant, finding it difficult to interact with other people. Though with these boys it was different, they held such good energy with one another it was impossible not to take a liking to them. 

"Are you our noona?" Was Hyunjin's first question, as currently you were squeezed between Hyunjin and Chan with Felix and Seungmin in the back. You were told that they played rock paper scissors to get the order of choosing their seats. Chan was given an exception for today as he had a guest. 

"That's an older girl, right? Then yes I am your noona." You smile at him finding it cute how he tried his best to speak to you and ask questions about your training and daily rituals, from time to time he'd ask Chan a question in Korean before turning to you and continuing your conversation. 

The other two in the back would pitch in from time time, asking how you and Chan met and how you had started your interest in swimming. "Well my dad was a coach, he still is but he resides in Korea because of his wife, I visit him from time to time. We aren't really on good terms because of his wife." 

"By the way, my mom told me you came to visit your mom while you stayed with them, how is she?" Chan knew your mother had gotten sick recently, he had heard from his mother, you had always tried to keep your family hidden from the media, not only to protect their privacy but also to prevent any scandals. Though Chan was also sure it was to protect your own pride, it would put you in a difficult situation, it would cause a domino effect of rumors and assumptions to arise from the media. 

And despite your problems you were strong and Chan is really proud of how far you’ve come. “She’s fine, she’ll be hospitalized for a bit but she’s fine.” To the other boys, it would seem as if you were trying to reassure their leader but to Chan, it sounded as if you were trying to reassure yourself.

Trying to lighten the mood, Felix asks you about any funny stories you had about their oh-so responsible leader, but to their disappointment, you claim that Chan was too perfect and was the goody two shoes of your duo, and you refrained telling them any dirt on Chan claiming he had twice the amount of dirt on you. At your despair, Felix laughs with you agreeing that their leader can be scary. 

Something catches his eye as the light catches unto it, it’s your necklace, the shine it once had worn out due to the long years that had worn it out, but despite that you still wore it. The whale's tail sat just above the crevice between your collar bones, he had always called you an Orca, not only because Orcas were known for being the fastest whales, but he calls you this because of your weird sleeping habits.

Orcas need to be half-conscious even when they’re asleep in order to keep breathing in their sleep. And unbeknownst to you, you sleep talk in your sleep, not only murmurs and mumbling but rather full out conversations. Chan found this small tidbit of information during your first sleepover at his house, he had been so disturbed the next morning when you couldn’t recall your conversation about him the test you had earlier in the day.

The conversations lessened as you grew older, probably due to your developing bodies, but despite that he still calls you an Orca, when you had asked him why he had simply shrugged saying that you were the fastest swimmer and because it sounded cool. Though he had to admit he wished you had been more creative with your own nickname for him, Bangaroo wasn’t nearly as cool as the great predator, killer whale Orca (Y/n). 

You arrive in their hotel, the boys rushing to their hotel rooms to get changed into their swim trunks. Chan ushers you into his room, where he was rooming with Changbin, both boys enter the room to get a few stuff and change into their swim trunks. And you’re thankful you had changed in Chan’s house and was already wearing your own swimsuit underneath a pair of shorts and a shirt because it was difficult trying to keep up with their energy. And once more you’re ushered into the elevator and then into the pool.

You see Seungmin and Woojin by the side in their loungewear, you wave at them. Seungmin sips at his blended fruit shake, unable to exert himself because of the back injury that he had gotten during filming. “Hello Noona, are you racing Hyung today?” He smiles at you reminding you of the golden retriever one your teammates had.

Woojin mutters something in Korean to Seungmin you pick up words such as older and age it makes you wonder if he asked about your age in order to address you properly. The moment your shirt and shorts are off, strong arms swoop you off the floor and you shriek in shock as you’re thrown into the pool.

“CHRISTOPHER BANG” The boys laugh at the use of their leader’s full name, who merely smirks at you. 

“Think of all the times you pushed me into the pool when I was shorter than you!” You’re happy that despite living in Korea for a long time, his Australian accent is still prominent and you find it cute. 

The rest of the boys rush in Hyunjin screaming something in Korean along the lines of starting. You find some of the staff filming the boys to create some content for their fans, Chan explains to you that even though they’re topless they would still be edited with heart stickers to give them some privacy. Once they’re finished filming a few scenes of them swimming and playing around the staff allows you to join them in the pool. 

Chan excitedly tugs your hand towards the pool, a rush of emotions fills your heart reminding you of the days where you would challenge him to races. Frustrated to see someone beat you for the first time, though you had to admit it was nice to have someone to compete with, it drove you to push yourself to get better.

“Rules are we race one lap from this end to the other, rock paper scissors winner gets to choose the style.” Chan grins you, his dimple prominent as he explains his rules. “Oh and loser treats ice cream.”

“Fine by me.” You shrug. The boys whooping at your nonchalant and confident attitude as they begin to place their bets, ice cream also on the line. “Just so you know, I’m not going easy just because you’re an idol now.”

Felix bounces in excitement announcing that he’ll be the ref for the race. "Kai, bai, bo!" Both you and Chan put out rocks, you hear him take a sharp inhale, knowing that the style would heavily affect who wins the race. "Kai, bai, bo!" Chan grins eyes twinkling in excitement before pumping his fist into the air. “Butterfly it is!” You deadpan as those who had bet on Chan jump ounce in excitement, namely, the ever so loyal 2Racha, Changbin, and Jisung and Woojin and Minho.

The rest of the Maknae line gives their own cheers of encouragement, with Hyunjin even claiming that you don’t have to be good at Rock paper scissors to be a good swimmer. You laugh at that one. 

Taking your positions, you toss Chan a grin. “It’s been a while.”

Felix gives the count. “3,2,1!” You push yourself into the cool waters, pacing yourself before you begin to rotate from you, your shoulder you break through the surface taking quick but paced breaths every time you come up. The boys gasp at your reaction time, your form, graceful as you dive. 

They easily see the difference between experience and professional training between you and Chan, easily taking the lead with your quick reaction time. Chan’s movements cut through the water, wherein yours are much softer yet quick, endurance and timing were definitely needed to master the butterfly stroke.

During your childhood, Chan easily beat you at endurance and how he used his breathing technique which is why you had never beaten him at the butterfly stroke. You still feel salty. Though because you now swam Individual Medley you pushed yourself to develop yourself in all four strokes instead of just focusing on one.

You feel Chan behind you, causing you to push yourself a few inches away from the end. You huff as you tap the wall, laughing as you come up from the water with a victorious “hah!” Chan’s shoulders shake in exhaustion from racing you, he huffs surfacing, he glares at you.

“Are you human?!”

The younger boys jump up and down in happiness, yelling out the flavors of ice cream they want. You laugh at Chan’s dumbfounded expression, pulling him out of the pool you toss him a wink. “I want some strawberry.”

You spend some more time with the boys in the pool, even watching them race one another, Hyunjin even gathers up the courage to ask if you could race him and give him criticism. You help him fix his arms and teach him how to save his stamina. With Chan’s help, the younger boy explains to you that even though they have such busy schedules, swimming is still his go to work out.

Later in the afternoon, the boys invite you to come to dinner with them, explaining that you should recommend the good restaurants around Melbourne before you leave tomorrow morning to resume training and classes because despite being an athlete you still had university to attend.

Changbin and Chan offer you their shower while they showered in the other’s boys’ room to give you some privacy. It’s only a matter of time before you’re rushed into their van, it seems that their life is always on the hustle and bustle, though it doesn’t really shock you with how their schedules are so tight. You wonder how they got to convince their manager to spend a free day like this. Well not exactly free because they had filmed yesterday and today, you could only imagine the amount of practice they would be doing tomorrow before their concert.

The drive to the restaurant is much quieter, with their energies toned down, you decide to take a nap leaning unto Chan's shoulder with Minho on your other side, Jisung and Changbin taking up the back.

Noting you’re asleep Minho asks, “Are you dating Hyung? You know we can’t at least not now.” 

Alarmed by the question, Chan checks your breathing to ensure you really are asleep and unconscious. “I know that I already talked about it with her. Plus she has someone waiting for her back in Sydney, I’ve decided to let her go. I can’t keep expecting her to keep waiting for me. She’s missing out on life.”

The romantics Han Jisung and Seo Changbin part their lips in awe at the words of their Hyung. “That’s like the manliest thing I’ve ever heard in my 18 years of living Hyung. Amazing.” 

“Though Hyung what if you’re the only one that could make her happy, what would you do? You can’t just keep deciding her happiness for her.” Minho perks up, the dancer admired how Chan had looked at you, it made him glow with so much emotion, erasing all signs of exhaustion from Chan.

“Well, we agreed to let time and fate decide whether it’s meant to happen. She respects that we’re on a dating ban and that I can’t put boys at risk. That’s why I decided to give her the push she needed without feeling guilty if she’s in love with someone else.” Chan glances at you nuzzled into his shoulder.

“Wah... I could make an entire album out of this.” Changbin mused feeling nothing but admiration for the older member.“

“Hmm. That’s a good idea.”

♡ ❤ ♡

After dinner you’re all taking walks down the pier heading for the well-known ice cream parlor Felix was familiar with. You argue with Chan on who gets to pay despite the bet, you tell him you rarely get to see him, and that he The company card paid for dinner already, you finish it with an elbow to his stomach to emphasize your claim.

During dinner the boys had asked if you would be watching their shows, you had told them your schedules were pretty hectic because of an upcoming qualifier match, and that you had only visited Melbourne to check up on your mother. You told them you would try to see if you could come to their Sydney show, which was closer to your university.

The boys could only watch your interaction with amusement, and luckily neither of you were recognized, despite them being idols and you being one of the youngest Olympic medalists. When none of the boys approach the counter to choose their flavors you threaten them with your elbow. Which causes them to rush towards the counter saying the flavors of ice cream they want. 

Now you’re all walking along the harbor enjoying your cups of ice cream, the boys give you and Chan some space, walking further from you both. And it's amusing that despite most of them are adults they all look like scheming kids, about to prank their parents. 

“Anyway tell me about him,” Chan says through a mouthful of vanilla ice cream, you chose for him. The question catches you off guard until you realize who he's talking about.

“You stalker! So you do know about the dating rumors!” You smack his arm, not caring if it would leave a bruise.

“OW! Well, it was all over the news this January, which is rare because you’re one of the athletes that like to keep your life private so I didn’t really stalk you.” He holds his arm close to him, rubbing at where you had hit him. ”Do you like him?”

“Well, he’s decent, though we're not dating. He’s a teammate though, he makes sure I don’t get left out of the team and he’s the same age as you and Woojin.” You play with your plastic soon, before scooping some strawberry ice cream into your mouth, you find it sweet and refreshing.

“So why aren’t you dating him?” Chan raises his eyebrow at you, pointing his spoon at you. 

“You know the answer to that Chris.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m telling you to try it out with him. I give you my blessing.” He uses the spoon as if here about to dub you as your next knight. You roll your eyes at his childishness, you swear his dramatic streak comes from Hyunjin. “No but seriously, (Y/n).” Chan tosses his finished vanilla-flavored ice cream into the trash bin.

“Alright.”You scoop the remaining sweet strawberry ice cream into your mouth before tossing the cup into a trash bin.

“You better make good on that promise, you’re missing out on all those thic international swimmers.” God if he weren’t the love of your life you would’ve thrown him over the railings and into the sea. “Henry, looks tasty, why don’t you get a taste of that?” At the mention of one of your closer teammates you flush.

“Ugh, you’re gross!” You start hitting him as he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively

 “Ow! Ow!” Despite his yelps, he’s still laughing, before he starts running to avoid your hits.

It doesn’t take you long to catch him, launching yourself onto his back, luckily he doesn’t collapse at your weight, he easily maneuvers your body so that you’re piggyback riding him comfortably. Sometimes you forget you’re both grown adults and you’re reminded by this at your close proximity.

Everything's good until a camera flashes in front of you, ready to tug down the cap you both wore and yell at whoever took your picture for invading both your privacy though luckily it’s just Hyunjin. “Ah, young love.” He looks into his phone pleased by his candid shot.

“Yah! You scared me.” Chan frowns at the younger boy, still blinking out the effects of the bright flash.

“Manager Hyung says we have to go, we have to drop off Y/n at your parents’ house.” Hyunjin gestures at the other members who currently were playing rock paper scissors as they wait for the car. 

You hear a loud “Yes!”, with one of the boys arguing in Korean along the lines of something being unfair. They’re a good bunch of those boys, they compliment Chan’s playfulness. It's good to see how they complete one another. After your mother had talked to you about how much Chan had struggled in Korea it broke your heart. Though maybe he was right. It was better for you both to not make any promises to the other. Knowing that both your careers were so demanding, long-distance relationships never worked, you knew that. 

The car ride is quiet, this time you were seated in between Felix and Chan, with Jeongin and Jisung in the back. You had said your farewells to the other boys, they had to head back earlier to rest up in the hotel, with Seungmin and Changbin still healing their injuries, Minho, Woojin, and Hyunjin had accompanied them. They had each given you little waves of their own, saying to contact them if you’d be visiting Korea. Though not before asking you to take a picture with them, Hyunjin even gathered up his own courage to take a solo picture with him and asked for your social media details. And during the time Chan was talking to their manager, he had asked for a hug, he explains that he’s too shy to do it in front of his Hyung.

Chan’s asleep along with Jisung and Jeongin. Soft little snores escaping him, finding himself comfortable against your shoulder. “You make each other really happy you know,” Felix smiles at you. “I’ve never seen him like this.”

“It’s been a while since I saw him, so yeah it’s been a roller coaster of emotions.” You brush through his blonde curls, missing his darker ones. You liked seeing him bare-faced and with his natural hair color, all the makeup, and dyeing, reminded of how much pressure these boys go through to look perfect. “You lived in Sydney, right? I heard from Chan you went to St. Patrick’s. I go to Griffith so it’s sports-oriented. What’s it like studying at a catholic school.”

“Well we have classes on religion, the dress code is pretty strict, but besides that, it’s pretty normal.” Felix shrugs, Catholic schools had a lot of misconceptions about them despite being pretty normal. “It must be amazing studying at Griffith, I heard you have to be invited by either the head or the assistant head coach to get in there.”

“Yeah, a representative visited me on our graduation, to be honest, I wouldn’t have taken it if Chan hadn’t decided to go to Korea. And god knows what I’d be doing if I wasn’t at their program.” With a negligent family like yours, it would’ve gotten you into trouble with just the right amount of bad influence. “Though it’s tiring, having so many expectations on your shoulders, to keep breaking records, placing and improving. But that’s life, isn’t it? Chasing after perfection which you’d never be able to achieve.”

“Hmm, yeah we were designed with that mentality and it’s sad. So much criticism in the world about every single imperfection.” Felix sighs, reminiscing his hardships he had experienced during the reality show. 

“I admire you boys, seeing your survival show gave me a lot of strength, it helped me understand Chan better. You boys are doing well, don’t worry too much about it.” Reaching around Chan’s shoulders you give him a tight squeeze on his arm. “Take care of Chris for me Lix, remind him to eat and sleep.” You sigh couldn’t help but worry for your best friend.

“I will noona.” You exchange social media details with the younger boy, promising to keep in touch from time to time. The car comes to a halt in front of the Bang Residence, just in time when Chan blinks out the sleep from his eyes, yawning before he realizes you’ve stopped in front of his house.

You exit first, their manager getting off to help you get your bag from the trunk. You mutter your thanks in Korean to their manager, as Chan steps out from the car to say his own goodbye. He engulfs you in a hug, you take a whiff of his cologne breathing in the comforting smell. 

How many times must we keep repeating our goodbyes.

He presses a kiss unto your forehead, letting his chin rest on top of yours. “No more promises of waiting. Only promising each other to do the things that make you happy, even if it means loving someone else okay?”

“Okay” You whisper into his chest, trying to imprint into your memory how his heartbeat sounded. 

“Can I kiss you? Just one last time.” You nod, he tilts your head, pressing his lips onto yours gently. He cradles your cheeks so gently and you’re surprised at how he tastes like vanilla, it immediately comforts you, reminding you of all your childhood memories with him. His other hand holds you by the waist as you tangle yours by his nape, playing with the tufts of blonde curls. Time seemed to stand still, and everything was so perfect, everything felt so perfect.

You part from, slowly opening your eyes to meet him. He’s so beautiful like this, your north star. You get up onto the tip of your toes, you tilt his head down, reaching to press a soft kiss unto your forehead. “Goodbye, Chris.”

When had Vanilla begun tasting bittersweet?

♡ ❤ ♡

Before you know it, you’re back in training. You had been so tired from your flight you had slept in and were late to morning training, and currently doing extra laps with weights. God, do I hate weights. 

Morning training goes quickly, and your reaction time is terrible today. So you find yourself doing more laps than necessary, to make up for your mistakes. The moment you’re finished you see Henry by the end of the pool, offering a hand to help you out of the pool. 

You see him in his casual clothes, ready for his classes. You take his hand careful not to drench him as he pulls you out of the pool. “Don’t you have classes?” You ask him curious about what made him wait for you, you had to agree with Chan he is cute. You may be biased but Korean- Australians are cuter.

“Well, prof canceled today so we both don’t have classes” Just like you, Henry Young majored in Sports Sciences. From time to time you forget you shared most of your classes with the Chinese- Australian, Henry often hung out with his clique which consisted of a lot of jocks which would explain why you rarely interacted with him.

“Is that so?” You humm from the locker rooms, you’re skimming through your gym bag, surprised to see a box, you wonder where this could’ve come from. You open the box to find a necklace similar to yours, instinctively your hands reach for the whale’s tail that sat above the crevice between your collarbone. You realize it’s much pricier with how intricate the design is and then you find an engraving saying find your happiness.

You peek your head out from the locker rooms shocking Henry who had been waiting. “Hey, Henry does your offer on that date still stand?” 

He perks up at this mouth parting in surprise as he blinks.”Yes! Of course!”

You smile, Chan’s words ringing in the back of your head. “No more promises of waiting. Only promising each other to do the things that make you happy, even if it means loving someone else okay?”

vi.

Felix can feel his chest swell with pride at being able to take care of the older members, it makes him happy to be able to reassure his Hyungs that they could rely on him and the younger members. Especially their leader, Chan,  looks out so much for the younger members yet forgets to take care of himself, he puts so much pressure on himself that it hurts to see him like this. 

The younger Australian continues stirring the soup he was making for dinner, the comforting aroma surrounding their apartment. His phone on the counter lets out a soft ping, he reaches for it to check his notifications, and just on schedule, it’s your little notes for the members. 

It’s almost been a year and a half since they had visited Australia as a group and since then, you and Felix would send each other little notes. The notes would range from a series of “how are you?”, “Good luck” and “Congratulations”. From time to time Felix would just share tea with one another, like what happened at the latest frat party you attended with your members, or which idols had attempted to ask out their older seniors. 

Out of all the members, Felix had become your closest member after Chan, finding comfort in your similarities and shared experiences as Aussies. Opening your message he almost drops his phone into the stockpot in shock.

Aussie Swimmer 

Chris has been keeping me on delivered, is he alright? Or is he cooped up producing again? Please remind him to eat and not to overwork himself, the others too stay safe! Miss you guys! Might be dropping by on the weekend for a tournament I might bring Henry along if you don’t mind?

Henry huh? Felix blinks at the message, he knows you’ve been official for some time now, about three months after they had visited Australia, both swimmers had posted on their personal Instagram account, catching the whole sports community off guard. Trending as the powerful swimming couple, with you as one of the youngest females to win gold for the Individual Medley and Henry Young holding the fastest time for the Men’s 100M Backstroke. 

Felix had to admit you both looked good together, (everyone has already been expecting you both to create talented swimming babies.) He remembered how Chan had reacted to the news, they had been at practice when the news had gone viral. It immediately eliminated all dating rumors between you and Chan, after eagle-eyed STAYs has connected pictures of you and Chan during your childhood, and after seeing some of your Instagram pictures with their leader.

Chan had gone silent for the rest of the day, though later on, Felix had seen the older male video calling you. Tediously sharing every detail of how Henry had greeted you with a fragrant bouquet, before taking you to an Italian restaurant for dinner. Followed by a tour in a scenic arts museum, where he surprised you with a gorgeous yet simple bracelet and then asked you to be his girlfriend.

The leader had merely nodded and listened to you with a dimpled smile at how excited you glowed. Chan could definitely see that the swimmer has been making you very happy, with how blooming he’s seen you in your latest Instagram posts and the candid pictures the media has released of you. 

Felix ponders whether you’ve told Chan about you arriving this weekend, you’ve visited Korea a few times, meeting up with the boys if both your schedules permitted as there are times you fly in and out for a tournament or workshop, though sometimes you visit your dad after Chan’s advice to try and make things better with your dad.

Most of the boys had noticed a pattern with Chan, usually every single time news of you and your boyfriend starts trending, they’d find him cooping himself up for at least a day before he meets with Han and Changbin handing in a new track for them to make lyrics for.

Minho being the eldest after Chan had brought it up with their Manager concerned at Chan’s unhealthy habits. Their Manager reassured them saying that as long as Chan remembers to rest and eat every time he locks himself up he’ll be fine. And besides most of the boys were scared to actually confront the eldest member about it.

Finishing his cooking, he calls the boys for dinner, and he’s surprised to see a zombie-like Chan approaching the table before he takes a seat at the head. Seungmin helps set the table, as the other members emerge from the different corners of their shared apartment, each member has their own response to seeing the leader out of his room and joining them to eat.

“Wah.. Lix, that smells good, good job.” Changbin pauses at seeing the older member but says nothing, choosing to ruffle the younger member’s hair by taking a seat next to him. 

Taking their seats the members converse about their schedules for the next few days, and plans. “Bin, I have a new track I think you’d like,” Chan gulps down a spoonful of rice causing the rapper’s eyes to widen. “Actually a few tracks.” 

“How many tracks did you produce this time Hyung?” Han munches on his food addressing the older leader. "You've been getting a lot of inspiration lately haven- AH!" 

His question is interrupted as Minho shoves a well-deserved elbow into his side, Jisung glares at the older member looking around whether someone would come to his defense but to his disappointment, they all continue eating as if nothing had happened. 

Felix decides to save the news for later at a much more discreet time with the older members of the group, fearing the same reaction from Minho. Though we all know despite being born a day apart Jisung is bullied while Felix is babied. Leaning into Changbin he whispers, "Hyung, can I talk to you later." 

"Hmm, sure what's it about?" Changbin whispers discreetly trying to avoid gaining the attention of their eldest leader who was currently occupied watching Seungmin and Hyunjin argue over a certain Korean drama they were both engrossed in over the past few days.

"It's about Y/n" Felix lowers his voice, eyeing the leader across the table. 

Changbin meets his eyes nodding at him, having an idea on what the conversation might be about. "Okay we'll take a walk after dinner." 

Luckily the members don't find it too unusual when Changbin and Felix tell them they'll be taking a walk to the mart down the street to pick up some ice cream. Instead, they all shout the different flavors they want, teasing the rapper that he wouldn’t be allowed back in the dorm if he doesn’t buy it, so here they are enjoying the bright nightlife of Seoul.

"Noona's arriving this weekend, she has a tournament on Saturday. She's asking whether we want to meet up." Felix tells the older boy, observing how he bites his lip, signifying how he filters out his words.

“I suspected something like that happened, I saw hyung’s phone by accident-”

“She wants to introduce Henry to us.” This silences the older rapper, he had only seen the message that reader would be visiting, which is why he hadn’t questioned Chan’s lock up this time. 

“Oh.” Is all that he can say, he doesn’t really know what to do with this information, but he has to admit it was only a matter of time before Chan and Henry would meet. It would only make sense for Henry to meet Chan to get the approval of your best friend.

“We can say we’re busy hyung, I can lie to her, well it isn’t really a lie but a white lie.” Felix says this out of worry for his leader. Though Changbin can’t have Felix doing that, breaking his Noona’s trust for Hyung's. It’s Chan who got them into this mess so he’d have to deal with the consequences.

“No Lix, you don’t have to, this weekend is a free day anyway, I’m sure our manager doesn’t mind. And I’ll talk to Minho Hyung for a plan.”

“Oh alright. I’ll leave it to you then.” Changbin ruffles Felix’s hair, the younger boy always wanted the best for his Hyungs even if it required compromising or sacrificing. The older member always found it so endearing.

♡ ❤ ♡

Orca Y/n

Hey Bangaroo! I’m visiting this weekend, I have a tournament this Saturday. Are you free for dinner? I want you to meet Henry, he’s been dying to meet the man that “entangled our fates together” or something like that. Anyway I miss you, please take care of yourself. 

Chan tosses his phone on the bed before he runs his hands through his hair frustrated. God do I hate this.

vii.

Their manager leads them up the stairs and into the indoor pool, the venue is packed with swimmers from different universities and countries. They sit higher up in order to avoid the crowds, and they’re just in time when they see you enter the hall representing your country with your team jacket. 

Felix easily spots you with the pair of eye goggles he had given you during your last birthday. He had really wanted to give you something as you had given him a new game for his birthday. He had even asked Chan for help to choose which ones he should get, he was also worried that you wore sponsored one during competitions but he’s happy to see you wearing the ones he had personally given you. 

“Look it’s noona!.” Hyunjin points at your small figure, stepping up unto the starting block stretching as you wait for the signal.

3racha had stayed behind for a meeting with their boss for the critique on the upcoming album, they had promised to meet up at the restaurant once they finished up. Minho could only pray and hope that they won’t miss dinner and make it awkward with Y/n thinking that her boyfriend had made Chan uncomfortable and would make his younger members fend for themselves.

Y/n would only be participating in one race today which would be the 200M Individual Medley, the boys had planned to surprise her in front of the locker rooms once she finishes the race. The younger boys could only imagine your reaction once you received the bouquet they had prepared.

“Look, it's starting,” Jeongin tells the other members under his mask, the boys could only watch in awe at how you moved differently from the other swimmers. Your reaction time on the spot as your back arches, diving into the pool's waters.

It makes Seungmin ponder about the possibility of mermaids as you swim, starting with the butterfly stroke as you gracefully propel yourself across the pool, pacing yourself knowing that this was the style you had the most difficult it would make sense no to tire yourself out. 

Once you reach the end you push against the touchpad to gain momentum moving unto the backstroke. “Isn’t Noona’s specialty free?” Seungmin asks Felix who was much more knowledgeable in swimming compared to the younger boy.

“Yeah, it is. It’s amazing that she has to swim in four different styles.” Felix responds to the vocalist, who sits at the edge of his seat in anticipation of the results. 

“She won a medal in the Olympics for this category.” Jeongin grins from where he sits, watching his hyung part his lips in amazement. 

“Look she’s almost done!” Seeing you in your last lap and specialty made the younger boys part their lips in awe at how you accelerated pushing yourself to finish the race. 

And by the time you finish first, the boys are heading down to wait for you outside the locker room to surprise you. They see you with Henry, the older male helping you with your gym bag, your eyes are immediately widening at the sight of them. Minho hands you the bouquet with a small smile, the boys chest swell with pride at your reaction to the flowers they had argued about which to get in the flower shop.

“Thank you, you guys didn’t have to do all this!” You’re pulling them in for hugs. Luckily there aren’t that much people in the lobby with everyone still watching the other races, Henry had finished his race before yours. “Henry, these are Chris’s friends, Jeongin, Minho, Seungmin, Felix, and Hyunjin, he used to swim.”  Each boy waves at the mention of their name, sending your boyfriend a polite smile.

“No no, not as good as you Noona.” The younger boy smiles as you ruffle his head.

“Where’s Chris? And Bin and Hannie?” Your eyes scan the area, hoping that the loud trio would jump out of something to scare you.

“They’re still at a meeting with PD-nim, they’ll be meeting us at the restaurant.” Felix ruffles your hair, leading you to where their cars wait.

“Oh, okay.” 

♡ ❤ ♡ 

Chan’s leg bounces up and down in anxiety as they wait for the other boys and the Australian couple. He’s spent the last few minutes playing on his phone, looking at the menu, coloring in the coloring book that came with the kids menu, locking and unlocking his phone basically looking for things to distract him and his nerves.

Changbin eyes him from where he sits right next to him, feeling his anxious energy radiate off him in waves. Concerned he sends a kick to the younger producer who sat across him, jolting in pain he sends a glare to Changbin who gestures to check his phone

Hannie  ♡  

Yah. Was that kick necessary you jerk? What do you want?

                                                                                                                          Bin

                                                                       Chan looks like he’s about to sprint.

Hannie  ♡ 

He does. What do you want me to do? tie him up? 

                                                                                                                         Bin

                                                                       Idiot no, I’m just concerned for him

Hannie  ♡ 

This is Chan Hyung we're talking about he’ll be fine trust me. 

Han’s messages do nothing to reassure the older rapper, who could only hope that this dinner goes well. Changbin’s phone buzzes but this time it isn’t from Han, instead it’s from Hyunjin.

Hyunjinnie ♡ 

We’re pulling up Hyung.

God she’s beautiful.  It is the first thought that comes to Chan’s mind as you’re walking towards him. Chan wonders if this is what it's like to see your bride for the first time, his heart skips a beat at the thought of you in a white dress. You’re dressed in a simple hoodie, jeans and sneakers just like the rest of the boys, yet Chan feels like he could marry you right here and right now.

The unpleasant feeling is back in the pit of his stomach as he sees her hand intertwined with the Chinese- Australian he recognizes as Henry Young. The younger swimmer is blooming as she approaches the older boy beaming at him with such a radiant and sunny smile. Chan wishes the earth would open up a hole to swallow him up at how giddy you looked.

“Chris!” The idol could only smile, standing to greet you with a tight hug ignoring the fact that you’re blatantly being affectionate in front of your boyfriend. “I missed you so much!” The last he’s seen you was last Christmas in Australia, you had been so busy with university and preparations for the qualifiers for the next Olympics you could only come to Korea for tournaments or to train.

Chan sees the female swimmer reach behind her to introduce her boyfriend, who had been timidly watching the interaction between you two. Chan offers his hand to introduce himself, “Christopher Bang, leader of the upcoming group Stray Kids, don’t worry I’ve heard all about you. Henry Young.” The older man tells the idol.

“I hope it’s all good things.” Chan chuckles glancing at his best friend.

“Trust me they are.” Henry tightens his grip, and Chan isn��t exactly sure what it means but Henry releases his grip. Rounding the table to take a seat next to her girlfriend who sits across Chan. 

Dinner goes smoothly, the playful banter between Chan and Y/n does not go unnoticed by the other members as they tease each other on the upcoming album, with the swimmer pouting at how discreet the leader was about their upcoming album. 

“Hey Bang if I break my next record you have to let me listen to one song!” She attempts to persuade the idol who merely chuckles at how cute she’s being. “Binnie, Hannie come on help me out here.” 

“Aish, don’t drag me into this Y/n.” The other producer tells her in English, and she’s extremely well at how good Changbin’s pronunciation has gotten over the few months. “That’s up to Hyung to decide.”

“Don’t worry I got you Y/n, I’ll slip you the file later.” Han winks from where he’s seated next to her. “It’ll be our little secret. Or not. You’re on your own, my good friend.” Seeing Chan raise an eyebrow at the younger producer's antics makes Han’s heart fill with dread.

“Why’re you being so secretive about it? You always let me hear snippets of your song.” Chan sees her cross her arms over her chest, frowning at how the other members smile as you banter with Chan.

“The company compels us to, Noona.” Hyunjin cuts through your banter and Chan thanks his lucky stars for the dancer. The younger member had been studying English nonstop the past few days ever since he had known you’d be visiting. He’s been excited to have a conversation with you. 

Though honestly, the real reason why Chan had been so secretive about their music was that it had involved a lot of sappy and melancholic music about love. And Chan’s unsure of how’d you react to an entire album being dedicated to you, it’s probably best if you don’t find out about it for now. 

Chan notices how quiet the older swimmer had been ever since he had been bantering with his best friend. He turns to the other Australian who picks at food before he feels Chan's gaze at him, their eyes meet and he offers Chan a polite yet vacant smile. 

“Noona, since Hyung won’t show you a snippet of the music I offer you this.” Minho does their key point in their choreography, the other boys giggling at your confused expression watching you ask them to enlighten you whether the four counts of choreography Minho had done would be in the chorus, bridge or verses.

“Yah, Lee Minho, if this isn’t in the choreography, I swear I’ll come back here to hit you.” Chan could only feel pride swell within your chest as you speak in Korean to the main dancer. You had begun studying and practicing the language after realizing you’d be coming here often to either teach or swim.

And before they know it they’re taking a walk, the maknae line stealing your attention as they help practice your Korean, asking you random questions and translating if you find it difficult to answer, the questions range from what your favorite color is to your favorite season, animal and member. They argue for third place knowing Chan and Felix were your first and second respectively.

And to Chan’s shock, he finds your boyfriend by his side. “She’s gorgeous isn’t she?” The swimmer turns to Chan with a sigh, “You look at her in a certain way.”

Chan doesn’t respond to that, instead he tells the older boy. “Thank you for being there for her, for taking good care of her she means a lot to me.” They watch the younger members tease the female swimmer over something laughing in a carefree manner.

“I know that she means a lot to you, she’s also really important to me. So you don’t have to give me that lecture of taking care of her or hurting her. I really love her.” He sees Henry sigh, dazed as he looks at nothing else but you. 

“Don’t worry I wasn’t”

“Oh no you don’t I knew you were going to give me one. I also know that you were a catalyst in Y/n finally agreeing to go out with me. So I’d like to thank you for that.” Henry pats Chan’s shoulder awkwardly but in genuine gratitude. “I never knew if she’d say yes, though even if she didn’t I’d still want to be her friend.”

“Why’d you stick around? She’s not exactly friendly with a lot of people.” The golden necklace twinkles under the night’s sky as you converse with the other boys. Chan’s glad that you’ve kept his little gift, it suits you the whale’s tail, it’s like a huge part of your persona. 

“I don’t really know, the other swimmers had completely given up trying to get to know her, that’s why she swims individual medley despite the fact that she’d make a powerful anchor for the relay. I had to admit that I found her pretty at first but I just didn’t like how the other swimmers call her a stuck up just cause she doesn’t hang out with us. I also share a lot of classes with her but I know that she didn’t really notice.” Chan recognizes the look Henry gives you it’s just as Henry had said, he looked at her in a certain way. “There’s just so much to admire about her, I also know she’s been through a lot. I also know that she’s completely in love with you and you might be as well, but that doesn’t really matter because if you really loved her nothing would stop you from being her boyfriend. She’s strong and amazing, she also has her flaws but Chris I have to be frank, she’s been through a lot, she’s still going through a lot, but despite that, I won’t leave her, in fact, I want to stay by her side, and be her strength, I want to be what you had failed to be for her.”

And right there everything seems to shatter before him. 

viii.

“Do you think he’s broken?” Jisung whispers to the older rapper trying not to disturb the other older member who had been producing nonstop for the past three days. The older rapper quickly hushes Jisung before pulling him out of their leader’s room. “He hasn’t been out of your room for the past three days, he only comes out to go to the bathroom and to pick up some snacks and water from the kitchen. He hasn’t talked to any of us and hasn’t been attending practices either.” 

“Minho and I already talked to Manager Hyung, he relayed a message from PD-nim saying it would be best to leave him for the next few days and let him come to us.” Changbin sighs stressed at the responsibility that now has been given to him.

“But he hasn’t been eating! Nor sleeping! What do we do when Noona starts looking for him? When STAYs start looking for him? Huh?!" Jisung has never seen Chan like this, he had never expected him to take the news this bad. Ever since your dating news began trending because of your recent Instagram post making things official with the Australian swimmer. "I don't get it, Hyung wanted this for Noona why-" 

Jisung is interrupted with the room to Chan's door opening, both boys felt sudden chills run down their spines, a gloomy aura emanating from the figure slowly exiting the room. Both boys turned towards their leader, with his hood up, the members knew that their leader had the capability to be scary but the aura he was releasing was full out terrifying. 

“Hyung how are you?” Changbin says this slowly so as not to scare the producer back into his room. Both members get no response from their leader, as he walks past them and into the kitchen. 

“What the hell was that?” Han mouths to the older rapper, who merely shrugs not knowing what to do with their leader either. 

“I don’t know either Sung.” 

They move to the kitchen, observing their leader drag himself towards the fridge reaching for the second tub of ice cream. Han sees the other members by the doorway, frozen in shock after seeing their leader for the first time in three days. His eyes meet with Felix, tilting his head to signal the others to avoid their leader.

They tiptoe around their dorm, trying to move as quietly as possible, in the eyes of others they probably look like a bunch of hunters trying to surround their prey. Though in reality, it was the complete opposite, they were the gazelles trying to stealthily escape the predator, which also happened to be their leader.

Chan holds the ice cream, to his chest, the tense silence is broken by the loud clack of the plastic tub meeting the tiled floor. Chan drops to his knees burying his head as he starts sniffling clutching his knees to his chest curling up. The remaining members freeze as their leader drops to his knees curling up next to the refrigerator, the boys go through a series of thoughts on what to do and how to help. 

Minho moves first, picking Chan up by the armpits as he maneuvers the eldest to their couch, Changbin could only sigh as he picks up the forgotten tub of vanilla-flavored ice cream on the floor. Minho rubs at Chan’s back attempting to calm his hiccups and sniffles, Felix approaches the older leader offering a box of tissues to Hyunjin who dabs at Chan’s tear-stained cheeks. 

Jeongin from the corner moves to offer Chan a glass of water helping him sip at using a straw as Seungmin goes into the kitchen to start dinner. Changbin approaches the leader, pulling the hood down as they’re met by red puffy eyes and bags under his eyes.

“Ah Hyung, let it all out, it’s alright.” Changbin rubs at their leader’s unruly blond hair, Chan leaning into their comfort as they reassure him. It was rare to see Chan like this, they often came to let out their pent up emotions to the older members, though with Chan he rarely opened about what he felt, choosing to carry the burden on his own.

After he calms himself, Minho encourages the older boy to shower saying it would make him feel better. Minho guides Chan into the bathroom saying that he’d prepare him a new set of clothes. Once they hear the water running, Minho calls the other boys to come and help him, Seungmin, Han, and Changbin enter the room, leaving the rest of the boys to help with dinner.

Changbin starts with arranging his production equipment, making sure everything was saved he sets the laptop aside. Seungmin collects the plastic bottle, packets of food, and cup noodles, scattered around the room tossing them into the garbage bag he holds. Minho begins stripping the sheets and exchanging them for newer ones while Han pulls out a new pair of pajamas setting them aside for the eldest, they move around one another finishing it with an air freshener.

The rest of the members find themselves under Felix’s command as they prepare dinner, Jeongin sets the table as Hyunjin helps Felix by preparing the vegetables. Usually, it would be Chan cooking for the younger members making sure they eat good food rather than ordering fast food all the time. 

They eat in the living room, putting on a disney movie as they transfer their beds to the living room. Watching in silence as they provide the comfort their eldest member needed. 

ix.

It’s been a few months since you visited Korea, it bothered you how much Chan’s messages had become single worded responses ever since you visited. He rarely initiates conversations you had even asked Felix about it over facetime, he shrugged his shoulders saying that the older member was just stressed. 

Something didn’t feel right. Henry pauses seeing you distracted as you stare out the window of the restaurant, finding the scenery interesting rather than your date. “Y/n, what’s on your mind?” It worries Henry to see you like this, ever since you had opened up about your nightmares, he had been looking out for your health more often, knowing the stress that came with this career, you needed someone by your side. 

He had lost his brother to this career, and he couldn’t bear another amazing person losing themselves to the demands and pressure of this career. Which is probably why he had found himself so drawn to you, despite running in different cliques, your introverted nature fit your extroverted one perfectly.

“Nothing, it's just that Chris has been ignoring me lately.” You turn to the older male, he sees the stress pull at your features, the bags under your eyes seem much darker than usual, and he’s curious whether how much sleep you’ve been getting lately. 

Ah, Christopher. Ever since their meeting and conversation, the Australian Idol has also been constantly popping up in Henry’s thoughts, it made him wonder why you both weren’t together and how the Idol only seemed to bring you more stress.

“Maybe he’s just busy Y/n, you know him, he’s always producing and stuff.” His words do nothing to ease your furrowed brows, “We have double periods as free time before training, come sleep in my dorms, you look like you need it.” 

It concerns Henry, how much your nightmares seemed to plague your thoughts and sleep, especially as an athlete it was completely unhealthy, you’ve been losing weight over it as well. If Henry didn’t show up at your place with food, you’d probably have skin hanging off your bones. 

It makes the older male wonder whether your coach has noticed, he probably had with your times being inconsistent, it put pressure on the team more than ever with the qualifiers for the Olympics looming over your heads, it would only be a matter of time. 

The moment you enter his apartment, you make your way to his room finding comfort in the warm sheets. Henry could only smile at how you bury yourself into your sheets making yourself smaller than you already are, he sets an alarm in case he falls asleep, less the coach berates them for being late. 

It was hard enough when they announced their relationship, knowing that the team prioritizes the competition more than anything else. Luckily the coach hadn’t made it a big of a deal with both Henry and Y/n being important assets to the team.

He finds himself lying in bed next to you, scooting closer to him you breathe in his scent, it helps you sleep. He’s glad to be able to help you erase the anxieties and thoughts that plagued you at night. He had seen how it had destroyed his older brother, he could only hope and pray  that it wouldn’t lead to your demise. 

He’s happy to see your rhythmic breathing come out calmly and evenly, he wonders if you can hear how far his heart is beating, he runs his hands through your hair, massaging his fingers into your scalp. “I wish I could take all your troubles away Y/n but I’m only human.”I’d give you the world if I could.”

Henry sees you open your eyes carefully, adjusting to the light before her tired eyes meet Henry’s. “Hello, Henry.”

“Did you sleep?” He whispers into the crown of your head, continuing to massage his fingers into your scalp, finding you lean into his touch as it helps you relax.

“A bit, I’m still tired though.” 

“Sleep then-”

“Do you think about marriage, Henry?”

 Henry finds himself startled by the question, curious unto what had brought the thought into your head he asks. “I do, but why are you asking this?”

“It’s just that this was under your pillow.” You pull out the velvet box from under his pillow, he swears to himself, forgetting that he had left it on the bedside table. He had bought it for you a few months ago before you had both left for Korea he had planned to give it to you after the qualifiers for the Olympics but as he had been caught red-handed he might as well do it now.

“You can open it, it's for you.” He pushes back a strand of hair behind your ear, before he starts rubbing his thumb against your temple, to release the tensions in between your eyebrows. Your lips part in awe as you find a simple band elegantly crafted and designed with diamonds it forms a small v in the middle. 

“Don’t stress over it, it’s a promise ring. I planned to give you this once we both qualify for the Olympics, don’t worry I’m not asking you to marry me Y/n I know you love Chris too much to get yourself engaged to me.”

“What?” You look at him confused at his statement, he presses a kiss into the crown of your head. 

“This promise ring doesn’t promise yourself to me, but rather it symbolizes a promise to me that you’ll find happiness within yourself, and it doesn’t have to be me. This ring is also a promise to take care of yourself, it’s a reminder that you don’t have to carry that burden alone, that you can come to us, to me. I love you, Y/n, but I know you love Chris. I’ll be here for you, to help you find happiness and to take care of you but as your friend. We’ve had a good run, don’t you think, almost 2 years?” Henry presses a soft kiss unto her lips, he smiles understanding he continues cuddling you.

“I’m sorry, Henry.” Is all that you could say to him, he allows you to pull him closer, helping you wipe your tears. 

You both skip practice that day, telling the coach you had an emergency. That doesn’t let you off from additional laps though.

♡ ❤ ♡

“Why do you swim.” It takes you a while to realize you’re looking at yourself, the 14-year-old you, who'd had been put under so much pressure by your father, had been neglected by your mother and had been left behind by the only person in the world you had thought you trust.

Had you really been like this? The wistful flecks on your dark hues brought such a melancholic feeling within you, it made you wonder when had you become so abandoned and pessimistic. It makes you ponder, Are you still like this?

Looking around you find yourself in the same ice cream parlor you had spent most of your childhood with Chan, with the same booths, flooring, and walls. Everything seemed so real though one thing stood out to you the most, the parlor didn’t have the same pleasant warmth it once had. You find your pallidly familiar vanilla ice cream in front of you and instead of the childlike smile it brings a bitter taste to your mouth.

“Why do you swim?” She repeats it louder this time interrupting your train of thoughts, and observations. She’s almost yelling as she repeats the same phrase for a third time, this time gripping your wrist with a tight vice, she glares at you, dark and penetrating as tears begin to stain her cheeks slowly. “WHY?”

You open your mouth to answer her but you’re unable to do so, the words get caught up in your throat choking you as you gasp for air. Suddenly everything comes to a stop, your gasps for air, the clock by the counter, and even the ceiling fans and in a blink of an eye you’re sitting again in the same booth but the younger version of you is gone.

You’re alone in the parlor until you hear the wind chimes by the entrance twinkling signaling a customer. You’re familiar with this one, his dimpled and charming smile, innocent yet passionate eyes, his dark curls and if you observe him closely you can see light freckles spread across his cheekbones. You find in awe unconsciously parting your lips in a gasp as his younger self takes a seat in front of you. 

He throws you a lopsided grin at you, his dimple prominent. “I’m late, aren’t I? I guess I’ll be buying ice cream.” You move before you even realize you're holding his wrist, he looks back at you tilting his head in concern. “Are you alright (Y/n)?” Blinking his voice is laced with endearment. 

Even you’re startled at yourself at how you had reacted. “Uh, yeah, sorry but I already have ice cream.” sheepishly gesturing to the cup of vanilla on the table, his lips are making an “O” in realization, not having seen the cup next to you. 

“Ah you’re right, well, I’ll be saving my money then.” Softly releasing your grip on his wrist, the 14-year-old Chan takes a seat in front of you, still dressed in your school's uniform making you realize he had probably come from his advanced math classes.

While you trained daily for swimming, Chan would do it every other day, alternating between his music and his advanced classes, if he weren’t training he would meet up with you here in this parlor to study. Shouldn’t you have realized by then, that your paths were meant to separate later on?

“Can I hug you?” You ask the younger boy, the question seems to startle him, but nonetheless he circles the booth taking a seat next to you, opening up his arms to accommodate you. You seek his warmth, you turn towards the glass that kept the various flavors of ice cream. And you see both your reflections, his smaller and younger persona hugging your bigger and older form. It made you smile, how adorable you both looked. 

“Do you still swim, (Y/n)?” His voice whispers into your shoulder, at this you can only nod, still not having the ability to speak. “You’re going to be a great swimmer Y/n, you’re going to be amazing.” His voice suddenly deepens, much more masculine and older. You see the older version of him, the current him, same prominent right dimple, same curls and light freckles. Though his eyes are different, the childlike innocence and mirth had been replaced with mature and observant hues.

“Chris, I’m tired.” You hear yourself say, the older man only tightens his grip around you and buries his head into your shoulder.  Everything is calm as it should be, you can hear his steady heartbeat, the rhythmic pitter-patter of his heart reassures you, following the steady rise and fall of his chest it creates a serene peacefulness in your mind, and you’re grateful for it even it’s just for a minute.

A flash blinds you as the media surrounds you, different questions are thrown at you, it ranges from your relationship to your father, and then they begin asking about your times. Will you be ranking gold today? Will you break  another record? You find yourself running, not caring where you’re going until you find yourself on top of the starting block.

“Miss L/n! The great prodigy!”

“You were brought into the world for this (Y/n)!” You hear your father’s voice

“You’ll be the greatest swimmer known (Y/N)!” You hear Chan.

“Swim for us!”

“You can’t let that talent go to waste, my dear.” 

“We were born for different things (Y/n), I hope you understand.” 

Different reporters shove their microphones, recorders, and cameras toward you, drowning you with their questions, blinding you with the flashes, it’s suffocating dangerously so. Terror fills your eyes as you feel yourself losing your balance from trying to avoid them.

The air whips at you as you’re falling you try to look for something, anything to stop you from falling. You scream for help, crying out, feeling your stomach drop the faster gravity brings you down and suddenly you’re thrown into a freezing bottomless pit, your limbs are heavy as you try to resurface but to your horror, something latches onto you pulling you down. You’re screaming again wailing as dread fills the pit of your stomach, choking as water enters your lungs, you’re choking, gasping for air. 

You jerk up, clutching the sheets tightly, breathing heavily. Grimacing you find yourself sweaty, you turn towards the alarm clock on the bedside table, in bright red it reads 3:35. You leave the comfort of your bed, dashing towards the bathroom as you feel the nausea claw at your throat, you hurl yourself toward the toilet just in time your stomach contracts to vomit the remnants of your meal from the previous day. Heaving until only a clear liquid was left, your throat felt sore with all that stomach acid you felt disgusting. 

Pushing yourself up you rise to flush down your vomit, turning away to avoid inhaling the acidic stench. You gargle some water and brush your teeth before you push yourself into the shower stall. Sinking into your knees as you cried under the comfort of the rain shower.

♡ ❤ ♡

You feel just a tad bit better after your shower, that doesn’t eliminate the thoughts in your head though. Gosh, why did this just have to happen on the day of qualifiers. It’s been two months or so ever since Henry had broken up with you, and it's funny how the media hadn’t picked up on it, well neither has the team since you both spent so much time together even as you continued as friends.

You’re looking at the simple band on your finger when a knock interrupts your train of thoughts. You open the door to see Henry, holding two fruit cups and his gym bag, “Today’s the day!” He observes you as you let him in, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he tries to decipher your muddled thoughts. “Did you sleep?”

“A bit.”

Unsatisfied by your response, “Here.” He hands you the fruit cup in your direction, knowing that you don’t eat that much for breakfast, he at least tries to get something in your system especially for a big competition like this, less he has you fainting in the middle of it. “Eat up, you need that.”

Your phone pings, and you see a message from Felix, but none from Chris.

Lix

Good luck Noona! The boys say hello as well! Fighting~!

Henry watches you through spoonfuls of watermelons and strawberries, trying to take a peek at who could possibly be texting you. “Felix, the other Australian in the group right? I swear that his voice of his does not fit his features.” Henry munches on his fruits frowning as he realizes you’re not eating. “Hey, eat.”

You humm in response pushing away at his hand holding up a spoonful of fruits to your lips. “I will just later.”

“Oi, your laters always become never so don’t you try that on me, eat.” You allow him to feed you the spoonful of fruits knowing that if you don’t allow him to take care of you he’d only continue his rant and you’re really not in the mood to argue with him.

Out of all the days, your dreams could bother you, why did it have to be now.

♡ ❤ ♡

Before you know it you’re in the locker rooms, you find yourself shaking, you can feel the nausea clawing up your throat again, despite the fact that you had vomited again for the second time that day just a little bit before you entered the locker rooms.

You find yourself looking at the ring Henry had given you, a promise to take care of yourself, you’re not doing so good on that promise though. When was the last time you had a decent conversation with Chan, you both had been so busy, that Felix could only leave you short texts a few times a week.

You push down your thoughts trying to focus on the competition. This was the qualifiers for goodness sake, your future, your country’s future was depending on this. You’re called to enter the venue, hurriedly you take your necklace and ring putting them into a container tugging on your jacket as you speed walk towards the pool.

Your eyes adjust to the bright lights of the indoor pool, blinking it out as you step into the starting block, this view, it’s nothing new, but why does it feel so different? You’re putting on your goggles and swimming cap barely having enough time to react as you're told to take your positions, you feel the vile clawing at the back of your throat, forcing yourself to push it down. God it’s so loud.

You feel your body move to recognize the beep that signals the start of the race. Diving into the cool waters, your body resurfaces to start the first style of the individual medley. You’re propelling your body up, you can hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears. Your body feels completely out of sync, your limbs feel heavy like lead suddenly you’re reminded by the icy like vines dragging you down.

You feel yourself struggle against the current caused by the other swimmers, your vision darkens with lack of oxygen as you feel yourself struggle to breathe. And before you even realize, you feel your bare feet touch the tiled floor of the pool. Tears are pooling at your eyes as you hang your head in shame, you hear the crowd begin to whisper in shock at your actions. And you know exactly what they’re saying. 

You’ve been disqualified.

You’re dashing towards the bathroom again, that nauseous feeling now evident more than ever, finding the nearest toilet, you heave. Your stomach contracts violently again and again, forcing the contents of your stomach up until there is nothing left, sinking into your knees you feel weak and tired. Your vision darkens once more, your consciousness fading in and out, you feel drained with everything fading into black.

♡ ❤ ♡

“Hello, is this Christopher Bang? You’re registered as one of miss Y/n L/n ‘s emergency contacts, we’d like to inform you that she’s currently hospitalized under our care. She fainted after vomiting quite a bit, we’re running a few tests for now but once she’s hydrated you can take her home.” The rest of the nurse’s words fly over his head, it seems as if his heart had gained a few pounds at how heavy it seemed all of a sudden, with fear gripping his throat at what could have happened to you.

“Hyung, noona got disqualified at the qualifiers.” Felix tugs at his shirt, showing him his phone, which had the picture of you standing in the middle of the pool as the other competitors continue swimming around you.

Chan can feel his heart drop to the pit of his stomach in shock at seeing the news of your disqualification. Questions begin to bother him, wondering why you had done that, why you stopped in the middle of a competition, and especially during the qualifiers.

“I gotta go.”

Luckily their manager asks no question once the leader mentions it's an emergency, anxious, he bounces his leg in worry, as his manager drives him as fast as possible towards the hospital’s address. His manager is barely at the entrance before the idol is running towards the information booth asking for your room number. 

He’s dodging past patients and doctors as he scrambles towards the staircase, knowing that the elevator would take too long, once he’s in front of your room, he’s panting in exhaustion. But to his dismay he finds a nurse in it, cleaning up a few things she’s shocked at the sight of the idol before she tells him you’re in the playground.

It’s odd to find the playground open at this hour. It’s a tad bit after five in the afternoon, the sun has begun to set. He sees you sitting by the swing in a hospital gown, approaching your figure, the cup of vanilla-flavored ice cream you’re playing with catches his eyes.

He kneels before you, meeting your downcast eyes, your once luminous eyes are replaced with watery red-rimmed eyes. He feels his heartbreak at the sight of your trembling figure, taking your hands into his he realizes how cold they are. 

He’s at a loss of words, he finds himself unable to reassure you, comfort you, or say anything at all. His eyes scan your face, noticing how your features have become sunken, with your cheekbones more prominent along with the dark bags under your eyes. You’ve lost weight.

“It started a little bit after that issue with that one reporter.” You begin answering the questions of how it had started. “After he had asked me whether me dating Henry would affect my swimming, the nightmares soon followed, then I kept getting scolded during training, at first I thought it was just a slump, but I kept getting stuck. I heard all these expectations asking if I’d be breaking a new record, will I be topping the rankings again, will I be getting gold? All these questions I couldn’t even answer myself. Then the nightmares worsened, and I couldn’t sleep, the nightmares would bother me so much. All these expectations of me, it began to tire me out, I couldn’t even hold a consistent record.” Chan allows you to pour out your pent up frustrations knowing you had probably kept these to yourself over the past few months.

“I plan to take a break.” You’re looking towards the sunset, admiring the different hues of pink and orange in the sky. Such a beautiful sight contrasting the tragic situation you had managed to place yourself in. “I want to travel a bit, leave behind everything, clear up my mind.” The vanilla-flavored ice cream’s melting, but you make no move to eat it, watching it change from its solid phase to liquid, you stir the sticky mixture.

“I’ll come with you, I’m sure I can talk to the company-”

“Chris, you’ve come this far for your dream. I can’t have you throw away everything you’ve worked hard for, you can’t leave the boys, you’d put the team at a disadvantage. You would not only be throwing away your future, but theirs as well.” You press your palms into his cheeks, thumb tracing where his dimple would be. “I want to do this on my own, I made a promise to someone that I’d find my own happiness, and I want to find happiness within myself. I’ll be fine Chris.”

The older boy feels the metal band dig into his cheeks. “Are you engaged to Henry?” The question brings giggles to your tear-stained cheeks, finding it funny that despite your speech, he still had half the mind to ask you about Henry.

“No you dummy, we broke up months ago. I also found out about that little conversation you had with him. This is a promise ring. He wanted me to find happiness with you, but I can’t be dependent on you, I want to heal on my own before I want to try a relationship with you. So this is another goodbye for us.” Chan hadn’t even realized he’d been crying till you’re wiping his tears. “Plus it’s you who had always told me that if we were meant to be fate will find a way for us.” 

“Will you come back?” 

“I won’t make any promises but time will tell. So no more promises between us, Chris.” You’re tilting his head, to press your lips into his soft ones, with your hand by his nape you play with the soft tufts of hair that pokes out of the cap he wears. Chan remembers you tasting as sweet as the vanilla-flavored ice cream that sits by the corner, melting under the warm rays of the sun that sets behind you both.

x.

What would you say to someone you’ve missed again again, when you see them after the many years that you’ve repeatedly let them go. Would you say I love you? Hello? Would you act nonchalant, or would you welcome them with a tight hug.

It’s been a year since he’s last seen you. He finds himself in a nearby ice cream parlor to fight off his writing block, knowing that staying cooped up in the studio would only leave him flustered and unable to produce. He’s also taking a break from how loud his members could get, so he left anything work-related taking a breather.

The year had surprisingly passed on quickly, the media had died down with you traveling across the globe, it makes Chan wonder how are you, what you’re thinking about what you’re doing. 

All news of your breakdown had been taken down, even the late news of your break up with Henry, any sightings of you had been quickly erased, it makes Chan wonder whether your father had a hand in this, knowing that your stepmother was quite influential with the media. 

The wind chimes by the door twinkle with the entrance of a new customer. “Can I get two scoops of vanilla please.” Chan looks up from his phone at hearing the accented Korean. He sees you by the counter dressed in a summer dress perfect for the sunny weather, he sees the bounce and confidence in your steps he hadn’t even realized you had lost. 

Time seems to still as the idol struggles to comprehend its you, the person he had lost time and time again. Not some picture on his phone, nor are you the figment of imagination he uses when he makes his music, it’s actually you. 

He sees your lips part in a silent gasp almost dropping the cup of ice cream in shock. Chan struggles to formulate a thought in the languages he’s fluent in, he could only sigh as he finds himself within your embrace and suddenly everything falls into place. 

After you had left him to travel, Chan had sworn that if he met you again, he would make things right. Fate had tested you both again and again, and maybe this was her sign for you both.  No more wasting time, no more regrets.