#bloom didn't deserve that from me 😔

[mocharoni]

i love you teeny tiny fandom surrounding a Minecraft bedrock edition marketplace game

[thestuffieguardian]

I was going to dm you & thankfully I saw your pinned post first!! So I hope this is okay to leave here.

But the comment you added onto that reblog hit so hard to home. Having shit parents really fucks up your perception of life & people, really had you feeling like it's your fault that you were treated that way & emotionally & physically neglected, that we are unworthy & unloveable, yet we are the ones that have to fix ourselves they never take blame & they never answer for the actions. It fucking sucks so bad & I'm so sorry to see that you understand this!

It's honestly one of the worst feelings having parents that put the responsibility on us to make their lives better, when they should have been doing that for us. We all deserved so much better, we aren’t the bad ones, they are. We just unfortunately have to live with the pain that they put us through 😔

I hope you’re okay & again I’m sorry to see that you know what it’s like, you seem like such a loving, kind & wonderful person & you have clearly done that yourself, you should be proud of the man you’ve became! I hope you have a nice night & a really happy life ❤️

(Also sorry for the rant haha)

Ah it's okay. I'm over it. I got tired of begging for love from those who were supposed to give it unconditionally. Told my own father if he ever approached me again I'd tear his throat oot. I'm 30, dude. They lost me as their son the moment they abandoned me and left me on the doorstep of an abusive family. Like some Scottish Harry Potter. That's why I love Harry Potter so much, it resonated with my soul, even as a child

We should never have went through what we did. I did bad things. Things that I never should have. I regret them every single day. All the pain I had burning inside me, I took out on others. Pain that was never supposed to be mine. But you're right. It's made me the man I am today

I'm not proud of what it's took for me to become him. The...trials and the tribulations I've undergone just to become him, because it haunts me. Every single day. I fear I will always have this pain in my heart & darkness in my mind. But I do my best to be the best man I can be, no matter the cost. I'm the only one of my friends or family who ever done a single ounce of self-reflection

Which left me alone without them. You can't grow when you're around poisonous soil. Flowers can't bloom without the water to feed them. These people, they made us who we are, we just have to do our best to make sure we become better than we were, not stay the same. Because that's what it means to be human

The most kind humans were most likely not that way before. Kindness comes with pain and lots of it. Because to understand ones pain is another level of growth, I never even expected to make it this far, I should never have made it this far. But I'll make sure before my time is up that any kindness that grows inside me can be spread. Even the smallest amount. Thank you for saying these things

We don't get to choose our cards. We just deal with the hand we're given. We don't choose our parents. Siblings. When you grow up with your entire family hating you, it kinda puts shit into perspective. I'm over it.

A light switch flicks in your mind when you tell your family you tried to take your own life, and they don't bat an eyelid. We become better. We kill the bloodline we are born into, because I will not use this pain to hurt others any longer, I will use it for good, no matter how much overwhelming darkness engulfs me & my lantern dims. My pain is my pain. I will bear that burden

It is however nice to see someone else who had the same thing. You and I sitting together in a wee sandbox playing together, bonding over this. But unfortunately as an adult that's not safe. I'm happy you're still here and you didn't let them poison you. Take care of yourself 💙

[imhereforscm]

There are times in my life where i feel like my dad is right about me being immature. That i can't do anything right. There are times where he has said horrible things in front of other people.

You have written many comfort stories for many people but my request a slightly different and similar at the same time.

This might sound stupid. I am apologizing in advance.😔😔😔 What if reader doubts her relationship with Tauxolouve because she think he probably finds hre immature like her dad? She distances herself from him.

The ending is upto you.

Thank you for reading my rant.

"The riches of your soul"

Genre: comfort

Warnings: none

A/N: Hello, sugar cube!!🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹 Reminder that no matter what anyone else says, you're wonderful!!💖💖💖💖 Just because someone says a certain things doesn't mean said thing is a fact. You're the only one that gets to decide your worth and NO ONE can cheapen it. I LOVE YOU!!

You held your breath, as you stepped out into the gardens, where Vega told you Tauxolouve was. Your feet moved along the flinty road between the bushes with the roses, though your mind didn't notice their colors, or their scents, or even the fact that new ones had bloomed.

You heard distant humming and your eyes rose from the ground, landing on the figure of your darling, that wandered around the grass, the smile on his face emanating an otherworldly serenity. His silky hair danced a little in the gentle warm breeze and staring at this beautiful man, your heart clenched.

Looking down at you hands, you were once more reminded of who you are, once appearances fade, falling away like a mask that's going to decay in the corner of an attic. You swallowed thickly, your desire to be near him and speak to him nothing but the ambition of a fool. You turned your back to Tauxolouve, the garden all around you turning grey, as your heart bit on your ribcage, crashing it bone by bone.

"(Name)!" Your name startled you a little, but the voice was familiar. A voice that sounded like home and the evening of a spring.

You faced him, your face stiff and your jaw tight.

"My little lady," He stepped back into the crafted path, abandoning the grass that surely craved for his presence once more. "did you not see me?"

You shook your head. "No, I thought you were inside." You said, your tongue coated in lies Tauxolouve's sweet ears believed. "I was coming to find you."

"Looks like there's no need." He said, his hands cupping your face, bringing his soft velvet lips to your forehead. "I found you first." He smiled at you and your heart tightened.

You loved him so much that, at times, you thought your heart would stop and the only worry in your mind, was if he'd be offered the heartbeats you'd never use.

And yet... A corner in your heart ached, a thin yet ruthless needle piercing you there as you stared within Tauxolouve's dark eyes. Were you really in the same space of mind? Did you really deserve such a kind, gentlemanly and mature man...? You doubted that more and more as they days were born and died again, your thoughts siding with your father, the one who forced those ideas into your head.

"Would you like some tea?" He asked, bringing you back to reality, your body becoming aware of the sensation of his hands once more. "I'm dying to know how your day has been. I remember you telling me about a movie you were excited to watch, have you watched it yet?"

You followed your boyfriend to one of the tables of the garden, sheltered beneath a pavilion, the sunrays reaching you soothingly, in thin gentle portions, shade and light colliding into comfort.

Tauxolouve materialized the pitcher and the cups, adding some small pastries to the side. From the ones he knew you adored and would always make your jaw shiver and your lips to curled upwards in a happy, bright movement. "So? How was your day?"

Your lips parted and you sucked in a breath, but it died young, never reaching anyone's ears. You simply smiled and responded, peering up at him over your teacup. "Good. Excellent. How about you?"

Tauxolouve's eyes remained on you curiously, your lack of enthusiasm unsettling him.

The honest truth was that you wanted to tell him of everything that happened. Of all the movies you'd watched, the coffees you had and the suggestions you had for future dates. But...

You swallowed the tea, barely acknowledging its taste and aroma as it streamed down your throat.

Reminiscing of all the times you let your vocal cords explode with words and your lungs to feel with passions made you wince, wondering what Tauxolouve was truly, genuinely thinking.

You drank your tea in silence, feeling out of touch and loathing for your own soul. Your father was right, that's the conclusion you reached. That you were immature, an oxymoron for you to be standing by Tauxolouve's side so carefreely.

"Is everything alright, my little lady?" He asked, setting his cup down on the delicate little plate. "You don't seem too energetic today."

Your gaze fell and your fingers tightened around the handle of the cup. "Everything's fine." You said, trying to hide how small you felt, compared to Tauxolouve. You believed you didn't fulfil him, how could you...? You were immature, a child in a grown up's body and Tauxolouve had to deal with it. He was way too sweet to decline someone and you swore deep down, beneath that porcelain, flawless skin of his, exasperation boiled.

So you pursed your lips, refusing to open your heart, considering it the root of the problem.

Tauxolouve reached out a hand from across the table and placed it upon your own, the sunlight washing over your complexions. "I know something's on your mind. I know every inch of you, inside and out."

You looked up at him and sensed your courage leaving your body. "Louie..." You breathed, your father's words repeating inside your head over and over again, untill they became the poem of doom and sorrow. "I don't... I want you to be honest with me."

Tauxolouve stared at you silently, waiting patiently for you to continue.

"Do you... Feel fulfilled in this relationship?" You finally admitted to the demons that lived inside your head for days. "Do you think I'm perhaps... Lacking something important...?"

Tauxolouve eyed you in disbelief, your words sounding like a blade grazing a glass in his ears. "Lacking... You?"

You nodded, staring down at his twitching fingers. "Yes. Like..." Your voice fell significantly and he almost missed your words. "Maturity could be what I'm lacking..."

Tauxolouve sighed at your words and rose from his seat, the sound of the chair's legs grazing the floor making your heart jolt, along with your shoulders. He walked around the table and only when he kneeled in front of you, did your eyes meet his. His fingers reached out for your face, caressing your jaw up to your cheek softly. "My little lady, who caused you to think that way?"

You swallowed thickly, wishing you could swallow the words as well, but they lingered still on your tongue. "My father..." You spoke, your voice coming out in a whispery tone.

Tauxolouve's hands fell on your lap, gripping your own, that rested there already. "Will you listen to me?"

You nodded.

"Thank you." He smiled softly, looking deeply into your eyes. "Ever since the day I met you, my life has been beautiful... Who am I kidding!" He shook his head, his eyebrows lowering. "I didn't even have a life before I met you. It began now. After I met you..." He paused, bringing your hands to his lips and pressed several affectionate kisses there, all over your knuckles and the back of your hands. "So tell me... Do you think someone immature could have had such a meaningful influence on someone's life? Such a positive influence, I mean."

You swallowed thickly, eyes casted away from him and upon your teacup.

"Answer me, please." He pleaded, voice gentle and patient.

You hesitantly shook your head, your lips parting shakily, as a warm breeze blew, some hairs tickling your cheekbones. "No... I guess they wouldn't."

"That's right." He continued, tucking your dancing hair behind your ear and inspecting every part of your face with love and affection in his gaze. "You're not immature. I can't believe your father called you such a thing, it just goes to show how little he knows about you." With your hands still within his and him still on his knees, he leaned in, pressing your hand to his cheek, longing to feel your skin against his own. "If you truly were immature, I highly doubt anyone would stick around for so long. They—we all stay around, for the riches of your soul. You have an ethereal inner beauty that pulls people to you. And your mind..." He paused, kind wrinkles forming at the corners of his eyes as he smiled at you. "It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

You bent over, touching your forehead to his. You breathed into his caramel scent, eyes closed, when you felt a soft sensation on your lips, as if made of velvet and the finest of silk. You kissed him back and the sun stood as the only witness to that wordless promise of love you two shared.

[itlivesproject]

Big long message coming from someone who binged the whole game in two days:

1. Whoever wrote the Abel route deserves to get all the good things in life. His bright and warm personality and natural quirkiness tugged at my heartstrings and I just knew I wanted my MC to stick by him. It's no wonder so many peeps loved his route-- he was super fleshed out and he takes a new spin on the nerd LI archetype. Not to mention, his past with his family is bittersweet, yet it was never used for shock value. It was evident how these experiences affected his character and how he interacts with others, and it never fails to radiate how genuine he is and how much reality was inspired in his making.

(Also that last sex with him was so detailed, raw, passionate, and personal. Everything is scorched on my front lobe and I will nevrr forget it.mE.A. James could never.)

I can feel the good writing for all routes and the whole narrative in general even if I didn't pick them as LIs. The talent of the writing team always oozes, and I can never stop reading. I might retry other routes and I will do that after recovering from the psychic damage I acquired crying and laughing with this story.

2. From what I've read on the net so far, the Mixed Ending was the most well-liked ending, but I beg to digress because I am selfish and delusional and I just want my MC to rest, ok? 😔 I personally favored the successful non-betrayal blood ending.

The consequences of the ending are much more direct than that of the mixed ending and at least it was easier to cope with it because MC still has their support group, but I just really love the closure it provided that my gen!MC (ironic, I know) stayed true to what she wanted, which was to continue the life that was frozen over since the incident. Shadow Ending is honestly the most selfless and poetic ending that gave me crippling depression and I loved its angst. The Mixed Ending was my least favorite because it was the most open-ended one, and I felt unsettled by it because I felt the least secure for my MC's future, esp with their LI. I still have to play through Matthias' route but it's really promising.

3. I can't help but have my curiosity piqued by how everything played out with a similar pattern to how colonisers always end up messing up and undoing the progress of indigenous people's learnings and practices, and their utter disrespect for nature which ultimately blows up in their face but unfortunately, it's those that try to save it that suffer the most. The subtle incorporation of this theme was the perfect piece that really tied together the past of all It Lives book. Loha and Matthias were the perfect characters to resemble this struggle.

What lingers in my mind, however, is that Loha and Matthias, as individuals, are the two sides of the same coin. Both characters have personal strong connections to the Power, have personal gains and goals for it, used, manipulated and forced people to assist them in their cause, and ultimately birthed a person that was meant to be the key to finish their mission.

Though it was true that what Loha did was for the common good vs. Matthias' hedonistic and self-centered purposes, I think Loha is no better than Matthias, (Sorry, guys. I know some of you might fight me.) and I think it is equally hypocritical of Loha to ask MC to lay down her life to heal the breach and feel disappointed when MC doesn't do as she says.

She shared herself how a wisp was so curious of life on Earth that this innocent venture eventually bloomed into all this, so she knew that to an extent, even if the Shadow Ending occurs, it might happen again so long as the Power has free will to choose and explore. Maybe that's why I like the Blood Ending so much, I don't see a point to all the MC's (esp. ILW) suffering so much when they are mortals constantly being tested by a higher power. I think it was best to share the labor for everyone to maintain than just place the burden on one person. (My MC worked her ass off to charm Abel's pants off I simply can't let her down 😔)

4. The team is so resourceful with reusing, mixing, and adding visual assets to the game. Seeing the familiar layout and mechanics such as reusing minor characters really established the familiar Choices foundation of the game, but the impressively added illustrations, wide array of sprite personalization, the unique and diverse character designs, and even the title screens was truly the marks that made this an excellent fanwork. It manages to really immerse the reader and I can never, ever get enough of it.

5. In relation to 4, the programming of the game is superb. There is sensible weight and effects to choices, LIs are equally balanced and don't overpower the narrative, the godsent SAVES, the carefully considered rewards and consequences of all decisions and just everything about the system has made me question all that Choices has done since forever. How can a nonprofit fan team make such a complex system with such delicacy and thought that a multimillion dollar company simply cannot? You raised the bar higher for what interactive stories should look like. THIS is how interactive stories should be, and thanks to the user-friendly programming, the replay value is very high.

These are all I can say off the top of my head and I will always be grateful for this work you've shared to us. This is the most passionate passion project I've had the honor of experiencing, and I wish you all the best in your future endeavors. Should your endeavors include another interactive story (Painted Devils can't come soon enough, please just take my money!), I will be most eager to take part in it.

Sorry if this was long!

(P.S.: Abel mentioned about having people over with his shirt on. *What's his body count?* 🤭☺️)

Thank you for sending this in and sharing your thoughts!! I'm so glad that the game was so meaningful for you <3

[jenrecs]

oh my god good lord this chapter

You know what’s coming, somehow, and you - the world’s jumpiest human - aren’t startled at all when you feel Namjoon’s warm body solidly against your back. One hand steadies you both by resting on your waist, the other reaches easily for the box you wanted.

if this happened to me i think i would simply pass away in the middle of the grocery store. the cereal aisle would be my final resting place

“Don’t get all quiet on me, little cactus,” he says, eyeing you sideways. “Everything’s fine. We’re fine.”

no bro we are not fine i am going insane over here 😭

Taehyung watches all of this silently from where he’s perched at the breakfast bar. When your groceries are put away, you face Taehyung and put your hands on your hips. “What do you wanna do?” you ask.

ok i know nothing happend but tae sitting there observing everything made me hella nervous lol like MY GUY what are you t h i n k i n g

You know what that means - the writing isn’t going well. On the other side of the door, he’s stuck.

ok this is such a good line in this context... i don't have the brain juices to elaborate but U KNOW WHAT I MEAn. IT'S SO GOOD

[5:54 PM] Namjoon: want me to bring you something to eat?

You want to sink down onto the concrete path and melt into the ground. What is this absolutely boyfriend behavior, and why are the butterflies in your stomach having a rager over it?!

she is so real for this lmao gorlie love that for you

[5:57 PM] You: that was NOT me roomie-zoning you!!! you can be best roomie ever AND ….whatever else lol

Sometimes you wonder who decided to let you ever leave your house. You deserve a trophy for being the most awkward human alive. 

she is also very real for this lolololol i got second embarrassment reading that text but yeah same

You wait for him to implicate you, to indicate that he’s here to bring you food, spend time with you on the sly. 

Instead, he says, “I lost my headphones again.”

A lie. 

A lie that leaves you out. 

TO SPEND TIME WITH YOU ON THE SLY 😭 can u blame me that a teeny tiny part of me was disappointed when he didn't just come out and say "I'M HERE TO BE WITH MY GIRL." 😔

“Of course,” she says, smiling shyly up at him. “Always writing. But, Namjoon...” She heaves a sigh. You wish Kris was here to witness this with you, to help you dissect it later. “I guess… I wanted to talk to you because I’ve been… I’ve been thinking about us.”

Your eyes go wide and you look at Namjoon immediately for his reaction.

“There’s no ‘us’, Elyse,” he points out, so kindly, like he doesn’t want to hurt her and he knows he has to anyway. “You made sure of that.”

You almost gasp out loud, and you quickly stifle your reaction with another big bite of dinner. 

ok why is she so so so relatable in this chapter. at this point i was also on the edge of my seat (curled up in bed) GASPING at this interaction. this is my new favorite kdrama

“Jesus,” Namjoon huffs, laughing. “It’s just me.”

“Don’t grab people!” you scold, heart pounding against your ribs. “Holy shit.”

yeah tf namjoon you're a freaking giant and it's dark out don't grab people 😭

“Y/N,” he says, equally serious. “You have no idea how that would have gone if you hadn’t been there. You being there saved my ass from telling her we could talk again, if it made her happy. It stopped me from getting swept away in nostalgia, or her magic powers that make me stupid. You… grounded me.”

This knocks you into silence. It feels big, like he’s telling you a lot more than he’s actually saying. 

And, you get it. Because Namjoon makes you feel grounded, too. 

+

He catches your wrist, tugging you closer as you walk. When you’re close enough, he wraps an arm around your waist, holding you tight through the last two city blocks.

i am so freaking soft for them i need you to know that i would lay down by life for these 2 emotionally damaged knuckleheads i need them to be happy forever and ever and ever

Something blooms in Namjoon’s chest, stretching and growing so that he feels his ribs must shift to make room for it.

mhmm mhmm okay i just wanna have a tattoo of this sentence on my forehead no biggie mhmm yeah yeah yeah

“Namjoon,” you say seriously, and he looks back up at you, fork in hand. You shake your head, voice pleading with him to believe you. “There is not even a tiny part of me that wishes it was Taehyung with me yesterday instead of you. I promise. Okay?”

:((((( tbh i still don't really blame tae for not being there?? (am i taking my position on the taehyung defense squad too seriously. should i reevaluate my life choices) did people come after him with pitchforks?? it's not like he intentionally left her alone, and he did show up as soon as he remembered!

He’s thinking about how when he’d opened the door and found Taehyung standing on the other side, he’d felt like the person who was supposed to be with you had arrived to make it right. 

oh my god how dare you good lord this wasn't the "supposed to be with you" THAT I THOUGHT IT'D BE dear god why would you deceive me like this

VII. Supposed to Be With You

(banner by @/itaeetwon)

Title: My Feet to Follow, and My Heart to Hold (Masterpost)

Rating: NSFW - minors dni

Genre: college!au, roomie!au, angst, s2l, the absolute slowest of burns

Pairing: Namjoon x female reader, unrequited Taehyung x reader

Beta'd by @/kookstempo, @/casuallyimagining, and @/toikiii - thank you endlessly!

Summary: You know a lot about the many types of love thanks to Kim Taehyung. You love him as the only person you see as “family”, you love him as your very best friend, and you love him as the beautiful, funny man he’s become. But when a twist of fate during your senior year has you rooming with his good friend Kim Namjoon, you just might find that you have plenty left to learn about love. 

Lesson One: there are such things as a right way and a wrong way to love and to be loved.

//

You and Namjoon support each other through some tough days.

Section Warnings: language, dealing with loss, pov switch to Namjoon for a section or two

WC: 6k

The world is mine: blue hill, still silver lake, Broad field, bright flower, and the long white road A gateless garden, and an open path: My feet to follow, and my heart to hold. - Journey | Edna St. Vincent Millay

Saturday November 10th

[9:22 AM] You: grocery run??? [9:36 AM] Tae Bear 🧸: ur just using me for my car 🙁 [9:37 AM] You: not true!!! i like when we go together and talk while we shop 🥺 [9:37 AM] You: the car is simply a bonus ☝️ [9:39 AM] Tae Bear 🧸: i mean do i rly want to go run errands this morning… no [9:40 AM] You: you’re the worst [9:43 AM] Tae Bear 🧸: text me later tho! and buy those chips? remember the good ones? [9:45 AM] You: you’re literally insufferable 🙄

Officially on your own, you rise from the couch, coffee mug cooled and almost empty in your hand, and head back to your room to get dressed. When you’re ready, you place your coffee cup in the sink to deal with later and get your little wheely cart from the pantry. When you turn, Namjoon is in the living room, and you jump - just barely fighting back a shriek of surprise.

“God, you really are jumpy,” he laughs. “Are you ever just relaxed?”

“I startle easily!” you say defensively, laughing too. 

“Are you getting groceries?” he asks, eyes catching on the cart in your hands. 

“Yeah,” you say, following his gaze and looking down at your hands. “I was just on my way.”

“Can I go with you?” he asks, totally surprising you. “I need a few things.”

“Oh,” you say, still a little shocked by the question. “You can tell me what you need, if you want! I can grab it for you.”

“I’d rather join you,” he says, “as long as you don’t mind?”

You consider this. “No, I don’t mind,” you say, shrugging. “Do you need a few minutes?”

He shakes his head. “I can go now.”

It’s pleasant, walking through town together, pulling your little cart. It’s unseasonably warm, though the forecast claims you’re due for a frost that night and the next few days will stay cold. Namjoon talks easily with you as you collect produce, meats, and cheeses from the front section of the store. Overhead, the muzak plays 90’s hits that your mom used to love. 

“You start on this side?” he asks, a little playful. “I always start on the other end.”

“I have a system,” you insist, smiling. “You’ll see. It’s very methodical.”

On the cereal row, your favorite brand seems to be low in stock. You stretch on your tippytoes, reaching, fingers just barely catching the corner of the box. It tips, then settles back where it was. 

You know what’s coming, somehow, and you - the world’s jumpiest human - aren’t startled at all when you feel Namjoon’s warm body solidly against your back. One hand steadies you both by resting on your waist, the other reaches easily for the box you wanted.

There’s space between you again, too quickly, as he hands you the box. He avoids your gaze, like he’s not sure if he crossed a line or not. 

“Be careful,” you tease, “or I’ll get spoiled and I’ll ask you to reach all the high places for me.”

He smiles. “It’s a curse I’ve lived with for a long time.”

You make your way, shivering, through the freezer sections, grabbing what you need. Namjoon carries a reusable bag of his own handful of items he’s picked up through the rows, so that he can pay for his separately. 

Once you’re done, you check out and head home. Namjoon places a hand on the cart to pull it for you, and you shoulder him away.

“I’ve got it,” you insist. 

He gives you an indulgent look. “You can let me pull the groceries, Y/N. It doesn’t have to mean anything you don’t want it to mean.”

This shames you into silence, and you move over to let him take the cart. You don’t feel like you deserve the patience he’s affording you. 

“Don’t get all quiet on me, little cactus,” he says, eyeing you sideways. “Everything’s fine. We’re fine.”

What’s we? The only reason you don’t know is because you’re too cowardly to ask.

“What ever happened with your ex?” you ask, needing the subject to change. “We haven’t talked about that in a few weeks. Did you ever answer her?”

Beside you, Namjoon grimaces. 

“We don’t have to talk about it,” you say quickly. “I was just curious.”

“I answered her a while ago… back before Halloween. I told her I wasn’t interested in talking. She’s… been persistent.”

You frown. “Has she said what she wants?”

He shakes his head. “Just that she wants to see me, she wants to talk. I’ve pushed it - I know she’s got a reason - but she sticks to that story. She just wants to see me.”

You wrinkle your nose. “It doesn’t sound like she even knows.”

He purses his lips, annoyed with the situation. “That’s not it. She knows. She just can’t straight out say to me that she wants to see me to find out if I miss her or not.”

“Well…” you say carefully. You’re walking behind him a little, so you don’t have to see his face as you ask, “Do you?”

“I truly don’t,” he says, turning to look at you, something earnest and insistent in his voice. Like he needs you to believe him. “Trust me, it was toxic.”

You’re quiet for a minute, following his footsteps. “I think you can recognize the flaws in a relationship and still miss the person, though,” you say quietly. “I’m just saying. I wouldn’t judge you if you did, a little.”

“I don’t,” he says firmly. 

You walk in silence, chastised. Then, you ask, “So she hasn’t given up?”

Namjoon shakes his head again.

“Let me talk to her for you,” you tease. “I’ll sort her out.”

He looks backwards at you now, smiling a little. “You’re not scary,” he disagrees.

You drop your jaw in pretend indignation. “I am scary!” 

He shakes his head. “Not even a little.”

You pretend to gasp. “That is absolutely the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me,” you pretend to pout, reaching out to give him a playful swat. 

The apartment is in sight, and you’ve got Namjoon’s laugh ringing in your ears as you get close enough to the front steps to register that someone is sitting on them. Then you register the parked car along the sidewalk.

Your brain slowly puts two and two together.

Taehyung watches you two come closer, the groceries in tow. He looks serious, and as you get close enough to talk to him, you wonder anxiously if he’s here because something is wrong. 

“Hi,” you say, a little breathlessly. He steps out of the way to let Namjoon up the stairs with the cart. “We were getting groceries.”

“I see that,” he says, voice just a touch flat. He looks between Namjoon and you. “I called you.”

“Oh,” you say, reaching immediately for your pocket. “I didn’t feel it go off. Sorry, Taetae.” You give him big, sad eyes. He cracks quickly, just like he always has. 

“It’s okay,” he says, sounding more like himself. “I just wanted to see if you wanted to hang.”

“I definitely do,” you tell him. “Come up while I put the groceries away, and we can figure out a plan?”

He nods, following you up the stairs. In the kitchen, the cart sits in the middle of the kitchen, all of your items waiting for you. Namjoon is in the fridge, putting a few of his own things away. 

You start pulling your own items out of the cart one by one, putting them where they go. You and Namjoon move around each other easily, like it’s choreographed. At one point, he gently takes a box from your hands and puts it up on the highest shelf for you. You smile at him in thanks.

Taehyung watches all of this silently from where he’s perched at the breakfast bar. When your groceries are put away, you face Taehyung and put your hands on your hips. “What do you wanna do?” you ask.

He shrugs easily, his eyes on his phone screen as he scrolls. “Don’t care. What were you gonna do before I showed up?”

Honestly? Probably hang out with Namjoon in the living room, read a little, do some homework, maybe watch a show. 

“I’m going to get some writing done,” Namjoon says, even though nobody asked him. It’s like he wants you to know you can remove him from the equation. You have a feeling that hadn’t been his original plan, either. 

“Just hang out,” you say, looking back at Taehyung. His messy hair falls over his eyes as he bends his head to look at his phone. “Wanna put on a show?”

You get comfortable on the couch. The familiarity sets in, the comfort of doing your normal thing, with your normal person, in your normal place. It’s so much less scary than foraying into uncharted territory with Namjoon. 

But it’s stagnant, too.

“My parents said to tell you hi,” Taehyung informs you from his side of the couch. “They asked how you were.”

“Oh,” you say, looking over the top of your phone at him. “Hi! Tell them I’m good. I miss them! Tell your mom I miss her stew, like, badly.”

“I can’t tell her that,” Taehyung laughs. “She’ll make you some and tell me to drive there to get it for you.”

“I fail to see the problem,” you sniff. From behind Namjoon’s door, you hear the telltale sound of classical music. 

You know what that means - the writing isn’t going well. On the other side of the door, he’s stuck.

Thursday November 15th 

Your alarm on Thursday goes off way before it should. You tap the snooze button without looking, and then are baffled when the buzzing doesn’t stop. You actually open one eye to peek at the screen and see that Kris is calling you. Something must be wrong.

“Hello?” you answer groggily, clearing your throat.

“I am so sorry,” they say in greeting. “I am such an asshole for waking you up and I am such an asshole for what I’m about to ask you.”

You groan, already knowing what’s coming.

“Can you please - please please please please please - cover me at the store for like two hours later?” they beg. 

“I’m in class until 4:30,” you tell them. 

“That’s fine, I don’t need you until six.”

“You want me to close?” you yelp. “Kris!”

“I will owe you a hundred times over,” they say desperately. 

You roll onto your back and close your eyes again, the phone pressed to your ear. “Fine,” you grumble finally, because you love Kris, and because you need the money. 

You survive both your morning and afternoon classes, grabbing lunch with Taehyung in the caf between the two. After your afternoon class, you have a weird gap of time before Kris needs you at the store, so you head for the library and do a bit of work. When it’s nearly time, you pack up and head to the store. You’re nearly there when you feel your phone vibrate in your hand.

[5:51 PM] Namjoon: did you order dinner already? I’m leaving campus now

[5:51 PM] You: im covering kris at the bookstore until 8:30 :( 

You watch his three dots appear, then vanish. Appear, then vanish. Appear… hover… then vanish. 

[5:54 PM] Namjoon: want me to bring you something to eat?

You want to sink down onto the concrete path and melt into the ground. What is this absolutely boyfriend behavior, and why are the butterflies in your stomach having a rager over it?!

It’s like he knows you’ll be having a whole meltdown about it, because he follows up quickly.

[5:55 PM] Namjoon: it’s not a big deal i can grab something on campus for myself too and bring it over

[5:56 PM] You: i would really appreciate that :’) best roomie ever

[5:57 PM] You: that was NOT me roomie-zoning you!!! you can be best roomie ever AND ….whatever else lol

Sometimes you wonder who decided to let you ever leave your house. You deserve a trophy for being the most awkward human alive. 

You can’t dwell on it, though, because you’re at the store and you have to clock in and take over the register. There’s always a bit of a rush around the dinner hours - more students are in the student center for dinner anyway and stop in for what they need, or opt to get crappy snacks instead of real dinner. You don’t judge. 

It’s almost eight when you see Namjoon’s familiar shape in the door. He’s holding a bag of food and uses his shoulders to push the door open. 

“You brought me sustenance?” you ask hopefully. Your stomach is growling. 

“I did,” he tells you. He sets the bag on the counter and you dig into it immediately, pulling out the wrap he got for you. 

“You are a god amongst men,” you tell him reverently. He beams at you, standing still practically in the doorway of the store. He shifts over when the bell above the door chimes, and a pretty girl with dark hair steps through. You don’t think anything of it until you watch the smile literally drop off of his face.

“I thought that was you,” she says, her voice hushed like she’s in church, and her eyes are on his. You shove another bite of your wrap into your mouth and sink further behind the cashier’s counter, praying for invisibility. 

“Elyse,” he says, and you notice several that all of him has gone tight - his eyes, his shoulders, his fists, his voice. All of it becomes coiled, ready to spring. You resist the urge to say his name, even though it’s fighting its way out of your mouth, so strong is your urge to calm him. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just passing,” she says, sounding a little wounded. “I thought I saw you in here, so I came in. What are you doing here?”

You wait for him to implicate you, to indicate that he’s here to bring you food, spend time with you on the sly. 

Instead, he says, “I lost my headphones again.”

A lie. 

A lie that leaves you out. 

The smile creeps over her face, fond and adoring. She shakes her head, hair swishing. “You’re such a mess, Namjoon.”

His eyes narrow, but he says nothing. The silence stretches between them, and finally he says, “What do you want, Elyse? You saw me and you came in why?”

Her eyebrows knit together; the hurt you’d heard in her voice shifts onto her face. “I just wanted to talk to you,” she says. “I’ve been trying to talk to you.”

He licks his lips, glances at you for the barest of seconds before facing her, arms crossing defensively over his chest.

“I’m aware,” he says dryly. “And I’ve been telling you no thanks. So, again… why are you here?”

Now the girl - Elyse, obviously - eyes you for the first time. You take another bite of your wrap, all innocence. For all she knows, you’re just the girl working the register at the school bookstore. She doesn’t know where you live… or what you’ve been doing with your roommate. 

“Can we… go somewhere?”

He looks at her flatly in response.

“To talk,” she says, like she needed to explain, like he doesn’t completely get it. 

“If you need to say something to me so badly,” he says, his voice scarily even, “you can do it right here.”

“I just…” she says, faltering, looking back at him, “I just wanted to know how you were, I guess. I’ve been… having a hard time, and I…” She glances at you again, like she’s embarrassed for this conversation to be witnessed - and honestly, you don’t blame her. “I guess I wondered if you were, too.” She looks at the floor, rubbing her arms self-consciously.

And here’s the thing… from an outside perspective, even though you’ve heard his side of this… you kind of believe her. Maybe he was right when he said she just needed to grow up a little. 

“I’m sorry you’re struggling,” he says, his voice softening. “You know I don’t want that for you.”

“I know,” she whispers, looking up at him through her lashes. 

Damn, you think. This girl is good. 

“Honestly, Elyse,” he continues, his voice still soft, gentle, “I’ve been doing fine. I’ve been okay. Just… just writing, you know?”

She smiles again, a tiny smile. You can’t believe your amazing luck to be able to innocently witness this transaction, but you also feel for him - to have this conversation in front of you has to be killing him. You can’t imagine trying to have a conversation like this with Taehyung with Namjoon listening. But you can’t leave - you’re glued to the register, your mouth still full of a chicken-avocado wrap. 

“Of course,” she says, smiling shyly up at him. “Always writing. But, Namjoon...” She heaves a sigh. You wish Kris was here to witness this with you, to help you dissect it later. “I guess… I wanted to talk to you because I’ve been… I’ve been thinking about us.”

Your eyes go wide and you look at Namjoon immediately for his reaction.

“There’s no ‘us’, Elyse,” he points out, so kindly, like he doesn’t want to hurt her and he knows he has to anyway. “You made sure of that.”

You almost gasp out loud, and you quickly stifle your reaction with another big bite of dinner. 

She has the presence of mind to look cowed. “I know that,” she admits. “I just… I guess I’m not sure how I feel about it now. About how we left things. And like… if that’s just me, I guess it’s my problem. But I needed to know… if it was just me.”

You’re chewing furiously, and then the damndest thing happens. Namjoon looks right at you.

You hold his gaze, and wish you could call time-out, pull him aside, confer with him before he answers. Say what you need to say, you’d tell him, because you get it. As complicated as shit is with you and Taehyung... of course you get it. 

You’re fully prepared for him to tell her that it’s not just her, or at least something kind of in the middle, like it’s complicated.

He surprises you.

“It’s just you,” he tells her, and he’s holding your gaze the whole time. Like he’s talking to you. “I’m not coming back, Elyse.”

The door opens behind her, and a group of girls come in, talking loudly to one another. It gives Elyse time to get her face right, you guess, because when you look back she’s managing to smile at him, though it’s clearly forced. 

“Okay,” she says. “Thanks for telling me. If your mind’s made up… then I guess there’s nothing else to say here?” She makes it a question.

“There never was,” he says, and though his words are cutting, his voice is still kind. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

She nods, licks her lips, eyes on the ground, and then she heads for the door. The group of girls come up to the register to pay, and you catch Namjoon’s gaze over their heads.

“I’ll see you at home,” he says, not a question, and you nod, scanning their items blindly. 

The rest of your shift crawls, uneventful and lonely, and when you finally clock out you’re dying to text Kris or literally anyone about the episode you just witnessed. 

After you lock up, you head outside of the student center. It’s dark, and freezing, and you hike your jacket up around your neck. 

A voice says your name and a hand reaches for your elbow. Every time Namjoon has startled you at the apartment and you’d jumped or dropped what you were holding pales in comparison to now; you shriek, so loud that some students further down the path turn around to check on you. 

“Jesus,” Namjoon huffs, laughing. “It’s just me.”

“Don’t grab people!” you scold, heart pounding against your ribs. “Holy shit.”

“Sorry,” he says, kind of an afterthought. “Are you going home now?”

As you come down from the adrenaline rush, things start to piece together in your head. “Were you… did you wait for me? It’s been almost an hour!”

“I know,” he says, rubbing a hand over his face. “I know. But I wanted to make sure I caught you.” 

You take a few steps in the direction of home and he follows. You start walking together this way, you leading for once. “Why?” you ask him, genuinely curious. 

He sighs, looks away from you as you cross campus together. “I wanted to tell you thank you.”

“For what?” you demand, flummoxed. 

He runs his hand down the back of his neck, still avoiding your gaze. 

Adorable, you think. 

“For being there. For all that with Elyse.”

“Firstly,” you point out, “I did literally nothing except popcorn-gif. Secondly, if you think that was dramatic, you haven’t watched enough dramas with me. That was tame. No one even cried.”

He laughs, once. “Chances are she’s crying now.” 

“What happens when the scene cuts away doesn’t count,” you tell him firmly. Then, a beat later you add, “You were admirably forth-coming with her.”

“Made me feel like shit,” he admits in a grumble. You reach out and pat his arm reassuringly. 

“I’m sure it did,” you tell him. “But this has to be better than stringing her along or something.”

He gives you a hum of agreement. “Well, anyway. Thank you.”

“Namjoon,” you say seriously, “I didn’t do anything.”

“Y/N,” he says, equally serious. “You have no idea how that would have gone if you hadn’t been there. You being there saved my ass from telling her we could talk again, if it made her happy. It stopped me from getting swept away in nostalgia, or her magic powers that make me stupid. You… grounded me.”

This knocks you into silence. It feels big, like he’s telling you a lot more than he’s actually saying. 

And, you get it. Because Namjoon makes you feel grounded, too. 

You aren’t sure what to say. You want to say thanks, because it feels like he’s given you a compliment. You want to say you’re sorry that he had to stare her down and tell her no, when - probably - at least one, little part of him wanted to say yes.

Instead, you just ask, “Are you okay?”

He shoots you a grateful look. “Yeah,” he says, “I am. Thanks.”

“Stop thanking me,” you tease, smiling, elbowing him lightly. 

He catches your wrist, tugging you closer as you walk. When you’re close enough, he wraps an arm around your waist, holding you tight through the last two city blocks.

Monday November 19th

You’ve walked to campus with Namjoon three Mondays in a row, so he waits for you this morning too, sipping his coffee at the breakfast bar patiently. As he watches the time pass, the time you normally leave together inching closer, he starts to get a little concerned. 

He tries texting you - you coming to campus today? - but you don’t answer. Finally, with about ten minutes to spare, he caves and knocks on your closed bedroom door. He hears your voice respond, muffled, but he doesn’t catch what you say.

He inches the door open, and is surprised to find that not only are you not ready to go, you’re still just a lump under your blankets.

“Y/N?” he ventures. “Are you sick?”

There’s some movement up by your head as you move the comforter enough to peer at him. “No,” you tell him, your voice a bit gravelly from sleep. “But I’m not going to campus today. You can go without me.”

“You’re not sick?” he repeats, just to clarify. There’s a little part of his brain that wonders if this is a menstruation thing, but wouldn’t he have noticed days like this in the months before now?

“No,” you repeat, and pull the blanket back up to cover your ears. 

He feels unsure, like maybe he shouldn’t just leave you here, at least without getting to the bottom of what’s going on. 

“Are you… okay?” he asks, the same question you’d asked him before the weekend, when Elyse had tried to fucking blindside him and drown him in guilt. 

“Mhm,” you say, and he waits for more, an explanation, a reassurance, anything. You give him nothing. 

“Okay,” he says finally, when he’s about five minutes late and he can’t stand it anymore. “I’m going to class. You’ll be alright here?”

You give another hum of an answer. He leaves your door open as he leaves, like it’ll help.

Concern and guilt eat at him all the way through his morning class; he can barely concentrate. He doesn’t really have time to go home between class and his TA hours, but when his professor dismisses him, he finds himself lifting his bag off the ground by his chair and heading in the direction of the apartment. 

The apartment is so quiet when he gets there that he feels a flash of relief - you’d gotten up and gone to class after all. But as he makes his way through the living room and peers into your room, it’s clear that you haven’t moved. 

What is going on? he wonders. 

“Y/N?” he says. There’s no movement, no indication that you heard him. He inches into your room, still unsure if you want him there, if he’s crossing boundaries, if he’s overstepping. “Hey, have you eaten or anything?”

Silence. He purses his lips. Words Elyse used to throw at him ring in his head - stop trying to fix it when I’m upset. I don’t want a solution, I want support. But as far as he knows, you haven’t moved all day. He goes into the kitchen and fills a glass with water and walks it back to your room determinedly. 

When he gets close enough to set the glass down on your nightstand, he can see that you're awake, laying on your side, your eyes on the wall, unblinking.

He sets it down, watching your face carefully, and backs away. He’s about to give up and head out to the living room when he hears you, quiet as a breath, whisper, “Thank you.” 

He pauses, turning back. “Can I…?” He falters, still so uncertain. “Can I stay with you?”

You don’t respond right away, the moment stretching heavy between you. Then, silent, you nod your head, just once. Something blooms in Namjoon’s chest, stretching and growing so that he feels his ribs must shift to make room for it. He circles around to the other side of the bed and gingerly sits, turning and stretching his long legs out, leaning back against your headboard. 

You don’t move, you don’t talk, so neither does he. He just stays, and waits, and watches the slant of sunlight through your blinds crawl inch by inch across your bedroom wall. After about an hour of this, he rises, needing to move to get his phone out of his pocket. He stands, trying to get some circulation back in his legs, as he dials the department head. 

“Hey,” he says, walking to your bedroom window and peering through the crack in the blinds. “I’m going to take a sick day today, okay? I didn’t have anyone scheduled… maybe Alec can take it if you need someone?”

He listens for a minute, then adds, “Yeah. Thanks, I appreciate you. Yeah, I should be fine for tomorrow. Okay. Sorry about that. Thanks again.”

When he turns back to you, you’ve actually rolled a little bit peering over your shoulder at him. “You didn’t have to do that,” you say. 

He regards you seriously. “I… think I did,” he admits. “I just don’t understand exactly why yet.”

You don’t answer, your tongue sneaking out to wet your lips. Then you reach over and flip the corner of your comforter down on the empty side of the bed, an invitation. 

He sits, as expected, sliding his legs under your blankets, and pulling the comforter up to his chest. He lays next to you for a few minutes, about six inches between your bodies. Then, emboldened, he scoots closer, rolls and wraps an arm around your middle, pulling you flush against his front. You stiffen for the barest of seconds, then melt back against him, letting out a deep breath. His hand rests against your stomach, and after a few minutes you shift to place your own hand against his, holding tight. Keeping him in place.

Namjoon might not know what’s going on with you today, he might not know the best thing to do to help you. But he knows he wants to do this - hold you close, wrap himself around you like a protective cocoon - until you tell him you don’t need it anymore. 

He thinks he drifts off for a little; he wakes, groggy, from a half-sleep, his nose buried in your hair against the pillow, his hand slack against the mattress, still touching yours. The tightness in your shoulders tells him that you’re awake, and the blue glow from outside the window tells him the sun has set behind the buildings across the street. 

He rolls a little and hugs you tight again, moving to press his face to the junction of your neck, gently. “I’m going to get up and make us something to eat,” he tells you.

“You can’t,” you tell him.

Puzzled, he asks, “Why can’t I?”

“Because I can’t save you from lighting the kitchen on fire,” you tell him seriously, and he’s so surprised that you’re joking right now that it startles a laugh out of him. 

“I’ll do a better job this time,” he promises. “I’ll start smaller. You good with ramen?”

You hum. “The spicy one. With an egg.”

He smiles against your neck, and you shiver when it tickles. “Your wish is my command,” he tells you, starting to rise. 

“Be careful,” you warn. “I’ll get used to this.”

“Nope,” he tells you, finally releasing your middle and scooting towards the edge of the bed. “Once you’re out of the bed, I go back to being normal.”

“Guess I’m never getting up, then,” you say wryly. Your phone buzzes on the nightstand - a call - and you ignore it. Namjoon leaves, making a point not to look at the screen. He knows who’s calling you, even without looking. 

In the kitchen, the water’s not yet boiling when there’s suddenly a pounding on the door. Eyeing his pot of water over his shoulder, Namjoon walks over to open it, only to find Taehyung standing there holding a bag of take-out. The relief he feels actually surprises him, but he realizes instantly that he probably should have reached out to Taehyung in the first place, to ask if he knew what the fuck was up with your sudden day of silence. 

“Thank god you’re here,” he blurts out, and watches as understanding crosses Taehyung’s face, followed by guilt.

“Ah,” Taehyung utters, upset. “I should have been here hours ago. Where is she? Has she eaten?”

Namjoon steps back to let him in. “She’s in bed,” he says. “She hasn’t moved all day - I was just heating up water for ramen for her.”

Taehyung sighs, sinking in on himself. “I’m glad you were here,” he says, so genuinely that it makes Namjoon feel sick with guilt, like he was taking part in a great deception. “I usually take care of her today. I fucked up. I didn’t realize what day it was until like half an hour ago.”

Namjoon nods at this, not sure what to say. Part of him wants to ask Taehyung for some answers; a bigger part of him would rather it come from you, when you’re ready. To give himself something to do, he moves into the kitchen to pour out half the water - he only needs to cook enough for himself, now. 

Taehyung makes his way into your room, the food bag clutched in his hands. He doesn’t close the door, and Namjoon tries not to eavesdrop from the kitchen, but he can’t help but hear Taehyung tell you, in a voice that’s absolutely sorrowful, “I’m so sorry. I’m a fucking terrible friend.”

He doesn’t hear you reply, but Taehyung says, “Yes I am. I left you alone today.”

This time, Namjoon hears your reply. “I wasn’t alone,” you tell Taehyung firmly. “Namjoon was here.”

“Good,” Taehyung says, his voice muffled, like maybe he’s hugging you in there. “Good.”

Tuesday November 20th

Namjoon awakens to the smell of bacon. Confused, he pulls a tshirt over his head, and blearily peeks his face out of his bedroom. You’re bustling around the kitchen - something he’s literally never seen before - cooking a full-course breakfast. 

“Y/N?” he ventures, and you whirl around, eyes wide, the spatula in your hand.

“Oh!” you say happily. “Come get some eggs!”

Namjoon doesn’t dare argue. He sits at the breakfast bar, still half asleep, trying to open his eyes all the way. You present him with a full mug of coffee, which he takes gratefully. Then, you load up a plate and slide it in front of him, and then you lean against the counter from the kitchen side, watching him intently.

“Yes?” he asks archly. 

You take a deep breath. “I’m sure you have questions about yesterday,” you say seriously.

He lowers his coffee cup. “You don’t have to tell me anything,” he says quickly. “Don’t feel like you owe me an explanation. I’m just… I’m glad I could be there for you. I don’t need anything else.”

You look away from him, blinking suspiciously hard. He waits you out. When you face him again, there’s something steely in your expression. 

“I have a hard time on the 19th,” you tell him. “Every year. It’s… an anniversary. For, um. For when I lost my parents.”

Namjoon’s appetite leaves him instantly. He feels himself lean forward, like he’s trying to get closer to you, like his body needs to wrap you up, just like he had yesterday. He murmurs your name, and you avoid his gaze again. 

“Anyway,” you say brusquely, “thank you for staying with me. And trying to feed me. Normally Taehyung does that.”

He wasn’t here this time, something ugly inside Namjoon thinks. 

Instead, he says, “You’re welcome. I’m glad I could… be there. I’m glad I was with you.”

Your gaze drops to the floor, then you seem to get it together and look up at him. “I am too,” you say, and the words sound heavy coming off your tongue. “So, really… thank you.”

Namjoon pauses. He wants to ask - he wants to know - but he’s afraid it’ll push you away. “Can I ask you something?” he ventures, finally. 

You look back at him, clearly nervous. “I guess,” you say, clearly uneasy.

He grimaces a little, unsure of the choices he’s made. “Yesterday… should I have called someone?” There’s a pause, where Namjoon decides to say what he actually means. “Should I have called Taehyung? Would that have been the right thing to do?”

He watches you soften, eyes widening as you realize what he’s been worrying about. You set down the dish towel that had been in your hands and come around the breakfast bar so you can look at him unobstructed.

“No,” you tell him seriously, eyes on his. “No, you did exactly what I needed.”

“Okay,” he says, reaching for his fork to try and eat some of the eggs you’d made for him. “I just wanted to make sure.”

“Namjoon,” you say seriously, and he looks back up at you, fork in hand. You shake your head, voice pleading with him to believe you. “There is not even a tiny part of me that wishes it was Taehyung with me yesterday instead of you. I promise. Okay?”

“Okay,” he says easily, taking a bite of egg. Does he believe you? He’s not sure. But he’s eager to move on; the topic’s uncomfortable. He knows he started it, but he really did want to know if he did the wrong thing. “Did you eat any, yet?”

You give him a little smile. “I was waiting for you,” you tell him. “I’ll make my plate now.”

You settle next to him, eggs and coffee cup both steaming, and you eat in silence. Namjoon can’t say what you’re thinking about, but his head is spinning. He’s thinking about how it had felt when you’d touched his hand in the bed yesterday, giving him the signal that you were okay with this, that you didn’t want him to move away. 

He’s thinking about how when he’d opened the door and found Taehyung standing on the other side, he’d felt like the person who was supposed to be with you had arrived to make it right. 

He’s thinking about how when Elyse sent his mind skittering towards old, bad habits, locking his eyes on yours had kept his feet firmly in the present. 

He’s thinking about your hips under his hands in that damn halloween costume, almost a month ago, and how he hasn’t come even close to kissing you since then.

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