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bklynsboys · 5 months ago

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The Theory on Other Halves

pairing: spencer reid x reader summary: "there's an old buddhist saying, i once read, that when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making." genre: fluff word count: 1k author's notes: i wrote this because this particular line of spencer's is one of my absolute favorites! i think it's really beautiful how all of the people we love were meant to be in our lives since 500 years ago. and of course, as a fan of space & constellations, i had to insert it into this fic. enjoy <3

THE AIR HUNG HEAVY WITH THE AFTERMATH OF A PARTICULARLY BRUTAL CASE—TYPICAL FOR A DAY IN THE BAU. Dust specks danced in the pale slivers of moonlight filtering through the blinds. Hotch decided it'd be best to give the team a few hours to rest in the motel before heading back home. If it were up to you, you'd be back in your bed as soon as humanly possible, but rooming with the resident genius, Dr. Spencer Reid—the object of your unspoken affections—is an opportunity you wouldn't miss.

For months, the two of you have shared a silent dance of exchanged glances and shared interests. Your colleagues, particularly the girls whom you confided in, seemed to think it was mutual. Now, you sat across from each other on motel beds, a comfortable silence blanketing the room. You traced a thoughtful finger along the rim of your empty coffee cup.

"You have a constellation," he said softly, breaking the stillness.

Your gaze flicked to Spencer, then down to your arm where his hand had landed. A faint scattering of moles dotted the inside of your forearm, resembling a modicum of stars. A small smile tugged at your lips.

"Looks like Ursa Major," he mused, tracing the pattern with his finger. "Though perhaps a little worse for wear, and without the usual bright light, of course."

You chuckled, mirroring his action on your arm. There, nestled just below your elbow, was a crescent moon birthmark, a surprise you always enjoyed revealing.

"Here's another one," you offered.

He turned his hand, examining the crescent with a childlike curiosity. " It's beautiful," he said simply.

"Did you know," Spencer added softly, his voice barely a murmur, "that the ancient Greek saw Ursa Major as a bear?"

You tilted your head, surprised by the random fact. " A bear?"

A smile played on his lip. " Apparently, the constellation's asterism resembled the animal to them. Makes you wonder what they saw in the night sky that we don't."

"Well, my mom had a different take on that," you began, a fond memory surfacing. " She used to say my moon and stars meant I'd meet a space nerd someday who'd love these marks, and we'd be orbiting each other, kind of like the Earth and the sun. She was into soulmates, you see, and space."

The conversation flowed easily, a map of your bodies sketched through shared stories. You pointed to a jagged scar on your knee, the fading memory of you running around and ending up with a scrape on your knee. He, in turn, showed you the faint line on his palm, a souvenir from a particularly enthusiastic attempt at a science experiment as a child.

Your fingers trailed down the faint scar near his hairline, so faint one wouldn't notice it if they weren't looking at Spencer's face intently. "What's this from?" you asked gently.

Spencer chuckled. " You know, how I have really bad coordination?" He sighed. " I was lost in a book, I ran straight into a doorpost. My mom called me 'Crash' after that."

You squeezed his hand gently, a silent understanding passing between you. You knew how much Spencer cherished his mom, especially with her health declining. Sharing stories about her felt like a tender offering of his vulnerability.

He returned the gesture, his thumb tracing the faint outline of a mango-shaped birthmark on your back. " My mom swears it's from all the mangoes she craved while pregnant," you said with a laugh, remembering your childhood debates about the science behind birthmarks.

As the night wore on, your exploration became a conversation without words. You ended up curled up on one bed. You ran your fingers over the slight dip in his lower back, a lingering ache from a wrestling match between an unsub gone wrong. He skimmed his thumb across the freckle dusting your shoulder, a map of sun-drenched summer days.

There was no urgency, no pressure. Just a quiet appreciation for the way your bodies, like your minds, fit together, like puzzle pieces worn from being fitted together—entangled from experiences, both big and small. In the faint intimacy, you found a deeper connection, a comfort that transcended beyond just physical.

Suddenly, Spencer spoke, his voice soft. " Maybe your mom was right, you know."

"Right about what?" You murmured, head tilting at the man's question.

His gaze met yours, a thoughtful crease furrowing his brow. " About finding your soulmate," he said hesitantly. " There's an old Buddhist saying, I once read, that when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making."

A thoughtful hum escaped your lips. " That's beautiful, Spencer," you whispered.

He continued, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, "Plato once wrote humans used to have four arms, four legs, and two faces, but Zeus split us in half as a punishment for our pride, and we were destined to walk the Earth searching for our other half."

A soft blush crept up your neck. You hadn't expected such a personal turn in the conversation.

"Plato," you murmured, surprised." The one who wasn't a big fan of the soulmate idea, right?"

Spencer's lips curved into a small smile.

"True," he admitted. "But even a brilliant mind like his couldn't deny the undeniable pull we sometimes feel towards certain people. Maybe the Greeks weren't so far off . Maybe the stars, the constellations, these little imperfections on our skin... Maybe they all tell us a story of where we belong."

His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. You found yourself captivated by the way the moonlight glinted in his eyes.

"So," you finally spoke, your voice barely a whisper, "are you saying we're destined to be wandering halves searching for the other?"

Spencer shook his head slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. "No," he said, his voice a smooth cadence. " Maybe... Maybe we already found each other."

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken sentiments. The air crackled with a tension that both terrified and exhilarated you. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat to the quiet reverberation of the night. Curled beside him, Spencer's arm draped casually across you, its weight a comforting presence, you drifted off to sleep.

A faint smile touched Spencer's lips as he listened to your soft snores. "Good night," he whispered into the darkness.

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peachdues · 1 year ago

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Mayhaps some Sanemi NFSW headcanons 🤲

SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA NSFW HEADCANONS

I neither regret nor apologize for how carried away I got with this.

CW: f!Reader • NSFW • MDNI • Sanemi’s oral fixation • breeding/creampie kink • switch!Sanemi • exhibitionism

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆

PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES

He has a silvery happy trail that begins just below his navel and runs narrow before widening just before his groin. He really likes it when you drag your tongue down it (and it's a sure way to get him panting).

Below the belt, he keeps his hair neat and trimmed -- any time you're spent gagging on a stray pubic hair is time you're not spending with your mouth around his cock, and that's just a tragedy (but he doesn't give a shit whether or not you have hair!)

Now let's get to the good part: his dick

Physically, Sanemi's cock is just like the rest of him: absolutely intimidating. You lowkey think you're going to die the first time you see it because there's just no way in hell that's going to fit without splitting you in half, right???

He's above average in length -- about a solid 6.5-7 inches when hard, but he's about 2.5 of HIS fingers in girth. When he's erect, it stands straight up, with an angry, red tip that's already leaking because the man is eager -- and not just to be in you, but cum in you, too. Whether it's your mouth or your cunt, it doesn't matter, just know you're going to be filled no matter what.

FOREPLAY

Sanemi's favorite snack might be ohagi, but after meeting you, it's your pussy.

Sanemi doesn't cow before anyone, but that man will drop to his knees for you with just a flutter of your eyelashes, head going straight between your thighs so he can have his fill of you until you're doubled over his shoulder, legs shaking so badly he has to hold you up.

His ideal day consists of you, sitting on his face, while being tongue-deep inside of your cunt. He can go at it for hours, your weight bearing down on him as your thighs cage his head, while he laps at your sweetness and wraps those sinful lips of his around your throbbing, overstimulated clit for a nice long suck.

the man is a connoisseur of cunt idk what else to say

HOW HE FUCKS YOU

Let's go over your first time together.

Though he has an incredibly high sex drive, during those first couple of times, he exerts the self-control of a Buddhist monk.

This is also because for him, sex is more than just a way to feel good (though, don't get him wrong -- it feels fucking incredible). For Sanemi, sex also means being vulnerable; it means letting someone see him without the armor of his sword, his uniform, his status as the brutal, relentless Pillar he is.

So whether it's your first time ever or just your first time with him, he's going to be gentle -- because Sanemi would rather eat and shit glass than hurt you

Like come on, the man has buried too many of his loved ones already, he ain't tryin' to bury you, too

He's moving slow and languid, barely pulling out in favor of rolling his hips into yours. Part of this is for your benefit, because he wants you to feel him, but it's also for his.

Sanemi might be balls-deep in you at the moment, but he's still a Hashira, and his observation and perception skills are sharp. He's mentally taking note of what touches and movements make you gasp and sigh, and especially those that make you dig your nails into his back, tighten your legs around him, and whimper his name.

After a couple of times together (and I mean like two MAX), buckle up, buttercup: Sanemi is now an expert in your body and he's about to educate you.

Okay, now that the first time is out of the way, let's talk Sanemi in bed overall

This man is a moaner

I'm sorry, but Sanemi Shinazugawa has never known how to keep his fucking mouth shut, so what makes you think he'd do so in bed? When your slick, tight walls are gripping him like a fucking vice? Who tf do you think he is, Tomioka??

He's also a talker -- especially the more pussydrunk he gets. Whether it's your name, how much he loves you, that he wants to marry you or get you pregnant, the man may as well be giving a sermon in his devotion to you while your eyes are rolled back in your skull, mouth half-open as he fucks every sane thought you've ever had right out of your pretty head.

The man is a switch. He's a dom in every other aspect of his life, so it's nice to let loose with his lover a bit and relax -- let someone else take control. After all, sex for Sanemi isn't just about feeling fucking fantastic, but it's also about expressing with his body what he can't with his words.

When he's on top, he's a service dom. Your pleasure is his pleasure -- so even as his cock slides in and out of you, he's still going to work. He's not cumming until you've cum at least two or three times, and even after he's done, he's still going to make you cum again. He's constantly telling you how good you are, how beautiful you look in whatever position he has you bent in, and how perfect you feel around him.

That said, he's into both overstimulating and edging you -- but he's not too mean about either.

But when Sanemi is on the bottom?

The whiniest bitch you've ever met.

He's begging you to go faster, or simply to give him more, but you love teasing him as much as he does you, so you'll alternate your pace in order to prolong his torture (but hey, it just means he cums twice as much and twice as hard in the end).

Play with his balls while you're on top and he will cum so hard he goes cross-eyed for a hot second

I feel like the fandom largely agrees Sanemi has a breeding kink, but I also thinks this translates into a creampie kink in general. Sure, he'll cum on your face, your tits, your thighs as much as you want -- but only after he's filled your greedy little cunt to its brim, and then he'll do it one more time for good measure. You're his girl, after all, so he knows you can take it.

Initially, he'd pull out every time, mostly because he didn't know how to apporach the subject of asking you whether you were okay with him finishing inside. He didn't want to assume that you were taking some sort of medication to prevent an accidental whoopsie, but while he loves the idea of getting you pregnant and having a family, he doesn't want to force that on you if it's not what you want

(local mama's boy has childhood trauma?? from his father?? it's more likely than you think)

so Sanemi continues to pull out, instead painting your stomach, your thighs, or your ass with his creamy, hot seed, even though it pains him to do so.

That is, until one night, he's pounding into you so goddamn perfectly, with your legs draped over his forearms and ass nearly resting against his thighs as he ruts into you, his weight pressing deliciously down upon you into the futon. You can tell by the way his hips are slapping against yours, making the lewd, squelching sound of your messy cunt nearly drown out your breathy whimpers, that you're close -- so, so close, but then Sanemi tenses.

"I'm 'bout to cum," he manages to grit through his teeth, his hips stuttering as he goes to pull out of your intoxicating, silken heat. Through the haze he's created in your mind, your stomach clenches as you realize you're going to lose this -- this wonderful feeling of being so warm and so full of him. Your release is close, so fucking close, and if he pulls out now, it's going to be ruined and you're so desperate to cum. Your legs lock around his backside, trying to hold him in place, and his eyes widen.

"N-no, 'Nemi, please," you start to beg, and to his bewilderment, you start tearing up, lower lip quivering because he can't pull out, not when he's making you feel so good; not when you're so fucking close.

"Shit," he groans, and his hips pick right back up slamming against you, his biceps flexing as his arms tighten around your thighs. "Shit, sweetheart, you don't have to ask me twice."

After that -- pulling out??? never heard of her.

KINK-O-CLOCK

Like I said: his biggest kink is giving you so many creampies, Hostess is thinking about offering him a job in product development

Fucking loves 69'ing, because he gets the best of both worlds -- your pussy on his face, and your mouth around his cock

Bit of a risk kink/exhibitionism kink. He likes the thrill of the risk of getting caught doing it in a place you two shouldn't be. He gets especially turned on at the thought of you having to go about your usual business while his cum is still oozing out of you.

Loves when you play with his ass but would rather be eaten by a demon than admit it.

Once, while you were on your knees in front of him, his cock jammed down your throat, you reached your hands around him to grip his ass and haul him closer. Somehow, your fingers dipped between his cheeks and the man bucked into you so hard, you almost choked.

Even though he nearly triggered your gag reflex, you were able to ignore it because the man let out a wholeass whine -- so of course, you had to do it again.

The second your index finger dipped towards his opening, he came in your mouth, and he came hard.

He likes to bite you/leave marks on you -- especially your breasts, your hips, and your inner thighs. He also enjoys when you mark him -- make sure to give him one or two on his chest, so he can display them proudly.

Truthfully, he loves when you pin him down by his wrists while riding him. Could he overpower you with a flick of his pinky finger? Yes. But something about your small hands wrapping so tightly around his while you hold him down against the bed, your hips grinding and swiveling up and down his length makes him go a little dumb in the brain.

Fun fact! You once restrained him by both his wrists and ankles and rode him and by the end of it, he looked like this:

#🍑 — requests!!#sanemi shinazugawa #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer hcs #kny #kny hcs #kny smut #demon slayer smut #sanemi smut #hashira hcs #hashira headcannons #kny sanemi #sanemi x reader #kny x reader #kny fanfic #sanemi headcanons #demon slayer headcanons

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telomeke · 1 year ago

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THE SIGN – CULTURAL REFERENCES, MYTHOLOGY AND META

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This post comes on the heels of the one by @respectthepetty about mythology and meta of The Sign, linked here. 😍👍 If you've not read it yet, I recommend you do before watching any more of this series, because it will help things make more sense (especially if you're not familiar with some of the cultural references thrumming in the background).

Anyway, I'd previously done some research on the legend(s) of the Garuda and the Naga in Southeast Asia, and so I'm writing this post to share what I've found because it does have relevance to at least some of what we're seeing onscreen in The Sign, and elaborates on @respectthepetty's post.

‌

The Garuda and the Naga are mythical beings with origins in Indian mythology that have been transposed into cultures across Southeast Asia.

In Hinduism, Garuda is a single deity, depicted in either full-bird form or part-bird and part-human, and is the king of birds and also a divine sun-bird (with physical attributes similar to an eagle's). His elder brother, Aruna, is the chariot driver for Surya the sun-god, while Garuda himself is the mount of Vishnu.

In Buddhist mythology, the garudas (sometimes also spelt garulas) are a society and race of gigantic predatory birds, sometimes also depicted as part-human in form. The garudas are intelligent, social and blessed with might and magical powers.

Thailand may be predominantly Buddhist, but it has also been strongly influenced by ancient Indian culture and Hinduism, and thus both the concept of a single deity Garuda and the race of garudas co-exist in Thai mythological beliefs.

The nagas on the other hand, are snake-like or dragon-like creatures, whose realm is the water world. (The word naga is derived from Sanskrit and is also etymologically related to the English word snake.)

In mythology nagas and garudas are perpetual enemies, although neither side is actually identified with good or evil – they are simply two groups eternally at war with each other (so occidental-leaning minds should dispel any preconception that the water serpents are necessarily the bad guys in The Sign, even though the narrative seems to be tilting in that direction).

When borrowed into popular culture (as has been done for The Sign) you may sometimes see influences of Chinese dragon and phoenix mythology (as Chinese cultural influence is also present in Thailand, and the dragon/phoenix motif of Sinitic culture nicely parallels the naga/garuda conflict pairing). And because of Garuda's association with the sun in Hinduism, and a parallel with the fiery phoenix of Western mythology, you may sometimes see garudas portrayed as aligned with the sun and/or flame as well.

There are some hints of these in The Sign. The naga that Phaya encounters while struggling underwater during the open sea training challenge in Ep.1 is very Thai in appearance (especially with the curved, forward-pointing crest, making it look much like the nagas that adorn Thai temple architecture). But the array of pronged, backward-pointing horns and trailing antennae appear to be a design nod at Chinese or Japanese dragons (East Asian dragons are also strongly identified with the watery realm, by the way). And in the graphics of the series (e.g., in the poster at the start of this post), the sky (the realm of Garuda) is suffused with sunlight and speckled with what look like drifting sparks, referencing sun and flame.

Because of the wings tattooed on his back and his time in the air force, Phaya is most likely the reincarnation of a garuda in human form (and this is why he struggled with the water challenge, as he was completely out of his element).

This is also possibly why we see him smoking early on in the series (because of the alignment of Garuda with the element of fire), and significantly he does this while Naga Tharn (irked by Yai's teasing at the dining table) seeks refuge in the washroom (which is ห้องน้ำ/hong naam in Thai, literally water room):

‌Billy also describes Phaya's character in the promo video for the series (linked here) as being "like fire, always hot and burning... quite hot-headed." 👍

Elsewhere in the same promo video (linked here), Tharn's good friend Chalothon is explicitly identified as the reincarnation of an important naga, which immediately signals that he and Phaya will be at odds in the series:

‌

The water deity that saves Phaya during the open sea challenge – Wansarat, whom he drew in his sketchbook – is not just Freen Sarocha in a fancy scuba suit. 😂

If you look at her arm and hand when she reaches out to save Phaya (before she turns into Tharn) the green scales meld into the skin of her human wrist – they're part of her natural covering, and she's really a nakhee/nagin/nagini, a female naga, appearing in human form to save Phaya.

The narrative has made it strongly obvious that Phaya is a reincarnated garuda, while Tharn is the reincarnation of Wansarat, from the lineage of the nagas. And the teaser-trailer (linked here) tells us that Phaya and Tharn/Wansarat are lovers bound to each other through time:

‌

However, the special promo video (released 24 November 2023) also tells us (in Heng's interview linked here) that Chalothon and Wansarat were lovers in past lives, even while it is Phaya and Wansarat (reincarnated as Tharn) who are paired by fate in The Sign.

And as the nagas and garudas are bitter enemies, the love story between Phaya and Tharn/Wansarat that transcends time and reincarnation cycles is also one that must have been (and will continue to be) forbidden by their respective naga and garuda tribes (especially since Tharn/Wansarat also used to be naga Chalothon's lover), and will undoubtedly be a source of conflict in the series. This is way beyond the Montagues and Capulets! 😍

‌

So with this as the base, I took a look at the characters' names, and those belonging to Phaya, Chalothon, Tharn and Wansarat especially also reflect their garuda/naga origins. 🤩

Phaya's name (พญา) means lord, king or leader. While it can be applied to the nagas (พญานาค/phaya naak refers to the King of the Nagas) it is also used for Garuda (the Thai national symbol) – พญาครุฑ/phaya khroot, or Lord Garuda (and is what his name references in The Sign).

(above) Billy Patchanon as Phaya

‌

Chalothon's name (ชโลทร) is rare, but it is derived from Pali/Sanskrit and means river, sea or body of water, reflecting the watery homeland of his naga persona.

(above) Heng Asavarid as Chalothon

‌

Tharn's name (ธาร) also has a connection to his water-dwelling naga roots. Tharn/ธาร is short for ลำธาร/lam thaan and means stream, brook or creek (and he is thus a naga nong to Chalothon's phi).

(above) Babe Tanatat as Tharn/Wansa

However, Tharn is his chue len. His formal name is Wansa, and is the same Wansa in Wansarat (which the narrative lets us know at Ep.1 [3‌/4] 9.35).

(above) Freen Sarocha as Wansarat

Now Wansarat is spelt วรรณษารัตน์ in the subtitles (at Ep.1 [3‌/4] 9.02), and I can't find any translation of it that makes sense in the context of The Sign's world-building.

But Wansarat's name is spelt differently elsewhere on the Internet (on Thai drama websites, and movie databases, etc. like thaimovie.org), and I assume they've all based it on official releases from Idol Factory because the spelling is consistent across these other sources – it's วรรษารัตน์ there.

And Wansa/Wansarat spelt this way also reflects the nagas' dominion over water, because วรรษา/wansa (an archaic word, referenced in an older dictionary but not newer ones) means rain or rainy season (from the Sanskrit varsha) – in Thailand the nagas are also associated with rain control, and prayers are offered to them for timely and abundant rainfall when it is needed. (The -rat part of Wansarat is a feminine ending meaning jewel or gemstone, and may echo with meaning for speakers of Indian and Sri Lankan languages, since it's derived from the Pali/Sanskrit ratna).

‌

Just out of interest (because nobody asked 😂) some of these naga/garuda elements were also present in the early episodes of KinnPorsche – the den of the Theerapanyakuls (nagas, wealthy beings of the underworld) was full of watery elements (e.g., the waterfall, the various pools, and Tankhun's carp – which in Chinese belief are the original, natal form of dragons). The -nak in Kinn's formal first name Anakin (which is not a traditional Thai name) is also a nod at the word naga. Porsche had the tattoo of a fiery phoenix on his back, and was out of his element whenever water was concerned (e.g., his failed pool challenge, the mermaid costume punishment, his misadventure with the sprinkler when he tried to smoke in the store room – water vanquishing the flame). Kinn was unable to make fire when they were trapped in the forest, despite claiming to be friends with the flame, while Porsche could immediately do it.

But I didn't see the KinnPorsche narrative taking the naga/garuda themes much further than these random nods in the earlier episodes. Maybe it did (like Kinn and Porsche could be seen acclimatizing to each other's realms more), but I just couldn't be bothered to look at the show more closely since it didn't really stand up to deeper scrutiny, and after the first few episodes I just went along for the exhilaration of the ride instead. 👍

‌

Anyway, I'm totally bedazzled by the level of world-building going on in The Sign and look forward to more from the series. If the first episode is anything to go by, I think Executive Producer Saint Suppapong may be on to something! 😍

#the sign #the sign the series #mythology #naga #garuda #naga and garuda #thai mythology #thai bl #phayatharn

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tanuki-kimono · 8 months ago

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Priests' outfits - Jikitotsu, Daimon, and Hentetsu

(as worn during Edo period - great charts by Nadeshico Rin). You can find more about samurai ranks and their regulated attires under the tag "samurai kimono".

"Hight Priest" jikitotsu

This outfit was worn for court events by Buddhist priests of the highest rank ( 法印 Hôin) and second highest rank (法眼 Hôgen). Those titles could also be also given to 儒者 Confucian scholars, 医師doctors, Buddhist 絵師 painters and 仏師 sculptors, etc.

直綴 Jikitotsu - type of monk robe, originally made by stitching together a 偏衫 henzan (monk robe covering the upper body) and a 裙子 kunsu (monk robe covering the lower body) together. Overtime, jikitotsu came to be worn opened, more like a haori vest.

末広 Suehiro - a type of formal folding fan. TN: the fan drawn here ressemble more a 中啓 chûkei, as suehiro have curving ribs which don't seems to be the case here (find more about fan types here)

(長)袴 (Naga)bakama - hakama pants with long trailing legs, here made of hiraginu (plain silk)

白小袖 Shiro-Kosode - white kosode (=ancestor of the kimono) /or/ 帷子 Katabira - thin garment made from hemp or raw silk (worn during Summer). Note that 経帷子 kyôkatabira designates a shroud (=the white kimono used to dress the dead). /or/ 熨斗目Noshime - kosode (=ancestor of the kimono) with stripes/lattice pattern at waist area

小さ刀 Chîsagatana - small katana

"Companion" formal kimono

First people helping buddhist priests, 同朋 dôbô (lit. "companions) became overtime men attending on the Shogun, feudal lords and other high-ranked officals.

They were in charge of miscellaneous tasks (like cleaning, messengers etc.), or depending on their talents more skilled ones (dance, music, ikebana, tea ceremony etc.).

大紋 Daimon is a specific hitatare set, patterned with large 紋 mon (clan/family crests)

菊綴 Kikutoji - decorative tassel-like knots, first appeared on Heian nobility clothes. Here, those were leather ones

胸紐 Munahimo - chest ties, first appeared on Heian nobility clothes. Here, those were leather ones

熨斗目 Noshime - kosode (=ancestor of the kimono) with stripes or lattice pattern at waist area. Also note the colored undergarments collars.

袖括 Sodekukuri - decorative sleeve ties. Originally appeared on Heian clothings (like kariginu, nôshi, etc) where they were used to tighten sleeve cuffs. Here, those were leather ones

(長)袴 (Naga)bakama - hakama pants with long trailing legs, here made of white linen

小さ刀 Chîsagatana - small katana

The Proto-haori

This outfit was the formal wear worn by lower class priests, scholars, doctors, artists, etc.

編綴 Hentetsu (lit. "stitched together") - a vest with large and long boxy sleeves, made from gauze or plain silk, most often black or dark brown. The chest straps were also made of the same fabric It evolved from 十徳 jittoku (itself a variation of 直綴 jikitotsu, see above). First a casual wear for court nobles, and then spread to lower-class samurai who wore it over their kosode from Muromachi era and on. Its use then reached other social classes during Edo period. Overtime and minor variations, it finally became known as our modern 羽織 haori

服紗(小袖) Fukusa(kosode) - a kosode (=ancestor of the kimono) bearing crest, and made from soft silk (like habutae or rinzu). In summer, it was a katabira (thin garment made from hemp or raw silk) /or/ 熨斗目 Noshime - kosode (=ancestor of the kimono) with stripes or lattice pattern at waist area

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animefeminist · 28 days ago

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“Every Inch of My Imagination”: Mangaka Yukimura Makoto on writing women and slavery in Vinland Saga

Spoilers for part one of Vinland Saga

Yukimura Makoto came recently to NYC for Kodansha House to discuss his landmark series Vinland Saga. A work that has been running for nearly twenty years, Vinland Saga could best be described as the greatest anti-war epic of our times—sprawling in scope, it charts the rise and fall of Norse empires and the first European exploration of the American continent through the eyes of Thorfinn, an Icelandic young man who dreams of creating a world without war or slavery. His path getting there is brutal, however: first leaving a trail of bodies in his wake before he is enslaved and loses everything, out of emptiness he is then able to find renewed purpose.

AniFem had the privilege of being able to attend a Q and A with Yukimura-sensei, hosted by Joe Pascullo of the New York Public Library. The Q and A was wide in scope, spanning from Yukimura’s inspirations for creating Thorfinn to his plans after finishing Vinland Saga in the near future. (Answer: he’s very tired! Even mangaka need breaks.)

Thorfinn’s story was very personal to Yukimura. “He is like me,” Yukimura said. “When I was little, I was just an up-to-no-good, terrible kid. Angry all the time, and thank goodness I didn’t have a knife in my hands!” (At this, the entire audience laughed.) He continued: “Thorfinn reflects myself, and also the kind of person I aspire to be.”

Anime Feminist also had the remarkable opportunity to interview Yukimura about Vinland Saga, writing female characters, portraying slavery and the role of Buddhist Philosophy in his work. Our interview with him, which was one of the great honors of my time in anime journalism, is below.

Read it at Anime Feminist!

#vinland saga #vinland anime #makoto yukimura #seinen #manga #buddhism #articles

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skeletorrito · 22 days ago

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im sorry im just obsessed w this chapter of my teen stsg fluff fic

Sunshine Days - chapter 2

Rating: T

10.7k (total)

The first time Satoru saw Suguru swallow a curse, he gagged.

“Oh woah that’s so gross!” Satoru commented, both fascinated and disgusted. “You really have to swallow them like that?! Does it hurt?!”

Satoru was burning with questions. Every week, he had a new question about Suguru’s curse manipulation technique.

“What do they taste like?” “How many curses do you have in total?” “Do you ever throw them up?”

Suguru entertained Satoru’s constant curiosity with mild amusement. It didn’t bother him because, well, it was just another excuse to talk to Satoru Gojo.

They were entering their second year at the academy, and both boys were growing stronger and stronger day by day. Missions were in full swing, and Satoru and Suguru were always the top picks for the most dangerous missions. On day one of the semester, they were already called into Yaga’s office to discuss a mission.

“Suguru, what’s your favorite curse?” Satoru asked as he lounged in one of Yaga’s office chairs, waiting for their teacher to return from a meeting.

“Hmmm,” Suguru contemplated for a moment. He had about two hundred and fifty curses by this point in his life, but some he used more than others. “Oh, the flying stingray.” He finally replied, nonchalantly.

“Excuse me, did you just say flying stingray?!” Satoru leaned in, his mouth open with surprise and wonder. His eyes sparkled and glittered with curiosity. “Can you ride it?!”

Suguru grinned. “I can.”

Satoru stood from his chair, probably more excited than he’d ever been in his whole life. “You mean to tell me you’ve been holding out on me this whole time?!” Satoru gripped Suguru’s shoulders and started shaking him, which caused Suguru to chuckle. “Are you serious, Suguru, or are you messing with me?! Because either way, I definitely need to ride that stingray.”

“I’m not sure if it can hold two people, honestly…” Suguru murmured, mulling over the idea for a moment. He started thinking about how he’d even fit Satoru on the stingray with him, Satoru’s long legs would likely need to straddle him while he steered. That visual made him blush slightly.

“Well, we’re gonna fucking find out!”

“Find out what exactly?” Yaga entered the room, his suspicious, beady eyes darting between the two of them. “Settle down, Satoru. I’ve got a mission for you boys.”

“Damn, already?” Satoru plopped back down into the chair with a sigh, tipping the legs back dangerously.

Yaga sat down at his desk silently and opened a manila folder containing the details of the mission. “This one’s across the bay in Chiba, located in a nearby Buddhist temple at the base of Nokogiriyama. Visitors of the temple are being terrorized by whatever cursed spirit is haunting it,” he passed both boys the report to review, “Ijichi will escort you, it’s going to be quite the trip.”

“Oh, no need for an escort, Yaga,” Satoru peered over his sunglasses at Suguru with a wide, wild grin, “We’ve got our own ride.”

“I don’t know about this, Satoru…” Suguru trailed off, examining his pink stingray curse anxiously. It was small, really small, especially for two teens who were already breaching six feet. He could sit comfortably on it with crossed legs, but he’d never tried having a passenger with him. “What if we’re airborne and it gives out on us?”

“Oh, c’mon Suguru, have a little faith.” Satoru walked around the stingray, checking it out with delightful inquisitiveness. Its eyes followed Satoru three-hundred-and-sixty degrees around its body, fluttering quietly about a foot off of the ground. Suguru could tell, judging by the boy’s intense stare, that Satoru was figuring out the physics of it in that magnificent brain of his. He finally gave it a gentle pat as he reasoned, “It’ll be like… sharing a bike. You sit in front and steer, and I’ll be behind you and try not to fall off. It’ll totally work.”

Suguru hesitated, hand on his chin as he considered Satoru’s suggestions. Even with their weights combined, they weren’t especially heavy. He was more concerned with being able to fit all of their limbs on the stingray. The thought of Satoru behind him so closely made him break out into a sweat.

Satoru pushed him towards it, ushering him to get on. “Look, you sit here,” he tapped near the ray’s head. Suguru complied nervously, crossing his legs tight, trying to make himself as small as possible. The stingray dipped slightly but still hovered above the grass. “It’s a little cramped, but… if I squeeze in here…” Satoru then slipped his thin, lanky body behind Suguru, his legs bent and feet resting near the base of the wings. The ray grazed the ground just slightly before rising back up to its original resting place inches above.

“Yes! See!? I told you it would work!” Satoru exclaimed into Suguru’s ear, totally unbothered as he settled comfortably snuggled against his teammate.

Suguru’s back went rigid as he felt Satoru’s entire torso pressing against him. He flushed a deep red, feeling incredibly grateful that Satoru couldn’t see his face. “Don’t speak too soon, we haven’t even tried flying yet…” he murmured, setting a hand on the stingray’s head, using cursed energy to start elevating.

The stingray jolted, nearly sending Satoru tumbling off. He yelped and grabbed Suguru’s waist suddenly for leverage. “Jeez, Suguru, at least give me a warning first!”

Suguru himself jolted at the warm hands gripping his waist. His face grew hotter, this whole situation making him so flustered. “Sorry,” he replied sheepishly, “Just- just keep holding on, I’m going to try and get us in the air…”

Satoru clutched him firmly as the ray escalated, slowly but smoothly, off of the ground and into the sky. They just about reached the clouds, high enough so that regular humans would only catch a glimpse of them as a speck darting across the horizon. Suguru knew that Yaga would be furious if he found out about this, they definitely omitted (lied) about this detail of the trip, but it was so hard saying no to Satoru when he flashed those big, beautiful, cyan eyes of his.

“Wooooah,” Satoru gasped in awe, looking around at the clouds with child-like wonder. “This is amazing! I’ve never been this high up before…” He peeked down through his sunglasses for just a moment, watching the earth below grow smaller and smaller. His stomach clenched with anxiety and exhilaration, a wave of adrenaline crashing over him.

He was fully trusting Suguru Geto with his life in this moment.

And it thrilled him more than it scared him.

A shy smile spread across Suguru’s lips. He took in a huge breath of relief, closed his eyes, and felt his back push into a firm, anchoring chest. He relaxed into the touch, his creeping guilt and shame dissipating as he just… let it all blow away with the wind whipping in his face.

It wasn’t lost on him how incredibly intimate this felt, just the two of them in the swirling pink and orange sky, surrounded by fluffy clouds, the sun shining on their faces in the brisk, early morning.

He peeked behind him and beamed at the expression on Satoru Gojo’s face, how stunning he looked, with his brilliantly white hair and his perfect eyes reflecting the sunrise sky, his easy grin taking in the beauty of everything around them.

He looked like pure sunshine.

It hurt deep within Suguru’s chest how badly he wanted to kiss Satoru.

Right there, in the rosy sky.

It was an overwhelming, lovesick ache he’d never experienced until just now.

“Are you ready?” Suguru asked, his mauve eyes darting down for a beat to glance at Satoru’s soft lips.

Satoru caught his stare, searching Suguru’s face for words left unspoken. His hands reached out, long arms hugging around Suguru’s middle and squeezing tight.

He replied, softly, genuinely, “Yes. I trust you, Suguru.”

Suguru took off, at full speed, skating across the clouds.

They beat Ichiji by a whole fifteen minutes.

Still totally worth it.

Satoru and Suguru peered up at the massive temple in awe, the towering, wide-flared roofs glinting with accents of pure gold under the veil Ichiji set. As soon as they stepped foot on the grounds, they felt a rumbling below their feet.

The aura suddenly thickened, settling on both of them like a shift in gravity.

This had to be a special-grade curse.

The pair looked at each other, silent and wide-eyed, as the steps leading up to the temple continued to vibrate with each stair they climbed. Whatever cursed spirit was in that temple sensed them and it was furious.

They split, Suguru peeling off to the side of the temple to check for another entrance. Satoru was more of the head-on, confrontational type, anyway. He swung the large, embellished doors wide open.

He was immediately faced with an opalescent, serpent-like dragon twisting itself around a temple pillar. The curse stretched at least a hundred feet long as it spiraled up to the ceiling. Its angry roar shook the entire temple as it witnessed Satoru’s presence, yellow eyes spinning angrily, locking on and preparing to swoop in for an attack.

“Suguruuuu, I think I found a new Pokémon for you to catch,” Satoru sang, his Infinity blocking the creature’s first attack. He still felt the quake of the curse’s impact under his feet. This thing was clearly powerful and sturdy. The barrier only made the rainbow dragon angrier, the rebound slamming its body into the temple walls. It screeched an ear-curdling scream, the entire infrastructure rattling.

“Let’s make this quick before the whole place goes down,” Suguru appeared from behind the temple’s gigantic Buddha statue and summoned his ginormous hookworm curse from underneath. It shot up, managing to rake off a few shiny scales with its teeth, but the dragon was too fast and its skin too hardy. It slid through the hookworm’s grasp easily and ascended to safety.

Both boys gasped, watching in amazement as the dragon circled around the temple’s tall ceiling, evading Suguru’s curse attacks with grace and precision.

“Oh hell yeah, this thing is awesome!” Satoru exclaimed as he strolled to the middle of the temple floor. His neck craned upward as he slipped off his sunglasses and tucked them on his head. He examined the curse with a wide grin, taking in every detail of this terrifying cursed spirit with no fear. The dragon was too smart to strike again and risk rebounding; it instead seemed to focus on gaining distance and defending its birthplace by staying close to the perimeter. Unlike most cursed spirits, this appeared to act like a wild, territorial animal, protecting the temple and scaring off any man who dared to enter.

Satoru glanced over to Suguru, who was already standing above black pools of tentacle-like curses, as he commented, “We’re totally riding this one home, Suguru.”

Suguru smirked, replying, “Yaga’s gonna kill us if he finds out.”

He locked eyes with Satoru, confirming the plan of attack. They weren’t telepathic, by any means, but in battle together they were two pages out of the same book. After countless missions together, fighting side-by-side for all of them, one always knew what the other was thinking.

“Nah, he won’t. We’re the strongest they got.” Satoru smirked back, giving Suguru a playful wink.

Together, they moved in sync. Suguru commanded the numerous cursed tentacles to stretch into the air as Satoru used Blue to pull the cursed spirit toward them. It strained as it fought against the gravitational pull, thrashing and digging its claws into the temple walls, until Suguru’s tentacles were within reach to bind it. Suguru anchored himself to the floor using his curse, bracing himself against the insurmountable power of Satoru’s technique. His arm stretched out, ready to absorb the cursed spirit, swirling energy on his palm. The dragon shrieked again, echoing through the temple. It was inches away from his grasp. “Almost!” he shouted against the whipping winds of Blue.

The back wall of the temple collapsed in suddenly. Satoru took a quick step in front of his teammate to block the flying debris using his Infinity, doing his best to extend it as wide and as flat as he could like an impenetrable shield. He poured all of his cursed energy into dragging the heavy, writhing dragon down and protecting them, sweat flicking off his brow. Suguru was behind, exerting as much energy as he could muster into his curses and his absorption.

Just a few more seconds… Just a few more inches…

Until everything clicked into place.

“Got it!” Suguru shouted out. The beast roared violently as it started disintegrating, breaking off piece by piece and joining the whirlpool of energy on Suguru’s palm. Satoru held Blue until the entire curse was contained into a stormy globe. He dropped everything, debris and shards of wall finally falling to the floor with a few seconds delay.

“Holy shit that thing felt like it was made of lead!” Satoru exclaimed as he collapsed on an unscathed meditation bench. He was exhausted, his energy depleted significantly after the battle. Releasing a heavy sigh, he brought his sunglasses to his eyes as he lounged across the bench.

“I know, right?” Suguru agreed, “Makes you wonder how it was formed in the first place…” Suguru examined the curse ball in his palm before shoving it in his mouth, wincing at the taste as he swallowed it whole. He plopped onto the bench alongside Satoru, slumping and leaning his hand on his chin. “I might need a break to summon it, I’m exhausted.”

Satoru comically scooted himself down the length of the bench until he was resting his head on Suguru’s thigh. “Play with my hair while I nap,” he requested in a murmur.

Suguru laughed, shooting an incredulous look at his friend. “Are you joking?” Satoru peered up at Suguru over his sunglasses. Oh, no, he’s serious. Suguru started, carefully, “Satoru… isn’t that a little-”

“What, best friends can’t play with each other’s hair?” Satoru defended, a small flush spreading across his cheeks, “We clearly need some rest and we’ve got time to kill before we ride back.”

Satoru flashed his big, blue, puppy-dog eyes, not that Suguru needed much convincing anyway, and Suguru sighed. “Fine, fine. Such a princess…” he muttered. He gingerly threaded his fingers into Satoru’s fluffy, snowy white hair, so soft and thick.

Satoru was immediately transported back to his childhood when his many nannies would stroke his hair to coax him to sleep. It was so soothing and nostalgic to feel Suguru pet his head like this. “Just gimme like… fifteen minutes, okay?” He said with a hum, eyes closing contentedly as Suguru’s fingers grazed his scalp. Satoru was out in a matter of minutes, easily slipping into slumber on his trusted friend’s lap.

Suguru could have easily spent hours like this, spending an equal amount of time watching Satoru sleep peacefully and admiring the vast temple they were in. As he mindlessly stroked, he finally had a chance to take a good look around. Even with the rubble and destruction, it was gorgeous. The walls stretched on and on, accented with rich reds and glinting gold murals of Siddhartha Gautama and his journey to enlightenment. Miraculously, the giant, gold Buddha statue still stood tall behind the collapsed wall. He closed his eyes, focusing on steadying his breath and nothing else in the world besides his hand in Satoru Gojo's hair.

Satoru finally stirred from his slumber nearly an hour later. Suguru was still in the same position as before, losing track of time as he meditated with his fingers in Satoru’s hair. Satoru let out a big yawn, sitting up and stretching. “Damn, I needed that. How long was I out?”

“An hour, I think.”

“An hour !? You could have woke me up! What the hell were you doing for an hour?”

Suguru shrugged, “Meditating.” Satoru gave him a deadpan expression. “Oh, I got rid of Ichiji, too. He thinks we’re taking the train home tonight,” he added, smirking. To avoid raising suspicion, Suguru called Ichiji not long after Satoru fell asleep to sweet-talk him into leaving. According to Suguru, they were going to “sight-see” in the area since the mission wrapped up so quickly and they’d take the train back to Tokyo tonight. Ichiji bought this lie immediately and reported back to the academy. Suguru’s curse manipulation technique always fell second to his ability to talk himself out of a situation, his charisma and charm its own jujutsu entirely.

Satoru laughed and smiled, “Nice! Now we have the whole day to chill.” He turned towards his teammate. “Alright, Suguru, it’s your turn.”

“Huh?”

Satoru patted his lap as he clarified, “I’m not greedy, I’ll return the favor.”

Suguru eyebrows knitted together. “I don’t really nap well, you know that.” Though he’d be lying if he said didn’t think about Satoru stroking his hair.

“Well, that’s because you’ve never had Satoru Gojo playing with your hair. C’mon, just lay down. If you fall asleep, awesome, and if you don’t, you still get to relax.”

Suguru smiled, conceding and resting his head on Satoru’s thigh. He blushed, his gaze resting on the temple ceiling. Were his daydreams of romantic moments, such as these, with Satoru Gojo finally coming to fruition? His shallow crush only deepened over the time they grew close, but never once did he expect it could be reciprocated.

At least, not until today.

“It sounds like you just want an excuse to play with my hair,” he teased.

“Well, you do have great hair, Suguru,” Satoru replied with a grin as he pulled the elastic from Suguru’s bun, allowing his charcoal hair to spill onto Satoru’s lap. “It’s getting long!” He pulled his fingers through to splay its full length.

Suguru’s eyes fluttered closed as he commented, “Thank you. I’m letting it grow out.” Satoru wasn’t lying, it was extremely soothing having Satoru run his fingers through his hair. He fell silent, a small smile spreading across his face.

It had been over a year of Satoru secretly longing to touch Suguru’s hair again. The time Suguru spent the night in his dorm, and his curiosity got the better of him, nearly changed his life. He couldn’t stop obsessing over it, his fingers itching every time he saw Suguru fix his bun. It was still so silky and beautiful as it fell through his fingers. For having such an excitable personality, he had a surprisingly gentle touch as he caressed Suguru’s locks.

“I admit, this is nice…” Suguru practically purred, sighing happily. He was definitely growing sleepy, allowing himself to let go and lean into the feeling of Satoru playing with his hair.

“See? Now go to sleep.”

Suguru did end up drifting off, but only for about thirty minutes. He awoke to two luminescent, ocean eyes staring right at him and jolted. “Jeez, Satoru, you scared the shit out of me.” He moved to sit up, but Satoru’s fingers were still tightly entwined in his hair.

“Oh, sorry,” Satoru replied sheepishly, flushing and looking away. He pulled his hand back quickly so his friend could get up.

Suguru stood and stretched his arms and back. He felt better, a lot better actually, his energy replenished. “I guess we can go, I can summon the- hey, where’s my hair tie?”

“Oh I lost it, sorry.”

He lied. It was in Satoru’s pocket.

Suguru squinted at him, giving him a scrutinizing look. “You’re lying.”

“Swear I’m not.” Satoru lifted his hands as if he was being interrogated by the police.

“Guess we need to call Ichiji, then…” Suguru started with a mock sad tone, pouting and grabbing his phone from his pocket. “It’s not safe to fly with hair in my face.” He opened the phone, his thumb over the call button.

Satoru groaned and rolled his eyes, shoving a hand in his pocket. “Oh, look at that, I found it. Oops, my bad,” he said sarcastically and flicked it over to Suguru.

Suguru rolled his eyes back, muttering “Idiot” under his breath, and quickly tied his hair up in a tight bun. He strolled outside of the temple to find an open space to summon his new curse and Satoru trailed along.

The rainbow dragon appeared out of a swirling mass of black energy, resting docilely on the grass near the temple. He was monstrously large up close, the top of his head alone big enough for both boys to lay down and spread out. Along its head and back was a soft mane.

“This is such an upgrade!” Satoru exclaimed excitedly, placing his hand on the beast’s nose. It snorted, the dragon’s hot breath falling fluttering his hair. It still amazed him to see a once fearsome, aggressive enemy suddenly become Suguru’s house pet. His best friend had an amazing technique, there was no denying it.

They clambered up onto the massive dragon, settling on the beast’s head in the middle of its horns. It certainly was an upgrade, the beast’s fluffy mane was comfortable and easy to grip onto. They were able to sit side-by-side. Suguru locked eyes with Satoru before placing a hand on the dragon. “Let’s go,” he commanded. It darted off faster and smoother than the stingray. Being in the sky with the beast felt like floating on a cloud, soft fur cushioning their legs as they soared.

They weaved through clouds, dipped down to skate just above the ocean, and twisted around the entire island for hours. The pair rode around on the majestic dragon like it was a personal rollercoaster. Their cheeks started hurting from how much they were smiling, laughing, and screaming.

The pair lay on the rainbow dragon’s mane, side by side, staring up at the stars together. They hovered just outside of the academy grounds, the night sky clearing of clouds just in time for stargazing.

“I think… yeah, this is definitely the best day of my life so far,” Satoru commented, a lazy grin on his face.

Suguru looked over at him, admiring how his eyes reflected the night sky, creating two murky blue galaxies. “Oh yeah? Me too," he agreed with a smile.

“Besides that day you showed up to my door totally trashed, of course,” Satoru added with a laugh, sticking his tongue out.

Suguru pouted playfully, “Hey, ruin the moment, much?!” He laughed and gave Satoru a little shove, adding, “I must have really embarrassed myself then. I still don’t even remember anything. What did I even do?”

Satoru flushed a little. Unlike Suguru, his memory of that day was vividly clear. It altered his brain chemistry permanently and gained him his first best friend, too. “Oh, you were just being you, but more… silly, I guess. You gave me those sick sunglasses, too.”

Suguru beamed, replying, “I’m glad you like them, Satoru. They really suit you.”

Satoru’s flush deepened. He was thankful it was dark (and also for Suguru's normal eyes). He stretched out his arms, his hand grazing his friend’s gently. Heart hammering in his throat, he reached out a little more, clasping his hand around Suguru’s.

Suguru looked down, then up at Satoru with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. He froze for a moment, then softened, his fingers gently slipping between Satoru’s. They lay silently for minutes, staring up at the stars with faces blushing, hearts racing, and fingers intertwining.

They’re both thinking the same exact thoughts, fighting and struggling against the same exact bubbling embarrassment and shame keeping them from what they truly, desperately wanted and needed.

I really want to kiss you.

I really want you to kiss me.

Finally, Suguru broke the silence, “Is this… something best friends do, Satoru?”

Satoru took a quiet minute, swallowing nervously. How was Suguru the only person to make him feel anxious, out of everyone else in the world?

He looked at Suguru, a lovesick ache in his throat as he said, “Yeah. I like it.”

Suguru smiled coyly in response. He squeezed his hand gently.

“I like it too.”

Loveee these boys

Here's the rest:

#stsg #satosugu #gego #goge #fanfiction #jjk #i love teen stsg sm so pureeee #happy tears for pure teen love like omg #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #gojo satoru #geto suguru

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paintinginsomnia · 1 month ago

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Plein Air #5. Nisqually Wildlife Refuge. Gouache. October 22, 2024.

This fall day is too beautiful to do office work.

Did some touch-ups at home.

One up: this was just a lovely painting experience.

One improve: need more color diversity, gotta remember that gouache changes when it dries and things dull down.

Painted this one off a very busy trail. Met another beginner plein air painter interested in the set up, and did a happiness chant with a pair of Buddhists. An art fan came by and really want to buy it, so I sold it to him for a dozen homemade chocolate chip cookies.

Not bad.

#learning to paint #plein air #gouache #nisqually

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timextoxhajima · 6 months ago

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Sonder: Part III

Parts: I II III IV V

member: enhypen heeseung! x oc! woo ki yeom [3rd person pov]

genre: coming of age, slice of life, angst, romance

w/c: 5.8k

warnings: topics on religion, distressed relationships, mental health (I want to leave an a/n here that I grew up with my maternal family being Buddhists so what I've written is based off what I researched online and the way her family practised Buddhism. I'm personally a free-tinker and this narrative is not in any way meant to offend nor support any particular religion.)

synopsis: after being kicked out of her home, Woo Ki Yeom is forced to live life on her own. struggling to find herself in the midst of her chaotic life, she meets lee heeseung, who, like her, can't give any more fucks to life than she does.

"n. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own."

By the time Sim Ji Yeon had realised what was happening, she knew deep down in her heart that it was too late. She was stuck with the dilemma of whether she should aggressively offer Ki Yeom support, or let her writhe in her own pain for a while, especially since she knew that Ki Yeom might take it the wrong way if she went with the first option.

Ki Yeom's pride and ego was fed to her since they were children. She had grown up in a stable home, both parents worked and so, they were better than the average household. She didn't have a difficult childhood that would've otherwise created a timid and inferior person.

Her confidence was further fed by the years in which she excelled in every single arts class she took. She had the perfect knack for it, always creating original pieces and never having trouble finding inspiration for her assignments.

Ji Yeon had always admired her eye for the arts, while she was stuck as the boring, better-looking-than-average girl who loved volleyball. She was well aware of the attention that dragged around with her wherever she went - boys would come to her matches just to see her and her teammates. She would get random love notes and gifts from people she didn't even know.

While Ki Yeom somewhat teased her and envied her for this 'small celebrity' life, Ji Yeon would've much preferred being talented in her own, safe bubble.

The hard part during the entire process of the falling out was the fact that Ji Yeon hadn't heard about Ki Yeom being kicked out of her home from her, but instead through friends who somehow knew people who had seen her looking for single-room apartments to rent.

Talk about a small world.

And talk about not sharing your worst nightmares with your best friend.

Ji Yeon remembers the day she felt Ki Yeom had given up on her friendship, and till this day, she doesn't know exactly why. Ji Yeon had decided to wait near the building that Ki Yeom used to stay with her parents. She's been over multiple times, so it wasn't hard to blend in with all the convenience and food stalls owners greeting her.

She figured that Ki Yeom probably still had to come back to pick up more things.

But hours turned into days and by the time she had waited three days, Ji Yeon realised that Ki Yeom had completely moved out for good. Then, she spots her mother leaving the apartment building.

She's hesitant at first, but it's the only way she will ever find out anything about Ki Yeom without needing to spam call her.

With tired eyes and a broken heart, her mother tells Ji Yeon that she hadn't seen her daughter since the day she ruined the altar.

"Ruined the altar?" Ji Yeon's lips part in startled surprise. "But..."

Her voice trails quiet when she realises she doesn't know what to say. She can't imagine what Ki Yeom is feeling, much less her parents.

"I don't suppose... you know where she is?"

The elder shakes her head gently. "You're the only person who has a shot at knowing where she's gone. So if you don't know, then I definitely wouldn't."

There's something harsh and direct in her voice, that almost makes Ji Yeon uneasy.

"Alright," She chooses not to pry. "I understand. I'm... so sorry this happened."

A chilly gush of wind runs between them.

Her mother parts her lips and inhales slightly, as if already finding the words to say - but she decides against it and swallows instead. "I have to go run my errands."

"Of course," Ji Yeon slightly bows and lets her on her way. She stays, long enough until Ki Yeom's mother disappears down the corner.

Ji Yeon wonders if she will ever visit their home again.

She will spend the next few weeks leaving Ki Yeom texts. Calls. Even resorting to E-mails and leaving her DMs on Instagram. She starts to think of herself that she's pathetic, but no, she can't think this way. Her best friend was just kicked out. She's probably lost and afraid. And honestly, she might not even be alive. What if something happened to her and nobody found her body?

But somehow, she finds comfort in knowing that she hasn't heard from her in months now. At least she's alive, and her body hasn't been thrown in a ditch somewhere and in the news, with the headline 'MURDERER ON THE LOOSE'.

And yet, everytime she tries to comfort herself to think this way, she can't help but think - why is she not speaking to me?

What have I done wrong?

Months turned into trimesters and trimesters turned into a scholarship offer to a university in another state. Ji Yeon decides that fate will bring her back to Ki Yeom when the time is right.

She leaves, and decides that she will only come back during her longer summer breaks.

And in the blink of an eye, she graduates next year.

But to Ji Yeon, this meant that it had been four years without Ki Yeom. How could Ki Yeom pretend that she didn't exist anymore? How could she move on with life, not accounting for what happened to her? Doesn't Ki Yeom know that she cares, especially with all the shit she's sent her?

Ji Yeon is not one to get angry easily, but Ki Yeom is the exception. Perhaps she hasn't tried hard enough.

She googles her name. She scrolls through the 'Ki Yeom's whom she know aren't her Ki Yeom.

Then, she stops when she notices the name under a tattoo parlour's search result. Ji Yeon hunts for the address on their website, and finds it.

Just about thirty minutes away from where Ki Yeom used to stay.

"Ki Yeom might look a little cold, but she promises her best. Top of sales 2022." Was written as her description. No photo though.

Ji Yeon picks up her phone and drops her some messages.

"She hasn't spoken to you in four years and you still want to go look for her?"

Ji Yeon is quiet. She knows how ridiculous it sounds from someone else's perspective. Ki Yeom clearly doesn't want to be found and reconnected, so why should she go out of her way to do it for her?

"Think about how we left off, don't you think it'd be terrible of me to not even... get some kind of closure?"

Sunghoon frowns at her, crossing his arms over his chest and slightly rolling his eyes. He's never liked this 'Ki Yeom' whom he's never met. By the time he had met Ji Yeon in university, he thought the falling out was through and finished. He knew that Ji Yeon had always wanted to find her and find closure, but he thinks otherwise.

"It would've been terrible if you didn't try to reach out but the thing is you did and you tried. I don't know why you think you haven't done enough."

"Well, maybe you think I've done enough, but it's not enough for her."

"Come on," He pushes his hair back and sits in a chair, back slouched and his elbows on his knees. "Love, I just- From my perspective, she sounds like she doesn't care about anybody else. If she had wanted to reconnect or find closure like you do, she would've responded by now. But it's been four years. We met, dated, fell in love and moved in together in these four years."

Ji Yeon sighs.

"Have you ever thought that she just... outgrew the friendship? Like, I don't know, maybe her getting kicked out of her home just escalated it. Like it was an event that forced the two of you apart and it was just... meant to be? It hurts to see you trying so hard and she doesn't reciprocate. I get that she's your childhood friend but that doesn't mean she would do and think the same way you do."

"I know what you mean," She's quiet as she turns and looks at him. "But I just... Maybe if I see her one last time. Just over a cup of coffee or something. She doesn't have to catch me up nor does she have to give in to my 'needs'. Maybe I just want to see that she's well and taking care of herself."

Sunghoon stands and walks over to where she's sitting at her desk, standing near enough so she can rest her head in his stomach.

The next day proved a challenge for Ji Yeon, a challenge she didn't even think she had to deal with. She had found the tattoo parlour as early as after lunch with Sunghoon, who reluctantly left her alone. Ji Yeon felt nothing less like a creep, spending the entire afternoon sitting at the coffee shop just a few doors down from the parlour.

The challenge was mustering up the courage to speak to Ki Yeom after four years. Why was she even finding this hard? They were best friends, weren't they? And as far as Ji Yeon knew, she didn't do anything wrong on her end. If anything, this was just a case of a fading friendship, not a messy falling out.

She thought, and thought, and panicked, and thought again, until the sun had set. There were more clients leaving than entering, she thought that this was her chance.

Now or never.

Her throat had gone dry when she stood at the door, fingers wrapped on the metal handle and ready to push herself in. Ki Yeom had shoulder-length brown hair, but with her black roots growing out on the crown of her head. She was sat in a roller chair, backfacing the front door, turned and talking to a guy with bright, bleached pink hair who was definitely a couple years older than her. And another girl, around the same age or even younger, with her hair cut so short, some might mistake her for the opposite gender.

Then again, Ji Yeon knows better than to bother about that.

"Hi. I'm looking for Ki Yeom, I saw somewhere that she worked here."

WHAT? She thinks to herself. She's literally standing infront of you, why would you ask that?

Ki Yeom takes a moment to stand and turn, like she already recognised her voice before she even saw Ji Yeon.

Oh, my God. It's like meeting an ex again.

Ji Yeon's heart drops when she can see how much Ki Yeom has grown in four years. She aches to know that she wasn't by her side, following her through the healing she probably needed.

"Who told you I worked here?" The words are cold, and sharp. Like her mother's. Ji Yeon starts to sweat, the warm gush of uneasiness sweeping through her when you feel unwell or about to faint.

Ji Yeon's mind is running at a thousand miles per hour. Say something!

"I... I googled you," Ji Yeon gulps. She can see the knowing scowls and squints from Ki Yeom's two acquaintances. They must think she's a bitch. "Took me a couple of minutes, but it wasn't that hard to find your name as a tattoo artist in this parlour."

Ki Yeom rubs the back of her neck, looking exasperated and at a loss of patience, like she were thinking 'I don't have the fucking time for this.'

She turns around and begins a mini discussion with her acquaintances, which Ji Yeon realises, if she's close enough to trust them in times like this, then Ki Yeom must consider them friends.

She has been replaced.

Ji Yeon isn't surprised. It was a sooner-or-later thing.

But why did it hurt the same?

She can hear the 's'-es and the whispering they're doing whilst turned back. She wonders if they know who she was, or if Ki Yeom has kept her an embarrassing secret and memory she doesn't want to relive.

There's a little scuffle. Someone swats someone on the arm, and someone knees the boy in his groin. Then the short haired girl drags him away, leaving Ki Yeom alone with her.

When Ki Yeom turns around, there's this fierceness and sternness in her eyes. Ji Yeon knew that she wouldn't be meeting the same person she became best friends with back then, but it hit her harder now that she's seeing this new-and-improved version of Ki Yeom.

Ji Yeon can see that she doesn't have much to say, so she starts first.

"I know you've been reading my texts," She says quickly, hoping to get some reaction out of her.

Nothing.

"I just wanted to know how you were doing. I don't know anything about you anymore and I just can't stand to know that... I no longer know anything about you and your life."

"I don't know why it matters that you don't know anything. My parents don't know anything. Nobody knows anything, but I'm fine and well."

Ji Yeon is stunned at how quickly she responded. It's almost like she had rehearsed for a moment like this. Has Ki Yeom just been waiting for Ji Yeon to show up, so she can tell her to fuck off?

"It matters because I care," She wishes that Ki Yeom can hear the sincerity in her voice. "It matters because you basically disappeared, and for the last couple of years, I've been stuck wondering what I've done wrong. And if it was my fault that the friendship has turned sour."

"It's not your fault, it's mine. For being an ass."

Ji Yeon didn't even realise she was holding her breath until Ki Yeom finishes her quick-witted reply. The words start to come out naturally.

"So at least tell me how you were being an ass. You have so much spine to be out here making a life for your own but you don't have a spine enough to tell me why I had to google you?"

"'Spine to be out here'?" Ki Yeom snaps her head and squints at her, clenching her jaw as she strings the words together. "Have you... forgotten why I was even made to be out here making a life for myself?"

Oh.

Ji Yeon didn't mean for it to come off that way. Ki Yeom must know she didn't mean it like that. Right? ...Right?

"I'm sorry. That wasn't what I meant."

In Ji Yeon's peripheral vision, a client pays at the cashier's. He awkwardly walks around them, arm wrapped in a protective foil as the light reflects off the surface.

She thinks carefully about what to say next. It feels like years before she can think of how to put it across.

"Look, I... I just want to know what happened. And... if after all the clearing up, you still hate me and our paths have just... diverged too far and too long ago, then... I will just have to make peace with it."

Ji Yeon pauses. She thinks about what Sunghoon said to her earlier today.

"But I can't just leave this... it's like abandoning my house without reason."

Her eyes are teary and she can feel the sour ball creeping up in her throat and her nose.

But Ki Yeom doesn't look like she gives a single fuck.

Ki Yeom's head falls in the gap between her arm and herself, nodding herself awake. She looks down at her sketchbook, instinctively rubbing her forehead to get any pencil markings off her skin.

She turns and looks at the clock. 2.23am.

Sighing and yawning at the same time, she looks around her apartment, spotting the unwashed pot from her instant-noodle supper sitting by the sink.

She recalls the encounter at the tattoo parlour earlier that evening, where Miss Little Perfect showed up and demanded for a redeeming coffee break tomorrow.

Ki Yeom rubs her eyes and yawns again, finally getting up from her desk and making her way over to wash the dishes.

Suddenly, life had so many offerings to provide her.

Picking up her phone, she slips on her slides and heads out the door, making a point to close it quietly. Then she turns and heads for the lift, in her peripheral vision, noticing that the nosy boy's door was slightly ajar.

She ignores it, turning for the lift and dragging her headphones over her head-

Then she hears the piano keys, and the singing.

Ki Yeom will admit that she didn't think that would stop her in her tracks, but it did.

She stays in the same spot for a few seconds, listening to the random piano keys, then him singing or humming a tune, then the piano keys again.

He's writing an original, she realises.

Well, if he can be nosy, so can I.

She finds herself at the door, peeking in through the gap.

He's sat, angled backwards against the door, with a portable keyboard infront of him and a notebook in his lap. She looks around, and spots his desk - which was a round dining table that he probably picked up from someone's garage sale - strewn with lecture notes.

Ki Yeom leans against the door frame, quietly studying the apartment that resembled hers while listening to the music-in-progress. Her eyes are mindless, until they finally return to him sitting at his piano.

Except, now he's staring at her, wide-eyed and surprised.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to tell that you gave up on studying," She pushes the door open and nods toward his dining table. "Sitting against an open door isn't very smart. I could've gone in and stolen something and you wouldn't have known."

"Well," He shrugs, picking up the notebook from his lap and tossing it on his dining table. He starts to gather the papers and binded notes. "Thank God it's you, then. I'd just have to worry about missing a washing machine token."

Ki Yeom rolls her eyes, but doesn't hide the little smile that curls up on her lips.

"Couldn't sleep?" He lifts the stack off the table, aligning them against the surface and placing them nicely in the centre.

She scratches the spot under her ear. "It's... a little more than 'couldn't sleep', I guess."

Heeseung turns to face her, arms reaching back to lean on the edge of the dining table. But it wobbles from how old it is, so he clears his throat and stands away from it instead.

"I'd invite you to come in and talk about it but I don't want to seem creepy," A pause. "Nor does it seem like I have adequate, functioning furniture to host a guest."

Ki Yeom chuckles, which is a surprise. Maybe it's just the 3am lack of discipline and awareness.

"I was going to go on a walk."

"At..." He picks up his phone. The screen lights up his face. "3am?"

"Why, scared of the dark?"

"No, I'm scared that I'd be murdered in an alley and thrown in a ditch."

"Yeah, because you live in a dangerous country," Ki Yeom pushes herself off the door frame, hoping that the sarcasm can be detected. "No obligations. If you prefer to sleep, then good night."

Heeseung shrugs, picking up his keys and phone and shoving them into his pockets.

"Can't say no to a 3am storytelling session though," With a cheeky smile on his lips, he walks to the door. Ki Yeom moves to let him close the door, only now realising how tall he was.

Maybe Jun Yeol was just short.

"Who said anything about a 3am storytelling session?" She says as-a-matter-of-factly. As he locks the door, she heads to press the lift button.

"Well, I'm just a nosy stranger. And you walked right up to my door, striking up a conversation with me. Besides, who am I gonna tell about your dramatic life story?"

The boy pulls his key out of the door and turns around, tilting his head at her. His eyes are tired, the kinds that sleep but not quality. The kinds that try their best, but it's never enough.

Perfectionist eyes.

Ki Yeom knows because those were hers too.

"So why are you up at 3am?" She quietly asks.

"Hm," He hums in thought, eyes looking up at the panel displaying the floors the lift was climbing. "Somewhere between existential crisis and can't sleep. If that makes any sense."

"'Existential crisis', huh?"

There's a silence that envelops the both of them as the lift reaches. She doesn't even know his name but she can tell what type of person he is - or at least, she can guess. She conjures the thought, 'What if he's a serial killer luring her in so he can murder her in the middle of the night?'

Nah, Mr Hsien has seen his face. If he were a serial killer, he wasn't a very smart one.

"I'm Heeseung, by the way," He turns to her in the lift, awkwardly raising a palm to her. "I just realised I know your name but you don't know mine."

Ki Yeom gingerly takes his hand, giving him a firm shake as she does some of her clients. "Nice to know."

"So, what do you do? I mean, you don't seem like you go to university."

"I'm a tattoo artist."

"Oh, shit. No kidding?" Heeseung looks pleasantly taken aback. "Would love to get one one day. Where? Is the parlour nearby?"

"Just about a twenty minute bus ride into town," The doors open into the lobby, the security guard at the counter exchanging glances with them.

"Town? You're a fancy tattoo artist. What, do you like top sales or something?" He giggles as they walk out the building. The cool, crisp breeze kisses her skin and she instantly hugs herself. Ki Yeom remains quiet to his question, merely shrugging her shoulders.

"No," He turns to her and folds his arms across his chest, hugging his arm pits. "That's crazy! Are you really? You're like some super talented tattoo artist, and I'm just some... stupid student that can't beat the curve in school."

"What do you study in university?"

"Performing Arts - But the thing they don't tell you is that half the things you study is theory, which don't work that well with me."

"I heard you just now, with the piano and the singing. You sound good, is it an original? For a project or something?"

They stop at a traffic light. Opposite the building was a park. The crickets were chirping, the street lamps were sizzling and there wasn't a single soul in sight. Some cars driving down the main road, but it had been awhile since Ki Yeom had found the motivation to leave home for something that wasn't work.

"Uh- Yeah? I guess? It's more of just a 'me' thing. But, I also tutor kids. Piano lessons. So they help me sort of... sort it out in my head. Makes it abit easier to teach when I'm figuring out the notes and bars myself."

"Interesting," Ki Yeom nods. The traffic light turns to the green man. She smiles when she realises they didn't even need to wait for that, since it was so empty.

"Why?" Heeseung shoves his hands into his pockets, smile mimicking hers. "Realised we didn't have to wait?"

"Yeah. It's so empty."

"We're law-abiding citizens, what do I say?"

They enter the park, the scent of grass and trees filling their noses. Ki Yeom can see the birds scattered about in the grass, slowly walking or standing almost completely still. The leaves were gently rustling in the breeze. Empty cups, food wrappers, tissues, strewn here and there and on benches.

"By the way, I was joking about the storytelling. You don't have to share if you're uncomfortable. It's just... nice to talk to someone that's not from school."

Ki Yeom walks quietly, sitting in her thoughts. He must've understood her silence, for he goes quiet as well, matching her pace and looking around like he hadn't already been to this park a couple of times.

She considers the day's events. First, being told she had an opportunity to leave everything she had here, to go be part of an art organisation. Then, being told she had topped this months' sale (again), followed by Ji Yeon showing up at the parlour. It had been four years since she had seen her.

Suddenly, she's tired. Her lids are heavy and her heart is torn into shreds. Maybe it wasn't that great of an idea to go for a walk with a stranger at 3am.

"It was a long day. Alot of things happened," Ki Yeom starts, unsure how to continue. She didn't want to seem like she was trauma dumping or asking him for advice when he barely knew her.

"Oh," There's a hint of sadness in his voice as he can hear the reluctance to share. "I understand. It's alright. You don't have to divulge anything. We can walk the whole park in silence. Or if you want to go back, that's totally fine with me too-"

"No, it's okay," Ki Yeom shakes her head and rubs her palm down her eyes and the rest of her face. "I just..."

She strings the thoughts together, holding her breath as she does.

"I was offered... a thing. My boss told me that she had an opportunity to send someone overseas. To be part of a touring art organisation."

She looks up at Heeseung, watching his face for any reaction. As opposed to before, he suddenly had this slightly heavy look on his face, as if he instantly knew what it meant to have such a grand offer... in such a faraway place.

"That... That is something," He nods as he acknowledges it. "I assume there's a 'but'?"

Ki Yeom rubs the back of her neck and turns away from him.

"I mean, it's not easy for anybody to leave anywhere, honestly. Even if they had nothing else left, it still wouldn't be easy."

"You sound like you know this experience yourself."

Heeseung turns and looks at her intently, his tired eyes getting even more tired.

"I'm the total opposite, actually. I had... everything. Like I had a nice home, my family is intact unlike alot of my friends. Supportive environment. But... when I left to find... a purpose, I felt lost. It was my decision, yes, but... it's hard to leave somewhere you're comfortable in."

"You left home to find 'purpose'?" Ki Yeom stifles a little chuckle.

"Well, yeah," Heeseung grins, knowing how stupid it sounded out loud. "I wanted to find out what life was about, you know? I didn't want to stay sheltered. I wanted to meet crazy people and do crazy things and see where the wind blows me."

"That doesn't sound like the life a university student should be living. Just being a student on it's own already takes away the freedom to do that."

"I know, I know," He rolls his eyes half-exasperatedly. "I realised."

They both go quiet again. Ki Yeom is pleasantly surprised at how easy he seems. She wonders if she's being nice and vulnerable because it's 3am.

Yeah, probably.

"So what's keeping you here?"

Ki Yeom smiles, but it's weak and sad and depressing. "What isn't?" She turns and looks at him, then turns back to look straight.

"I grew up a devoted Buddhist and my family practised it to the T. Then, about six years ago, my father lost his job and we were broke for a few years. In those two years, we scrimped and saved. My grandfather had tried to help, but my parents... believe it or not, didn't accept it. Out of filial piety. It's one of the most valued principles in Buddhism. I came home one day, tired and exhausted from work, and my room was literally sold out. The furniture, the lamp, the damn bed."

She pauses. The memories come back in quick flashes in her head.

"I ruined the altar. Shoved everything off. My mother kicked me out. And I had so few things left that it took me an hour to get everything I needed out of the apartment. I walked aimlessly for hours, just wishing that a car would run me down and I'd never have to open my eyes again. I somehow fell asleep just a few shops down the tattoo parlour, and I don't know what it is that the owner of the parlour saw in me, but she waited until I woke up, gave me a pad and pencil and told me to draw. I don't know how she knew that I loved art. But I was at a loss and honestly, I had nothing better to do. So, I drew."

A pause.

The grains of rock and sand crunch under their feet as they stroll under a lamp.

"And she hired you."

"And told me that this apartment building had rooms for rent and that she'd pay for the first few months until I could sustain myself."

"What a lad," Heeseung nods. "What did you draw? That made her hire you?"

Ki Yeom stops in her tracks. Heeseung hears the crunching stop behind him, so he stops too and turns to look at her.

"I... I drew my room. Down to every single detail. Before it was sold and ruined."

Now, her voice is quiet, low, and raspy. The type that comes from someone who is about to cry. Heeseung can see that Ki Yeom is fighting all the urges in her throat and nose not to stifle a sob, because her eyes were already welling with tears.

But she blinks, and breathes through her mouth so he wouldn't have to hear the sniffling. Then all that resolution to keep it under wraps crumbles under the weight of letting it out for the first time, directly telling someone the whole truth without them having to probe and ask for them to fit the pieces together.

Ki Yeom squats and buries her eyes in the heart of her palms, her lips finally contorting into a quivering, shivering slobber as her tears and mucus start to run down her philtrum. She's feeling light-headed, but her chest heavy, from all the feelings that were bottled up and never once poured out.

A warm, gentle hand lands on her shoulder, a shadow casting over her as he stands in a spot to block the lamp from shining all over her.

Ki Yeom doesn't have a clue how long she was in that position, because it felt like forever. The tears were relentless - caught up for four years, and she hasn't even told him everything that happened that day. Would she cry even more?

One way to find out.

She lifts her head, hair messily stuck to her face because of the tears, and coughs, "You know... My best friend..." She chokes and hiccups in between the words as he looks down at her, tired eyes trying to show sympathy.

"She's just so fucking perfect, and I... I hate her for it.... She lived a perfect life, you know? Popular, smart, pretty... happy. Her family was so fucking... textbook. Sometimes I wondered if she was friends with me to... make herself feel better. I hated how much she tried to compensate for... something that wasn't even her fault. I hated that she started paying for me... or started defending me and protecting me in front of others just so they didn't think I was a loser."

She sighs and wipes her philtrum with her fingers, the glistening music on her nails and fingerpads as she wipes them off on her pants.

"I saw her for the first time today... In four years... asking me for a cup of coffee so we could talk about what happened... But I have nothing to say. What do I even say?"

"You can say what you just told me."

Ki Yeom looks up at him, wandering eyes unsure of what he means.

Then he squats, meeting her at eye level and awkwardly trying to pick her hair out of her face without it seeming like he was flirting with her.

"I think it's valid that you felt the way you did. I mean, all that that you went through? Not everybody knows how it feels. I'm sure she meant well, but I'm also positive that you would've felt the same way about anybody who tried to do those things. So, it was nothing personal."

He folds his arms over each other and wraps them on his knees.

"If it makes you feel better, I'd be annoyed too. If I had a perfect specimen of a person trying to make me feel better. Who wouldn't? It's like salt rubbing salt in a wound."

Ki Yeom gulps the phlegm and musuc away, rubbing her eyes.

"I think... you should go get that cup of coffee and push through it. It's the only way to resolve this."

"But I spent four years running, and I didn't hate it," She wipes the tears dripping off her jawline and stares at the rocks under his slides.

"Clearly, the more you run, the more she's gonna run after you and I'm sure you don't want to deal with her ten years from now again?"

Ki Yeom looks up and into his eyes now, his fringe slightly covering them.

"Here's the important question: Do you think you've been living life fine without her?"

Her eyes drift off to look at the bush on the grass.

"If the answer is 'no', then it's your chance to redeem yourself and mend things with her. But if the answer is 'yes', then sometimes a chapter just... ends. Without you knowing. Things happen. Just because it happened doesn't mean it's your fault."

She looks back at him, swollen eyes slightly drier, but eyelids heavier.

Heeseung is quiet now. He's said his piece, and has nothing else left to share.

"Come on," He whispers, just loud enough for her to hear as he gently grabs her arm. "Let's get you back home and to bed."

Ki Yeom weakly stands, knees trembling from squatting too long. He has a palm on her arm the entire walk home, in silence. The security guard almost looks concerned - he hasn't ever seen this resident cry.

The lift doors open with a ding, but before Heeseung can walk her rightways to her door, she pauses and looks at him.

"Do you think... do you think you can stay with me tonight?" She blinks her tired eyes, not even looking at him. "Not in the same bed, just... with me."

Heeseung blinks, slightly taken aback with the request. His lips are parted in a bid to protest and say that it would be inappropriate, considering that she was just tired and in a vulnerable state and it could've been easily misunderstood the following morning- but she puts a stop to it, for she quite literally mutters the words:

"I've been alone for so long, sometimes I wonder if I would be happier if I wasn't awake."

PART IV

#heeseung imagines #heeseung angst #heeseung scenarios #heeseung fluff #enhypen scenarios #enhypen angst #enhypen imagines

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