#but he's already been having memory issues
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buckydeservesthebest · 2 days ago
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I happened to watch this scene frame by frame (or at least what the editing apps allow you to) and I just realized an interesting detail: Bucky never knocked the cop out with the intention of knocking him over the railing, all he did was block the gun the cop was aiming at him with, deflecting the barrel to the side, which caused the cop to lose his balance and accidentally fall over the railing.
Here we can see the sequence:
The cop points the gun at him.
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Bucky moves to block it.
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Bucky clearly deflects the gun to the side.
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Bucky moves and focuses on stopping the other cop who also attacks him.
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Here we can see that the cop briefly stays positioned on the railings.
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So Bucky's intention was never to deliberately throw him over the railings, and that's why when he realized this, he reached out his hand to try to catch him.
Because in fact, a few moments earlier, he had already neutralized one of the agents by throwing him across the aisle and landing behind the railings, i.e., in a safe place:
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Bucky was really going out of his way to not have to kill anyone, because it's precisely ending up hurting someone that scares him the most.
I think the arguable slight excess of violence he used in the fight (well, considering he was acting in self-defense because he was literally fighting for his life in the face of a large tactical team that was sent to kill him without mercy), can be excused on things that were out of his control:
a) By that time, the amount of Bucky's memories and emotions (what makes him himself) were still very small, and the fuzzy state with memory gaps and flashes in his brain makes it difficult for him to control his responses and behaviors to outside stimuli, especially those that are considered dangerous and a threat to him.
**The Marvel Studios' The Marvel Cinematic Universe An Official Timeline book, clears up the doubt present in fandom for years as to whether it was true that Bucky didn't quite remember Steve. Bucky was telling the truth, for their meeting in Bucharest he could recognize Steve, but he didn't quite remember their friendship or their time together. It wasn't until after the blow to the head and his blackout that more memories began to flow.**
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b) extensive brain damage affecting his limbic system, amygdala (which plays a key role in identifying potential threats and triggering appropriate reactions, such as the 'fight or flight' response), frontal lobe, etc. Aggression is one of the most common consequences of brain injury.
And even with all of this going against him, with issues that were out of his control, Bucky struggled and managed to actually not end up killing anyone (the very people who were sent to kill him).
I couldn't imagine how difficult this was for him, and I think it just emphasizes his great moral quality, as well as what a good man he is and always has been.
Bucharest details
Not sure if this had been pointed out previously, but during the apartment fight scene in Bucharest, there's a nice little detail hidden in the shadows.
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Bucky knocks a man over the railing, who Steve Rogers catches just in time. What was really hard to see in the shadows is that Bucky actually realises this in the middle of his fight with another man and makes a motion to try and catch the guy.
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Hard to get a good resolution picture of this, but his head whips around and his body moves away from his new enemy when he hears the guy scream. His metal arm reaches towards the falling guy and his fist opens (rather than closing if he was actually intending to elbow the guy he pushed onto the wall).
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Because it's hard to see his head in that scene, it's clearer in the next cut that Bucky definitely turned around to face the stairwell.
Bucky was really trying to stick to his no-kill promise he gave Steve. He didn't even stop to take any of the discarded guns to defend himself (even though guns are his forte).
That said, he still didn't trust that Steve would be on his side, because in his mind while Steve blocked bullets for him, Steve also seemed to be protecting the police from him. He thought that when push came to shove, Steve was more likely to side with law enforcement than him.
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He was completely taken by surprise when Steve knocked the shooter out for him. I wonder if it was the first moment he thought that maybe Steve was on his side.
(edit: sorry guys, had a mind spaz and confused Bucharest with Budapest. Need more sleep/caffeine)
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thecourtjester-e · 2 days ago
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Do You Have to Let it Linger? Part 4
A/N: y’all wanted a twist? (Short chapter the end is near)
CW: substance abuse, angst, yearning, depression, anger issues
SCHLATT POV
“GOD, you can be so STUPID.”
As soon as he said it he froze. He tossed the phone onto the table and put his head in his hands. As he heard the phone hangup from the table he felt like he couldn’t move. His face started to burn as anger rose up in his chest. He looked for the nearest victim to aim this mindless rage at. He picked up a controller and chucked it as hard as he could across the room. He could feel the tightness in his chest rise and tears threaten their way into his eyes. God, he hated that he let himself do that. Why the FUCK did he do that???? Schlatt’s frustration from the week all culminated into this moment. The confusion of why y/n had ignored him for a whole week, racking his brain to remember every little thing he did and said to you at the wedding for some explanation. And all to find out it was because you like him and you think he doesn’t like you back. It made him mad. You couldn’t be further off.
In the beginning of your friendship the flirting had been for fun. He did think you were stunning, but it was all in jest, at first. It slowly grew into a real blooming friendship beyond the clicks and views he genuinely grew fond of you. Your personality, your quirks, and little traits. He would watch to boost numbers, but then he found himself tuning into your streams on his second account to just watch. He found your voice entrancing and the way you moved and danced hypnotizing.
He couldn’t believe that you thought he didn’t feel the same. The fact that you had a “big fat crush” on him was enough to make his heart jump, do a backflip, and fall out of his ass. He was so dumbfounded that you couldn’t see how crazy he is about you.
At first he grappled with his own fear and uncertainty, could he let someone in in this way? Was it worth it? You guys lived so far apart. Not to mention how public it could all get and the bombardment from the fans. He was terrified. As the days turned to a week his fear turned into intense longing and pain. Pain knowing how he had hurt you. He missed your constant communication that he had grown to rely on in a way. He just missed hearing you and seeing you. How your smile lights up rooms and your raw charisma enchants all who watch. He couldn't stop seeing you up there singing at the wedding. And how you smiled at him while laughing and dancing. The memories practically uncorked the bottle themselves. Minimal resistance was found when lifting it to his mouth. Each sip felt easier and easier.
Ted called sometime during the second week while the bottle was half drunk. Interrupting his quiet stalking of your stream.
“Schlatt.”
“What.”
“You gotta tell her man,” Ted pleads. He had been bothering Schlatt to spill his heart since the wedding. Then, even more so after this whole ordeal. It tired and aggravated him.
“No dude.”
“Jared Schlathew,” Schlatt scowled at the nickname as Ted continued, “I know we’ve known each other a while, but I’ve known Y/N longer. I’m going to have to tell her soon man I can’t keep listening to her heart break like this.”
“Ted, I sweartgod, if you tell her you won’t hear from me again. Ever,” he slurred and sipped.
“I don’t understand the big deal!”
Schlatt cuts him off, “I can’t, Ted, I fucking can’t! I already hurt her man, who’s to say I won’t just hurt her further or… I don’t know! I’m no good for her. She deserves someone better. She deserves to get over me…”
Ted sighs, “Schlatt, genuinely, you are one of the most kind hearted individuals I've had the pleasure of meeting-” Schlatt scoffs, “You have a rough exterior, yes, but I’ve seen how she melts your icy shell. I wouldn’t allow you anywhere near Y/N if I didn't think you deserved her, man. But I truly do think you are one of the greatest people I get to call a friend. So please, skip the angst, and get on a plane.”
As he hung up he turned your stream back on. Your presence was much duller than your normal effervescent self. He studied at the screen while you absentmindedly answered the chat.
“Ok, well I have another cover I’ve been working on so,” you sit up with your guitar a little better and begin to play “High and Dry” by Radiohead. Through his drunken haze, Schlatt sat and listened to you sing as if you were speaking directly to him.
“Fuck it.” Schlatt opened his phone and booked a flight.
———
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windmaedchen-oceanhorn · 3 days ago
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Merlinverse Wheel Interactions - Collection Post
I was bored, so I spun the wheel a couple of times. I actually only ignored results I already had, but removed options later on to get more variation. I haven't consulted anyone and just went from vague memory, so lemme know how badly I am off the mark. xDDD
Lavinia attempts to play matchmaker for Zelda
Magister Zelda by @fgfirenation
I believe we had this scenario before, where Zelda is playing matchmaker for Lavinia, when she learned that Zelda actually has en ever so small thing for a certain rabbit. 
But truth is... I think Lavi is a rather bad matchmaker. At least in terms of taking action to get them together. She is much rather having long talks with Zelda about when and how and possibilities of outcomes, never failing to encourage Zelda to do whatever is needed. Although, she might also be one to STOP the magister from doing something entirely headless. Since Lavinia's bound to Holistone in service, she'd not often have the chance to actually meet and talk to Lorsan. But since Lorsan is traveling, he might actually drop by and then when he does, Lavi is definitely observing VERY HARD and trying to see what he thinks about Zelda.
So yeah, rather than orchestrating things, she's gotta do the observing and spying and information forwarding. xD
Lavinia learns a new skill from Zelda
Uhm, so the standard answer is, of course, that any Merlin will one way or other, show Lavi how to deal with the left-over Hypogean magic within her. So the definite "feeling" of magic in and around herself, the certain things one can do to ease stress related to that, actual little spells and so on.
On another note, Zelda is such a powerhouse and crazy creature... that I feel like it would be so silly and cool if Lavi learned something as beautiful, delicate and soothing as sand mandala creation. Or like making small pottery creatures. Or making jewellery? xD Anything that's a little unexpected and shows Zelda's warm and caring side. Maybe it's crocheting? Felting? Well, origami, at the least! 
Lavinia playfully argues/banters with Sena.
Magister Sena by @bunnybird-afk
I am not sure what this means, to be honest. It sounds more like teasing to me... and in that case, I gotta move forward in time a little bit. Lavinia and Sena are comfortable with each others presence now, not least due to Valen, and there may have been little squibs from one to the other before. But for more lengthy banters, I think Lavinia's firstborn is the perfect reason. xD
Shall the kid have this or that to wear? Can it have tea and why couldn't it be wrapped up in a sock rather than a blanket? Can it be levitated around the Mystical House and climb up the towers made of books? Bedtime is when again and what bedtime story to read? And so on and so forth. <3
Lavinia teaches a new skill to DK
Magister DK by @gloriousrebirth
Ah, oh no, I don't think Lavi can teach ANY Merlin a new skill. xD At least certainly not in terms of magic. And what other skill might she be able to show to DK? Probably something incredibly boring... like a useful knot for tying things up. Maybe that knot turned out essential later on when DK needed it on Sinbad. xD Or maybe DK likes the nuts Lavi sometimes brings to the Mystical House not knowing that they have simply been soaked in water over night. Or maybe the same memory trick Lavi taught Molpe, given Merlin has an issue with forgetting things. xD
Lavinia compares opinions about .... with Celestino
Magister Celestino by @meepinmeat
Well, naturally the first thing that comes to mind is Valen. And that's not gonna be all too exciting, since they have the SAME opinion about him. xD BUT, given the difference in universe, they would probably be quite interested in the subtle differences of the Valens.
Alternatively, if it's CelVerse Lavi, then she'd be just friends with Valen and the three of them have, given her experience etc, a VERY in-depth discussion about the Heroic Order! And subsequently the Celestials and their role against the Hypogeans and whether they might not also be required to help "Esperian" problems.
Lavinia fights/spars with Celestino
Since Celestino is a Merlin, whether Lavi is from CelVerse or her own, the fighting is training in regards to her Hypogean powers. Not that Celestino would have to really break a sweat, though, it's all basic routine stuff. And yet, sometimes, he might make it extra tough for Lavi, not only forcing her to use her magic but also still the sword to win. And I don't see a reason why he wouldn't be able to drag Dionel into the ring, too. "Must I really, son?" and "Yes, really, or do you want to risk her ending up corrupted and on the other end of your spear for real?"
Lavinia attempts to play matchmaker for Rose
Magister Rose by @afkhowstrange
Not. xD Ahahaha, while they probably have a good relationship and can easily sit together with tea and cookies after training sessions etc, Lavinia is still too impressed and careful in what she does around Rose. Playing matchmaker? I don't think she'd allow herself to. That doesn't mean she'd not be interested and observing from the sidelines, to witness any developments. And if Rose ever confided in Lavinia, she's happily try to help in word or action (although she'd always feel silly for "setting anything up").
Lavinia offers to dance with Rose
Oh boy, you know what? Maybe THAT would be something Lavinia isn't embarrassed to do for Rose in terms of matchmaking. I don't actually know who Rose might have a crush on, but this dance would definitely be the perfect excuse to then go and ask her crush, too! Whether a confession follows, I don't know... but at least Lavi's done something for Rose to have a good time. <3
Lavinia meets the child version of Molpe
Magister Molpe by @mcnana
Aww, that would be so adorable! I don't think there would be anything special about the situation, but Lavinia has a way to pay actual attention to children and thus be perceived as a "nice lady" by them. Or on some cases, a lady to be reckoned with, not unlike Valen. Either way, Molpe probably lost her way or something, and Lavinia takes responsibility as a knight and delivers her back home. Getting her treats along the way, of course, and talking about her favourite games to play. xD
Lavinia offers to dance with Violyste
Magister Violyste by @magister-violyste
Hmmmm, this could be somewhere on the job, of course, a professional matter, if you will. But maybe it would be more something in relation with Hogan. xD Maybe there is no such thing as marriage for them, but let's assume there would be something akin to it, a special celebration, an anniversary, you name it... and since Lavinia is just part of Hogan's family and work, she might be asked to help with that. And then, to help Vi prepare, am sure Lavi would help her remember dances again. After all, Vi can't possible say no to Hogan when he asks, and you bet, he WILL ask. <3
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must-be-mythtaken · 2 years ago
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am I crying about my leftover fries that someone in the house ate because I really wanted to eat them? am I crying about my dad's concussion because I didn't get to eat my fries? am I crying about both because my hormones make me insane for (at minimum) one third of the month? is it a secret other thing? there's no way to know, and no way to get those fries back.
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sysig · 11 months ago
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How much of me is me? (Patreon)
#Doodles#UT#Handplates#Sans#Papyrus#Another one that I cried to while drawing hehe ♪ Hhhhh I love their dynamic so much <3 <3 ;;#Sans' apparent disinterest in hurting Gaster is deeply interesting to me - we see him punch Gaster in Mercyplates even! :0#I can't help but feel that a good portion of it is Papyrus being there with him when Gaster gives them his arm haha#Would he have been as well-behaved if he'd been by himself? I wonder :)#But generally I read it as him having grown up <3 They've both matured so beautifully by that point it's just ah- such a treat to read#Their transition from their childhood to their teens and young adulthood into themselves is just jdlksafhdsfd it's incredibly well written!#I say ''I wonder'' quite a lot lol but that's just speculation - watching them grow into themselves is So Incredibly satisfying <3#It feels so natural to watch them become themselves ♥ It's beautiful ♪♫#And their sibling dynamic is truly unrivaled <3 They support each other! Lift each other up! Where one stumbles the other catches him!#I love them so much ahh#Papyrus' emotional intelligence gets me so bad <3 The sweetest lad#I feel like it would bother Sans that he/they have Gaster's memories and not their own#It makes me especially sad to think about everything he missed of them - if only you hadn't fallen behind on the footage Gaster! >:0#They already have some pretty incredible identity issues just throw being pieces of him in every sense into the mix#They're grown from him and even when they got away and built themselves that still got subplanted with memories that aren't even theirs!#It's a rough spot#Papyrus though ♥ Always knows what to say hehe#Reaffirming that Sans is the most important person to him - that they are to each other - that no matter what they're brothers#And that no matter what - even having Gaster's memories or being without memories at all - that Sans is a good person#That it's not out of self-preservation or trying to do it for Papyrus' sake (even if that is a lot of it haha)#That /Sans/ is the one making that decision of his own volition and his own morals and beliefs#And that he loves and supports him no matter what <3#''I know you can be a good person. You can choose to do the right thing'' and ''I see you being a good person. You're doing the right thing'#Hhhh <3 I love them <3
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withthewindinherfootsteps · 3 months ago
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Wei Wuxian and Narrative Agency – Part Three
For Xiantober Day Five: Past and Present, in which the author gets very unhinged about what parts of the past are shown and how that’s affected by the present!
(Part One | Part Two | Full version on AO3)
The Power of Agency: Shaping the Narrative
When I've discussed Wei Wuxian's agency previously, I’ve talked about how what’s shown and omitted tells us about a character, and we’ve talked about the character himself. Though this is a niche topic, it’s not necessarily something out of the ordinary to analyse, and we can assume everything up to here has been in some way intentional.
This? Linking structure to a character’s in-universe preferences?
This is where we get unhinged.
Before I start, let’s quickly establish something which will be important later: although Wei Wuxian is the central character, MDZS isn’t strictly from his POV. While omitting events a character doesn’t like to dwell on and concealing things the character wishes to hide is common in books with only one narrator, MDZS has multiple narrators which it switches between relatively quickly. This includes Wei Wuxian, but it also includes nearly every major character that appears in the story, and omniscient narrator as well. As a default, this format doesn’t lead to this deliberate shaping and omission because of one character’s preferences, since we have many other sources of information and events – which is what makes Wei Wuxian’s influence over the narrative and structure so interesting. We could have access to a lot more information, and access to it at different times, than we do (and that’s not an insult, quite the opposite!).
To begin: we’ve established that times such as Wei Wuxian’s time on the streets, his three months in the Burial Mounds and his loss in the Siege aren’t shown because Wei Wuxian has little agency there. But that’s not the only special thing about them. They’re also the three most traumatic times in his life, and so moments Wei Wuxian himself either can’t remember, or doesn’t like to dwell on.
This is why discussing Wei Wuxian’s treatment of tragedy in his life was important. Firstly, it shows he doesn’t focus on the tragedy in his life, so the idea that the narrative not focusing on this tragedy relates to his character has merit; secondly, it affirms that this is not a passive trait, but a choice. Therefore, when the narrative omits events due to this aspect of Wei Wuxian, it’s respecting not only a character detail – which would be cool by itself – but also an active decision. One that shapes the story it’s made in.
In other words, its very structure is respecting Wei Wuxian’s agency!
Now, of course there are flashbacks to other moments of his past he probably wouldn’t like to dwell on, too. But within the structure, they’re only shown when Wei Wuxian is thinking about them (or when he has reason to)!
Wei WuXian hadn’t woken up yet. His eyes were still tightly shut, yet his hand didn’t let go either. He seemed to be dreaming, muttering, “… Don’t… Don’t be angry…” Lan WangJi seemed somewhat surprised. His voice was gentle, “I am not angry.” Wei WuXian, “… Oh.” Hearing this, as though he finally felt assured, his fingers loosened. Lan WangJi sat beside Wei WuXian for a while. Seeing that he was motionless again, he was about to stand up when Wei WuXian grabbed him with his other hand, hugging his arm and refusing to let go. He shouted, “I’ll go with you, quick, take me back to your sect!” Chapter 63, EXR translation
Which, of course, is him dwelling on…
Lan WangJi spoke one word at a time, “Go back to Gusu with me.” Hearing this, both Wei WuXian and Jiang Cheng were surprised. Quickly afterward, Wei WuXian laughed, “Go back to Gusu with you? To the Cloud Recesses? Why go there?” He immediately seemed to realize, “Oh. I forgot. Your uncle Lan QiRen hates crooked people like me. You’re his proudest disciple, so of course you’re the same as him, haha. I refuse.” Chapter 62, EXR translation
…the painful flashback immediately preceding this. The third set of flashbacks (which are also painful) are a similar case. Look at the contex:
He lifted the bottom of his robe, revealing a prosthetic leg made of wood, “This leg of mine was destroyed by you, that night in the Nightless City (…)” (…) “Wei WuXian, I won’t ask you if you remember or not. Both of my parents died by your hands. You owe too many people. You definitely won’t remember them either. But, I, Fang MengChen, will never forget! And never forgive you!” (…) “In the fight at Qiongqi Path, my son was strangled to death by your dog Wen Ning!” “My shixiong died by poison, his entire body festering due to your cruel curse!” Chapter 68 (immediately preceding the flashbacks), EXR translation
And Wei Wuxian’s own thoughts and words:
Wei WuXian looked at the cultivators before the Demon-Slaughtering Cave. Their expressions were the absolute same as those of the cultivators from the night of the pledge conference, pouring their wine on the ground as they took the pledge to scatter the ashes of the Wen Sect’s remnants and him.  (…) Wei WuXian, “Now it’s time to ask just whom it is that treasures it so much. It’s like Wen Ning. Back then, some certain sects or so were scared to death of the Ghost General. They said they’d kill him on the surface, but behind their backs they hid him for over ten years. How strange. Who was the one that said his ashes had been scattered back then?” Chapter 79 (immediately succeeding the flashbacks), EXR translation 
Once again, Wei Wuxian’s own thoughts relate to the flashbacks we’ve just been shown. And, as I previously mentioned, though all the events which are shown are tragic, they’re also events which Wei Wuxian’s own choices and actions shaped – which he has this to say about:
“The things I did, not only do you remember them, I remember them too. You won’t forget them, and they’ll stay even longer in my mind!” Chapter 82, EXR
Admittedly, this applies more to the third set of flashbacks than the second (which is still fitting as the third set was the most recent), as in the second, although he still had agency within and influence over his circumstances, the majority of the pain was caused by others’ actions (excluding, of course, the Golden Core transfer… which is something we know stays for a long time in his mind, albeit with a caveat we’ll soon discuss). But it’s still important to note – especially considering that otherwise, focusing on this very painful time in his life wouldn’t seem like something very in-character for Wei Wuxian to do.
Of course, this can all just be explained by good writing. It is best to insert flashbacks when they’re relevant to the characters and events in the present day! But it is interesting to compare these to the start of the (not painful) Gusu flashbacks, which open this way:
At a later time, Wei WuXian pondered upon the reason why his relationship with Lan WangJi wasn’t good. Getting to the root of the matter, everything started when he was fifteen, coming to the GusuLan Sect with Jiang Cheng to study for three months. Chapter 13, EXR
Again, considering the circumstances around which these flashbacks take place – returning to the Cloud Recesses for the first time since the lectures, and meeting Lan Wangji once more – it makes complete sense for Wei Wuxian to be thinking about these events*. So it does fit the pattern of Wei Wuxian dwelling on something, thus leading to the narrative dwelling on it, too (and being shaped by his thoughts)… but there’s another layer to this. Importantly, it is the only flashback where Wei Wuxian’s present thoughts don’t lead to this happening, with his thoughts at an unspecified future time leading to it, instead. I like to interpret this as the text saying that, since these events aren’t something Wei Wuxian wouldn’t focus on in normal circumstances, he can dwell on them at any time. Therefore, they’re free to come up in the narrative at any time as well, even if he’s not dwelling on them in the present moment!
So, to summarise: Wei Wuxian’s decision not to focus on the painful times in his life directly influences the narrative to not focus on these times. When painful times are brought up and shown to us, it’s in the context of him thinking about them in the present day, and even then, his most painful moments still aren’t shown to us. His agency in this regard is still respected by the narrative structure.
This is the main way his agency influences the structure of the narrative, but I’d like to talk about the revealing and concealing of information, too. For example, I said I’d talk about the Golden Core transfer – though Wei Wuxian does think about this many times, as evidenced by his internal narration in Chapter 103. But unlike everything we’re shown through the flashbacks, this is something Wei Wuxian is actively trying to hide from others. And the narrative respects this choice (Wei Wuxian’s agency, again), never reveals it even when it would be relevant in the flashbacks, and we find out not through narration, but through a character’s dialogue!
And to clarify – I know these aspects may not be in the book for this exact reason. Showing flashbacks in relevant moments is good writing, concealing an important plot point you want to do a reveal for is necessary writing, and MXTX has said she didn’t want to write about Wei Wuxian’s time in the Burial Mounds, due to not liking to write transformation sequences (and also because it would not be pleasant at all, which likely also applies to Wei Wuxian’s death). That doesn’t prevent it from also being intentional – MXTX’s intelligence is shown in many aspects of this book, and there’s nothing disproving it – but there’s no proof for either option, so I won’t pretend there is. I bring this up because I know this feels like I’m overanalysing, as I feel that way as well.
But, whether it’s intentional or not, it exists in the text, and I adore it – so, regardless, it’s something I’ll explore. Because taking this into account… We aren't just told about Wei Wuxian having agency, we aren’t just shown it in the text, we aren’t even just shown it through which parts of his past are shown and hidden in the structure of the text (as I talked about in Part One). The parts of the past that are shown and hidden also have an in-universe reason for being shown and hidden, this reason being the choices he makes! Agency is the ability of a character to influence the story they’re in, but Wei Wuxian’s agency, as a property of a character who only exists in-universe, shapes the out-of-universe structure as well! That’s how we’re shown its importance! How cool is that?
At The End Of The Road: Summary and Final Thoughts
In this essay, we’ve covered how important Wei Wuxian’s agency is not only to the events of the plot, but to the structure of the narrative as well. The narrative omits periods in which Wei Wuxian has little or no agency, in favour of showing us periods in which he does, even when important events happened in the former. This indicates that who Wei Wuxian is without agency isn’t important enough to be shown to the audience, and therefore that his agency is an integral aspect of his character in MDZS. We’ve discussed how both in-universe and out-of-universe, tragedy does not define him – out-of-universe, the tragic events in Wei Wuxian’s life are used not to build sympathy but rather to show his strength of character and who he still is despite going through them; and in-universe, he chooses not to focus on the negativity and resentment caused by his circumstances or others’ actions, instead staying true to his moral compass and enjoying his life in the present day. Finally, we’ve also explored how this choice is another reason for the omission of certain events from the narrative, resulting in his agency shaping the story in a very literal way – it affects the out-of-universe structure, as well.
It’s quite fitting, for a story whose essence is about defying a conventional narrative – that of righteous clans rising up and defeating a great evil – and about a character who defies many conventional narratives on his own – that of status defining how skilled you could be, that for a golden core being necessary for cultivation and other paths being unavailable, that of a tragic but complete story of someone killed for staying true to their moral code (instead, that character returns to life and has a happy ending) – to have its own narrative play a role in such an important and interesting way.
(Or, if an image would be preferable:)
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Thank you for reading!
(Part One | Part Two | Full version on AO3)
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*This strong relation to the present day circumstances is another reason I love the flashback placement so much (and why I think it’s such a loss both screen adaptions altered it so strongly)! 
#get ready for tag thoughts because there are a LOT of them#it’s for THIS reason that fanon wwx bothers me so much (didn’t want to get negative on the acual post)#bc so often all the changes are changes that woobify him!#self-sacrificial idiot wwx?? only doing things because… poor him he has so many internal issues and values himself so little-#-so of course he’d sacrifice everything before thinking of another option? woobifying#(whenever he sacrifices something it’s a deliberate choice to act on his morals because he values his morals so much – and he’s also very-#-capable and DOES often find ways for no people to get hurt!)#wasn’t aware that what happened to him at lotus pier was wrong and needs lwj to tell him that for him to have any idea if it?#woobifying (as we see in the lotus seed pod extra he KNOWS it’s unfair)#(he downplays it retroactively in his memory (links into not focusing on the bad things in his life))#(but that’s the actions themselves that are being downplayed not their fairness!)#he chooses to act! he is defined by acting! not tragedy – all the more impressive in the face of the amount of tragedy that’s happened#he could SO EASILY have been a woobie but instead he’s the opposite of one: defined BY his agency instead of the absence of it#that doesn’t mean he’s not impacted by tragedy or trauma – he is! but it’s not the most important aspect of his character (bc he doesn’t le#it’s also something that bothers me about the changes cql made#by making qq path and nightless city the fault of someone else it means he IS someone who’s more a victim of circumstance than anything els#he had no control over the tragedies of his first life at all#apart from ig his death being controlled by him? because he just leaps off the cliff during the nightless city siege?? but in THAT case it’#i watched that part recently (i’m getting through it very slowly) and yeah it reaffirmed my love for this aspect of the book even more#despite. having these exact thoughts for two years already#he also dwells on the past events a lot more than book wwx which adds to that version of him BEING defined more by tragedy rather than who#anyway over 7.3k words total (and 400 more in the tags apparently)... it'll be posted to ao3 in its completion this evening!#mdzs meta#my meta#wei wuxian#mdzs#mo dao zu shi#魔道祖师#grandmaster of demonic cultivation#gdc
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commsroom · 2 years ago
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eiffel returning to earth and encountering people and places and things that he's known so closely for years - that some part of him might even instinctively feel he should recognize - but without the ability to consciously remember them vs. lovelace returning to earth and seeing all those familiar things and knowing them, and knowing how they've changed in her absence, but being unable to shake the part of her that keeps telling her she's seeing them for the first time. how both of these could be used as an exploration of trauma, and returning to a place (that hasn't changed at all; that's changed too much) that you no longer fit into; that rubs up against the changed shape of your life in raw and uncomfortable places.
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daydreamerdrew · 7 months ago
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Marvel Comics Presents (1988) #82
#at first I didn’t realize that those were Logan’s actual thoughts in that moment#‘I… know this man. In a memory. A dream. A dream of… dying.’#I thought that it was narration from him remembering these events in the future#so Logan speaking in the next issue came as a surprise to me#because this was the only indication that he was conscious and not completely mind-controlled#it’s a similar effect to how I was initially confused by the opening prologue#where I thought those words would have been from#which depicts Logan after his Weapon X experience being haunted by something he doesn’t fully remember/understand#and which the reader hasn’t learned about yet#phrased as that he feels he has to ‘get away… from… what’s coming’ whatever it is#in that prologue Logan talks about his ‘dreams of death’#I realize I’ve been expecting a sudden experience after this that will wipe Logan’s mind#but really his memory issues were caused by the adamantium fusing he’s already gone through#he’s already confused about his ‘dreams of death’ which are the torture and experimentation they’ve been putting him through#which he’s been going in and out of awareness of#he remembers nothing from before the fusing#and later he’s going to repress his memories of Weapon X- leaving him with nothing#also noting that in that prologue some of the imagery haunting Logan was blood splattered on glass#which rain hitting the window reminded him of#which I thought would be from the memory of his own blood on a glass tube he was kept in#but it looks here like it was actually the imagery of that scientist’s blood on his glasses that stuck with Logan#marvel#logan howlett#my posts#comic panels
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bunnyinatree · 5 months ago
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I feel awful. My dad and I got into a screaming match over my dad's casual transphobia on my mom's birthday 😔 She didn't deserve that... And I don't deserve my dad saying, "Well, now you're hurting MY feelings" every time I try to explain to him why something he said/did is hurtful towards trans people.
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snowstories · 10 months ago
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[Timmy Turner voice] I wish every Links Meet AU that uses Marin as a phantom to haunt and traumatize Link goes to hell no matter what
#No I am not vaguing any specific links meet au bc ive already seen four different ones that do this#Fun Fact! You can give ALTTP!Link different character conflict!#That doesn't butcher the themes and ending of one of the games!#And reduce a female character and arguably LOZ's first complex character to a flat source for man angst#Marin would murder Link if she found out he was remembering her and Koholint in trauma and tragedy#Rather than treasuring its memory and celebrating its existence#GENUINELY framing Link as wildly traumatized by the events of Link's Awakening the way so many ppl do#Completely destroys all thematic coherence in the game's ending and makes it wildly unsatisfying#Yes Koholint disappearing was sad. No Link did not kill an island no it would not haunt him like a ghost#It's a treasured memory and a net positive experience! I have OPINIONS on this and I'm CORRECT#And I'm calling out Links Meet AUs specifically bc those are the biggest offenders#Of stripping everyone else of depth and focus for the sake of white boy Link#If ur lucky then Zelda still has character depth but everyone else* is shit out of luck basically#*Exceptions apply ofc#Lots of stuff that's not links meet aus also interprets Marin in ways I don't personally like#I am picky#Some of which I'd argue are just. Bad.#But at least they often make an effort with her character#Links Meet AUs are the Link Only Show tho and I'm ANNOYED bc I WANT TO LIKE THEM#I AM A SUCKER FOR MULTIVERSE SHIT. U DON'T KNOW HOW MUCH THIS PAINS ME#Anyway. L + ratio + you did not consider the thematic implications of ur fanproject and it annoys me :(#My posts#Loz#Link's awakening#update when i first made this post i was genuinely not intending to single out any specific links meet aus#however i have since crunched the numbers and two thirds of the marin tag on ao3 is linked universe#and i would like to make it clear. i have no real issue with the actual comic or its portrayal of marin#mostly bc marin has not actually appeared or been addressed in the actual comic at all#however i do hope the linked universe FANDOM goes to hell no matter what
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mariana-oconnor · 2 years ago
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22 years later and I'm suddenly realising that up until this point Gandalf didn't know where Sam was and had either forgotten he existed, or thought he was dead or had run away and didn't bother mentioning it.
I don't know what to do with that thought.
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Sauron and Saruman are tightening the noose. But for all their cunning we have one advantage. The ring remains hidden. And that we should seek to destroy it has not yet entered their darkest dreams.
LORD OF THE RINGS: THE TWO TOWERS (2002) dir. Peter Jackson
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gallusrostromegalus · 1 year ago
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The Van Has Officially Declared It Spooky Season
---
I've got my parent's van for the week and it seems determined to establish my status as The Local Cryptid by terrorizing an innocent 7-11 clerk.
...I might need to back up a bit.
My mother is an eminently sensible woman who knows herself well, and when The Plauge hit, she knew she'd need some sort of mentally and physically engaging craft project to keep herself from going insane and massacring the local zoning and water management boards (even if they have it coming). So she and Dad acquired a utility van and converted it into a camper van because while they love camping, they're past the age where their joints and immune systems will tolerate sleeping on the cold ground in a nylon tent.
They did a terrific job of it and my mom taught herself woodworking and carpentry and now the van has it's own cabinets, fold-away dining table, and removable queen-sized bed with memory foam mattress. My Dad was already a computer engineer, but he learned the dark magics of automotive software and electronics to install after-market backup cameras, a media player that would take a terabyte hard drive and a solar-powered battery and outlet so they could wake up and just turn on the kettle and griddle for breakfast without having to exit the van into a cold morning on an empty stomach.
Truly, the height of Camping Luxury.
My parents are both in their mid-seventies and my primary life goal is to be at least half as cool and hale as they are when I get old.
Anyway, they take it out at least a dozen times a year and it works fabulously, but, being as I am on good terms with my parents and also finishing the process of moving house, I've been borrowing it to move large and cumbersome objects that will not fit in the back of my equally lovely but minuscule Honda hatchback.
It's a Great Van. Very easy and comfortable to drive. Stunningly good MPG for it's size. The best cruise control I've ever had in a car.
It's just also. Quirky. Mischievous, even.
---
If this van has a fault its that it bears the unfortunate affliction that all lightly used white utility vans have in that the combination of an utter lack of branding features and the large dent/scrape I accidentally put on it while trying to escape a Denny's last Thanksgiving means that this vehicle is one addition of a Badly Spray-Painted "FREE CANDY" on the side away from being the sort of vehicle you see in an edgy horror movie.
It's got the same issue that Doberman Dogs have where they look like the sort of creature that likes to snack on toddler's faces whilst actually having personalities made of marshmallow fluff. This vehicle is unnecessarily menacing and I think nothing short of an airbrushed Epic Van Wizard will correct this. People see this van pull up and lean over and squint suspiciously at me when the driver's side door opens, and then look moderately confused when, instead of Charles Manson, a small, potato-shaped creature with neon purple hair and a statistically unlikely assortment of dogs emerges.
My own two dogs, Herschel the Hanukkah Goblin/Corgi and Charleston Chew The Taco Dumpster Dog, Do Not Like The Van. Even with the bed in it, they have a tendency to slide and roll around in the back, and both WILL chew through dog saftey belts or other attempts to secure them in there.
On the other hand, my house mate's dog, an exceptionally tall standard poodle whom we lovingly call "The Creature", loves the Van because SHE wears her doggy seat-belt with only mild complaining and gets to sit up in the passenger seat like A People.
Also like A People, The Creature likes to stand and walk around on her hind legs. It doesn't hurt her and it's entirely voluntary, but every so often I will feel a hand on my arm and instead of my husband or friend, it's a canine that's taller than I am on her hind legs who wants to stare at my face with soulful, concerned eyes. The Creature's favorite thing is that she is exactly the right height for me to hold her arm in Genteel Fashion and walk around the pet food or hardware store with her like I'm a count escorting a debutante around a royal ball.
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As it stands, I am set to inherit this vehicle whenever my Honda gives up the ghost, and I fully intend to paint an Epic Van Wizard on it when that time comes.
The other peculiarity of The Van is that while Dad did manage to successfully install all his after-market electronics, not all the electronics get along. Sometimes, they fight for Dominance. The Terabyte Music Player and the Backup Camera have a particularly contentious relationship, and turning on the music has about a 25% chance of turning on the backup camera as well, and turning on the Backup Camera is equally likely to turn on the music.
Firthermore, The Van has a favorite song.
I am not kidding that Dad filled an entire terabyte hard drive with music and the software to sort it via the radio controls, but of all the Early Boomer Dad Rock (Kingston Trio over The Eagles) and Irish Folk and Symphonies and the entire discography of Weird Al Yankovic, The Van's favorite song- The one it picks to play as victory music every time it beats the Backup Camera at their weird electronic game of rock-paper-scissors -is The Liberty Bell March by John Phillip Sousa.
You all know this song already.
...but in case you've forgotten the tune:
youtube
Yeah.
The Van's favorite song is the goddamn Monty Python's Flying Circus Theme Music.
It does not play this song at a normal volume.
Every time I turn on the Backup Camera and it manages to turn the music player on as well, The Van insists on absolutely blasting this nonsense on at the maximum volume it's physically capable of producing, which I know is loud enough to be heard from the Denver International Airport's Pickup zone when they Van decided to start playing it from the economy lot about half a mile away.
Perhaps it's The Van's way of honoring the aesthetic sensibilities and sonic enthusiasm of Mr. Sousa.
...I can't help but wonder if the purpose of an Epic Van Wizard is to control this sort of faerie-like malarkey, and channel these chaotic energies into things like Spell of Don't Break Down In Nevada or Enchantment Of Always Have Good Parking.
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So last Friday the 13th, I get a call from my friend and housemate, at said airport.
It's roughly 11PM at night, and I have already retired for the evening. I am in the exact minimum of clothing required to be a decent housemate and not scandalize the neighbors should I happen to walk by a window. My feet are up. There is a cat in my lap and fictional British people murdering each other in highly inventive fashion on the tv. -But my friend has returned from her friend's wedding,and either American or United Airlines has managed to lose her luggage, including, among other valuable possessions, the keys to her car. ...So she cannot just drive home as originally planned.
There are, as luck would have it, her spare set of keys not eight feet from me.
Being a good and decent person, I agree to bring the spare keys to her so she may get home before daybreak and not spend a semester's worth of tuition on an uber across the greater Denver traffic jam.
Being also that she Loves Activities, and it's her mom we're going to pick up, I elect to take along The Creature.
I am primarily focused on remembering how to get to the airport and not leaving my friend's spare keys on the counter, so I throw on a pair of flip-flops, step outside, remember that it's AUTUMN and my minimal evening attire is not sufficient thermal protection, step back in, grab the first coat in the closet I lay hands on, pull it on, check that I have her keys again and leave.
The trip to the airport is largely unremarkable, save that it becomes necessary for me to put on sunglasses to drive, despite it being nearly the witching hour and almost entirely darker than the inside of a cow.
It's necessary because this blissful darkness of night is violently punctured by a startling number of cars that seem to have installed miniaturized but no less powerful lighthouse bulbs in where their headlights ought to go so the oncoming traffic and sports cars that insist on tailgating me in the slow lane alike illuminate the road and my mirrors with the kind of radiance I'd normally associate with the arrival of a Seraphim.
I arrive at the distant highly discounted airport car lot where my housemate is waiting, deeply apologetic. It's nothing. I say. Once I see that your car starts up, I'm gonna go to that 7-11 across the way that I parked in front of, get a slurpee or something and I'll see you at home.
While she is retrieving her vehicle (an equally eccentric but much more stately Subaru that is old enough to be elected to congress) I rifle through the loose change in the glove box and discover that I have exactly $6.66 in small bills and coins. The Subaru, continuing it's long voyage into vehicular immortality, immediately starts up.
Upon her return, we all remember that my friend had all her camping gear in the backseat of the car and there is no room for The Creature to ride home with her parent, so I again assure her it's nothing, and will just take The Creature into the 7-11 with me. She is trained as a service animal and needs the practice after the plague.
I wave my friend off and turn to enter the 7-11.
I promptly trip over the jutting back bumper of The Van and fall, cartoonishly, face-first onto the sidewalk.
Fortunately, I have a lot of practice falling on my face, and have learned not to throw my hands out but instead cover my face, so my unexpected self-inflicted attempted curb-stomping lightly scrapes my hairline and nothing else -my sunglasses even stay in place- and I get up and resume my quest for a slurpee.
It's well known that the airport is a lawless place, and the 7-11 across from the discounted airport parking at the stroke of midnight is no exception.
I know it's the stroke of Midnight because there's one of those Audubon society bird-call clocks that makes bird noises, and my arrival is heralded by the twittering call of a Summer Tanager. I am almost charmed enough by the unusual choice of chronological device to excuse the exorbitant Airport-adjacent mark-up of Slurpee prices. I stand at the machine for some time, trying to decide on a size for the price and guess what the fuck "Blue Lighting Blast" is supposed to taste like.
The Creature is being Very Polite but is somewhat agitated, I assume because she *just* saw her mother for the first time in three days and then she LEFT with no explanation, so The Creature is on her hind legs, staring woefully into my eyes, asking to be escorted around the 7-11. Even though that's not what she's not supposed to be doing, there's nobody else in here, so I let her hang off my arm and discuss various Slurpee Flavor options with her.
We eventually decide on an experiment in which I try a Small Blue Lightning Blast, and discover it tastes a bit like licking a nintendo cartridge but in a pleasantly satisfying way.
I go up to pay and realize something is amiss.
The Cashier is a young man staring at me with wide eyes, one had over the register and the other wrapped up in his rosary.
I look down at myself.
In my haste to reunite my friend with her spare keys and service animal, I had left the house in the following accoutrements:
Flip Flops. Not matching. It's below freezing outside. That last part is not particularly odd footwear for the weather in for Colorado, but it's an important detail for the rest of the ensemble.
Assorted scrapes, bruises, cuts and welts on my arms and legs that come with doing outdoor work and living in a house with three dogs and a fully-clawed cat that all want to be in my lap all the time. It's cold out, so vasoconstriction has pulled the blood away from my skin, a trait that served my ancestors well during the last Ice Age, but leaves me with pale skin to contrast the various wounds and I look like a corpse that fell out of the back of a pickup truck.
The black Bootyshorts with "CRYPTID" painted in bright red gothic font across my ass, that @theshitpostcalligrapher gave me for my wedding present.
A peculiar but extremely comfortable garment that straddles the line between "Lacy Camisole" and "Industrial-Strength Sports Bra" like the Ever Given straddling the Suez Canal. It is also Bright Red. with black accents.
The Jacket I had grabbed out of the closet, which is in fact, a black Velour Dinner Jacket.
The Tokyo-Ghoul inspired reusable anti-covid mask a friend made me with the set of Coyote Teeth.
My sunglasses, which are shaped like a Halloween Bat. The lenses are the wings and the body is the nose bridge. It is ALSO bright red.
A Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle that I have been audibly affectionately calling "Dear Creature" who is hanging off my arm like she's my Prom Date.
The Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle is ALSO dressed up in a black Dog Sweater that has white bones printed on it to look like its an X-ray jacket showing off her skeleton.
I look like I am taking my Very Fancy Werewolf Girlfriend to a particularly casual Dinner Party for Vampires, but the thing that's really selling it and probably alarming the kid the most is the fun accessory I acquired in the parking lot not five minutes earlier:
The "Small Scrape At my Hairline" is actually a painless but PROFUSELY bleeding head wound that I had somehow entirely failed to notice covering my face, neck, decolletage and magnificent cleavage with blood like a Tarantino Film Extra.
This does explain why The Creature has been delicately trying to use her bodyweight to push me down onto the floor for the last ten minutes. So I don't injure myself while we wait for the paramedics she hoped this kid called to arrive, you see.
The Creature has such a High and Naive Opinion of humanity.
I decide this social situation is already fucked, and the only way out is through, and with haste, before I start dripping on the floor.
"Hi there!" I say cheerfully, to indicate this is a visually alarming but not terribly serious situation. "Just a Small Slurpee!"
The Cashier has entered the relevant code into the register before I finish the sentence. His gaze flicks off me just long enough to look at the total, and he grips his Rosary harder.
$6.66
"Oh cool! I have exact change!" I say, taking the money out of my as-yet-unsanguined pocket without looking and slap it down on the counter. "You have a good night and be safe out there!" I wave, leaving.
I get in The Van, mortified, buckle The Creature up, and as I make to leave, I have to put it in reverse, which automatically turns on the backup Camera.
It also turns on the music player.
I make eye contact with the cashier as the dulcet tones of John Phillip Sousa boom from the van hard enough to make the windshield and the windows of the 7-11 rattle for the nine-and-a-half seconds I have to wait to be able to turn the volume back down. Not knowing what else to to, I give him a thumbs up, and leave.
Anyway, now I know what my Future Van Wizard has got to be dressed like, and what their familiar is.
---
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acid-ixx · 20 days ago
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ch.5 pt 1: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)
directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five pt 1,
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read until the end for an author's note.
tw: self-esteem issues, typical implications of trauma and emotional neglect, allusions to self-harm.
you had always been a good kid.
you didn't have a consistent a plus, and you most certainly don't always win awards, let alone shower in a streak of gold medals and thick paper announcing your spot as first place. you're not the picture-perfect kid aunties will brag about and compare their other children to. you're not always refined, as a child born into the streets of gotham, bound to be rough around the edges—
but you were good.
and your momma always told you every night, in her hushed whispers and cuddling arms, after her sweet lullabies harmonizing with the hums of your broken fan, that it's alright if you're not the greatest; as long as you're good.
she taught you manners, to always respect everyone around you, your elders, strangers, even children your age, because blessings always come in the form of good faith if you're kind.
you believe her, of course you do, she's the only person you had in your life, the only person you needed. you should've never desired for anything else; what else could you wish for if not her love and presence only?
she's enough for you, and you're enough because she tells you too, with her siren-like eyes softening when she gazes at you with only love encrypted in her eyes, her once seductive smile plastered all over wanted posters now beaming with joy at having you in her arms rather than inauthentic pursuits of attracting men around her.
you always followed through with her words, because you love her and it's no doubt that she loved you more than enough too, too much that she had to continue on with her prostitute lifestyle to provide for your little family, too much that it was the reason why she had to be killed off in the first place.
because of her, you chose to be kind, you chose to lower yourself, to never raise your voice higher than those around you, to be humble, and to never show when you're at your limit, even to others closest to you other than your mother.
you remember so little of her the more you age, you grasp on straws just reminiscing on every moment spent with her.
"a good kid," she says, her voice almost a tantalizing memory threatening to drift away, "won't finish first, but fate will always make sure that they never finish last. so choose to be good, alright, baby?"
"yes, momma," your reply came in curtly, tiny fingers playing with the ends of her hair, without moment's hesitation, or doubt in the meaning of her words.
because her words are god for someone like you, because she is your mother who always knew what's best—
because she is your mother, and you may not like her for who she is as a person, for all the wrongs she did in the past before throwing it all away to raise you; but you love her either way, and follow whichever path she leads you to like a little duckling...
a good kid doesn't finish first, but they'll eventually get what they always wanted, right?
even if they wait for weeks, months, years; fate will find a way...
so why can't you have you have what he have right now?
why, just why, are you always finishing last?
why can't you receive the same attention tim did when he was first introduced?
elegant, poised, a rich boy with millionaire parents who had so much to spend, standing proudly and confidently at the doorstep of the manor, as if he had already belonged the moment he stepped foot into the staircase. thirteen year old, older and taller than you, better than you.
the memory is still clear as day, because it was the same day you had bothered alfred to update you on your offer to hang outside in the gardens with your father, only for the butler to look down at you with the same sympathetic eyes and tired smile, retelling you in his familiar excuse that bruce is busy.
'papa is busy,' the words echo in your brain in a mocking tandem, you wish to bang your head on the kitchen's mahogany doors at another attempt rejected. you wish to rip at your hair like you always do. but you can't, you just can't because alfred is in the same room as you, aged hands patting the delicate strands atop your head. you feel disappointment, you always do, then it's shame; shame because it's always alfred who has to witness your bated breaths and spilling tears at another day wasted alone—!
shame because this always happens, it's like bruce never wanted you in the first place; he probably doesn't even think you exist.
but of course, your young brain reasons, your father's always busy when it comes to you, only you.
his timetable consists of mourning his dead son, handling wayne enterprises and juggling his philanthropist career. when will you ever be worth enough that he places you in the same pedestal as all his other obligations?
and back then, you thought every night he spends missing are nights spent with multiple women— back when you've not known of his identity.
yet the point stands still, his missions do not relate to whatever situation stands before you now.
why?
why is it him to who answers the door to tim, the young boy's piercing blue eyes looking up at your father in a challenging gaze? whilst you stand, restlessly in a corner at the scene that unfolds before you. why is it him, who at first makes bruce hesitate, yet still take in the boy holding the camera, hand on his back to guide him inside, as the boy speaks cryptic words you couldn't fathom as you watch behind arch of the living room?
your blood curdles, heart starts to pound out if its gilded cage, and you feel your body buzzing in pure, unadulterated envy, the sole emotion you feel clawing its way into your vision; you see green, you can't see anything else but the scene before you. shaky breaths, blurry vision, balance barely stable as alfred could only offer a pat on your back and his pitying gaze on you.
no words, not even comfort, the manor seems dark again, everything feels as if it's closing into your body and devouring you whole.
why, why, why?
the questions circulate, the memories resurface all the time at just how easy it was for tim, just how he didn't even need to beg to have your father, yes, your father to keep his eyes on a boy whom he have only spoken once in his lifetime.
tim doesn't need alfred to relay a message, he doesn't even need to hesitate being in the same room as the man who seems always a mile away from you, who could never look down even when your fingers come up to fiddle with the cuffs of his sleeves, just like how you did with your mother's hair, all in the name of getting him to see you.
but you're not tim, you're perfect, you never will be.
it hurts, everything hurts when a stranger, someone like tim had the opportunity to talk to bruce, you never had any—!
even if you're always good, even if you always tried to succeed in your academics, your extracurriculars, your everything, even if you always try...
... the moment timothy jackson drake stepped into the manor, the moment his shining blue eyes, almost twinkling like yours when you've been first introduced, stared analytically at the man you called father, was the moment it piqued his interest; was the moment you knew that being good doesn't equate getting what you always wanted:
the attention of a father who chose to cope with grief in another new robin partner instead.
to be bruce's child first, rather than an afterthought later.
ever since then, ever since tim came into the picture, it was harder to gain bruce's attention. even alfred was divided between you and your seemingly divine... brother who just decided to take your place, who will soon be bruce's third child, erasing your name off of his memory.
being good was not enough, being great didn't even compare— your mother's words seemed easily overshadowed by the gnawing jealousy at just how wonderful your new brother is, at just how similar he is in regards to bruce, but different and also infinitely better than you.
it was the first crack in your fragile, glass heart after it had been wrapped in thousands of bandages from the heartbreak of your mother, it was the first rip at the seams at the already lacerated wounds that emotional neglect has left you.
from the days, weeks, months, you couldn't recall, trying to form some sort of interaction with bruce, dick and now even tim, instead of having alfred be your medium of communication.
from the cold, rainy nights spent with just your thin blankets and fading memories of your mother to soothe you from the nightmares that relishes in your fear.
imagining what it's like having your father speak words of assurances in a dull, almost alien-like tremor (you've never even heard his voice up close before...) comforted you at first, but now it became thousands of hushed whispers wishing you were never born in the first place if it meant your trepidation would end.
and it would've been better, the dread that buzzes restlessly under your skin could've been satiated if tim had even the decency to acknowledge your presence. but just like bruce, god, just like dick who had easily accepted the smart, academically talented boy as his own sibling— you're still amounted to nothing to be even considered worthy.
good, but not enough, not worth the effort of being greeted every morning, not worth the time spending small talks with. even dick, the athlete who once promised to ditch some patrols in bludhaven in passing moment's as an excuse to swat you away, have now opted to bother the newest addition to the family, forgetting that it was you who idolized him the most—
even if it was tim who met him at the carnival first, before dick's parents had died, going as far to dedicate the entire act for the boy— it was you watching him through the broken down television too, legs swinging back and forth on your springy, dusty couch as you doodle him doing stunts, talking to you because he meant the world to you too after you realized he was considered a brother to you.
tim met him first, yet you did so too, but as his younger sibling instead...! so it's unfair, it's unfair, everything is so unfair. tim and his stupid fucking goals of helping your father cope, your father, not his, his parents are alive, your mother is gone, goddamnit—!
it's all unfair. your mother says the world treats good kids like you right, so why...?
... what else could he want? what else does he want to take away from you?
and how could you blame him...?
he was perfect in the sense that you aren't. he was what bruce needed: a reliable pillar of support, stubborn enough to deal with the stress piling up with the loss of his second child, qualities that couldn't be seeked in you even if anyone tries their hardest to squint past that once wide-eyed, vulnerable exterior of yours.
all they could see is a broken child, but not of their own. they could offer you sympathy, pity at just how terrible your past came to be, but that's what every child of gotham goes through. not even witnessing your mother's last gulps of breath would be unique enough to pique their attention. they couldn't possibly see you being part of their family, never.
you learn quickly, that the world has always been unfair, that sometimes, your mother's words aren't always right, not always the best. you need to be better than best, but you couldn't.
so you still chose to be good still, because what else could you do? who else could your identity be outside of the morals she had taught you?
that's who you always are—
that's who you always will be.
always the lesser one. always the forgotten muse and the unspoken poetry.
because that's what good people are, always belittling themselves for others, always allowing the bigger people to step on them like ants. to crush on their hopes and dreams like the crumbs of bread that spill onto the sides of a pavement.
tim is a good person, it was why he wanted to help bruce in the first place, but you couldn't also forget the fact that he's the perfect son for bruce too— that's the main difference between you both. you're worlds apart. he's naturally smart, almost flawless both physically and mentally, and helps slowly but surely fill the hole in bruce's heart unlike you who realizes that you'll only deepen it instead.
and you're a good kid, you're his good child, you wish you were his kid.
you're kind but never the greatest, talented but not good enough.
and that's who you'll always will be.
just a person defined by their worth, by the words of their mother. just a kid with nothing more than a smile to offer, no matter how strained the side of your lips are, no matter if the tears threaten to crawl out your eyes like spiders the longer your presence get ignored—
you're good, but you'll never be good enough.
... so what made you better now? what made you worthy now that all their eyes are now on you?
you wish it was easy to answer, but life's always unfair to a good kid like you.
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has anyone ever noticed why the wayne manor has been so dull lately?
why don't the blooms stand so prideful in the gardens nowadays? surely, alfred's green thumb could fix the problem, but it's been months and the most eminent scent that fixes upon their nostrils could only be obtained if they sniff hard enough to smell fresh flowers amongst the scent of mud after rain or wet concrete.
why does titus seem so down these days? damian tried to play tricks with him; his beloved pet only replied with a loud, high-pitched whine in reply and lay languidly at velvet carpets with a bone on his slack jaw. his owner noticed how his tail seemed to wag less the more the days passed by. and damian isn't stupid, but he notices how titus, with the addition of alfred the cat, would often frequent sniffing and lay on a spot damian's familiar with; one he's sure a certain rival of his would only sit upon whenever they'd hide from him.
why have there been fewer homemade baked treats in the pantry? hell, they seem to lessen every single day someone opens the pantry. wasn't it alfred who baked them? was there a thief who had been stealing, or was the steady decline not mere coincidence? nobody else took a hobby to baking, since they've all been frequently absent, prioritizing their patrols and mostly taking the cookies and crinkles at the end of their shift, munching on the treats all for themself. alfred hasn't definitely been taking a break and refuses any offers to, yet the lack of goods was noticable, and whenever alfred bakes, it doesn't quite share the same sugary, or savory goodness the past deserts have been sporting.
why has there been silence, one that so ominous, for months? dick swore he'd often hear someone conversing through doors with alfred. at first he assumed it would be tim, or cass, but with how feeble and meek the voice was, yet talkative and light with an accent he's sure he heard from bruce. yet he dismissed the implication of another presence in the room. but as of current, he misses that strange voice that speaks of stories about highschool drama and friends for terrible influences.
has the rooms been lacking of music lately? tim frequents the soft, buzzing hums his hyperactive form hears from across the living room or near the fireplace's burning embers. sometimes he'd be lulled to sleeping whenever he hears specific melodies. he'd listen so often that he even managed to recognize his favorite tunes with just a single note, eyes slowly closing every time he's in close proximity with that unknown voice, conditioned to finally sleep like a pavlovian dog. tim has been losing sleep these days, eyebags frequent in his eyes. he misses the music, he misses his only saving grace during restless nights with even energy drinks and bitter coffee being ineffective.
why has the dust been collecting off the bookshelves of their library? whenever jason visits the library, there would always be fingerprints he'd find on certain books, one he'd pick up and come to enjoy reading. some were collections of series, others being short novels. the ghost that graces him these recommendations, who sometimes even brings new books, hasn't been in the library for months now, and he's skittish the more he visits the manor each time. the library was his sanctuary for all the moments he'd have fights with bruce, or felt too deep into his traumatic anguishes. the tastes he shares with this lone stranger who visits the library at different lapses than him was now gone, and he's noticed the anger that pangs deep in his chest every damn time dust has been collected off of books, with no fingerprint in sight.
just, why has it been so silent lately? both physically and figuratively. no music dawns their ears, no hinge of the fridge being heard throughout the night, or at least the faint mutters of an unknown whispering.
these were all unsaid questions buried deep in the minds of the people under the roof of the manor. now the only things they could feel were the heavy knocks of the rain on the window and the cold sensation of tiled floors on their already covered soles.
it wasn't noticable by chance, but it could be felt by everyone, both inhabitants and visitors.
and the answers lie simple: it's a secret.
they're the deals you make when you want someone to keep their mouth shut close, they're the things you swear your life to to never confess upon. they're the unsaid statements which helped torment a certain child under the roof of an already lonely and ghostly manor.
sometimes, secrets don't take in the form of someone making one up, but rather, it takes in the form of an unspoken agreement, a pact with your surroundings, an untold promise with nature or the things around you.
you were never particularly secretive with your talents, for arts, baking, or anything that takes in the field of creativity. you kept to yourself, and don't bother anymore to annoy your family to look upon a sketch only to be dismissed, or to taste the treats you hide by a pantry for later consumption; but you loved it still whenever alfred gave you the creative liberty to stroll around the manor to decorate the bleak place into a less melancholic version of a gothic abandoned house by the forest, left with only the legacy of a long-standing family.
it was just, you never find it necessary to tell anyone why there's a charcoal portrait of alfred hanged in one of the uncrowded hallways, or why the colors of the walls change momentarily, or why certain colors of flowers were more present by the garden than other colors— so maybe you could consider that a secret.
and it made you feel less lonely, if even by a fraction. yet you don't know it, but your acts of service to the manor was what made the family enjoy their stay a bit longer, was what made them appreciate the backdrop of a new wallpaper they had thought alfred had chosen, or find the designs of resin furniture adorable.
you don't know it, but you were what made mundane living enjoyable for those who seek to relish in the sheer feeling of adrenaline instead.
when you were first taken into the manor, you were the reason why all their senses were stimulated. tiny, malnourished you couldn't keep your toes in place once you've been exposed to a new, more bigger environment.
back then, the manor carried this atmosphere of darkness, a reflection of bruce wayne's grief after his beloved parents' passing away from his arms. yet you took that pain, and turned it from its bleak, grayish colors, to an intimate, fluorescent glow. a soft, bright light emits from one of the random rooms, with custom-made beads dangling about and glow in the dark stickers that litter the room. it was one not too blinding to the eyes, and felt warm like the touch of a mother to their crying child.
your cooking of sweet treats were the ones they often like to fight over. it was through alfred's secret recipes he bestowed upon you, and your own alterations for your baking, that the kitches would always smell of cinnamon, brown butter, and caramelized sugar. it was because of you that you made the manor smell sweeter, more homey, like what would've smelled of an apartment during christmas eve. you've made them associate the kitchen with both famous, foreign, and local recipes that they came to love. steph loved it whenever she'd stumble upon a cookie decorated with purple, cass finds the ribbons on some cupcakes cute, associating it with ballet.
every time bruce, tim, or dick needs a place to destress, they often visit rooms with sweet humming or the occasional singing. it was sometimes gibberish, others with lyrics, yet pleasing to their ears all the same. it reminds them of their mothers' singing, whenever they'd knit or praise their precious jewelry. it makes bruce's stiff posture slacken, finding that odd voice sometimes sharing his talking habits through the lyrics they sang. dick would always sing along, feeling as if he was back in time with his mother playing with his hair as she sings circus music, and tim would close his tired eyes, laying his head on his hand as he dreams pleasant scenarios for once in his life.
although you never once felt any of their embrace, they've certainly felt yours in their hearts, minds, and sometimes even their body; a spiritual connection they've felt with you without even knowing it. the last time damian touched you was when he pinned your wrists to your side. and even if he tried his hardest to ignore the raging beat of his heart, screaming at him to release you from the tight cage of his grip, he refuses to. out of sheer anger and petty spite, or the desire to feel the skin of his sibling who struggles to let go from his hold, he doesn't know. but he certainly does remember how your palms lack callouses unlike his does, and how warm your touch felt, even if blazing with cold sweat from his threats.
he had remembered the smell of your sweat and even the taste of your tears by accident and committed it to memory.
it was through your indirect care that everyone felt loved and cared for, and find themselves enjoying the sweet, small moments of living within what was once a stuffy manor holding painful memories.
and nobody knows why — with the exception of dick, bruce, and damian now — that despite the batcave being filled with the entire family, it felt empty all the same.
well, not entirely empty, but bleak with color. every hue remained gray in their eyes, the pipe leaks were eminent, heavy breathing was evident all throughout. no music catched on to their ears, and they all remain skittish and rigid.
it seems as if everyone has catched on, that they're all holding their breath together as the leader of the group, batman, looks around to do a silent head count.
after all, he told both dick and damian to update the family that this meeting is urgent, and no one shall even bother ditching, or else they wouldn't get to the bottom of your disappearance without all the help they could receive.
in a race to get you, they need to burn off all resources or god help bruce because he'd run himself crazy searching for you.
alfred doesn't want that happening, but he understands.
you're important, and no one could dispute that fact. after bruce had gone through your all your diaries, your sketchbooks that he had to pry away from damian's possessive hold, and the box of belongings that you left that he stashed away in his office— he knew he couldn't just leave his child out in the streets of gotham.
you're his child, and a damn child of his means his responsibility. either he likes the obligation or not, it's his duty to protect you from the harm of living in such a dangerous city. and you're certainly not a vigilante, he'd already ran through multiple recent investigations before everyone came rushing down to the batcave to confirm you're not connected with any bad guys; which was good, and bad news.
that means you chose not to undergo the same, dangerous path jason chose, or rebel like damian, yet at the same time you must've been incapable of self defense.
and he knows that even if you fight with normal moves; without his guidance against a gallery of brutal villains out to destroy batman or anyone related to bruce, you're dead meat. bruce doesn't want you dead. the only times he wants to hold you in his arms were the ones unconnected to you laying limp with your last breath, no. he wants you alive, and well, and safe from harm.
his precious baby, his treasure. he wants to see your face in one piece, and he wishes cradle you in his arms. just because you're over eighteen doesn't mean he's fully lost you. he's your father, first and foremost, and your hero second.
that's why it's imperative that everybody follows his orders now, with the primary order being that everyone, under the guise of currently not holding a mission, is required to be in the batcave within the first thirty or forty-five minutes of the announcement. no, there's no excuses that should be said, or buts. this meeting is a priority meeting, and as vigilantes who fight for the safety of their city's citizens, they know not to disobey.
and as family members related to bruce's precious second youngest, it's an obligation for them to care as much as bruce, dick, and even damian does for the search of your disappearance.
though apparently, jason couldn't get that message, and didn't bother to update through comms over where he's at the opposite side of gotham, his devices turned off after he had recently gone off in a rebellious tangent yet again about bruce's refusal to mercilessly slaughter the deserving ones.
he'll lecture his second child soon after he reports to bruce, mentioning your safety on the line while at it, but right now?
right now he needs to address the elephant in the room: the overbearing anxiousness and antsiness everyone collectively feels, bruce's stern eyes replicating the anger, the surge of energy he feels to exact vengeance on every crime that litters the street, the same urgency he felt compelled to drown upon right after his parents have died right in front of him.
whilst alfred's knowing ones stare at each and every one of the culprits of your disappearance, all a direct reason why you had left in the first place.
someone sighs, and it's not bruce who speaks up first amongst the crowd of vigilantes.
"so what now, father? are we all just going to stand here, or are we going to address the main issue? or do you want me to be the one who brings them back home? i wouldn't mind finding them before all of you do."
"this is not the time to be... you, damian, we're all....we all need time to think." it was dick who spoke next, with a sense of urgency, as his eyes that tried his damn best to stare at damian softly, with a smile to accompany it, immediately plasters itself back on his phone, spamming your phone with messages damian was sure were all about him begging for you to take them all back. without any fights, without any hesitation.
ever the pacifist, one would think. but everyone could see wide blue eyes, glinting at the screen. begging for mercy for such a lost case, tears nearly rimming his eyelids, lips bitten raw as blood drips down his quivering chin.
cass could read his movements, she knows he's mad. but not even a master of body language is in need to know just how much dick's rage emanates off his body.
fingers clenched on his phone, teeth gritted as he spoke, eyes frantically searching through messages, scrolling up, then down, as if he's waiting for something. for someone no doubt.
tim deduces that the person they're focused on for this urgent meeting was the same person dick was trying to text. 'must've been related or close to us if it means it's this important for everyone to be involved.'
he'll look through dick's phone later to solve the itching case, his fingers twitching to whip out his side in the batcave's screen and make a new case file.
but he chose to ignore it for now, they all do, each one focusing on their primary worries.
"who's them? wait— what even are we gonna talk about?" duke's voice rang loudly through the cave. it at least broke through the tension, bruce's tense shoulders sagging in relief then suddenly reverting back to its old, rigid pose.
everyone noticed the action. they're trained individuals after all.
barbara flinched through her seat at the sight of the man, with her hands readily available to type at the keyboard. though her eyes stay glued at batman, looking deeper and noticing his fervoured state.
it's as if he is lost in thought.
and with just how much thoughts were racing in his mind, it's easy to drown. to get lost in that mirage of memories trying to link an image of you to anything he tries to remember. even now, bruce wants to see your face first and foremost. he wants to see an image of you sleeping in your tiny, creaking bed, and to erase any of those memories to replace it with new luxuries he could provide you in life; a comfort you should've been blessed with the moment you entered the double doors of his manor.
his string of pearls, his little treasure.
"(name). they left, and i need all of you to listen to me, now. rebuttals later."
when bruce spoke up, gruff and domineering, with no room for anyone to speak back, all eyes were now on him.
dick throws his phone across the room, ignoring the shatter of the pure, aluminum branded back of it. his foot was jittering, and his voice was as ready to command orders with bruce.
blue eyes stare, vicious and hungry, impatient at its prime. with the addition of damian's green, squinted ones, and bruce's stern glare, thundering and clouded.
it was a spectacle to witness the same emotions coursing through their veins. as if they're one and the same; vultures feeding off the feeling of need and urgency to actuate what seems to be an already brewing plan on the trio's part.
the rest, unknowing of what had just occurred half an hour ago within your bedroom, listens.
they ignore the gnawing feeling of intuition, of something, right at this moment, going wrong, just to hear bruce's explanation, with dick and damian butting in.
they listen, fascinated about you being bought up, a name so foreign yet familiar, a mystery in their eyes despite having met or seen you occasionally; a glimpse of you running through hallways or painting in the garden.
they listen, and all the individuals let deep, feral emotions fester within them the longer they allow their ears and their mind to devour the words dick says, all syllables a symphony of praises towards you, each vowel accentuating his favor.
they listen, and learned.
whatever happened within the batcave, is also a secret.
you have your own secrets. they have theirs.
except, yours were discovered, and they choose to let emotions brewing deep in their hearts as obscured within public view.
tim wants to search for you, steph joins in on his sentiment too. barbara's already at it whilst she types and listens in on bruce's words, cass ponders about your invisible presence and just like bruce, tries to think of memories of you stumbling by her, and duke just as much attempts to picture your face and remembers something sentimental; one he'd ponder on later once he's alone.
now they all know your secrets, not everything, but a semblance of it. they discover their neglects, and acknowledge the consequences. why throughout their stirring arguments, they all couldn't find your handmade night-lights that they like to look at during the dark, or smell the baked crusts on your home-made pumpkin pie recipe, or the humming of random music through the halls.
because you've never once visited the batcave—
and it was the only room not graced with your courtesy, care, passions, and love.
they listen to bruce's plan, yet they ignore the growing dread.
they ignore why jason is radio-silent all throughout too.
instead, they focus on you, trying to reminisce on old, buried memories they at least spent with you. good ones, not the ones containing your meek begs, and heartbroken gazes. or the ones where you stood in the corner of a room watching them talk. or the times where you all had dinner together and you're left in the wake of silence despite the chatter filling the dining room.
... and once they couldn't muster anything up, they figured on creating new ones instead.
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warm.
this place feels so unnaturally warm, that it seeks shelter under your skin. warm, yet welcoming at the same time.
...where are you?
your bleary eyes slowly open, blinking gradually, squinting out the streaks of white in your vision. it's always a hassle to wake yourself up. sleep has never been peaceful for you: always awoken by nightmares, or tormenting paralysis, sometimes mere insomnia causes you to lay awake and sweating in your tiny room. and your dreams always has to involve your family, one way or another; of course it's always about them, they've been your only source of life despite never being there for yours. but now? now you feel like you've had a complete 9 hour cycle of sleep, with no hint of fatigue in your body.
you've never had any proper sleep. ever since you saw... you saw her dying that it never registers within your mind just how deprived you are of rest, constantly haunted by memories you wish you just could... forget. but you couldn't, not when your beloved mother is the only precious reminder you have in life to stay alive.
your arms, arms that were always sore, in twisted positions, bruised and with faded scars from all the times you felt too impulsed to hurt, the only way to forget the mental torment you've gone through; now lay atop cozy sheets with no pain bared, no extra sheen of sheen on sweat. your fingers stretch, you caress the pillows your head lays on, cold to the touch against your warm, uncrying face.
it feels nice, feels crisp against your skin. your ears don't burn and you don't feel the need to flip your pillow to the colder side.
a yawn slowly escaped your lips. you lick them, they're not chapped, nor dry. they don't feel bitten, nor streaked with blood. you lick again, there's no familiar sting, nor the taste of blood that seeps against cracked skin.
'this is strange.'
you feel unusually relaxed, your breathing's oddly steady. there's no scent of smoke and pollution invading your nostrils, no shadow of doubt cloaking your mind.
you don't feel like dying today.
it feels so nice, the weather's so weird... pleasant. but this? it's not normal, gotham has never felt so quiet today. there has never been a time where you wake up feeling so... human. this is not routine. you're not used to this. god, everything's so strange and yet...
it's been so long since you last felt like you were... home. wispy streaks of particles dance under the soft light that beams outside of crooked, wooden windows. it casts an angelic glow on your surroundings, unlike the shrouded darkness you're accustomed to.
your eyes do a double take, churning mechanically at an angle where you can clearly see the glass panes.
"hm?" windows that always fog up with polluted specks of dust, now clear, and bright as day. it feels like the sun is kissing your skin through the light that enters the glass, you feel the at ease as your bones crack comfortably, and your muscles stretch without ache.
and you...
you're laying in a thick mattress that buries you in deep burgundy sheets. blankets wrapped around your body like a welcoming hug, you're reminded of your mother yet again.
your heart thumps rhythmically, not erratically this time, no— you've never felt so invigorated. it's been a while since you slept in a comfortable bed, in a comfortable setting, with a comfortable atmosphere. not the sound of blades hit your ears, nor the honking of cars, or ringing of phones. wherever you're laying didn't feel stiff like cardboard back in your apartment, the pillowcases are cool to the touch. your clothes don't encase you uncomfortably tight, there's no random thread that persists on irritating your skin.
it feel so oddly peculiar, so comforting, and you want to cry.
you feel light, airy even. there's nothing but the buzz of empty warmth that encapsulates your entire body. you're not used to this, this disgusting feeling of comfort, you don't think it's real.
only one response enters your mind, the only thing you're accustomed to.
'i don't deserve this.' your thoughts drown you into a deep sea of anguish, but the dichotomy of comfort and pain stirs you into satiating confusion. this is the first time you felt blessed, the first time you wish you were good enough to feel like you're worthy of deserving such goodness in your life.
suddenly, you feel like crying, but no tears escape your eyes, and your heart refuses to beat out of its cage. you're in a trance that refuses to release you from its comforting hold.
the hazy tune of birds chirping snaps you out of your deprecating reflection of your life.
when you squint and look out the windows once more, you make out a faint reflection of green, dominating the entire view second floor view of what is supposed your home.
for the first time, you don't feel fear reminiscing on that earthly shade of color.
you're in a... forest.
your nose picks up on the scent of the damp, green, grasslands. your eyes makes out the scenery outside, droplets of water slowly dripping on tall leaves, the rivulets travelling from blades of leaves to nourished, wet soil. it produces this stimulating smell, one you haven't been able to experience for months living in the polluted air outside the windows of your apartment.
petrichor.
you don't know what, or how, or why this is happening.
all you know is common knowledge, something perceived through senses and observations. you're in a cottage, yes, the interior layout is filled with personal trinkets you know you would've bought with money if you even had it, and furniture suited to both you tastes and your mother's... but otherwise, nothing else.
other than memories of a fantasy you shared with your mother, back when you were innocent to the cruelty of the world, of gotham and its merciless passions.
"XX/XX/XXXX, entry no. 23.
i remember one conversation i had with my mother.
it was about something related to where would we choose to live if we had the choice. she asked me that, out in the random, and that took me by surprise to say the least.
huh, during that time, i never knew her intentions for my answers.
i answered her sincerely, told her that, well, i wanted to live in a comfortable cottage, with two floors and a spacious bedroom for me, with hers right beside mine; so she can keep all the monsters away when i got too scared living by my own.
i wanted fairy lights strewn on the roof of my room, and matching glow in the dark stickers of stars and constellations with hers, just like the ones we have in our quaint apartment. i told her it wouldn't be complete without the mini figurines on top of raspberry colored cabinets, the ones that i loved to collect whenever we thrifted at stores, and most importantly the picture frames of us together.
she giggled at my reply, and told me it was such a 'me' thing to choose what i had said. but i retorted and told her she'd choose the same thing. and she said i said what exactly was on her mind.
thinking about that memory now, i feel warm despite the fact that bruce forgot to attend another parent-teacher conference again this week. every memory of my mother... tugs at my heart, both painful and nostalgic. i miss her.
if my momma was here, she wouldn't even hesitate to pull out of whatever side hussle she had for a job at the first second i'd mention something about my school. she always prioritizes me as her only child. it makes me feel special, and loved, and cared for— i haven't felt that in a long time. i won't lie that alfred's presence helps but a mother's love precedes all essence.
i love her so much. i wish i never took her for granted.
now that i think about it too...
if my momma was here, we could've been in that cottage right now, living our lives, carefree, without nothing to worry us. whether it'd be food in our plates or money to pay the bills. we'll always be happy with mushroom foraging and sitting by the warm fireplace i pictured, with her homemade hot chocolate by the table. she'd be nestled beside me, keeping me warm. that's enough to make me happy, enough to dismiss the heaviness in my heart as i write this.
i wish we were at that cottage right now, forever actually. i don't need a big family, all i need is my mom. and sure we'll have some arguments along the way but it wouldn't be as bad as, well, damian threatening to draw his sword on me and stab me at the heart every second i made him mad, which is always...
funny thing is... fuck, i never noticed how she was saving up money and starving herself whilst simultaneously keeping me well-fed so she could pursue my dreams of actually getting a cottage. i was so oblivious to everything that i just, i never noticed that she was earning all this, to build my dreams, so we can escape from gotham and live new lives with each other by our side.
she was doing all this, for the sake of my comfort, my happiness, my everything. she lives her life with no breaks, and retired from her previous job as a... sex worker just so i can live normally, so i wouldn't be ashamed of being her child, of seeing her as my mother. she was everything i needed in my life. she sacrificed, and i took it for granted.
and i wanted to scold her so badly; doing this for such a lost cause as me. it hurts to think about it now.
so what if i wanted a cottage? what about it if i'm now living with my father, huh? i don't care about living comfortably at all, if that meant i didn't have mother by my side, to support me, to actually love me, then what is a house all worth for??? all i wanted and needed was her, just her. and they took me away from my mother.
my mother.
your heart breaks at the seems whilst you write that faithful night, the grip on your pen near to leaving dents on your finger. if it draws out blood, then so be it. your handwriting turns unintelligible, strokes not knowing where to end. what once was clean, white sheets of paper now crumpled by your despair, by the tears that escaped your eyes, by your fists balling at the paper, all your emotions boiling down to mere grief.
if bruce mourns for jason, you do so too for your mother.
yet you continue to write, and write, and write. it's the only medium of comfort you have, the only means to treasure memories long gone, heartaches and comfort all a coagulation of your retreat to the real world.
if dreams can come true, then you wish the fantasies of your mother being with you comes alive, that she'd be by your side, taking your pen away from your hands, kissing your sweaty forehead and matted tresses, assuring you she's fine. she'll smile with crinkling eyes, and set your quivering hands to a stop, then wrap you in her arms, shielding you away from the burden of living without her.
if you were her flower, then she is your hearth. the only warmth you'd feel in such a cold manor, the only one capable of dipping her hands into your chest, taking your beating heart, and melting off the frigid locks that kept your love in place ever since her death.
only then can you say that dreams do come true, only then can you rest; close your eyes without praying for a dreamless slumber, without nightmares, without swords piercing your body, or the dismissive turn of your family's back on you.
but if dreams do come true, what does that say about nightmares?
only reality can tell.
or you can tell.
at you current state, seated restless on your tiny room with barely any illuminated moonlight guiding your tired body, tormented by both past and future, writing endlessly on journals soon to be forgotten— wouldn't that be considered a nightmare? to be subjected upon unwanted isolation, from the very same people who promised their lives to protect lives such as yours.
your family, your father, brothers and sisters. through empty promises alone; all enough to destroy you inside out.
talentless, worthless, out of place.
yet even if your diaries were all torn apart, pages seeping with both blood and tears, you still write.
you write, and you continue through your endeavors. what once were fond memories were the same monsters chasing you through barren halls and empty rooms.
after all, it's the only way to honor her passing, even if it kills you all the same.
you continue, wiping at your sullen cheeks, and brushing away ripped strands of hair; pen inseparable from stubborn, swollen fingers.
now i'm living here, in this big manor, with nothing going on for me. i have alfred, and he's like a father figure right after mom, but it doesn't change anything... it doesn't change the grief i feel, the sorrow, the unwaning depression. nothing. i couldn't even get myself to stand up from bed because i'm so fed up with everything.
if i didn't try so hard in the first place, i would've never been left this destroyed.
i want to give up, i want to die and just disappear off the face of earth. no one would notice, and at least after i die, i would be reunited with her— but I can't. why?
i have to remind myself everyday. i just can't give up and let all her efforts go to waste. she doesn't want me dying, earlier than her age, too. she told me i couldn't just let go so easily, that life is beautiful if you try to find its hidden beauty. i'm still trying to find meaning in all her wise words, i can't just take her honor for granted, especially since i know that despite everything, she has her own anguish and regrets.
does she regret having me?
right now, i feel a spark of motivation. she's been saving up, just for me, and i want to honor her memories at least. if i can't feel like home in this manor, then i'll make myself a home. to honor her, and to build upon both our dreams.
i don't know when, or how i could even engage in this impossible goal. but for momma? i'll do anything for her, even if it means working myself to death. because at least that means proof that i tried, and she'll be proud of me in the afterlife. god, i hope she would be.
we'll get that cottage soon, momma. i promise."
thinking about it now, that was ten entries right after your breakdown during your birthday. it was at a period of time where you fully accepted that you'd never be loved by your family, that you never belonged, and matured just as quickly after taking a break from writing self destructive diaries.
you sigh, looking down at your clenched palms and indenting fingers on skin. you really wish she was here. it could've made everything better, you would've been better if she was by your side.
a knock ensures before your door, and that alone snaps you out of your thoughts. you jump in shock yet feel no pang of panic in your heart, but before you could reach out to defend yourself, the door opens after the prior knock, and your...
your mother enters.
angelic, glowing, beautiful.
she's decorated in a white dress, with a pearl necklace decorating her neck, glinting like diamonds, soft in its assertion. like an angel, rather than the devil she's portrayed to be in the newspapers she hid from you.
she looks beautiful, as always, breath-taking to the point it makes you wonder how you share the same genes as her.
but her beauty now precedes her beauty from when you last saw her bleeding in the cold tiles of your apartment. now, she looks old, yet ethereal. wrinkles flecked her skin, her eyes drooped at the lids, her hairs displayed streaks of white in some areas.
you've never seen her like this.
she had you very young, and you've lost her young. yet she looks as she's rebirthed now, living yet aging like fine wine.
she is happy, and content with her smile, and looks at you with a radiant grin, smile marks on her sunken cheeks, like you mean the world, walking towards your seated form as she hugs you weakly, yet lovingly.
warm, like the spring's gentle blooms, like the feel of petals rubbed against your fingertips.
you're caught breathless.
"momma...?"
beauty that is true, that is honest, and speaks of history. beyond the barriers of photos you see in her at her prime, when she was known as a 'man-eater', a lustful creature that steals from rich to survive.
you've never lied when you said your mother is always going to be the most beautiful woman in the world.
at least, in your eyes. because if she objectively was, then your father could've, should've stayed with her, for the sake of his pride and reputation at the very least. he could've had her by his side, even through a loveless marriage, if it meant it ensured her safety.
you dismiss the bitterness the brews inside you, and opted to focus at the strange, yet welcome circumstances beforehand.
your hands find a way to wrap around her crouched figure, fingers lingering on the once sinewy bones of her spine, now healthy even through the sagging skin.
"my baby..." you look up at her, her hands holding your head so tenderly, cradling you side to side.
"momma..." she kisses your forehead, then both your cheeks, and takes a seat beside you. when she did, you felt a surge of energy and warmth burst throughout both your body and heart. for once, you felt giddy, solitary confinement all but a dream in this fantasy land.
you don't let her hands go for even a second, fearing this moment will be taken away from you. there's warmth emanating off the fingers intertwined with yours, you wish this moment never ends.
the questions that almost left your silken throat took hesitation. you just can't ask why she's alive, where you are and why you're here in the first place; for fear she'll be taken away from you, that you couldn't see her beyond the conjured and brief memories you had of her.
you wish to cry once again, this time, you let out a small hiccup and feel saliva bundling on the back of your mouth. she hums in resounding worry, her other hand swiping away at the hair covering your wide eyes. the softness in her eyes doesn't falter, and she hums a familiar lullaby: one that triggers nostalgia, that reminds you of the days spent without electricity in your tiny apartment with her lighting a candle just so she could read you another one of your favorite stories, huddled beside her.
the last you've heard of her voice, it was parched and inaudible. she always sacrificed for you, and drinkable water was a privilege in the shady parts of gotham.
"you're probably wondering where you are and why we're here, aren't you, sunshine?" she cuts her singing off abruptly, your eyes snap open to look up at her through your eyelashes.
"... y-yeah," your reply comes in, voice barely whisper. unsure and insecure of where this conversation will go, you chose to bury your head in her shoulder. she smells of ripe strawberry and cherries, unlike the mixture bold perfumes mixed with the stench of booze she comes home with after another night of restless endeavor. yet you don't acknowledge the memories of the past, you're here with her now and it's all that matters.
"where are we, mom? am i... dreaming? please, i- i miss you." this time, your tears come out in a steady stream, but your throat doesn't constrict in itself, and you don't feel the urge to rip at your hair at anymore.
now you're just terribly sentimental rather than bitter. no more was the jealousy that aches, or the panic rushing through your veins. it's just you and your mother, and the memories of her passing that buries you at the hilt of your sadness.
"well... you're in the realm between life and death, my little angel," she states with lidded eyes, as if it is a matter of fact. her hands move to scratch your scalp, she hums and swings your crying body side to side, akin to a mother cradling her newborn baby.
you felt particularly reborn, the sudden change affecting you more than you'd like to admit. the light outside your window casts her in a sheen of white, glimmering like rays of the sun, or like the twinkle of the moon.
even if she was old, and grey and wrinkly, she's always been ethereal.
and you're convinced that she's the angel instead.
"you've been through a lot, haven't you?" her questions brought you out of your tearful stupor, she brings her lips to kiss at your forehead and wraps her palms on the sides of your face, wiping away at the waterworks refusing to cease.
all you could do was nod, and feel the warmth reflecting off her body, transferring all to you. even in the plane of death has she always been generous.
"i-i... i don't want this to end, momma..." you utter, gazing at her ever-smiling face. there was a faint translucency in her body, as if her form is slowly disappear. and for a second, you feel fear that she'll disappear. fear that dissipates just as quickly when you hear her heavenly chuckles.
"...baby, i'm here with you right now in because i want to remind you to choose the path to live. it's too early to die right now, it's too early for my baby to join me in the afterlife." her words are too complicated to comprehend with how muddled your thoughts were, her saccharine actions feel like a forbidden touch, and you just couldn't comprehend why, just why does she want you to live...
when there's nothing else left for you in the realm where she's not around.
"but i... i don't understand...? why can't, why can't i be with you, mom—?"
"because unlike me, baby, you have so much to do. i've nothing left of me to offer when i died, baby... at least now, at least you'll find that you're still always loved, even when i'm not with you."
she cuts you off with a hush, pinching your cheeks before another wave of tears and quivering hiccups escape your befuddled body.
but you can't afford to let her go a second time, you can't go back—!
you don't want to be back in that damning structure you call a manor, you don't want to watch your father from a mere corner shrouding himself in the pits of darkness you know you couldn't carry, you don't want to return to begging for dick's attention as he turns a blind eye, you don't want the pitiful stares from tim when he's in the same room as you, or duke, cass, and steph's hushed whisper whenever you pass by, plans being made without your knowledge, without acknowledgement of your presence. you don't want to be blamed by damian for even being born in the first place. you don't want anymore uncelebrated and silent birthdays anymore, or milestones celebrated with just a fucking cupcake and a pat on your head...!
you want your mom, you don't want your other family, not anymore...
even if... even if your disappearance paved the way for a new shift in interests in your family's mind, even if you're now unknowingly the center of attention after months of the manor's solitude without you; just like you had always wanted— you're tired, and you've long since given up and grown from selfish and unrealistic desires of a completely healthy family.
if you could even call them that wretched title.
if you could even consider them as one like how they never did you.
the tears return just like the pain you were temporarily barred from, now it's a waterfall that threatens to throw you off of your escape from the reality of life, stinging your eyes and falling on crumpled sheets as your fingers grip uncontrollably for a sanction of control. from what? from the fear that now is the moment that you'll truly never see her again, not even in your memories.
"... momma, please, stay—!"
but right before you could reason out, desparate words crawling and jumping out your heaving chest and into the spiraling room, right before you could beg her to stay closer with you with her flickering warmth for just a second further as her body slowly dissipates from her hold on you, as your vision darkens and you hear that faint, familiar murmur of gotham's bustling motorcycles and alleyway screaming—
her last words, full of assurances, just like the day she tucked you in that little closet and made you promise that you'd stay silent for her, sacrificing her life just so she could protect you; it grounds you into your spot, restless, broken, and chasing unsaid words to tell her before you lose her once more, and destroys any and all hope for complete, and utter happiness you forced yourself to truly believe.
"... i love you, my sweet angel. be good for me, alright...?"
and just like that, your eyes blearily open to find itself into a completely foreign surrounding yet again.
and this time, it is real and unwanted.
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'jason todd, a good soldier,' were the words marked and engraved on his tombstone. buried under the healthy soils of the manor, he felt as if his presence was forgotten all the same.
it was true, he was a good soldier. always obedient, always listening and mirroring bruce's orders, even though he grew up in the ratty streets with a drug-addicted mother and an abusive father, when he was picked up by bruce and lead into the vigilante life with the beaming potential to combat even dick; jason was always the good kid, who, even if he became a tad bit rebellious on the years garnering on teenage life, died honorably for the safety of his biological mother who betrayed him.
jason todd, always the boy portrayed as a warning sign for all the future robins, always the child remembered as just that: a soldier of batman, the kid of bruce who died unfairly; the truth of his death, the truth of joker's fucked up foil to destroy the bat's mentality even further all for a good laugh, hidden beneath restricted case files and bruce's suppressed emotions— all left unattended, just for him to be replaced by another new robin; a telltale signal that felt like bruce was trying so hard to repair the broken fixtures jason left behind.
the implication itself felt as if the world is laughing at his heroic acts, never acknowledged beyond the faults that lie on his stubbornness; a learnt trait all robins grew into once they've been taken in bruce's care.
he must've never been a good kid if life decided to take him away, when his youth was at an all time high, when all he wanted to do was meet his real mother, and to save her even when she had left him to die with explosives laid beside his beaten body.
was it his fault that all he ever wanted to do was to make his father proud? what was wrong with being a hero, being robin with his magical passions?
jason was never the spiteful man everyone assumed him to be. he was never rebellious, or thirsting for vengeance, or came to hate bruce as much as what everyone else thought of when they'd first hear his name.
even when he was revived in that sunken pit of hell, nineteen with a seventeen year old soul, feeling his once lanky body too tall, too big for him to flex his fingers, to kick with his now muscly legs, crying and screaming under all the madness of forcefully having his soul be reunited with his body after two years of peaceful rest.
and when he had returned to his senses, when he discovered that there were two new children running around the manor, one a product of a one-night stand, the other donning the identity of a new robin, did jason become the spiteful image everyone imagine the young boy came to be from when he was just an impulsive teenager.
becoming alive once more, reliving betrayal after betrayal, watching in the background: never the full story, but enough to feel like he's been replaced— it became his sole duty to torment, to do to criminals what has been done to him, just to teach the bat that his moral code was flawed, was what caused a thousand other souls to be lost under the hands of the puny joker.
all this, just to feel a sense of right in a life constantly wronging him.
yet under all the blood-soaked jackets, the aluminum amoury, under clenched teeth and resentful, dead blue eyes stood a boy who loved. who stole tires to provide for his small family who never truly loved him: a father who beats at his body nightly, a mother who dismisses him in favor of her favorite substances. who read books of all genre— classic his all time favorite, jane austen his beloved author, he loved school, loved learning, jason always came home with an A+ in all his subjects, eternally grateful despite the years of betrayal, of heartache, of shredded photos and shattered picture frames.
who advocated his young life fighting crime, kicking ass beside his vigilante partner and a man he came to call his dad, even though he had all the opportunities in the world to turn rotten like the crime infested streets of gotham. because he was a good kid, too, and a soldier the next.
he was never the violent kind. he was the kid who loved above all else. idolizing dick, bruce, all the good people in the world with shining ambitions that should've never been stained so early. he even told bruce he always wanted a little sibling to care for. he wanted to teach another young, unfortunate child what it's like to share kindess in this shithole of a city.
jason todd was a ball of pure joy, loved by bruce to the point his father could've never moved on from his death, never acknowledging the next traumatized child that came after him, and also tim, too, who he always mistakenly call by jason's name.
jason couldn't see beyond the surface of what he knew, masked by hatred for what had become after two years, questions spiraling hid head that accompanies a darkness he never knew could shroud him like a cloak. bruce used to hide him under his curtain of a cape back when he was a small, manourished kid, his vision overtaken by pure black; but now the older version of him knew what true darkness is like without needing his vision disrupted.
death feels like eternal darkness, a void that devours your vision of all colors, no physical form, no thoughts, but unmoving with the feelings grounding you in place, like hell. and with the shadow of doubt that he was never truly cherished by a man he loved to call his father, that no vengeance took place after his death, jason couldn't fathom the pain greater than what he experienced in that cold, dark warehouse; spending hours hoping that he'd be saved.
how long did it take for bruce to replace him? days, months, weeks?
how long did it take for bruce to move on? was he just an afterthought to the man? was he just a good soldier in bruce's eyes?
and why, just why, does he also blame himself for his own doom? for being stubborn enough to pursue chasing after a clown smarter than him, why does he
... if he had never died, things would've never escalated that far, it wouldn't have created a domino effect that ruined not only his life, but his angel's too.
if he had never died, you wouldn't be bleeding in his arms like he did too in bruce's.
... except unlike him back then, you want to simply die now.
jason's passing was not only his guilt or bruce's, it also marked the start of your treacherous journey of thirteen and a half years living in silence, in fear and in constant yearning after your mother's death, for a love so passionate from bruce like the one he gives to all his other children but you.
for a love he had given all up for jason that he never had any to spare to you.
bruce never gave you what you wanted, what you practically needed. all in favor of mourning the passing of his second child, his son who achieved more than the levels you knew you'd never reach. you were never the desirable child, because as good as you were like jason, as nice as you could be, or talented— nobody could replace the hole that jason left within bruce from when he left the world.
you both were good kids, but jason was infinitely better.
when you were first introduced to the manor, jason assumed you and tim replaced him, he watched secretly after his resurrection, with grim prayers for your downfall 'cause he couldn't attack you like he did tim in the tower because of your civilian status, your involvement towards batman was close to zero.
you were a young child, you knew nothing, and he hates you.
he regrets hating you.
all because he hates seeing himself in those young, glinting eyes. he never realized what he felt was fear, fear that someone like you could end up like him, when he had first obsessively did research on your buried past. your world could've been so easily destroyed by the tips of his finger and he had done so mercilessly until it was too late.
he really hated you at first, but he couldn't do anything to hurt you without trespassing the manor and triggering all the signals and alarms he's sure have been updated by the new, puny little robin. he hated you so much for reasons he couldn't pinpoint, blinded by sorrow, and grief, and every piling resentment built on years of animosity he should've only directed only towards bruce, and never someone as innocent, as uninvolved as you.
you, who he calls his angel after the years of torment you've unknowingly and obliviously suffered under him.
but he was so angered, the darkness in his mind clawed him deeper in a frenzy for revenge, that it overpowered the empathy he felt for when he first saw you, standing alone in the kitchen room with an apple in your hand and a blunt knife in the other. not ready to defend yourself at the sight of him, not even pointing it at him, but inviting the man to eat with you your favorite abomination of apple slices and peanut butter— as if you didn't care about the gun in his hands and the window cutter in the other.
you didn't understand why it was so easy to ignore you. it had been years since you have talked, let alone find yourself staring at a person, that you never cared for your safety as long as it meant that... well, you could have someone to finally talk to, with your parched throat from all the moments of unuse, excitedly addressing him as mr. ghost.
he couldn't do anything, couldn't even stare at you for longer, so he ran away at first glance, and failed to see the heartbroken sigh from you agter and the tears that welled up having your hopes raised up only to be shattered once more.
that sight of you standing under the moonlit night triggered conflicting feelings within him– but it was always the strive for vengeance that took over his life, didn't it? even though meeting you bore solid evidence that you were none the wiser, that you didn't deserve anything coming from you; it was through his sheer dedication to destroy all things cherished by bruce that he never once realized that you were merely nothing to bruce— that he ruined an innocent person's life over nothing.
he resorted to praying for your demise if it meant he couldn't physically hurt you. he focused on tormenting you indirectly before the fire in his raging heart was eventually extinguished.
he was the man you see by the hallways, the monster you thought raptured knocks on your window in the middle of the night, the reason for why some of your old childhood toys would be missing eyes, had loosened stitches, or had their stuffings removed and displaced somewhere hidden you couldn't reach.
a cryptic message that made you run and bury your head in alfred's suit, asking the old man to spend the night with you after another one of your toys was ripped apart. a reaction that made jason scoff at your immaturity; as if the inner child in him wouldn't react the same way.
you were only a few years younger than tim, despite arriving in the manor before him, and jason was stupid enough to assume you had been raised well by bruce that you'd be mature at your age, he was such an idiot to think that you wouldn't be as emotionally affected but rather paranoid of the sudden paranormal activity surrounding you. that the cookies you baked were all left to be crumbs, after just leaving them to cool off for a few minute, the pens you used for journalling wouldn't have gone missing— he thought surely, you'd be broken mentally...
but never this... emotionally.
what he didn't expect were breakdowns right after, hair pulling, the biting of skin and panic attacks after panic attacks.
wide eyes staring at the ceiling, perspiration on your skin clinging on to blazing bedsheets at the lack of ventilation, sporadic breathing, bleeding scratches on your skin like a wild animal.
you cry like one, unashamed of how loud your sobs were for such a parched throat, at how long you've been wailing alone whilst hugging your too-little body, eyes closed and misty, as if it would rid you the images of your wrecked bedroom and missing journals.
yet jason never stops to wonder why no one had came running in your room to save you from destroying yourself even further.
he never wondered nobody bothered to acknowledge your crying every night, continuing on his tangent to destroy everything you loved just to prove a point, that you couldn't be worth the effort for bruce to care enough about, despite the internal conflict he felt ruining an innocent kid's life.
and he didn't even need to prove anything, because you were never worth anything. the longer jason went on without bruce's acknowledgement, the more everything felt wrong, the more he felt like whatever he's doing is torture, not retribution.
he's terrible for what he'd done, and slowly resigned to watching over you instead to ensure you'll slowly calm down after months of his monstrous presence looming over you.
but the damage was already done, and you're left to even smaller, shattered pieces.
and here he is now, watching as you bleed out in his arms, crying and babbling at the pain, yet begging under your breath to "please, please don't call batman, don't call bruce... please leave, please, please, please don't do anything stupid, jay..."
whilst pushing him away, as if scared of him, as if you'd rather death than... than to see bruce dismiss another relayed message regarding you.
even if you're dying, you refuse to undergo the same pain of neglect. even if you're dying, you don't wish to ruin their movie night plans just because you were stupid enough to drink yourself to near death to distract yourself from dick's messages.
all because you've taught yourself that you're never worth the wait, and jason takes blame in partaking the destruction of your optimism.
under the flickering light of the lamppost, your swollen eyes and snot-ridden nose don't pose the same satisfaction he felt when he first ripped your plushie apart, not anymore. all he felt was dread now, that you're bleeding, his angel is bleeding and everything happening is very much real.
he feels a hidden awe, too, at just how ethereal and warm your body feels, despite the light leaving your eyes, the fight slowly being replace by another one of your panic attacks. he holds you still, and stabilizes your body with his strong arms to prevent anymore bleeding, despite the wobbly legs and your losing consciousness.
jason couldn't afford to let you die in his arms, he couldn't fathom just how much he misses your presence.
and now he realizes just how much he hates it when you fear him throughout the entire procedure of calming you down. how you shiver in his gaze, how he feels the pricks of your goosebumps against the thick fabric of his gloves.
you never once feared him when you first met him, it was through your lack of it that he bonded with you, keeping the torment he put you through a secret. even though he makes short and sometimes brash comments with his unfiltered mouth, you'll always find joy in his words because he was the only decent guy around the manor, despite his presence being scarce and sometimes nonexistent.
you cherished him, and god, he never knew how much he cherished you too.
but now you're sobbing and mumbling incoherently about how you wish it was never him who saved you, that it could've been someone else, or you prefer to be left rotting in the damn corner, dead and discarded, if it means it wouldn't be him saving you, for damn reasons he doesn't even know.
why do you hate him so much now...? why does his precious angel look at him in a tearful daze, all desparate to push him away despite the soreness of your body, despite the blood dripping from your lower stomach all the way down to the floor in a swirl of nauseating crimson mess?
why does he see himself in you?
why does he see the same broken child who chooses to care for others than themself?
as much as jason hated to admit it, as much as he said he never wanted to die for the sole reason that he cherished the moments with his father at most—
jason wished he could've turned time back right now, at this instant. he wished he could've been stronger, could've been far more resistant of that damn explosion, that he never was stupid enough to fall for one of joker's traps—
if it meant he wouldn't be suffering from the gripping ache on his chest, from the dreaded claws you call paranoia at the sight of your ice-blue lips and dimming eyes from all the blood loss, your arms still trying to push him to a considerable distance despite him wishing to hold you oh-so tightly, as his fingers, shivering from a familiar panic he felt, try to wipe away at the river of tears collecting at the edges of your dirt-stained chin and wobbly lips, his helmet pressed atop your forehead as if to reassure you, mostly himself that you'll all be alright—
that you wouldn't go through the same route as him, scarred and traumatized after this moment under the moonlit night that watches jason wrap his gloved palms on the back of your neck despite the remaining fight and adrenaline in your body, the other bulky mass of muscles under your feet.
the polluted air bares witness to his hasty breaths, the protective hold that refuses to let go, body automated to run to his motorcycle, stepping carelessly on the bloody carnage of the alleyway's floor (they deserve torture after what they put you through, hell, he'll make sure their burial will be damning to both the police that failed to search you even though they were in close proximity to where you screamed, and the other related lackeys involved in this wretched smuggling crime), to bring you to doctor leslie for an immediate surgery.
jason hopes that instead of hate, you'll still feel a semblance of any remaining love for him instead of aching nostalgia after all this time.
he hopes you could forgive him as it is only now that he realizes how vulnerable you truly are, that despite jokingly calling you his guardian angel, he should've been the guardian, the knight, the man who protects you from all evil as what he calls his morals to be.
why were you even out in the first place? just why were you absolutely wasted? why, why, why does the image of your resigned, and tired eyes the only thing flashing and looping in his mind, filtering out the speeding motorcycle cutting through wind and traffic lanes, ignoring red lights and the loud beeps of the other vehicles before him, the pump of engines similar to the wild beating of his heart, as he speeds through shortcuts after shortcuts to take you to immediate treatment before it was too late.
he takes short breaths, too aware of his surrounding, too deep in thought, he couldn't waste any moments thinking about anything but his angel.
he wishes he could've changed so many things. but you couldn't change the past anymore, you couldn't change the grueling form of torture you call silence for a child who wanted the same type of love bruce had for when jason was alive, who had to deal with the aftermath of jason's death.
and now, as the ripe age of eighteen, still too young, and still bleeding, at the mercy of death.
it never occured to him just how interconnected your lives were together. just how much it was through his passing that affected your life.
he was the first brother who saw you without the need for your cries of attention every lonesome passing of time in the ghostly manor.
and you were the first who stared at him through tear-stained cheeks and diluted irises. not out of fear, not out of haste to warn other members of his growing family of jason's (a stranger in your eyes, no less, with armoured chest plates and a crimson helmet glinting mercilessly in the dark, lightless room only illuminated by the wretched moon, with guns loaded with bullets in his holster) sudden trespass within the kitchen windows, not out of every negative emotions he expects of you; but out of sheer shell shock that someone had finally caught you through your nightly sneaking.
out of genuine whiplash of someone finally looking at you eye-to-eye, head faced to one another, your cold fingertips pressing against the swell of your eyebags from restless nightmares and anxious paranoia triggered from academics, as if to tell yourself that this was all mere hallucination.
you matter so much to him, even if he tries to overcorrect his sins, trying his damn best to notice your presence whenever he visits the manor, even if his brash words sting your heart sometimes, even if he couldn't properly show you affection he should've given you—
it's not enough.
it was never enough, that even his gentle words spoken to you whilst he speeds through his motorcycle felt entire foreign. that despite unconscious and limp on his body, you're still flinching and the tears couldn't have enough time to dry. jason could've done so much more for his precious little sibling, he could've been the best older brother in the world like he promised himself to be back when he was an oblivious little child, just like how he sees you right now.
everything he did was not enough, but the doubts that circulate his mind didn't fester in his mind much anymore; because he turned it into motivation, he looks at you through the mirror of his motorcycle, vulnerable, aching with the need for affection (that he could provide, he could give to you infinitely...!) and transforms the regret into motivation.
to be better, to be the one you look up to, not with thoughts of how or when you'll be able to spend time with him, but with confidence and preference for his time. that he'll be the first you choose to look for.
jason promises you his undying loyalty, to protect you from the danger of this world, to savor the light and the warmth that emanates off of your presence. despite the heartache you felt because of him, because of all your tormentors— you were still kind, like an angel who had fallen from grace, but chose to grace the world instead with their remaining salvation.
if you manage to survive throughout it all, through the surgery and the anaesthesia-filled stitchings, with jason's scarred hands wrapped around your fists, daintier compared to the muscles in his. if by the end of this night, jason would have you alive (he will, he'll refuse anything else, even if it takes you being resurrected in the lazarus pit, then so be it) in his arms and resting peacefully in his apartment and not under bruce's roof, out of respect from your sheer insistence that you'd rather anywhere but the manor.
jason swears on his life that he'll make it up to you.
he'll be better for you, for his angel, to atone himself for all the sins he committed upon you.
and even if it means ripping the world upside down at its seems, even if it takes decades for you to feel comfortable within the confines of his arms, unlike the dread that claws at your body earlier, pushing him away, pushing your older brother away— he's willing to undergo even the same torture from joker if it means making up to you.
as long as he has you in his sights.
all this, just to see the fear in your eyes replaced by genuine happiness at the sight of your big brother, ready to do anything for you the moment requests spill out from your benevolent lips and gleaming eyes.
you truly are his saving grace, his angel in disguise.
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reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.
PLEASE READ: 14,200+ words. no beta, we just cry. "i am good, but not an angel. i do sin, but i am not the devil. i am just a small child in a big world trying to find someone to love." it's a quote that inspired this half of the chapter partly. apologies to anyone if jason seems a bit religious here??? he's not, but i'm trying to establish connections on why he even calls you that nickname in the first place (and totally not me relating it to the flashpoint comic where he becomes a priest 😭). again, bit of a boring chapter, but no hate please haha, instead leave comments if you enjoyed reading it!!! more interactions = more content.
there are many lyrics and song references scattered about the paragraphs, can you guys spot it all for me 🫦? i'm a musically inclined guy, and there's also lots of not implicitly stated songs too, i lost count honestly. tysm for all your patience, because writing through my hectic schedule is honestly a struggle.
as stated, there are a lot of jason todd and mc parallels, i love hearing you guys' thoughts about me expanding upon this. they're very different but also share so many similarities, and i like to explore deeper on every character just to make the yandere element more obvious and distinct.
and like my previous announcement too, please please please do not copy off the scenes i wrote. although my writing is mid, it doesn't mean it should be stolen word by word or the entire scenarios or scenes i've written should be taken in and written into your own fanfics too. my potrayals of each and every characters are a bit more unique takes too (i like to make myself believe), so as much as possible, please credit me. i appreciate you all 🩷
yet again, leave comments, interactions, what you think of this chapter (but not too critical comments, or pure hate please). idk what to feel about my writing, i hate it a lot sometimes but oh well! merry christmas, this is my early gift for all of you guys and for the second part, i'll try to post as soon as possible (i need to generate more spotlight to ensure they get equal attention ofc).
taglist: @neerathebrightstar, @ghostdoodlen, @prince-nikko, @daisy-spot, @strawberryglass, @h0neybun-was-here, @confused-they, @weirdcore-fantasy, @mystyque234, @marssthings, @notwhoy0uthink, @aliengutzstuff, @lilyalone, @luffyadolover, @punpunsonny, @lazyemmy, @questionthegrapevine, @oh-nowo-i-got-uwu, @winter-world, @zavavas-dungeon, @budijojo, @altruisticbeauty, @dopepursebasketballplaid, @the-holy-pigeon, @red-phantom-0, @em-draws14, @thypplover, @cens0r3d-blog, @yl90, @sadeem575, @couldeatthatgirlforlunch, @maicenitas, @kiiyoooo, @flyingpansaurus, @farmerboywakatoshikun-blog, @rogueofbullshit, @earlqurl, @dotomuses, @sheep-from-rad, @tsuniio, @thesm1l3yface, @nosochek-3o, @radiantharu, @iwasveronica, @kdjhubby, @ashstwin, @thetreefairypersonalblog, @se-rae2, @0ut0fsweets, @notwhoy0uthink
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personasintro · 1 year ago
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Mutual Help | #58
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↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help
⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader
⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn
⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, suggestive content
⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 20.1k+
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⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢ 
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The first issue happens shortly after your shenanigans with Jungkook.
Everything has been dealt with regarding your planned and first official vacation. Accommodation, flight tickets, even some of the activities all of you have agreed on. While you had enough time to dwell back into your working life (Jungkook free to some extent), each day has become closer to the D-day. 
You're not going to lie. You're excited to get out of Seoul – as much as you love the city – and experience some fun memories with your friends. With them, you will have the time of your lives. However, all plans come crashing down with a single message from Jimin. 
For some reason, his previous planned holiday is canceled by his boss himself. They're low on the employees and there's nothing else that could be done. 
“Maybe there will be a last minute change but I don't think that's gonna happen. I think I should cancel my flight tickets while I can.” Is what he said through a message. 
Taehyung was the one who took it the worst. To explain it correctly, Taehyung cursed the shit out of Jimin's boss and how devilish it is of him to ruin the holiday. Holiday without Jimin sounds sad and suddenly, none of it seems as exciting as you once thought. 
Perhaps the reason behind your sulky mood is the fact that you don't like when something is not going according to plans. Or more like – you're excited about something, already imagining and having a certain vision of things when it suddenly gets ruined. Funnily enough, Jimin is the one who takes it the best. He laughed and joked about it, though he surely does feel a little upset by the sudden changes. 
Nobody wants their summer holiday to get taken away, especially when he has to be working instead. Jimin insists all of you should go regardless of his absence when the idea of trying to get another date comes to the surface. Though, that's even trickier when three people have to change their already confirmed and planned holidays. There are your co-workers who have scheduled free days too. To say it shortly – it's not easy at all and would bring more trouble than good. 
Even Jungkook who's his own boss has scheduled photoshoots and overall work. He could possibly cancel it, but that would bring no good to his name and business. Plus, he would lose money obviously. 
Jimin stays positive and prays that maybe someone from their team will come to the rescue. 
It's a little more than two weeks before your planned vacation. You're in the middle of folding your freshly washed and dried clothes while Jungkook's humming can be heard in the background. You video-chat him, giving him advice on what clothes to give away to charity. Something he has been doing for a while now. 
Taehyung would tell him to sell everything and Jimin would tell him to give away everything. You, on the contrary, can reason with him. The piece of clothing he hasn't worn for the last year is good to go, because he will probably never wear it again. It's why you help him with that instead of any of the guys. 
After that is done, you just casually chat which to be honest, you're glad for. It's not like you haven't done that in a long time, but it feels way more calm than anything you've done for the past few months. It's a nice change compared to your wild thoughts. You just can't bring yourself to dwell on it – because you're going to lose it. 
“Oh found this one just now,” Jungkook says, cutting off your thoughts which is probably for the best. 
You look at him, his phone propped on his kitchen counter and from the looks of it, you can just imagine the device leaned against his bowl of fruit. He stands with a leather jacket in his arms, showing it off so you could see it better. Little does he know, that article of clothing is not one to be forgotten. 
“What do you think?”
“You want to give it away?” you almost gasp, hands on your hips with a mouth agape.
“Why not?”
“Because it's the legendary jacket, you can't just give it away.” you protest, seeing him blink at you a few times before he bursts out into the cutest fit of laughter.
Teeth on display, nose scrunched along with the ends of his eyes, he laughs. “Legendary jacket? What are you even talking about?”
You pout, rolling your eyes at him.
“It's just a regular leather jacket. Everyone's got one of these.”
“That might be true,” you start, Jungkook's eyes wide as he teasingly nods, motioning that he's listening. “But it looks way too good. Plus, you wear it often, right?”
God, you hope he does. Now is not the time to thirst over him and how fucking good he looks in that stupid jacket, but well… that's exactly what's happening right now.
“I haven't worn it in a while, it's too hot for it.”
“See? You will wear it once it's colder. Keep it.”
Jungkook stares at the jacket for a moment, his eyes glinting and watching the screen where you're currently finishing up folding your clothes. With a tiny smirk, he places the jacket to the side and leans against the counter. His forearms rest on it, head cocking to the side.
“I can't believe Jimin is not going with us.” Jungkook admits, mouth curling into a displaying frown which you immediately mirror without even looking at him.
Sitting on the couch with your phone in your hand, you sigh disappointedly. “Don't even mention it. I'm so upset over that. Honestly, what a stupid boss.”
“It happens here a lot though.”
“I know,” you whine, “But still. It ruined our plans and I feel so bad for him. We're gonna have fun and he will have to stay here and work. It won't be a proper vacation without him there. It was supposed to be all of us.”
“Jimin wants us to have fun.” he responds with a soft tone, thinking of the stupid situation himself. 
“It's not gonna be it when he's not there.”
“It fucking sucks,” Jungkook sighs. “Maybe he'll be able to join us last minute.”
“I doubt it,” you frown, Jungkook snickering at your pessimistic self as you give him a glare, knowing exactly why he's laughing. “He would have to get his flight tickets at the last minute, plus his accommodation is already canceled. What if the place we'll stay at won't have any free space?”
“There's a couch, he could sleep there.” he shrugs.
“Nah, flight tickets would be a problem. It's vacation season.”
“Or maybe he will be glad to spend some time with his girlfriend.”
You frown, “Not wanting to pull out Taehyung but he's with her almost all the time.”
“And how would you know that?” Jungkook chuckles.
“Well, when he's not working or with us, he's obviously with her.”
Jungkook keeps grinning, not really having any argument because he knows you're right.
“You sound like Taehyung.” he teases.
“Oh fuck off!” You both laugh. “It's true though.”
“It is. Can you blame him?”
“What do you mean?”
“If I had a girlfriend I would wanna be with her too.”
You frown at that again, staring at Jungkook on your screen who seems to shrug innocently. “But Jimin was excited to go to Hawaii.”
“Yes,” he says slowly, “I'm just saying that even if he's not going, he would spend time with his girlfriend and he would enjoy it either way. So no need to be too sad for him. He himself isn't too upset with it.”
“Men,” you sigh, “You all think of pussies.”
“Y/N!” Jungkook almost chokes at your honesty.
“What? Just sayin',” you mutter, “This is important, Kook.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “I was just trying to make you not feel so bad for him. He will be fine. He's a big boy.”
You snicker, “It's a bummer.”
“I know, but I promise you… we will have a good time. Even if it's just three of us.”
“Yeah, I know that–” you mutter, pouting. “Just will miss Jimin there.”
“Speaking of the devil, he's calling me.” Jungkook says, eyes attached to the top of his screen. “I will just call him after this.”
You cackle. 
“What?”
“Nothing, nothing.”
“Come on now,” he groans, “It's impolite to end a call just like that.”
“Just admit you love talking to me.”
He rolls his eyes, laughing as he keeps grinning at the screen. Your own mouth turning upwards as something within your chest tickles. “I do.” 
He admits and that something bursts. You freaking look away with a smile, almost too close to giggling loudly like a freaking teenager. You stop yourself, clearing your throat. 
“You should've seen your face,” he suddenly bursts out laughing. “What was that? Do I make you flustered, Y/L/N?”
“You wish, Jeon.” you spit jokingly right away, your senses acting automatically. 
He suddenly sneezes, loudly and forcingly, your head tilting to the side as he lifts up his gaze, eyes mischievous as a teasing grin makes it onto his face again. “I'm sorry, I'm allergic to your bullshit.”
You gasp loudly, “You piece of shit. I'll get you back for that, Jeon.”
“Yeah, wonder how,” he teases cheekily, “Why's Jimin still calling me? Wait hold on–”
He grabs his phone, tapping something there as you get another angle of his face.
“This angle is funny. Too bad I can't see your double-chin. This could be my payback.” you joke, Jungkook clearly too immersed in reading something to pay you his full attention.
You purse your lips. “Hello? I'm trying to be funny here.”
His eyes widen, your smile dropping.
“Kook?”
“Holy shit,”
“What?”
“Fuck, fuck,” He stands up, almost dropping his phone. “Jimin just texted me–Taehyung is in the hospital.”
“What?!” You yell, standing up abruptly as you clutch the phone in your hands. “Jungkook, talk to me! What happened?”
“I literally don't know!” he exclaims. “Jimin just got the call and tried to reach us.”
“Us? He didn't call me!” you panic, checking your notifications to see them empty. Fuck. You would not forgive yourself if you somehow ignored his messages, even though it wouldn't be entirely your fault.
“Fuck, we need to get there. He's going there right now.”
“Is it serious?” you ask, voice shaking at the thought of Taehyung and something happening to him. He's in a hospital which means it's something serious. 
Jungkook stops pacing, hearing the shakiness in your voice. Bringing the phone closer to his face, he watches you. “I'll come get you, alright?”
You nibble on your nails, nodding still staring ahead of you. 
“Y/N,” Jungkook calls out to you. “He's gonna be okay, alright?”
“You don't know that.” you scoff.
“We don't know any details, so let's not jump into conclusions, okay? Just wait there, alright? I will drive to your place right now.”
“Where would I go?” you exclaim, clearly stressed which Jungkook doesn't blame you for. Instead of calling you out for your attitude, he knows you're worried and stressed.
“Just don't drive anywhere.”
“I won't.” you promise, voice softening. 
“I will call you once I'm there. Don't go outside, it's too late.”
“Jungkook, stop worrying so much.” 
He groans, grabbing his keys as the screen keeps glitching here and there how quickly he's moving. “It's too late. Wait inside.” 
“Okay, sir.” you mutter dryly, Jungkook stopping just to glare at you. 
“Stop messing around. I am not.”
“Jesus, sorry.” 
He rolls his eyes. “Keep your pretty ass in your home. I'll call you when I get there.”
“Then get your pretty ass here, Jeon.” you roll your eyes to give back at him.
He sighs, closing his front door with a loud thud. The connection glitches for a second, his internet changing to his mobile data as he waits for the elevator. “Fuck it.” You hear him muttering, running for the stairs.
You keep pacing in your living room, biting off your nails while not having Taehyung beside you to scold you for doing so. Your heart clenches and worry overcomes you once again. It's Jungkook's car door closing that brings your attention back, watching him put his phone into the phone holder. 
“Kook?” 
“Hm?” he says, putting on his seatbelt as he turns on the engine. 
“Drive safely, okay?”
“I will,” he promises, but you keep giving him the same desperate look. “I promise.”
You smile nervously, ending the call just to be met with a spam of messages from Jimin. 
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Jungkook comes shortly after, just enough for you to check all the lights and gas before you leave. He definitely drove over the speed limit but you don't dare to scold him once he calls you. You spot the familiar Mercedes slowing down the parking lot just as your phone rings. Just like he wanted, you stayed inside. Knowing there's a low chance of something happening to you – considering this neighborhood is pretty much safe and you've walked when it was way later than now  – you also know he cares about your safety, so you didn't feel like disobeying his direct orders. Or more like a plea that would end up in a frustrating scolding if you didn't listen to him. 
Once you get inside the car, you buckle your seatbelt and Jungkook speeds out of the parking lot, rushing to the hospital where Jimin texted him details.
“Jimin is there.”
“What happened? Did he tell you?”
Jungkook shakes his head, checking on you for a split second before his eyes are back on the road. “No, he's still waiting.”
Luckily, the hospital where Taehyung's at is not that far away and it takes you approximately around fifteen minutes to get there, with all the red lights you had to stop at.
You've never had to go to a hospital here because something happened to one of your friends. To go through this and watch how Jungkook says Taehyung's name at the reception, trying to get any information doesn't sit with you well. You're full of nerves, sticking to Jungkook's side as he handles everything by himself. The nurse questions your relation to Taehyung but luckily, has no problem giving you directions of where to find your friend. 
“Couldn't she tell us if he's alive?” you grumble beside Jungkook as he tries to follow her directions from before. 
Jungkook chuckles, “If he wasn't, she wouldn't just tell us where to find him.”
Sighing, you follow Jungkook the entire time. “Have you been here before?” you question him in the elevator, a suspicious, curious look glinting in your eyes where worry was found before. 
Jungkook gives you a side-glance, sighing before looking ahead. “I have.”
When he doesn't elaborate and is silent, you lean yourself forward to catch his eyes. “When?”
He straightens his posture.
“It's just because you kinda know your way around here.”
You don't remember him mentioning being hospitalized here, nor coming here for examinations. There's a chance you simply don't know about that. There might be things you haven't told each other, it's practically impossible knowing everything about each other. But you feel if it came to this topic, you would know about it. 
But you don't. 
“I was here with Kiko.”
You halt, a taken back expression taking over your face.
“And because of Kiko.” He adds, clearing his throat at the mention of his ex. Almost as if you would bite off his head just for mentioning her name. 
You chuckle at that. “Oh, I didn't know that.”
“Yeah, didn't think of mentioning it before.” he mutters.
“Was she hospitalized here?”
“Do you really wanna know or you're just nosy?” he teases, wiggling his brow at you as you roll your eyes.
“Just answer, Jeon.”
“My curious delicate flower,” he continues to tease, ruffling your hair in the process as you elbow him in the ribs. “She had something with her shoulder once, she went here for rehabilitation.”
“Oh,” you let out slowly. “Was she fine after that?”
Feeling a burn of someone's gaze, you see Jungkook side-eyeing you. “Don't pretend like you care.” he chuckles, shaking his head at you as you smack your lips at him in annoyance.
“I wanna know! Stop making it seem like I'm a heartless monster!” 
“I wouldn't dare.” he jokes, continuing to shake his head as you sigh in irritation at your very annoying friend. 
“I advise you that.”
He snickers, “Damn, so scary.”
“Jungkook, seriously. I'm gonna kick you in the balls if you're gonna continue this.” you warn him, hearing him laugh as he leans against the elevator's wall. 
You glance at him, annoyed expression as his brow cockily lifts up. 
“Not the balls, damn, you monster.”
“Keep talking and you'll see the real monster.” you mutter, your bickering interrupted by the elevator's ring, informing you of your floor. 
Walking out of there, all the fun disappears as soon as you see and smell the sterile surroundings again, along with sick patients of all sorts which truly breaks your heart. You understand why someone hates hospitals so much. You never truly belong to that people, never really had that awful experience. Everyone you lost in the family had left at their peaceful homes. You never had to say goodbye to anyone here. 
Although, you do remember visiting your father's mother – your dear grandmother  – when you were a kid. Unfortunately, she passed away when you were around six. The only thing that bothers you to this day is that you don't have many memories with her. Since you were a little kid, you only remember very little. Plus, there are days when you wished she was still here. To talk about the craziness you've experienced in both families. To help her and show her your gratitude for raising your dad and his four siblings, when she was all alone. She was truly an inspiration for you. 
Your dad says you get a lot from her. You'll never forget a conversation you had with him about her. 
“You remind me of her sometimes. She had a good heart like you have.”
That's what he told you when you were around eighteen. Your dad is not a sentimental person. He doesn't usually say many heart-warming things, so to hear him saying that just made you emotional. Thinking of it now, it still does in a way.
“Sorry, we are here looking for our friend? They told us at the reception he's on this floor. Kim Taehyung?” Jungkook stops one of the nurses, surprisingly stopping a male who kindly shows you the way to see your friend. 
Jungkook looks behind, making sure you're there as he gives you an encouraging smile. You wonder if he's scared as fuck of what you're about to see as well. Is he pretending to be brave and having his shit together because of you? Are you preaching? 
Jungkook is the most caring friend. You don't believe he's not worried as much as you are. 
“Ready?” he asks, tilting his head toward the direction the nurse sent you. 
Naturally, like your body calls for his proximity and safety, you wrap your arms around his forearm, clutching to his side as you give him a nod. He leads you to one of the rooms, both of you cautiously peeking inside as the scene in front of you makes you both gasp loudly, catching everyone's attention in the room. 
There he is. 
If someone told you you will see Kim Taehyung laying in a hospital bed, you would laugh him off for some reason. All of you would. So to not only see him lying there but having a huge cast on his leg, his face pale and hair unkempt, you and Jungkook gulp at the sight. 
Jimin stands there, arms crossed over his chest as his hands rub his lips nervously. A woman stands next to him, a little behind him, noticing your and Jungkook's presence immediately. 
That has to be her.
But before any of you can pay her attention, Taehyung steals it without even knowing as he groans. 
“What the hell happened?” You almost shriek as a panicked mother, tearing yourself off Jungkook's side as you rush to Taehyung's side, Jungkook following you right after.
Both of you having a concerned look, Taehyung takes a minute to recognize you. You make a grimace, you and Jungkook giving Jimin a stare as he goes to say something, but he's interrupted by the patient himself. 
“You guys are here?” He looks shocked, making sure it's really you as he squints his eyes at you both.
“Of course we are–what happened, Tae?”
“Ah, don't even ask! That shit is so fucking embarrassing!” he dramatically sighs, slapping his palm over his forehead as he disappointedly shakes his head at himself.
“Can he just tells us what the fuck happened to him?” Jungkook mutters under his breath, causing you to elbow him like before.
Jimin clears his throat, “He was at the gym and accidentally dropped one of the dumbbells on his feet.”
“Jimin-ah!”
“Man they asked!” Jimin exclaims, trying to keep calm. 
“You guys came here because of me?” Taehyung pouts, changing the topic as you and Jungkook stare at him completely dumbfounded. What is wrong with him?
“Of course we did,” you assure him. “We would be here sooner, but Jimin had to call us. Why didn't you call us too?” you frown.
“Actually, the nurse called me. Taehyung gave them my number.”
“Well, that's great.” you mutter.
“Well, I'm sorry!” Taehyung mocks you, slapping his arms against the fluffy duvet he has thrown over one side of his body. “How could I know if you guys are not fucking somewhere behind our backs?”
“We don't do that!” Jungkook reacts.
The room is filled with craziness. 
Jimin sighs, deadpanning at his friend. You and Jungkook loudly gasp, your hand over your fast beating heart. 
The room is silent after that, Jimin's eyes directed somewhere behind you and Jungkook. You both turn around to see a nurse coming in, an awkward smile attached on her lips as she holds the clipboard with her. 
“We had to give him some painkillers, he was close to crushing his toes. He's a little drugged by now.” she informs you, perhaps trying to make you less embarrassed because of your friend. 
“I will come back and fill you with more information.” She sets up the clipboard on his bed, everyone bowing to her as she reciprocates it before walking away. 
“Ignore him, he's drugged.” Jimin apologizes to the female beside him, her eyes eyeing you and Jungkook as you shift on your spot. 
“Yeah, he's just babbling nonsense.” 
Taehyung scoffs, luckily keeping his mouth shut about this topic. “Yeah, by the way guys, Jimin brought his girlfriend. They were on a date when his friend was dying.”
“You weren't dying, Taehyung.” Jimin corrects him, giving him a stern look as the younger friend puts his lips into a thin line, frowning. “Ah, guys. This is Rin. Wanted to introduce you to her under different circumstances but well, babe–” 
Taehyung gags in the distance. “Knowing you, you would've kept her secret for another year.”
“This is Y/N and Jungkook. My friends.” Jimin grits through his teeth, giving a forced smile to his blonde girl. 
“It's nice to meet you. Jimin talked about you a lot.”
“Really? Because he really didn't–”
You kick Taehyung's mattress, ignoring his nasty glare as you both bow at each other. 
“Nice meeting you too, Rin. Welcome to the craziness.” Jungkook chuckles, “Jimin is a great guy. Hope this didn't traumatize you.”
She giggles, Jimin laughing nervously while you watch Taehyung who sulks in his spot. “No. It didn't.” she assures Jimin as she cuddles up to him. 
“Tae, how are you feeling?” you ask, focusing your attention on your sulking friend. 
You sit on the edge of his bed, brushing a few strands off his hair.
“Embarassed and like a fucking idiot,” he mutters. “I got so much attention at the gym. Fuck, I am used to attention but not that kind.”
“The most important thing is that you are okay, Taehyung.” Jungkook butts in, trying to sound gentle as he eyes his friend's new cast. 
Taehyung scoffs, “Does this seem fine to you?”
“I meant it that you're alive. You'll have this cast for a few months but you will be fine. You're lucky nothing worse happened to you.” Jungkook explains. 
“Fuck, I feel high,” he sighs, dropping his head on the pillow as he stares at the ceiling. He gulps, whining. “What about Hawaii? Fucking hell. I can't go.”
The realization hits all of you, yours and Jungkook's eyes meeting as you pout. 
“We can go next year.” Jungkook tries but you know it will only do so little. 
“We will cancel it too. There's no point in going when both of you don't go.” you tell him, Taehyung frowning as Jimin gives you an empathic smile. 
“No, you guys have to go.” Taehyung says, your eyes lifting up in surprise. But before you can say something, mouth already opening, he continues. “Everything's paid for. Jimin barely got the money back for flight tickets, I don't think I will get mine. It's too close to date.”
“Tae is right,” Jimin agrees, “You can still enjoy it without us.”
“I would hate myself if you didn't go there because of my clumsiness,” Taehyung admits, frowning. “Y/N you were so excited to see Hawaii.”
You stare, pouting as your eyes get teary for some reason. The entire situation is shitty as fuck and Taehyung's pale face is not helping. 
“You have to go.”
“I'm sure accommodation can be arranged just for the two of you. It's worth a shot.” Jimin says.
“We could try but I don't know…” Jungkook groans, sighing in disappointment at the fucked up situation. “We'll talk about it later. You're more important now, Tae. What can we do for you?” 
You nod, listening to Taehyung who sighs, cracking his neck. “I would die for McDonald's right now.”
Snorting, you shake your head at your friend. 
“You shouldn't eat right now, Tae. You have a good amount of meds inside you. It would probably make you sick.” Jimin reminds him. 
“We should just wait for the nurse to give us more information. Then we can figure it out from there.” you say, Jimin and Jungkook nodding in agreement. 
“This fucking sucks.” 
You make yourself comfortable on Taehyung's current bed, humming. “Tell me something about it.”
A few minutes later, a male in his mid-thirties (you're guessing) comes in. Wearing a white coat, you almost forgot how handsome some doctors can look, he eyes everyone in the room – mostly surprised to see so many people but then none of you are family members. He does question it but doesn't send you away. 
“...fortunately, Mr. Kim, your accident hasn't permanently damaged any of your nerves or bones. You'll have to wear a cast for a couple of weeks until it's healed, and after that you will need to be careful. But we'll take it from there and discuss further recovery steps.”
Taehyung looks like he's five seconds from dozing off or as if he could care less, you're trying to hold back your laugh while Jimin and Jungkook are the responsible ones. They keep nodding and looking seriously at the doctor using terms you've never heard before. You're sure none of them have and the fact they act like they do makes you want to laugh. Rin stays behind, sitting on the chair next to a window. You get a feeling she might feel not unwelcomed, but definitely out of her comfort zone. 
She sees four friends sticking together, three of them that she hasn't seen before. Honestly, it's not weird to see a woman next to Jimin. It is weird to see the affection they have going on, even though so far it has been pretty low-key. 
As the doctor finishes and informs Taehyung he's able to go home after they run some tests on him, he gives you a shortly lasting look. You smile, looking away in shyness as you're met with Jungkook's side-eyed frown. He has done that a lot today, you think.
You just innocently shrug, both of your attentions turned to Taehyung who starts to complain all over again. 
“You guys should go. You were on a date, right? Me and Kook will take care of him.” you tell Jimin, feeling bad not because they had to cut off their date, but you feel bad toward Rin. 
She probably wants to be with her boyfriend, it has probably been too many events for her tonight. You could sympathize with her and imagine what it feels like for her. Besides, there are three of you here. There's no need for all of you to be here. Taehyung will be fine. 
Someone just has to wait with him for more tests and results, so he's really safe to go home. Plus, he needs to be driven home as his ride here was an ambulance – something he's still complaining about how awkward it was when it arrived in front of the gym. 
“Yeah, go. They will take care of me.” Taehyung mutters like the child he can be, met with yet another glare from you. 
Jungkook tries not to laugh while Jimin frowns. “No. We could wait here and drive him to my place.” Jimin argues, turning to Rin. “You don't mind, right?”
“Fucking hell,” Taehyung whispers under his breath. “Why are you asking her? Just go and have your date.” He rolls his eyes at Jimin who clenches his jaw.
“I don't mind.” Rin tells him silently, assuring him.
“Somebody's gonna have to take care of your ass, Taehyung-ah. You can't be alone at home right now.”
“I'm not a child.”
“Sometimes you act like it.”
“Okay,” you butt in, standing up. “It's too late to be arguing in a freaking hospital. So get it together, both of you–” You're met with a glare from both of them. “Jimin wants to be here for you, so don't be childish Taehyung. They can have a date another time.”
“What she means to say is–” Jungkook starts, standing behind you. “We're all willing to stay here and help.”
Jimin and Rin have a silent conversation as Taehyung purses his lips and closes his eyes, ignoring his surroundings. Deep down, you know he wants Jimin to be here for him. He's just childish because Jimin is dating now and even though Rin doesn't seem to be a bad girl, it's different now. Suddenly, there's another person in his life and in their friendship as well. It awfully reminds you of the situation you had with Jungkook. 
It's still slightly different but similar in many ways. You know how Taehyung feels. The difference is that Taehyung also knows shit about relationships. He can't understand why Jimin, the guy who used to fuck purely for fun and enjoyment, is now dating someone. 
“Guys, could you drop off Rin at her house? She lives nearby, so it's not too far away.”
“Yeah, sure. No problem.” Jungkook responds. 
“Come on, it's late. We should all go to sleep. They can handle it from there,” you say, motioning for Rin to join you. “Don't worry, we're friendly and don't bite.” 
She laughs, some of her nervosity dropping.
“Yeah, they're too into each other to care about anyone else.” Taehyung comments.
“Y'know what Taehyung? If you don't want your other leg in a cast, you better shut up.” you warn him, feeling Jungkook's hand on your lower back as he shakes his head, silently telling you it's not worth it as an amused smile plays on his lips. 
“Which one?” Taehyung asks cheekily, having the time of his life when he watches your realization into disgust.
“Jesus, man. You should sleep it off.”
“That's not gonna help. This is Taehyung we're talking about.” you murmur to Jungkook.
Taehyung is about to say another nonsense, stopped by Jimin's palm as he gives him a warning stare before he walks up to you and Jungkook.
“Guys, please do not interrogate her. Okay?” Jimin pleas, sounding nervous as you and Jungkook share a knowing look. “No, please. Don't look at each other like that.” 
Little does he know it wasn't because of what he thinks it is, that you will go against his wishes, but it's the cuteness of how he doesn't want to ruin anything between them. You've never had a chance to see him like this. 
“Don't worry, we're gonna be on our best behavior.” Jungkook jokes, causing Jimin to whine but there's no time to have such a silly conversation. 
Jimin turns to Rin, telling her something before they share a kiss. You're ready to squeal at the cuteness as Jungkook tries not to laugh at you, cheekily poking you in your side while Taehyung looks grumpy.
“I'll text you and see you tomorrow, okay?” You hear Jimin say just as you bid goodbye to Taehyung, who's already too sleepy. 
Jungkook pats the top of his head before you leave Jimin with him and part your ways. But not before you hear Jimin's silent scolding. “You see? This is exactly why I didn't want to–”
You and Jungkook try not to laugh on your way out of the room, sharing a look in the hallway as Rin silently follows you, probably wondering who the hell has she just met. 
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“She's quiet.”
You break a silence by stating something both of you are thinking. Rin is not exactly communicative, kept it very casual and both, you and Jungkook, could get the hint of her not wanting to really talk. 
“She might've felt bad because of Taehyung.” Jungkook responds, a thoughtful frown making it on his face as he drives you through familiar streets that lead toward your home. 
During the slightly awkward drive to Rin's place, Jungkook tried to excuse Taehyung's behavior, thinking it's the main reason for Rin's distant behavior. It's not like she wasn't friendly or has done something out of place. She was just… quiet. She kept it simple, not engaging in any further topics. And regarding Taehyung, she just said it's okay and that was it. 
It was certainly none of you have expected. You tried to make the atmosphere lighter, forcing chuckles and grins for her own sake but she just didn't seem to care. You're not going to lie, that stung a little and you had to grit your teeth to prevent yourself from really asking her – What's up?
But then you realize, you have no idea how she's feeling. She met all three of you in the span of one hour and with Taehyung's insanity and even bolder mouth than ever, it has been a lot for her probably. 
It's not like the three of you are too much to handle, right? 
“You think so?”
Jungkook chuckles at your question, “Tae took it too far. Anyone would've felt uncomfortable.”
“Come on, he's on drugs–” you scoff out a chuckle as if that excuses him. “He wasn't fully himself.”
“He was pretty much Taehyung, what are you sayin'?” Jungkook laughs.
You smack your lips together, a laugh escaping past them as you gently nudge his arm. “You know what I mean–he would've behaved slightly differently if he wasn't in that state.”
“Hm, that could be true,” he mutters, driving with one hand as the other rubs his lips thoughtfully. “Maybe she's just shy, would explain a lot.”
“Maybe,” you hum, “Can you believe it though? Our Jimin has a girlfriend. Who would've thought?”
“Not me,” Jungkook jokes, quoting one of the famous sounds on TikTok which causes both of you to break into laughter. “I hope she's not terrified of us–or Tae.”
“There's nothing to be terrified of when it comes to us!” you exclaim, giggling when you see Jungkook's grimace of pursed lips and raised brows. “I don't know. I thought it would go differently when we would finally meet her. Not like this.”
“None of us expected it,” Jungkook says, “But it doesn't matter. All that matters is that Taehyung is okay.”
“Oh god, he's gonna be such a drama queen once they release him. A cast on his leg?”
Jungkook laughs, knowing exactly what you mean when it comes to Taehyung. “He's gotta get used to it. At least for a while.”
While a short silence follows, one thought is rooted inside your mind which causes you to nibble on your lips. “Kook,”
“Hm?”
“This means we're going alone to Hawaii?”
Jungkook sighs, thinking through his answer as you watch the side of his face and how street's signs and lights illuminate his features. “If you want to.”
He stops at the red light, a few cars stopping behind you as you stare out of the window to avoid his stare once he glances at you. You see him in the reflection. His eyes momentarily watch your form, perhaps trying to decipher what you're thinking before he looks back ahead, staring at the road instead. 
“This is not how it was meant to be.” you mutter.
For some odd reason, you feel bad for even saying it. It almost sounds like you don't want to go with Jungkook. It's not that at all. Sure, the thought scares the fuck out of you – but Jimin and Taehyung were supposed to be there. All four of you. Making new memories and doing something new, something precious for your just as precious friendship. 
“We don't have to go. We could try next year.”
“No,” you shake your head, “Everything's paid for. It was already trouble enough to deal with Jimin's reservations and now it's the same with Taehyung.”
“Listen,” Jungkook sighs, the engine roaring back to life as the red light changes to orange. By the time it's green, Jungkook puts the car into drive and speeds through the main road. “I know it's not ideal, but I don't want you to go if you don't feel like it.”
“It's not ideal but–” you stop yourself, groaning at your stupid way of explaining your feelings. “I made it sound as if I didn't wanna go with you…” you trail off, somehow starting to feel nervous which is stupid. 
Jungkook stays silent. You're not sure if it's because he wants to listen to you or because he silently agrees. You did make it sound like that. 
“I just–would it be wise?”
“Wise?” Jungkook frowns.
“Well–just the two of us.”
Jungkook stares ahead before he throws you a quick glance. It takes approximately five seconds for him to release a chuckle as he shakes his head while you're the one who stares in confusion now. 
“So that's what you're nervous about?”
You roll your eyes, not being able to say anything. It's partly why you're so unsure about this. The last time you and Jungkook stayed alone… things happened. And while you would like to believe you're strong willed, there's a part of you that fears the exact opposite. 
It's insane how Jungkook gets it without you actually having to say anything.
“What? You can't keep it in your pants, Y/L/N?”
It's the cocky tone that makes your mouth drop open, but that single sentence is enough to make you stutter and you literally fight to get proper words out. “You're the one bringing that up!”
But Jungkook laughs, completely ignoring your evident attempt of trying to argue with his statement. 
“I didn't even think about that.”
“Mhm, mhm.”
He bursts out laughing, ignoring the way you glaring at his side with a huffy face. “What else did you mean then?”
“None of your business, Jeon.” you mutter, arms crossed over your chest as you fight back a smile when you hear his bubbly laugh next to you. 
“Oh, we're back to Jeon?”
“You're the first one that started with surnames,” you point out, giving him a playful roll of your eyes before you sigh and relax in the seat. “I just meant… maybe it's stupid but–we all know how it ended the last time. This is a vacation, Jungkook. We're gonna be miles and miles away. It sounds–”
“Couple-y?” He finishes your thought. He shakes his head with a gentle smile. “It sounds like fun to me. I'm still me, Y/N.” It's the way his last sentence sounds so gentle and vulnerable that it makes you feel like an idiot for even bringing it up. 
He's still the same Jungkook you've known for years. With or without intimacy.
You just had to talk about Hawaii one way or another. 
“Yeah–I know it sounds like that but I don't overthink it that much. I just meant–fuck, I guess it's a big change from our plans and just us going is…”
“You're scared.” he says, pointing out the obvious that makes you dryly swallow. 
You mentally groan and slap yourself. “How am I supposed to enjoy it when you will be right there?”
“Ouch.”
“No, not like that!” you correct yourself, groaning loudly this time. “You'll be a distraction.”
Jungkook laughs at that, “Distraction?”
“Yes!” you exclaim, growing frustrated but mainly from yourself and the fact you're talking about this. It makes you slightly embarrassed but at the same time it's a relief that you can talk about this so openly with him. “With Jimin and Taehyung there–”
“I can keep it in my pants,” he informs you of something you've heard many times before. “The question is–”
You inhale shakily.
“Can you?”
You stare ahead, eyes wide and mouth agape, tongue softly grazing your teeth.
Well–fuck.
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“Listen, just let me know how you decided.”
Jungkook says with a window opened as you stand next to the driver's side, shifting on your spot nervously. You haven't talked much after that. There was not much time since Jungkook drove here in five minutes. 
“I'm stupid for saying shit like that.”
Jungkook frowns, “Hey, you're not stupid. You're unsure and feel bad for the guys.”
It's not even about the temptation and the stupid break you came up with. It's the entire change of plans you've mentioned to him as well. You made it sound as if it was all about the two of you, but the truth is it feels bad to go there without Taehyung and Jimin. 
And that's exactly what you tell Jungkook as you confess your once said thoughts. This time you're more serious. 
“You heard them. They want us to go either way. Even when we don't think about the money and how's everything already paid for–you were excited to go there,”
He slides his hand off the steering wheel and places it on his lap instead. 
“We're going there to enjoy our vacation. It might not be as we planned it, but we could still have fun. And deep down, I know you really wanna go there.”
“I do,” you admit after a while. When you think about it, this is your opportunity to go. Although, going there alone with him makes you awfully nervous. It's like a huge test for the two of you, one you're not ready for. “You know the last time when we were alone–”
“Mhm,” he says, prompting you to continue.
“I don't wanna make it seem as if that's all I'm thinking about, or that's how I see you but I guess–”
God why is it so hard to put any words out?
“I know,” Jungkook says gently, seeing you struggling a little to properly explain the crazy train of your thoughts. “You wanted us to focus on our friendship. I know, Y/N.”
He's so gentle that you almost want to cry out and have him hug you. You're in a desperate need of a hug. But it's too late and you both had a long day. 
“You sure you don't wanna go upstairs?” 
Jungkook smirks and you groan. “Not like that, Jeon.”
“I feel like I'm gonna pass out the second I take a shower and lay in my bed,” he jokes instead, “You should go inside, it's getting colder.”
You bite the inside of your cheek as you stare at your surroundings. “I wanna go, Kook.”
Jungkook turns his head to look at you, immediately realizing what you're talking about. He doesn't say it but the question in his eyes is clear. You sure?
“Yeah, I made a big deal out of it,” You sigh. “But I really wanna go with you. It would be stupid for us not to go.”
“Okay, then. I'll have to make some calls because of Taehyung, hopefully he will be able to get his money back. At least for the accommodation. If you change your mind, just let me know.”
“I won't,” you assure him with a smile, “And Kook?”
“Yes?”
“It's stupid but… I don't think I've ever felt nervous about you before. The last time was when we first met. Or the first time we started hanging out.”
“I made you nervous?” He laughs.
“Mostly everyone makes me nervous when I first meet them,” you scowl at him as you explain. “We barely hung out after we–took a break or whatever we wanna call it.”
Jungkook snorts at the way you roll your eyes when you say it. 
“I make you nervous. I don't know how to deal with this information.”
“Jeon,” you grit through your teeth, “It's not you. It's more… the situation and all.”
He grins, biting his lower lip before he releases it and stares at the distant street lights. “There's no need to be nervous. No kissing. No sex. We're on a sex ban. Just two best friends in Hawaii.”
You groan his name and at the way he says it with an utmost grin. This man is not serious. 
“That's not what I truly meant but–you know what? Nevermind. Let's just end it here.”
Jungkook doesn't press any further, simply opting for a gentle grin and change of topic. “Goodnight, Y/N.”
You catch yourself wishing he would say something else instead of your name.
And that's your cue to turn around before silently wishing him a goodnight, telling him to drive safe and send you a message once he's home. Perhaps it's for the better that he stayed in his car. 
He waits until you're inside of the building before he drives out of the parking lot, his silver car slowly fading out until it fully disappears. What doesn't disappear are the mixed and crazed feelings that make you question every single thing that has been said. 
One thing you know for sure.
This vacation will be one hell of a ride. 
One, you can't prepare yourself for. One, you're close to shitting your pants for.
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Rolling your suitcase down the sidewalk, Jungkook offers to take it but you decline. He has his own suitcase and full hands, therefore all he receives is just an appreciative smile as you enter the airport. 
Namjoon was kind enough to take you and since your flight is early in the morning, he had the time to drive you here.
Sorting out your luggage and going through the security doesn't take too long and before you know it, you're seated in the airplane fighting for a window seat with Jungkook. He lets you have it, of course and slumps into the seat next to you. With a happy and slightly annoying smile, you make sure he sees it as he playfully rolls his eyes.
Since there are still passengers sitting and putting away their luggage, you do have a little time before taking off. You take that time to quickly video chat with Jimin and Taehyung. While Jimin's preparing for his work, Taehyung curses you out for waking him up. Though, there's a tiny smile that tells you that it's okay to go without them and enjoy it to the fullest. 
You share your earphones with Jungkook, so he can hear them too. 
“You guys–” Taehyung sighs, eyes slightly swollen with tiredness. “This sucks but enjoy it, alright? And send me pictures.”
“We will.”
“Yeah, Kook took his camera with him.”
“You and your camera,” Taehyung jokingly shakes his head. “I could've had such nice pictures.”
“You have… lots of them actually,” Jungkook snickers, “We will take some next time.”
“Be safe guys, I gotta run to work but text us when you land.” Jimin says, his screen blurry as he keeps moving.
“Will do.” you assure them. “I'm sorry you guys couldn't come.”
“Stop,” Taehyung cuts you off, giving you a grin that feels oddly comforting. “Have the biggest fucking fun. I'm stuck in bed, so maybe I will annoy you with my phone calls.”
“Great.” Jungkook mutters, causing you to nudge him as the four of you laugh.
“We're about to take off. I will call you, Tae. Don't worry.”
“I am not. What I worry about though, is the amount of times I could've gotten laid. Now I'm stuck here with this fucking cast on.”
“Dude, chill out.” Jimin laughs. 
So do you and Jungkook. Shortly after you all end the call, you and Jungkook snickering between each other at Taehyung's biggest issue. 
While the pilot welcomes everyone on board and informs them of the destination and other important information, you make yourself comfortable in your seat as you place your head on Jungkook's shoulder. 
Jungkook looks down at you, smiling as you catch his glance. “Ready?”
“Is there anything left for me other than to be ready?”
“Well, you could chicken out. The plane is not in the air yet.”
You smack his side, sitting up straight as you're met with the familiar sight of his stretched smile and white pearls. “Dumbass.”
“Love you too.”
You look away, making sure he sees the roll of your eyes before doing so. Though a small smile plays on your lips and as you take off, plane soon in the clouds, you use Jungkook as the softest and best smelling pillow.
The adrenaline and excitement of what's awaiting for you does not allow you to sleep. Yet you don't move an inch, finding comfort in the man sitting beside you. And when you ask him to play with your hair, he does it without any questions. 
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“Oh my god.” 
Is the first thing you let out as soon as you get out of the airport and see the beauty around you. The weather is not too hot for you to not have any sunglasses or hat on. You shield your eyes with a palm outstretched above them, stopping in the tracks as Jungkook tries to get a taxi. 
“Beautiful, isn't it?” Jungkook says once he locks his phone and puts it into the pocket of his shorts. “The place we are staying at is even more beautiful.”
Jungkook has managed to make a compromise with the owner of the place you're staying at during the next seven days. Since it would be for the best if Jimin and Taehyung got their money back, they made a deal on swapping apartments. This way the owner could still make a profit while complying with you.
That alone made you a little bit calm because so far, everything is going well and smoothly. 
“Our car should be here in five.” Jungkook informs you and ushers you to go in a shadow.
You obey, feeling already as if you're melting.
“What's our plan for today?”
You haven't really slept during the flight. Jungkook has booked a business class, something you've scolded him for because that's definitely something you haven't paid for when you sent him the money for your flight ticket. There was no need for that eight hour flight, but you both definitely made a good use of it. You turned on a movie and made yourself comfortable while eating snacks. Who knew having a drink on a plane can be actually so relaxing and fun at the same time?
You sit on your suitcase, squinting your eyes at Jungkook who pulls a cap from his suitcase and puts it on your head. 
“We're gonna settle in and maybe we could check the outside?”
“Sounds good.” 
The car comes around the time Jungkook said it would, an older man with a straw hat on welcomes you and helps you with your things. You both thank him and get inside – luckily – with an air condition on.
While he drives and gives you a quick tour of the road you're driving on, he answers any curious and informative questions Jungkook asks him. You sit silently, smiling at the man whenever he jokes around as you stare out of the window, appreciating the nature around you. 
And at that moment you think;
It's a good thing you decided to go.
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You've seen the photos of where you were supposed to be staying. All four of you. But since that has changed and the two of you couldn't go, there had to be some changes made. Jungkook informed you about that, so that's no news to you. It would be no use for you and him to share a place designed for four and more people. 
Surrounded by nature and sea air, there's a whole street of houses. It's so close to the sea that you can hear the waves in the distance and smell the salted water. Surely, the location and vacation houses are one of the wealthiest ones, and you just can't seem to pry your eyes at what's around you. 
You let Jungkook handle everything, after you've grabbed your luggage and bid goodbye to the driver. He talks to the owner, or the person who is in charge of the vacation house you'll be staying at. Shortly after, Jungkook is given keys and after waving off one last person, you finally get out of the sun and get inside. 
The first thing you notice is the chilly air hitting your heated bodies, the two of you sighing in delight before you both laugh. 
“AC is gonna be our best friend here.” you comment, squinting your eyes as they adjust to the lack of sun.
“Just don't overboost it, yeah? Or else you're gonna end up sick.”
You turn to Jungkook with raised brows, who simply just shrugs as he sets the luggage down. 
“Says the person who always has his AC turned on in the car.” you point out the obvious fact you both know.
“My immune system is much better than yours.” he points out back, showing you the tip of his tongue in a teasing manner as you shake your head, trying to hide a smile.
Bickering with someone who knows you well – or best even – is tough. 
Now that's done and the two of you don't elaborate to bicker any further, you take the time to look around. The place you've seen from pictures looked different, customized for more people. This house is just as spacious and even though you're standing in the entryway, you can easily tell more people would be able to fit in here.
“Are you sure we're at the right place?” you ask, catching Jungkook sweeping his hair off his forehead with head leaned back. Mentally sighing at the painfully attractive sight, you turn around and admire the place you're in instead.
That's a safer choice anyway.
“It's beautiful, isn't it?” he asks instead, confirming that yes, you're at the right place. “Come on, let's see how it looks in person. The pictures were pretty great.”
You wonder why Jungkook hasn't shared them with you once he was able to switch houses. For sure, you haven't had that much time to talk about it. Everyone was busy with their jobs, you included, and then the accident with Taehyung happened which caused this entire planning to get rushed. Poor Jungkook took care of everything – but you know he's the best at it. 
When your mouth drops as you make it to the living room, you notice Jungkook grinning at the side of the entrance to the living room since there is no door. He wanted it to be a surprise.
One that appears to be more than successful.
“Kook–” you stop yourself. The entire side facing the sea is a window wall, giving the best view to the beach and sea. 
The floor is a darker wood, giving the room just the right balance of colors since there are a lot of light colors. The white couch is huge, in the shape of U, similar to what Jungkook owns at his place. There is a big beige carpet underneath the coffee table and couch, making it more cozy. A beautiful chandelier hangs down with transparent bulbs which is undoubtedly even more pretty at night. 
From up here, there's a porch with a pool and your legs itch to find out how big it is. 
It's a one floor beach house, a modern yet cozy one as Jungkook leads you to the right to show you the kitchen. It's a medium sized, smaller than the one he's got and you wonder why it's even here considering you'll get your food brought from the resort. 
The house ends from the left sounds but you move to the opposite side, jaw dropping at the beautiful bedroom. First of all, the interior is beyond any words and leaves you breathless. You've never seen something so beautiful in person. You could cry. And Jungkook's joyful grin is not helping at all.
The bed is not against any walls. It sits almost in the middle of the room. There's a panel behind it and further away, it leads you to a spacious bathroom. There are two sinks and a huge mirror – the room matched in turquoise and white colors.
“Jungkook–this is–how much did you spend on this?” you ask, turning to him with a hand on your hip with a frown. “This was definitely much more than you said.”
“Don't worry about it.”
“Jungkook, stop. I'm serious.”
“So am I,” he shrugs, sighing slightly. “I paid a little extra but it wasn't much.”
“I don't believe you.” You narrow your eyes at him as he cheekily grins and shrugs.
“Sounds like a you problem.”
“Jungkook!” 
However, your scolding is cut off by him simply walking away. The bed is facing the beach, the same view as you could see in the living room. Palms surround the house which create a little shade from the burning sun. 
There are dressers where you could store your clothes and stuff, but you don't pay any more attention to it as you follow Jungkook back to the entryway with a frown settled on your face. 
“Jungkook, I'm serious.”
“And so am I, Y/N,” he says simply, dragging your luggage to the living room. “I swear I didn't pay much. The owner wouldn't really have any other place for us. I wanted you to see this beach.”
You raise your brows at him, trying not to crack at the warm and sweet gesture.
“Plus I didn't want to stay anywhere else. So be mad at me all you want, but I'm happy to be here and from the looks of it, so are you.”
“Yes, but–”
“No, buts. Now get ready, we're leaving in twenty.”
You stammer over your words, mustering to ask only one word. “Where?”
“Out. Unless you wanna stay in and rest.”
He says, stopping as he turns around to look at you with raised brow, waiting for your response.
“Ah–no, I am fine with going out.”
“Good.”
And he leaves to the bedroom, “Oh–I hope you don't mind the one bedroom. They didn't have any houses with more rooms left. But I can sleep on the couch.” he calls out from there.
When you don't respond right away, his head pokes out of the corner with a awaiting gaze. 
“Why would I mind?” you breathe out, feeling like you just got awestruck. 
“Uhh–you want me to elaborate?”
You chuckle nervously, scratching your forearm before you shake yourself out of it and drop the expression. “Yah! You wanted to go out! So go get ready too!”
“Yes, m'am.” he salutes and disappears behind the wall of the bedroom. 
You stand there, sighing to yourself and at your fast beating heart. 
He's not going to make this easy, is he?
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Happiness oozes out of you and as much as you were unsure about this vacation, you're glad the guys managed to talk you out of backing off. In the end, it was your decision to go without Jimin and Taehyung who are very much missed. Though, you're completely obvious to the fact it's going to be challenging. 
The heat and raging hormones are not making it any easier for you. 
You can control yourself. You can do that as long as there's no impulse from the other side.
This vacation might've not started like you planned, but it started wonderfully without your friends here. It's also a great chance of getting your friendship back where it was. While you're sure the history between you will always be there and it will never go away, you can try to go back and not get pushed to do something silly due to any sort of temptation. 
Because that's what Jeon Jungkook is.
Having him right here, next to you while you explore the Island is a great challenge itself. At first, you don't pay any attention to the mentioned temptation. You're fine. You talk, you joke and have a great time exploring the Island. You go out and eat in one of the restaurants, you have the best ice cream that is like the greatest present for your heated bodies. Taehyung and Jimin facetime with you during it, which ultimately makes you miss them more – especially when you show them around and see their pouty faces.
After that, you visit a few local shops – promising each other that you will come back and shop some souvenirs not just for you two but for your friends as well. The heat is too much to spend the rest of the day in a direct sun with no refreshments. And you didn't come here to just stay inside, so you both decide to go to the beach.
You do want to get the best of it since you're about to get your period in the halfway of this vacation. The timing sucks but you won't let it ruin anything.
Quickly going back to the house to change and pack things, you use the close proximity to the sea and settle on the beach there. You decide to walk a little further, closer to people and other tourists where different bars occur. There will be time to enjoy that privacy later. 
Although, being left with him alone is all the things you're scared of. 
Just focus on you, and your friendship.
“Is here okay?” Jungkook asks, stopping a few meters from the sea.
Looking around, it's a good spot. You're not completely surrounded by the tourists, more to the side where you can enjoy the shade and sun at the same time. There are faint sounds of music coming from the nearby bars, squeals of people's excitement and chatters around you. Beach waves are like a lullaby to your ears, confirming the reality of your presence here. 
There are kids as well, not too many but you spot a few in the distance as they beg their parents to go to the water already. 
“It's perfect.” Is all it takes for Jungkook to drop the beach blankets down. You help him to get it in the right place, making sure the wind doesn't mess it up. 
Air here is far better and you can't wait to get into the water to freshen up. 
“I'm gonna get us some drinks.” Jungkook announces once you settle in, pulling out a straw hat he bought while you were visiting different shops. It's the only thing he had to buy.
At first you weren't sure why, it's not exactly his style and you're sure he packed one of his caps. But then, he just puts it on you and shields the top of your head. You lean your head back to give him a look.
“You don't wanna get a heat stroke.” he shrugs, hands on his hips as he stares down at you.
See, it's very hard to keep it casual and think of Jungkook being an annoying friend. While you fully appreciate his caring, it's hard to focus in general. He has a stupid excuse of a button-up, so thin all his tattoos can be seen through the seen through material. It's not even the tattoos itself. 
He has it completely unbuttoned, showing off his pecs and abs as the thin material barely covers any of his skin. Jungkook has always been handsome, but you also never had to see your friend like… this. 
Iceland would've been a better option than Hawaii. 
So far though, you've been strong – even though it doesn't seem like it. While you're completely obvious to Jungkook's body and additional sight of his skin, you just don't allow your eyes to drop there. You keep them solely on Jungkook's face, hoping he doesn't see the inner turmoil you're going through.
“What are you? My dad?” you ask instead, poking the front of the straw hat with a lifted brow. 
Jungkook grins, “Don't want you to get sick on our first day.”
“You forgot to put sunscreen on me. And bring a swim wheel.” you comment grumpily. 
Something feels odd. It's not like you're truly annoyed by his caring. But looking at the familiarity of this conversation and overall situation, something sits on the tip of your tongue. It's not a word or anything that could be said. It's almost like a taste you can't quite describe. 
And when you see Jungkook who just laughs with his head leaned back, shrugging effortlessly at your comment, you realize that perhaps it's the fact that things really are like they were. At least right now. Jungkook treats you like he has before. He's caring, having that one particular look in his eyes you haven't seen in a while. 
Or perhaps you're just dramatic and you're seeing things. 
Being confused and frustrated at yourself more than ever, luckily Jungkook cuts you off from your never-ending thoughts before you can drive yourself crazy. 
“Ah, maybe I should've. We both know you're not too confident in water.”
You gasp, reaching for your sandal which you throw in his direction. He laughs, dodging it perfectly as despite your attack, he still reaches for it and puts it back to the spot, so it won't get lost. It's a detail but leaves you gulping.
“I'm pretty confident in kicking your ass.”
“Alright,” he laughs, not believing a word you're saying which makes you roll your eyes at him. “Whatever you say.”
He confidently backs away with a smirk, laughing when you flip him off and huff out in frustration once he turns around and walks to one of the bars. He slowly walks further and further away, yet you keep your eyes on him. 
You lay back, staring at the palm tree above you. The sunlight peeks through the leaves, creating patterns on your heated face and cheeks. 
When he comes back, you gulp down the fresh lemon and mint drink without properly tasting it. 
“...okay.” Jungkook says, watching you being halfway down the drink – it's alcohol free which doesn't make you look completely insane. “Wanna go for a swim?”
Putting down the drink, you open your mouth just as Jungkook decides to ditch the stupid excuse of a cover-up. He shrugs it off and tosses it onto the sand, brushing his fingers through his black hair. It has gotten long to the point where it sometimes gets into his eyes.
Standing up, you undo the small knot on your white cover-up that looks like a short dress. It slips down your arms and meets the blanket underneath your feet.
“Ready?” you ask, dropping down the silly straw hat Jungkook has gotten you. 
“Is this new?” Jungkook questions instead, pointing at your white bikini. It's a cute set. What makes it cute looking and pretty is the ruffled style, yet it's complimenting your body in the nicest way. 
“Yeah, I bought it for this trip specially.” 
“You did?” 
“Yeah, you don't like it?” you ask, looking down at yourself and adjusting your bra that's pushing up your breasts. Not in the overly too much type, enough to show them off though. 
In your defense, it didn't look like this on the model when you were ordering it. Luckily, you would say it fits perfectly. Jungkook's silence causes you to look up, almost finding the thought of him not liking it or thinking of it negatively scary. You mentally gag at yourself. Since when do you care what others think?
To be fair, sometimes you do – if those people are close to you and it also happens what it is about. But your choice of fashion matters only to you. You won't let anyone change the way you perceive yourself and your individual style. 
As much as you're independent in this entire matter, you would lie if you didn't say you don't like compliments. Also, there is something about Jungkook's compliments. You almost gag for the second time when just the idea of it makes your stomach tickle.
“Are you staring at my tits, Jeon?”
Caught red-handed, Jungkook's slightly scrunched eyes from the sun widened in a split second. “You don't usually refer to them as tits.” he comments instead.
You chuckle at the ridiculous response, “I usually don't have to refer to them at all. But you were staring.”
“Can you blame the man?” he shrugs, stealing a quick glance again as you give him the look he knows very well. The one where your eyebrow has been lifted for what seems like the hundredth time in the span of thirty minutes.
“Jeon, for this to work, you gotta behave yourself.”
Jungkook frowns at the nickname, “I prefer Kook better.”
“Jeon.” you correct just to annoy him. Deep down you cackle at the way his brows scrunch together in the softest way possible. 
“What do you want me to do? They're just right there! We were talking about your bikini, it's not my fault.”
“You don't have to stare at my breasts though.”
“Did it make you feel weird?”
“Well–”
“See? You don't not like it!” he exclaims, pointing at you accusingly.
“I barely said anything!”
“You don't have to, I know that look.”
“This is ridiculous,” you mutter. “Besides, you didn't answer. You don't like it?”
“Are you seriously asking me that?” he deadpans.
“Um–yeah?” you deadpan back. 
He sighs, “I'm not gonna talk about your bikini because you're gonna accuse me of staring.”
“I don't have to accuse you, you were staring!” you laugh.
You're not going to lie. It does compliment you.
Even though you're here to focus on the two of you, in a different way than you were a few weeks ago, you should hate how Jungkook's attention makes your ego grow. 
“You told me to behave, so I'm gonna keep my mouth shut.”
“Why?” you question, not doing a great way to show your excitement. 
“Oh, now you want me to talk?” he laughs, “Nah, you wouldn't be able to handle it.”
“Cocky as always.”
He shrugs, “I never hid it.”
You nibble on your bottom lip, “But no, be serious right now.”
“Oh, I have been serious this whole time.”
“Jungkook!” you whine, “Is it not too much?”
“If I told you yes, would you change?”
You stay silent for a moment before simply saying; “No.”
“Then no, it's perfect.”
“Jungkook!” 
He stays silent for a moment, throwing his head back as his eyes squint shut from the trails of sun hitting his face. “God, woman.”
“What?” you mumble innocently.
Since when do you care what anyone thinks? Jungkook questions mentally, trying to keep his thoughts straight before he gets the courage to look you in the eyes.
“You look beautiful.”
You stare, battling with hundreds of things happening inside you. The heat in your cheeks gets almost unbearable and you do what you seem to be best at. Running away and playing it cool. “Yah, don't say it like that!”
“Like what?” Jungkook asks, brows pinched in confusion.
“So seriously.”
“I am serious,” Jungkook informs you, making it worse for your cheeks and the turmoil that's happening in the pit of your stomach. Why did you have to open your mouth? “Now let's go into that fucking water.”
“Woah.”
“Yeah, woah.”
“What's bothering you?” you ask, trailing behind him trying to catch up to him when he suddenly turns around and nears the sea. 
“Nothing,” he says casually, dipping his ankles into the chilly water. You open your mouth but before you can say something that could potentially lead to a conversation you would eventually back out of, Jungkook splashes your heated body.
You gasp, finding him smirking. Before you can get him back for it, he runs to the water and dips his entire body in. He emerges out of it in seconds, the water reaching just somewhere around his hips. You watch droplets of water run down his entire body, hair completely soaked from it as he wipes his face. 
“Are you staring at my abs, Y/L/N?” Jungkook shouts, your eyes widening as embarrassment makes it onto your face. Can he be any louder?
You look around for a second, trying to see if someone is witnessing this embarrassing moment. There's no one that seems to care, besides a group of girls meters away from you as they seem to find a certain interest in Jungkook. You purse your lips, looking at Jungkook. 
“Y'know, if I should behave, so should you.”
“I don't feel like behaving,” you call out to him, watching him as he creates waves with his hands as he effortlessly runs his hands through the water. “They are just there, you know?”
You get him back for it, still watching him and witnessing his lips curling into a knowing smirk. “Oh, are they?”
“Mhm.”
“Get in here.”
“No.” you giggle, laughing when Jungkook grins and shakes his head at you. 
“I'm gonna get you.”
“Come here then.”
And fuck, he does. You laugh through it all, trying to back away as you promise him you will go deeper, though not fully out of respect to the sea you have. He doesn't listen. As soon as his arms wrap around your body, molding into his almost too naturally and perfectly. But you're caught up in the moment and in your giggles, hearing Jungkook's laugh as you squeal when the coldish water wets you. 
You cling to Jungkook's side, “There are no sharks, right?”
Jungkook snickers, “Of course there are. Somewhere in the sea at least.”
You nudge him, but Jungkook holds you close since he can reach better than you. He's also a way better swimmer than you. “Don't say that.”
“Look at those kids,” he says and points to the side. There are kids on their floaties, of course with their parents around. “They're not scared of sharks.”
“They could be dessert for all I care, I'm not gonna be one.” you joke, hearing Jungkook laugh as he doesn't allow you to inch closer to the shore. 
“You could be mine, but you wanted a break.” 
You gasp, tickling his side as he barely falters and just gives you the teasing grin. “Don't say stuff like that. I told you.”
“Alright, I won't.” he promises, imitating his lips being locked as he throws the imaginary key far to the sea. “I was joking.”
“Were you?” you ask, pretending to be teasing and amused but the truth is, there's a part of you trying to know the truth. 
“I guess you'll never know. I told you I'm shut.” he says with a grin like the annoying brat he can be. 
And for the sake of yourself, you decide to leave it be. You splash his face instead, playing it off like you seem to do often. For your own sake. 
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Jungkook has always been the adventurous type. You've heard all kinds of stories from Taehyung and Jimin, some of them back from Busan or from the times you haven't been present in their lives back then. Jungkook would be up for anything that could get him the thrill and although, there weren't that many opportunities considering everyone's busy lives – you could see it from his mere decision of being up to all sorts of fun that involves adrenaline. 
So you shouldn't be surprised he practically stuttered and almost jumped from excitement once he spotted a place where jet skis can be rented. You've read his mind even before he opened his mouth and dragged you there.
After swimming and messing around in the sea for a while, you went for a walk and explored the beach, and tasted a few good snacks. You should've known it's not ending with that. 
And that's where you ended up. Sitting behind Jungkook, both of you wearing safety vests and you clutching to his back, arms around his waist. You live in the moment, focusing on each activity the two of you do.
The sun is now setting down, air is still warm but with the sun slowly disappearing, it's not boiling hot. You're exhausted and your body screams for a good cold shower and bed. On your way back to the beach house, you walk in silence and enjoy the sound of waves around you. 
You're the first one to occupy the bathroom, taking the chance to not be in the presence of Jungkook's naked abs and chest. As long as you keep your mind and body busy, there's a low chance of you overthinking and letting your mind wander somewhere where it simply should not. 
Not wanting to dwell any further of how this might have been a mistake, you take it as a test to prove your friendship. Jungkook is a temptation that has grown over the few months you get to experience something you haven't before. 
As the water dribbles down your naked body, wetting every inch of your skin, you think it's too soon to want everything to be different or back like it was. Because it never will be. And for that, you're scared of what's about to come. There are things you can control and then there are things that simply will evolve into something. The feeling of the unknown and fear of ruining your friendship with Jungkook genuinely scares you.
But again. You think of it more positively, you have to or else you're going to lose your mind. Jungkook's attractiveness and the fact you're attracted to him won't go anywhere. At least not in the near future and it's something you need to come to terms with. Like you said, it's too soon to think of it any differently. 
While you're here to focus on your friendship, perhaps you should focus on yourself more as well. 
As you wash yourself in a nice scent of orange and vanilla, you apply a body lotion you've brought to make your skin soft. While you do that and start doing unnecessary steps as your night routine, one you definitely don't do when you've spent the day not wearing make-up specifically, you tell yourself you just pamper yourself instead of trying to look good for someone else. 
Your skin is glowing and hair almost dried by the time you join Jungkook in the living room, wearing one of your night gowns. 
He's on his phone, barely glancing at you before he takes a double-take and eyes you up and down. 
“What?”
You're the first one that breaks the short-lived silence. Any nightgown is a small portion of what could be considered as your sleepwear. Jungkook out of everyone knows that, because he's seen you in everything you usually sleep in. Back in the day, you would never get the courage to let him see you sleep in anything other than oversized shirts and shorts. Even thinking of wearing tank tops made you feel weird, especially if he god forbid could see your nipples peeking through. 
This white nightgown is beautiful, but by no means designed to make men salivate or suggest anything other than having something nice to wear. Besides, the material is thin and light which is perfect for this warm weather. Plus, you and Jungkook have agreed or not having the AC turned on unless it's completely necessary. Not only is it not healthy but you're also very sensitive to coldness. Getting sick on this vacation is just not on your list, therefore you're trying to eliminate that chance as much as possible.
He narrows his eyes at you, trying to figure you out and you realize it right away before he can even open his mouth and offer you any sort of response.
“Oh, don't get this wrong. I packed my best stuff on this vacation and I didn't know we were sharing a bedroom.”
“I haven't said anything.” he says, watching you as if you were a predator as you get closer.
“You didn't have to, it's all over your face.”
As much as you enjoy his eyes on you, which always compliments you – it's one of those moments when you hide behind confidence and ignore the warmth that spreads inside the pit of your stomach. There's no point in thinking how many words from him or simple eye-contact would it take for him to take matters into his own hands. Or more like you. 
But you can't think about that. You can't wonder about it.
“I would suggest wearing something different but I won't.”
He smiles and it's so brief you barely catch it. “And why is that?”
“Because it's not my problem, of course.” you tease. “I'm wearing this for myself.”
“I never initiated anything different,” he tells you, tilting his head to the side while he studies your face. He doesn't even lock his phone as he tosses it beside him. “You should sleep in whatever you're comfortable in.”
“I will.”
“Good.”
You both stare at each other, trying not to crack a good laugh. It's a weird moment. Something between joking, amusement and tension that boils. If this happened a few weeks ago, he would probably have you underneath him as you're speaking. And the image is so explicit that it leaves a warm coat all over your body and you have to take a step back.
“But seriously now, you don't feel weird because of this?”
“If I said I am, would you change?”
“Of course not.”
He cracks a grin, “Then why asking?”
“I'm curious. I don't want to make you feel weird and this wasn't my intention. Besides, this doesn't expose anything major–and you've seen everything–”
“I have and for someone who doesn't care and wears this for herself, you're awfully explanatory.” 
Your eyes narrow into thin slits as you glare at him, sending him a warning look that's easily met with a boyish grin from him. 
“Now that you're finally out and finished making yourself look good for yourself, I'm gonna take a shower.”
Jungkook's laugh booms through the room and bounces off the walls when he manages to escape from your leg aiming at his buttcheek. To be fair, you were there for longer than you initially planned.
“Are you making fun of me, Jeon?” you call out to him, trying to sound pissed as a comfort glazes your soul. 
“When have I ever?” He calls out back, already in the bathroom and hidden from any threats your legs might make. 
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It's been ages since you've had such a good sleep.
Exhaustion and the amount of activities you've done yesterday ultimately had a good share of it. The air here is different. The faint sounds of waves have been an additional part of your sleep. No cars passing by or city lights peeking through your blinds, or even occasional footsteps of your neighbors above your head.
You understand why people travel so far to relax. Sunlight peeks through the wide open window you've left and lets the chilly air get through the night. It felt so lovely that you fell asleep as soon as you closed your eyes.
Traces of sun touch your skin and make it warm, warmer than you've appreciated though and that alone tells you you're about to have another hot day ahead of you. Jungkook has briefly informed you of today's plans, always keeping in mind what you want to do but since you're more of a tagging alone vacation type, you just agree with whatever. 
You're here to relax and if you see something you would like to see or try, you'll feel open to do so. It's something you've assured him right before your body slumped into the comfiest bed you've ever laid in. Not even Jungkook's massive bed can compete with it. 
Or maybe it was the exhaustion all along.
Speaking of Jungkook, you tilt your head sideways to check on him. Not before you rub your eyes off the sleepiness. A sight of Jungkook's exposed back stares at you right back. Similar to the position you've just woken up from, he's sleeping on his stomach while arms underneath the white pillow as he hugs it to his face. You can't see his face and for a moment, you think it's better that way.
Whoever would see you right now, they would get a totally bad perception of the two of you. You look nothing like best friends who occasionally share bed.
Overthinking is not a huge part of your life. At least you think so. But ever since months have passed by and you've decided to take a break from the temptation laying right beside you, you feel like you've done nothing but that. Overthinking every second. 
You believe everything happens for a reason. And while you told yourself you're not going to overthink it and focus on your friendship instead, you do wonder if there's a true reason for why you and him ended up spending this vacation alone. 
Sure, Taehyung got injured and couldn't travel while Jimin couldn't go because of last changes at his work. It shouldn't mean more but just a mere coincidence that consists of bad luck and life. 
Like you've told yourself many times before, you will take this opportunity to focus on your decision of why you decided to take a break. Besides, you can't think about it too much and you do have to put lust aside, focusing on something that is far more sacred and important to you. 
You've no idea how long you lay there with your eyes open, watching the beautiful view out of your bed. You haven't checked your phone, something you would've done by now if you were at home. But not at the moment. You want to fully enjoy this and stay in the present – because right now it feels like you don't need anything else. 
You haven't realized how much you needed to get away. Perhaps the reason for this vacation is not to tell you something secretive, but it's for you to recharge and come back stronger than ever.
And maybe there's no reason for it. Maybe you should just freaking enjoy it and not overthink every second. 
You almost groan out loud, ready to spring out of the bed to stop yourself from thinking and being alone with your mind. The soft groan coming from the person next to you stops you and for some dumb reason, you catch yourself closing your eyes as if to pretend you were sleeping. 
Jungkook tosses around and stretches his limbs, groaning raspily under his breath as he turns to his back. He's back to sleeping, so do you think before you slowly open your eyes and catch the perfect sight of him doing the same a second after. He blinks, frowning slightly as if he realizes where he is.
Witnessing that is cute. Wait. What.
You widen your eyes and quickly shake that thought away. Calling him cute, even if it's in your mind seems illegal. Even though you've done that many times before. Years ago to be exact. 
“Mornin',” he rasps out, hand reaching to his face as long fingers rub the sleep and tiredness off those puffy eyes. 
Muttering the same greeting, you watch him close them for a moment as a soft groan makes it past his lips. “How long have you been awake?” he asks sleepily.
Long enough to watch you sleeping, you admit in your mind but it sounds ridiculous even there. You shouldn't have these thoughts anyway, no matter how honest you are.
“Just a few minutes,” you reply instead, rolling onto your back as you stare at the ceiling. 
A momentary silence has never been an issue with Jungkook. In fact, you don't find it uncomfortable but for some reason, having him so close feels weirdly familiar and odd. It's different now but it is not at the same time. You're both in a completely different state. While you realize it's in your head and sleepy Jungkook has no idea, you decide to cut off the silence and fill it with a conversation.
“It's already ten.” Your eyes drift to the digital clock that sits on the nightstand on your side. 
“Fuuck,” Jungkook sighs, rubbing his face again. “Already?”
You nod, glancing at him to find his arm tucked under his head, his face turned to you as he offers you a sleepy smile. Gulping down, you sit up and pat down your hair to make it less messy. 
“What are we doing first today?” 
Not offering him any more attention with your eyes, your feet slip into your slides easily as he remains silent for a moment. Your back burns, the traces of his eyes are without a doubt the reason for it.
“We should eat something first, then I wanna rent a car so it's easier to travel on the island. And then bungee jumping.” 
“Fuck, you still wanna do that?” you whine a little, glancing over your shoulder to find him grinning at your evident disappointment.
“You only live once.”
“That's a stupid reason to do stuff like that,” you point out.
You're all up for Jungkook having fun and trying new things he hasn't. However, sometimes your type of fun and interest differs from Jungkook's and once again, you're reminded of his adventurous self. There's no way in hell you'll go through that. He knows that.
“But if something happens to you, I want your car.”
Jungkook snorts out loud, your own lips curling into an amused grin as your feet pat into the bathroom. 
“Or no, your apartment will do.” you raise your voice as you call out to him, making sure he hears you. 
He does, along with the amusement and teasing in your soft voice. 
“How generous you are,” he calls back. “You wouldn't survive without me.”
You chuckle under your breath, washing your face in cold water. You're done within a minute, patting down the remains of it.
“Oh, here we go. Cocky much in the morning?” 
“You should know that by now.” 
You jump at how fast and close the answer comes. Jungkook stands between the door frame, leaning against the left side of it. Crossing his arms over his chest, you try to not stare too much at the display of his skin and muscles.
Reaching for your toothbrush instead, you focus on your task instead and stare at your reflection in the mirror. Your cheeks feel warm all of a sudden and you're sure it has nothing to do with Hawaii's warm weather. 
Jungkook watches you in silence. You're not sure if he still has a cocky grin attached to his lips or if he's simply just watching, but you know he is. You can feel it. And then you hear him stepping closer until he reaches for his own toothbrush. The familiar scent of him wraps around you once again as you give him a look with an arched brow. 
Is this his way of keeping his distance? 
Well, to be fair he never said he will keep his distance. Your idea of how this is going to work is simply to focus on your relationship, rather than the physical side of it and what was left of it. 
Although, you have no idea how him standing shirtless next to you is going to help that. You welcome the challenge though. 
You two ignore a lot of facts that surround you. So you continue to brush your teeth next to each other like it's the most normal thing ever. And maybe it is.
But back then none of you were shirtless or exposed enough that there is only so little left to each other's imagination. Is imagination even a thing here? 
You've seen every inch of each other's bodies. You don't have to imagine anything because you've seen it all. You've felt it all.
“Do you mind?”
You straighten up once you spit the remains of mouthwash. Jungkook turns on the shower, checking the temperature as he's visibly ready to take his morning shower. 
“Unless you wanna join me.”
It's the cunning smirk that slowly sneaks onto his face that makes you scrunch up the small face towel that's been used and throw it in his direction. It bounces off his puffed out chest and you hate how he laughs, ignoring your attempt to silently tell him to fuck off.
“Boundaries, Jeon.” You remind him.
“You never minded them before.” He continues to tease you and you snarl at him, throwing him a glare. 
“Now I do.”
“Alright, alright. Sorry.” He bows and you groan, flipping him off before you close the bathroom door with a loud thud.
His humorous laugh behind the door accompanies you long enough until you're far away to breathe it out. You'll have to do that a lot when it comes to Jungkook.
Your soft smile is caught in the reflection of a sparkling clean microwave and you quickly look away, ignoring the previously stated facts. 
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“Kook, are you really sure?” 
After you had breakfast, walked around a bit and rented a car like Jungkook said, you stand in a queue that's slowly but surely shortening. 
He would've actually laughed if he didn't glance at you and see your widened eyes, as you stare at staff putting a harness on people and preparing them for the jump. Whenever someone jumps with a loud scream, some people as a pair, he sees your breath hitching and stopping for a moment.
Of course he is sure. He's mentioned this a couple of times throughout the years but he never really had the opportunity to do this. So you're aware of not only his interest but excitement as well. 
Unfortunately for him, this is a hard no for you and even though you would do anything for Jungkook – go special lengths such as pretending to be his girlfriend – this is where you draw the line. It's comical. 
“You sure you don't wanna jump with me?” He asks instead, laughing when he sees your dumbfounded look. Is he serious?
He had to sign a freaking liability waiver that he's doing this at his own risk. While you're aware this is a standard contract for all these kinds of sports, you've almost thrown up when the woman handed it to him and he signed it. 
“Worth a shot.” he mumbles.
It's laughable as you stand beside him, shifting uncomfortably from side to side as if you were the one doing this. Meanwhile Jungkook is close to jumping from excitement as he watches other participants before him in a complete awe and excitement. 
“Have you not watched a horror movie when the most ridiculous stuff happens once people do this kind of stuff?”
He gives you a side glance, “Are you talking about Final Destination?” he stops for a second, “I don't remember there was a bungee jumping scene.”
“It's not about bungee jumping itself.” you point out, growing frustrated that he's practically just making fun of it.
“You should stop watching horror movies.”
Your response comes right away. “I would have, if you guys didn't force me every time.”
He snickers, “Y'know, for someone who's always very considerate and empathic, you sure know when to talk about the right stuff.”
“Talking about all the risks this includes is right,” you inform him. “I'm worried.”
“No one wants to hear there's a risk of a plane falling when you're about to board the plane.”
Oh shit, he's right. You know he is, yet you couldn't help yourself and hoped that he's going to change his mind at the last minute. Obviously, for your own selfish reasons.
“Flying a plane is different though.” You still stubbornly mumble, hearing another scream from one of the participants which makes you flinch. 
“The point is not,” he points out but as you open your mouth to argue, he grabs you by your shoulders and has you standing in front of him. “Stop worrying, I would do this with or without you.”
“Damn, how sweet of you.” you mutter, causing him to laugh. “Couldn't we ride horses or something instead?”
“We could still do that. After I jump.”
“Oh god, don't say it like that!” you whine. He laughs, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as he hugs you to his side. 
“Taehyung would jump with me.”
“Taehyung would probably be drunk out of his ass if he happened to jump.”
You look at each other, laughing before the woman's staff calls out for Jungkook. She asks if you're jumping together and you wildly shake your head at her, stepping aside as you let her put a harness on Jungkook. 
He's grinning, watching her excitedly as she says all kinds of information about safety to him. You don't listen to that. For a moment you just focus on the happiness and excitement on him that has been evident ever since you stepped out of the car.
Their conversation is a little lost on you, therefore your brows are furrowed in utter confusion when Jungkook sits down and gets his legs secured. 
“Wait–what are you doing?” you ask. 
All people before him either sat when they were jumping or they looked as if they were lying, in a flying position. Jungkook puts a helmet on, shooting you a thumbs up as he ignores your ready to flip out. 
He's being hoisted up, upside down as he grins like a kid at you. 
“What the hell, are you crazy, Jungkook?” you yell, hands gripping the railing for dear life.
You thought this center did just those positions and Jungkook flying upside down just never crossed your mind, even though you know people jump like that too. 
“See you soon.”
“Jungkook!”
But before he can focus on your angry expression, he flies you a kiss and is let go. You yelp, wincing as you his body flies into the distance in a rapid motion. You can't help but watch, your eyes lingering on what seems like a dot down there the entire time. 
“My boyfriend jumped as well, a couple of times actually.” Someone says beside you and you don't look, you can't as your eyes stay on Jungkook. But from the voice, her accent tells you she's local. “If it makes you feel better, no accidents happened here. A few people threw up but that's it.”
You offer her a nervous chuckle, not really thinking Jungkook will be throwing up. In the worst case scenario, he would want to jump again. 
“See?” She stands closer, taking a closer look as they start pulling him up and you sigh in relief. “Your boyfriend is safe. Is he the throwing up type?”
You finally glance at her, seeing her tan face and curly hair surrounding it. 
“He's not my boyfriend,” you tell her, “He's my best friend. Psycho best friend it seems.”
She laughs but her eyes linger on you, looking as if she doesn't believe you. You subtly roll your eyes. You know exactly what she's thinking. You've seen that reaction many times before and by now, it no longer phases you. 
Everything else becomes a white noise and the girl beside you is long forgotten as the cord springs back to its original space and with that, they pull Jungkook slowly up. They help him balance. Letting go of the railing, you wait for him to move aside so he's not that close to the edge as it's another person's turn. 
But none of that matters and when Jungkook finds you at your original spot, he smirks. “Missed me?”
“You idiot!” you curse, punching his chest before you hug him. He laughs, chest vibrating as he hugs you back.
“I would jump again but I wouldn't wanna give you a heart attack.”
You smack him again, giving the girl that still stands there a knowing look. Jungkook's eyes move toward her for a moment, wondering who she is but his attention is back at you as you breathe out loudly. 
“You're crazy, you know that?”
He shrugs, effortlessly running his fingers through his hair. “I'm crazy about a lot of things.”
Rolling your eyes, you nudge your head toward the exit before he changes his mind and you'll be charged for a murder. “Let's go.”
He listens, but not before he tickles your side for a good measure, earning another smack. 
He's a crazy idiot for making you worry like that.
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“Awww, you were so worried about your Kookie?”
Baring your teeth at Taehyung's huge grin that displays on Jungkook's phone screen, he's a lucky person that you're currently sitting at one of the restaurants near the beach. There are too many people for you to tell him to fuck off. 
You knew the moment Jungkook decided to accept the video call, they would have a field day. Honestly, they make the situation way more dramatic than it was. Luckily for them, you know your friends and their annoying teasing that is purely raged by your annoyed reactions. It's what makes their eyes lit up until you put a stop to their charades. 
That's what you get for being the only woman in your inner and close circle. 
You glare at Jungkook, non-verbally asking him do you see what you did?
As always, Taehyung asked about your day and since he can't be a part of it, he likes to hear details. He doesn't mind it, as he assured you many times. You still feel bad that he can't be here with you. Jimin too.
And luckily for Jungkook, he briefly mentioned you almost shit your pants when you saw him actually doing it. He wasn't really making fun of you, until Taehyung took the matters into his hands and turned it into a teasing battle that you're a victim of. 
You lean toward the table where Jungkook holds his phone, facing you as he watches your interaction with Taehyung with amusement sparkling in his eyes. “Fuck both of you,” you whisper, making sure Taehyung hears it. 
He does.
It makes his grin even bigger. 
“You should've seen him. He jumped upside down.”
“Isn't that what people do when they bungee jump?” Taehyung asks, met with another huff coming out of you.
“Yes, but dozens of people before him didn't jump upside down.” you inform him with a sass, seeing him put his hands up in surrender.
“Honestly, you're like an old married couple. You scold him and he fucking enjoys it.”
Rolling your eyes, you adjust the napkin that's sitting on your lap. It's getting dark now. Until the adventurous day, you wanted to have a calm dinner by the beach. Tomorrow's plan is to enjoy at least a half of the day there, relaxing. No adrenaline sports.
“Are you even scared of anything?” you ask Jungkook, lifting up both your brows.
“I'm scared of many things.”
“Yeah and you're one of them.” Taehyung butts in. Jungkook rolls his eyes and so do you.
“You guys make it seem as if I torture you on daily basis.”
“Well, you can be scary sometimes.”
“You know what, Tae?” you press your lips together in a fake smile.
“Wha–”
You don't give him a chance to respond, ending the call. Jungkook snickers, pulling his phone to him as he checks the screen. You sit back with a satisfied smile.
“You know Tae… He would tease shit out of everyone and everything.”
“Oh, you're not so innocent either.” you point out with a chuckle.
He frowns, momentarily pausing as he reads out a message. “He just texted me–fucking rude.”
“Send him a kissing emoji, he's gonna know it's me.”
Jungkook shakes his head with a chuckle, typing something there. He locks his phone, putting it away as it has become a strict and unsaid rule to not have phones when you're out. To be honest, it happened naturally and you're guessing, both of you want to enjoy this time without the internet. Unless it's to make calls of course.
“Besides, you were shaking when I danced on the table. You were practically shitting your pants back then–do you see me teasing you for it?”
He frowns, “When?”
“The NYE party? Jin's cabin?”
Quiet follows for a moment as the mention of one of the very significant nights comes to the surface. Not even the waves in the background can wash out the slight odd vibe in the air. So much happened there.
“You remember that?”
“Faintly, but Taehyung filled me in.” you shrug.
“That was different,” he simply says.
“Different how? I was having fun and you begged me to come down.”
“Yes, because you were wasted out of your ass. I had all safety measures taken care of, while you were dancing, wasted wearing heels.”
You purse your lips.
“So don't compare those two.”
He doesn't sound angry, he's strictly informative and you wonder what he's so defensive about. Perhaps the memories from that night aren't exactly pleasant. You might've looked like you were having the time of your life, but you were going through hell back then. 
“Damn, alright. Point taken.” you mutter, seeing him roll his eyes but his lips crack a grin.
“Just don't dance on the table this time.”
“Why would I do that?” you laugh.
“To get back at me.”
It's silly. You wouldn't do that and he knows that. There it is. It's the innocent teasing you've missed. Innocent. That's what you need. 
You still reach toward the wine glass as you gulp it down. A tight smile is the last thing you offer Jungkook before you dig into your meal.
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It's the next and second day of you officially being here. 
Over the short period of your stay, it's crazy to realize how used to you've become to the new world around you. You and Jungkook have fallen into the routine of waking up without any alarm, not bothering yourselves to set one so you could do as many things as you can during your stay. 
Both of you relax and let things happen naturally, with a bit of planning because you still want to have fun and experience fun things. It's not hectic at all. 
Jungkook drags you to learn how to surfboard and while he's a natural talent (another of course), you're having just as much fun even though you're nowhere near Jungkook's level. You taste the most delicious food until you can't eat anymore, worrying you're going to have a stomach ache if you won't stop at the right time.
Now you're laying on the beach blanket with eyes closed, listening to the waves that are always there. 
Jungkook has gone to grab you some alcohol free drinks, cold drinks, after you both agreed on having them. It's been a while since he left, so you crack your eyes open and squint at the bright sun even though you've been lying in the shade. 
You look around. A part of people playing beach volleyball, tanning or swimming in the water, you don't spot him right away. Until you would recognize his figure everywhere and from miles away. He's bringing his drink with him, staring at the sand under his bare feet and you can't help but watch him the entire time. 
His hair is still a bit wet from swimming that he decided on earlier. Jungkook knows how to relax and you've seen him relaxing more than ever here. However, he still needs to get active somehow so every few minutes, he decides to do something. It's quite laughable and adorable, considering he would be lifting weights if he was back at home. 
He's passing by the volleyball court that someone provisionally made and entertained a bunch of tourists that were looking for a bit of sport and fun. You're supposed to go jet skiing with Jungkook tomorrow, so you will save that later and just bask in the sun for now. 
Your thoughts fade away just as they naturally came when you spot a group of girls, calling out to Jungkook which stops in his tracks and looks at them with curious eyes. His mouth stretches into a smile as he nods, looking around with drinks in his hand until one of the girls points toward the little table next to their deck chairs. He sets it there carefully before he pats his hands over his swim trunks. Another girl eagerly hands him something which you soon realize is a phone.
They pose for him as Jungkook snatches a few pictures of them. Sitting in the distance for a good minute, he keeps taking pictures of them as they pose in typical poses with the beach and sea behind them. 
It's pointless to mention they're all wearing bikinis. You're not one to judge and you would never criticize their bodies but shit, they all look good and definitely stand out with their different body types. They're hot and you don't have to be a man to conclude that. 
They chat for a while and you hate yourself for growing slightly annoyed at Jungkook's absence and clear interest in whatever conversation they have. Minutes seem like hours and you look away, watching your surroundings. God, you're pathetic. You act as if your eyes don't move in their direction every now and then. 
Until you're staring at the sea in front of you and notice Jungkook's nearing. He sets your drinks down. “Here you go, but be careful when drinking. It's cold.”
Cold? All the ice probably melted until you stopped chatting with the girls.
Pressing your lips together, you nod understandingly and take a sip so you bite your tongue and don't say something that could spiral into any sort of confrontation. What's the deal? You're not even mad at him. You're mad at him for being bothered. 
It's okay. They just wanted a group photo and Jungkook was passing by. No big deal. 
You sigh, giving him a smile as you look at the nice pink colors your strawberry drink's having.
“I met some girls on my way here. They're about to play volleyball. They ask me to join, you wanna join too?”
You freeze for a second, only your eyes sending him a glance. Of fucking course.
Can you blame them though? Jungkook's hot and has been catching women's gazes every time he comes out. They're shooting their shots and who are you to stand in their way? You've learned from your past mistakes when it came to Ester or another girl in Jungkook's life. Plus, you're on a vacation and they're strangers.
“Nah, you go. I'm gonna sit here and fangirl.”
He lifts his brow, “You sure?”
“Yeah.”
He eyes you suspiciously. “I'll stay if you want me to.”
You give him a dumbfounded look. “I'm not your mother, Kook. Go have fun.” you chuckle.
“Alright.” he nods, standing up. “I'll be right there if you need anything.”
“I'm all good,” you assure him. “Go kick their asses.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “They're girls, Y/N.”
He heads back to them, unaware when you mutter under your breath; “So?”
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At first, you thought there's no reason for you to dig deeper in things that don't matter and would show overtime. You've stuck to your own little world, relaxing and checking your phone every now and then. You've also watched the volleyball game. 
Interesting to watch, you may say. 
Jungkook's in his element and you're not exactly talking about the female audience around him. Some guys joined them too and you soon realize they know the girls, or at least are familiar with them. Jungkook's team is winning. No doubt there and you find yourself smiling whenever he shoots, and the ball hits the sand on the opposite side of the other team. You silently cheer for him.
For a second you think of recording him and sending it to Jimin and Taehyung. But knowing Taehyung, he would thirst over the women playing the game rather than the real meaning of the video. Perhaps you're a bit selfish because you definitely don't need to hear about how hot those women are. Because that's what they are. 
They're women.
But you should've expected this to happen. It's what you maybe wanted to happen. It's a great opportunity to fully move on. There will be many occasions and situations like this. You shouldn't be mad.
So why the fuck your lips turn downwards like you've been kicked to the stomach?
Jungkook comes back after running with everyone to the water to freshen up. He yells something to them when walking out of the sea, grinning from ear to ear. You feel like an idiot. How can you be so bothered when he seems happy?
“Hey, they want to jet ski for a bit. You wanna join?”
Jet skiing is fun, you would go but you stop yourself from nodding because of your own partially selfish reasons. “No, you go.”
“I know we're supposed to go tomorrow and we will–”
“Kook, it's no big deal,” you laugh, “We can go tomorrow.”
“You sure you don't wanna go? They're all nice.”
You're sure they are.
“Maybe I will join you later or something.”
“They wanna play volleyball again, so you can join, then.”
“Yeah, sure.” you smile, giving him a thumbs up as he gulps more of the drink until it's finished. 
You wave at him as he joins them again, going to rent the jets. You sigh, groaning silently at yourself. A part of you wanted to join them just to stick with Jungkook. It's okay for him to have fun with someone else.
Your throat feels tight when you see the woman sticking to his side. Her caramel skin glistens under the sun rays and she looks straight out of any male fantasy. You've seen so many different models coming from your model agency, but this one takes the cake and you're not sure if she's a model. 
Her curves are thicker than the models you usually see. She's wearing a revealing bikini, her breasts almost spilling out of the bra but it's not because of that. It's because she's gorgeous. She's different from Kiko. She's different from you.
You would guess she might not be Jungkook's type. But then he looks down at her, smiling widely as he fastens her vest and something kicks inside you. 
“Hey–” 
Your head moves quickly toward the male with full on abs, nearing you carefully as he chuckles when you give him a glare.
“The guy–Jungkook?” he stops for a moment, “He told us you're his friend.”
Friend. That stings for a split second.
“I am, and?”
He chuckles, not put off by your raised brow and dangerous eyes. The man's skin is tanned and his dark wet hair is pushed back, showing you his sharp jawline. 
“And I wanted to check on you and ask if you really don't wanna join.”
Oh god, he must think you're some kind of introvert that avoids all social interactions. Little does he know you did it for your and Jungkook's sake. 
You glance back at them, Jungkook sitting on a jet ski as the girl sits behind him, hugging him from behind. Your throat goes dry and you swallow down the lump that suddenly appears there.
“Officially, you don't have to if you do–”
You roll your eyes at the familiar sentence and you grow slightly annoyed at that. You brush any sand that might appear on your moisturized skin. 
“Y'know what? I was starting to get bored.”
His smile grows and he looks you up and down. Not in the disgusting and perverted way, but in an almost challenging way as he smirks. 
“What about my things though?” you look down at your phone. 
“We can leave it in the bar there. They always look after our things when we do stuff like this.”
“Always?”
“We're here for the third time.”
“We.”
“Some of our friends. But we always meet someone new too, so they join us.” 
Just like Jungkook right now. 
“Oh, so you're the friendly type?”
He chuckles, “Not always. Just for specific people.”
And then there's the look in his eyes. Challenging and telling you more than his lips are. Oh god. He's flirting with you. 
You grab your and Jungkook's phones, not wanting them to get stolen. When you straighten and balance yourself, he holds out his hand for you to take. You slap his hand, brushing past him. “Let's go.”
You hear his amused chuckle behind you as he guides you toward the bar. After your stuff is taken care of and the staff is obviously familiar with him, you join the others. 
“Guys, someone's gonna join us after all.” He calls out and you realize you don't know his name.
Jungkook is in the middle of conversation, grinning as he looks up curiously. His smile falls when he spots you and you almost lift your brow at him. 
“Cool!”
“Great!”
“I'm Nat, what's your name?”
All kinds of questions and reactions are thrown at you. Welcoming and warm which you're glad for.
You introduce yourself, feeling a hand on the back of your back, not going any lower out of respect as the man who brought you here, guides you to one of the jets. 
“Mind sharing this one with me, Y/N?” he asks, handing you the vest. 
“No,” you say lightly and feigning innocence. “Do you?”
“Of course not.”
“You could at least tell me your name. Y'know, in case something happens to me.”
“What's fun in that?”
“So you're also the mysterious type?” Cocking your brow at him in challenge, he smirks. 
“Gabriel.”
He excuses himself for a minute, to grab his own vest as you put the one he handed you on. 
“I thought you didn't wanna go.” Jungkook suddenly says, standing right in front of you. He lightly nudges your hands as he helps you to fasten up your vest. 
You stare at him, “Changed my mind.”
“You could've told me. Wanna ride with me?”
“You already have someone to ride with.” you tell him, chuckling as you're trying your best to appear light and carefree.
“I see you do too. Doesn't mean we can change it up.”
You shrug, “He offered.”
He frowns, his eyes dropping all over your face as they stop on your lips for a quick moment. “So, you cool with that?”
“Yeah,” you say, swallowing. “It's okay to meet new people.”
His eyes snap to yours. He watches you, causing you to almost squirm in his never flattering eye contact. “What do you mean?”
Fuck, you should've stay silent. 
“Well, we talked about this earlier. We're not–it's probably for the best.”
You watch his tongue poke the inside of his cheek, a knowing look crossing over his features as he momentarily looks away before he chuckles. He rubs his nose as he backs away. 
“Okay.”
Him going back to the woman, watching her arms around his waist when they haven't even set off yet, is not the most disturbing feeling. As Gabriel joins you and you sit in the same position like Jungkook and the woman, you can't help but realize that none of this seems okay.
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a/n: Oh god. It's already out! It's been a while since I wrote an author's note & to be honest, there's so much that I wanna say. At first, I wasn't really sure what – minus of course to thank you for your understanding and patience which unfortunately doesn't involve everyone. I'm glad that this chapter is finally out! To think it was supposed to be out in summer (and it's already close to winter 🥴) and even earlier than that, is insane!! 
I don't wanna go into too much detail and make this a/n too long, most of you probably have been hanging around for a while to know everything that has happened since the last update. Life has been busy but I don't think about it negatively, even tho it obviously affects my writing schedule. I needed the hectic lifestyle. Sometimes I felt too exhausted, but I would rather take something positive from it than think of it negatively, especially since I wasn't in a good space before. 
I wanna apologize for taking so long. I know y'all have been waiting. For me, it didn't even feel that long which shows just how quickly everything has been happening in my life. There are so many things that affected it and I could literally make a list (lol) but I'm sure most of you know a good amount of it, since I've been as honest as I could've been. I know I couldn't control 99% of how busy I got. There were times when I wanted to write badly but I barely could even think of it. There were also times when I could've found inspiration and time, but then one look at my Wattpad profile or my inbox made me just lock my phone and do other things. 
I don't want to make this a/n to give off a negative vibe, because there is so much to be happy about, but I just wish some people could be more understanding. Some of them have been extremely toxic, not making it any easier for me. I'm slightly sad to admit that if it wasn't for my passion and love for this story, I probably would just pack it off because the hate and messages I got are insane. I know me saying this won't change anything – I've tried multiple times. But please for love of God, stop pressuring writers and gaslight them, or many other unnecessary and disgusting things.
But putting this aside, I wanna thank everyone who's shown me love and support – made all of this worth it. I hope you've enjoyed this chapter, there is more to come and I've already started working on the next one. Please, don't ask when and how much. I don't know. I'll do my best. My goal is to post at least once a month, but this doesn't mean it will happen. I've learned not to plan much because I don't wanna disappoint anyone. So I'll just work on my stories privately and once I have something to share, I'll inform you 😊
So, yeah, that's it guys! I'm glad to be back with another chapter and hopefully, there won't be such a long wait anymore! I really wish this won't happen again for multiple reasons. Thank you for cheering me on and letting me know there are such great readers like you. I'll be forever thankful. During this story and after it finishes as well!
If you've enjoyed this chapter, please consider buying me a coffee☕️: https://ko-fi.com/personasintro ♡ Teaser for 59 along with a special unfinished scene (that didn't make it in 58) will be posted there!
goal: 2k notes 🌙
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© 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨 (𝐧𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝) | 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭: @kithtaehyung
9K notes · View notes
a-b-riddle · 8 months ago
Text
Part 7
Can't stop thinking about how the 141 met reader
(she's a long one. not entirely happy with it either so may edit later)
No harm done yet.
You never saw Simon actually hurt anyone. Johnny and Kyle would share stories about poor recruits who fucked around and eventually found out that Simon had no issue beating them within an inch of their life.
You knew he had a reputation and, like the rest of them, had blood on his hands. But it never bothered you. Didn't make you think twice about loving him or seeing him as the protector he had always been to you. To be frank, you could never actually picture any of them being violent.
But his voice... Fuck. His voice. It fucking rattled you. You actually feared for those fucking idiots now. Sure, they deserved to have their asses kicked, but an ass-kicking was probably going to be a welcomed after thought to whatever Simon would do.
You rinsed off, not bothering to wash your hair, but needing to wash up before getting in the bed. Hoping the scalding hot water washed away the uneasiness on your skin that had began to settle into your bones.
Even feeling fresh and laying in clean sheets, you still found yourself tossing and turning wondering exactly what did Simon do?
Did he walk away? Realizing you weren't worth the trouble, did he just tell them to knock it off?
You had stupidly expected Simon to check in. To check if you made it home alright or at least to let you know he was okay. So you waited... And you waited. You had half a mind to call him yourself before remembering it wasn't your place anymore to care. You had cared enough for the five of you.
It was well past two in the morning before you finally called it a night.
The next morning, still nothing from Mr. Riley. Not a 'did you home alright?' or 'are you okay?' text. Nada. Zilch.
Whatever.
Fuck him.
You had to open up shop, but luckily your Saturday mornings were much more relaxed. The shop wouldn't be open until 10, so you had the time to sleep in and enjoy the morning.
By noon, Mere had sent you several texts reminding you that you had promised to go out. You had tried to dissuade her. The encounter with those men last night had brought back sour memories. One involving handsome men coming to your rescue when it was most certainly needed.
You had tried to bail. Giving her any excuse you could: Last night put you on edge. You no longer wanted to go out. After last weekend, you just needed some down time.
Eventually you had realized she was not taking no for an answer after she had shown up to your apartment, already ready for a night out.
"You're not wearing that, are you?" Mere asked. Mere was in her usual Saturday femme-fatal attire. The black leather pants that accentuated her curves and red corset paired well with her freshly box dyed color black hair.
She looked more like a dominatrix than someone who worked at an attorney's office. Even if both professions included bending someone over and fucking them for all their worth. You wondered who would charge more by the hour....
You had pulled out a off white lace square neck top and a pair of high waisted medium washed baggy jeans. A perfectly cute outfit for a night out. Which was your defense when she had suggested you needed to change.
Tab had arrived later than expected (something about a system being down at work), but made up for it by bringing a pre-game snack. Yes, you had officially reached the age where you no longer starved yourself hours before going out to get more drunk quicker and cheaper. No you had to eat carbs or else you wouldn't be able to leave your room the next day as you pathetically nurse a hangover.
Tab wore a denim skirt. If you could even call it that. It paired well with the white tank top that you could make out the shape of her nipple piercing.
But they looked hot. Really hot.
"This is a perfectly acceptable outfit."
"For a day at market, not for trying to get laid."
"I don't want to get laid." You said, rummaging through your closet, yet again. "Getting laid is what got me in this mess in the first place."
A little over two years ago
"Fuck him." Tabitha wrapped her arms around your shaking body as you continued to sob. "He was a prick who didn't fucking deserve you."
"He couldn't even get you to cum." Mere felt the need to remind you as if that would somehow lessen the blow of your heartbreaking into a million shards. The shrapnel feeling like it would kill you.
"I loved him," your voice is small. "I fucking loved him." You had been dating for almost three years. You had his grandmother's ring on your fucking hand for God's sake. "I'm so stupid."
"You are not stupid." Tabitha gave you a squeeze. "He was a liar and a fucking coward." Meredith rubbed her thumb on you bare leg, offering physical reassure. Letting you know even if she wasn't the hugger Tabs was, she was still here.
"You can't keep locked up in this apartment." She was unfortunately right. You had not only barricaded yourself in your apartment for two weeks, but you hadn't returned to your bedroom. The scene of the crime. "You need to get out."
"Yeah," Tabitha rubbed your arm as if trying to coax you out your metaphorical shell. "Get some fresh air. We can go grab a treat. Maybe go out for some coffee." It didn't surprise you that Tabitha was offering a treat to entice you to leaving your sanctuary.
"I was thinking going to a bar." It also didn't surprise you that Mere offered her way of coping. Getting so drunk that you forgot what you even sad about. Or going out and finding someone to fuck the sadness out of her.
"Because getting alcohol in her system in this state is just what she needs." Tabitha was the mom of the group whereas Mere was the fun drunk aunt. They balanced one another out.
"Actually," you said, giving a pathetic sniffle. "Going out would be nice." Getting away from the apartment is what you need. And going out would be the excuse you would need to get yourself all dolled up.
What you hadn't planned for was getting so pissed that you had manage to breakaway from your friends. Searching for them in teh crowd of people. Failing and when you pulled out your phone were met with a completely black screen.
Dead. Perfect.
The same moment you swore the night couldn't get any worse, it did.
He looked the same. Same as he been four months ago when he asked you to become his wife. Same as he had been two weeks ago when you had caught him fucking another girl. The girl he told you not to worry about. The girl he insisted was just one of the guys. A girl you had told him time and time again would fuck him the moment she had the chance.
It wasn't always great to be right.
When your eyes connected, your body had went into immediate flight mode. Every neuron in your body was shooting out signals of RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN. So that's exactly what you did.
You fucking bolted.
Or felt like you bolted. But you could only scurry so fast in chunky heels while simultaneously pulling down your skirt that had decided to ride up. Aching to show your ass for all of London to see.
You had made it a quarter of the way back to your apartment. Your feet aching. Toes pinched together from the strap digging into them.
"Baby, please!" You heard him before you felt his arm clamp down on your shoulder. Hard. When did his touch become something heavy? Something that practically burned you.
You turned. Eyes brimming with unshed tears as you hissed at him to leave you the fuck alone. The begging came, but you turned around. Determined to go home. He didn't deserve the chance to explain himself and he could most certainly shove his apology up his ass.
He wouldn't shut up. Insisting it was a mistake. A one time thing her fault. How she seduced him. As if he were the victim in all of this. You weren't buying it. Not for one moment. One doesn't accidentally invite some slut over and fall balls deep into her while they are in the same bed he shares with his fiancée.
It wasn't until you were in a more dimly lit area that he had gotten the nerve to grab you. His grip was firm on your arms as he held you in place. "Listen to me!" His voice was panicked.
The feeling of anger slowly began to dim as something else began to rise.
Fear.
You were afraid.
You were in a part of town not many people were out and about in at this time of night. No bystanders to really take note of the scene, or at least not any caring enough to stand by and watch; even for entertainment.
Your friends didn't know where you were at and you were tipsy. And alone.
"Cardan," you swallowed, trying to steady your voice. "Please let me go."
"Not until you talk to me," his fingers dug into you. "We can work this out, okay? It was one mistake." He tried to argue, his voice rising, soaked in desperation. "What's one mistake compared to three years?"
"Cardan," you tried to pull away, his grip only tightening. "You're hurting me." It came out as a pathetic whimper. You were so close to crying, too afraid to scream.
"Hey!" A voice barked from behind you. It caused your whole body to stiffen."Get your fucking hands off her. Someone noticed. Someone was here. Someone was here. Someone was here.
"We are having a conversation." Cardan's eyes left you, looking at whoever stood behind you.
"The lass said to leave her be." Another voice. Someone else. Two (three if you counted yourself, but in that moment you couldn't) people against one. There was no a possibility of you getting the fuck out of this situation.
Cardan stood firm. His eyes looking past you. A silent refusal to back down.
"Either you let her go," another voice. Another accent different that the first two. "Or we fucking make you."
"One against four. Odds aren't in your favor, mate." Four. Four men stood behind you. Faceless strangers there to help you.
"This doesn't concern you." Cardan bit out.
"Aye," Scottish. The second guy was definitely Scottish. "I think it does if she's tellin' ye' to piss off and yer bein' a bawbag about it."
"So what'll it be?" The third voice, deep and threatening, yet still so... calming. As if the vibrations from his deep, rich pitch washed over you.
Cardan looked back at you, his eyes not as manic. He realized he didn't have a chance. This was a fight he had to walk away from or else he wouldn't be walking away from it at all. "I'll swing by tomorrow, okay?" He asked.
You couldn't do anything, but nod. Agree that you could talk tomorrow in the safety of the sunlight. Eventually he walked across the street before fading out into the night. Blending in with the shadows.
You turned around to meet your would-be saviors.
Four men. All slightly older than you and so handsome you felt foolish for gawking at them as if this were your first time seeing a man. Hell, maybe it was. At least specimens like this. All of them tall and broad. Towering over you.
No wonder Cardan got the fuck out of there. Tabs was right. He was a coward.
"You alright?" The one who first spoke up asked. You could place his voice. Now just needed to place the other three. He had a hearty mustache and mutton chops. A look on any one else would make you immediately get the ick. But for a moment you wondered if that mustache would tickle... "Do you need us to call anyone?"
You felt your cheeks flush with heat.
"I just want to go home." You said. "Thank you for stepping in. I don't know what would have-" You stopped. Too afraid to think about the possibilities. There was a time you would never believe that Cardan had the ability to hurt you.
There was also a time you believed he would never cheat. You weren't really sure what to believe anymore. "Anyway," you continued. "Thank you again." You turned on your heel before continuing your stride.
You had only made it several feet before you were stopped again. "Which way? One of us can walk you home." You weren't entirely sure. But with a dead cellphone and a unhinged ex probably lurking in the shadows, there was little time to weigh the pros and cons before giving them a general direction of where you lived.
Which just so happened to be the direction in which two of the four lived. The Scot and one of the two who had yet to speak. The first one, who had still yet to introduce himself instructed the two of them to drop you off and let him know you had made it home alright.
You had hoped that the rest of your night would be met with silence, but the Scot couldn't seem to help himself. "I'm Johnny." He introduced. "And the spooky, silent type is Simon." He gave a playful wink. You gave him your name, not wanting to be rude.
"Not my place to ask," he began. "But what was the deal with that fucker? Ex-boyfriend?"
"Johnny." Simon's tone held warning. You appreciated the defense, but frankly didn't care. These were strangers. Who cared what they thought.
"Ex-fiancée," you clarified. "One who decided to fuck another girl in my bed. Not even our bed. My bed."
"Jesus fucking Christ," the Scot swore. "I was right. He was a fucking bawbag." For whatever reason, that made you laugh. For the first time in two weeks you fucking laughed. And it felt like you were breathing again.
Simon was quiet, not contributing to the conversation and just letting Johnny babble. Talking your ear off in a short trek as if it were an olympic sport.
You were so distracted with his voice you hadn't realized how far you had made it until the sound of your keys clattering onto your kitchen counter brought you back.
Back to a situation you didn't know how the fuck you landed in.
Two men (who you don't know) are in your apartment. Your friends don't know where you are. You are a little bit too inebriated to plan and exit strategy. Doesn't exactly help your confidence in fighting them off since they are built like fucking brick houses.
"He won't come sniffin' around here botherin' ya, will he?" Simon asks, speaking for only the second time since he had threatened Cardan. You shake your head.
"No," you said. "I have him blocked on everything. So I think when he saw me tonight it was just kind of an opportunity, I suppose?" You offer. Cardan had showed up to your place one time with a random assortment of flowers and a useless apology you had to hear through the door as you covered your mouth. Concealing your cries. Too afraid to let him know you were there.
Too afraid that some part of you would be weak enough to take him back.
"We'll leave ye' be." Johnny said, nodding his head toward the door. "But if he comes bein' a shite to ye again, you can give us a call."
"Phones dead." You explain, holding up your phone as if you needed to prove yourself. Johnny offered the brilliant, yet simple solution of giving him your number. He sent off a text, knowing it would be there when you turned back on and promising to check in later.
They both gave subtle nods of goodbye before turning away.
And just like that, they left. The door clicking softly shut behind them. You stood, frozen for several beats before walking over and locking the door.
You plugged your phone into the charging cable, waiting until it lit back to life before shooting off a text in your group chat with Tab and Mere.
Sorry I took off. Ran into Cardan and fucking made a dash for it. Sorry if I worried you. I'm at home. I'm okay. Grab lunch tomorrow and we can talk about it? My treat?
You signed off the text with a heart emoji and turned your phone on do not disturb. Too afraid of your friends going all Mama Bear on you for running away while drunk. Even if your reasons were valid.
You had texted Johnny again. Not because Cardan dared to bother you again, but to thank him. Acknowledging that not many men would have done for you what he and his friend did. Johnny assured you it wasn't anything.
Before you knew it, the two of you were hanging out with Simon always tagging along. It took you a while to realize he did actually like you, but his stoic nature was just who he was. You had met Kyle and John, both as charming and respectful as Johnny and Simon.
John had been the first two mention wanting to take you on a date. It didn't go well with the other three. They all had the same intention and a rock, paper, scissors tournament seemed to juvenile to figure out who got the privilege in courting you. Eventually, they had decided to ask you.
Putting you on the spot to answer the question that had begun to tear them apart: which one of them will it be?
Johnny made you laugh. He was the first person you thought about calling when your day was a bit grey. He saw the positive in everything and was the one who made you feel like even the bad days weren't so terrible.
Then there was Simon. The one who you felt like was your safe place in body and mind. You would babble all day talking to him, thankful when he would let you rant. Your mind was able to go on auto-pilot in terms of safety because you knew Simon would handle it. He also gave the best hugs.
John was the one who instilled the confidence in you that you needed. Your bookstore, your writing, whatever aspirations you had, no matter how wild, John would support it. Nothing was too big. After you all started dating, he was the first person you ever let read your book. He gave you praise as well as critique, pointing out multiple plot holes and helping you craft it better. And never once taking credit for it, even when it was due.
Kyle was the most thoughtful one. He was the one who knew you liked trying knew things so he made an effort to always make date nights interesting. A new restaurant, a new activity or experience. He was the biggest giver of the group.
So when they did ask you, you answered honestly.
"I can't choose." They insisted that you didn't need to spare their feelings, but you stood firm in your decision. "No. I can't choose. I'm interested in all of you." When they pressed on why the fuck you didn't say anything earlier, you told them to avoid this kind of situation. Where you had to choose. You were fine continuing on as just friends if that meant you got to keep all of them.
Mere and Tabs were great friends, but they are the ones who helped pull you out of the slump. The ones who made you feel lovable. The ones who made you feel like a woman again.
"Helloooooo." Mere's hand waved in your face while another held something she had found in your closet. "So are you going to change or not?" Your eyes darted to the skimpy glittery black dress. The same one for your first date with them. Your stomach twisted as you took the sparkly dark fabric in your hand.
You nodded as if trying to shake the memory out of your mind. "I'll change and we can go." Better just to get it over with.
The place that Mere had dragged you to was a club that played music that you would only listen to while encapsulated in the aroma of cheap liquor and sweat. Your outfit form-fitting. The material too stiff to be comfortable, but it was cute. The hem of your dress coming to rest just below your ass cheeks. Hugging your body in a way that made you feel self conscious the moment you stepped out of your building.
Mere had run into some work colleagues. Names you couldn't and wouldn't remember. There had been a high profile divorce going on. Very messy. She had been so encapsulated by the gossip that she hadn't notice you and Tabitha had slipped off toward the bar.
Tabitha insisted on shots and you needed something to get your mind off the less than exciting night. Your expectations weren't high, but fuck. You would have been much more comfortable wearing the jeans. You felt like a piece of fucking meat. It would have been so bad if someone were gonna buy you a dr-
"This seat taken?" It was a cliche introduction attached to a slightly better than average face. Decent enough where it didn't hurt to look at him, but not attractive enough to be a seat.
"By all means," you said turning back to Tabitha who looked at the guy now sitting to your left and raising her eyebrows. Fucking hell. Not her too.
"It's pretty packed tonight." He commented, attempted to make small talk. You hated small talk. At least unless it came to Johnny who would get into discussion on politics, religion and why on the side was the best way to fuck because it gave him 'a perfect view of the front and back of ye.'
"You come here often?" You asked, not wanting to be a total bitch, but having absolutely zero desire to be entertaining him.
"When I can." He said. "I prefer the Artifact a couple of blocks down. Not many people heard of it. A bit of a hole-in-the-wall place." Oh cool. A fucking hipster who liked to act superior at knowing a place that is underground. You could feel any possibility of getting your pussy wet, dry at the thought of this man actually wanting to come onto you.
Jesus, when did you become so harsh.
I blame Simon.
"Oh," you say, no longer interested in entertaining the conversation. "Sounds lovely. My friend and I just came out for a bit of girl-" you turn to look at Tabitha who had somehow miraculously disappeared in the 45 fucking seconds that your back was turned....
Little bitch.
"Bathroom, I suppose." He laughed. It was the sincerity in his voice that irked you. God, why was he pissing you off just trying to start a conversation?
"I suppose." You gave a soft smile back, turning once the bartender had come over to grab your order. Which the stranger next to you had insisted buying. Nothing quite as arousing as obligated conversation.
"There's no need for that-"
"Percival." He introduced. "But my friends call me Percy." Your immediate thought was who the fuck names there kid Percival. The second was to offer him a fake name. Real enough to be believable, but fake enough where if he tried to search you up on any social media, you could just deny having any.
"I hate to be brash," he started. Then don't. "But I can't imagine a girl like you being single."
"Not really looking for anything romantic at the moment." You say, the first time you've been truthful this entire conversation. Percival leaned in closer, before asking in a low voice that he was doubt trying to convey as sexy, "Are you sure?"
And there it was. The final ick that nailed the coffin shut.
You offered in a soft smile before swallowing hard. "Percival,"
"My friends call me-"
"I'm going to be frank." Your voice is soft, as if explaining to a small child why we don't always get the things we want. "I just got of a very long and deep and meaningful relationship and the idea of being near another man in any intimate or emotional capacity wants me to cause very serious bodily harm to said man."
His expression fell.
"I appreciate your confidence in coming over here and making small talk, but if you're wanting to fuck me or even attempt to be friends, I must inform you that is no only not in the cards, but not in your best interest." You turned, downing the rest of your cocktail.
"Time for a trip to the bathroom myself, I suppose." You stood from your seat, having to readjust your dress.. "Have a good night."
You were washing your hands when a red-faced Mere walked into the bathroom. Tabitha on her heels with a concerned expression.
"What did you do?" Mere asked.
"What are you talking about?" You asked. You had half a mind to ask them why the fuck they pulled a disappearing act after insisting you go out.
"You told Percy you would castrate him?" You looked as if you had been slapped. The pieces falling into place to reveal a totally fucked up puzzle.
"You fucking tried to set me up." You seethed, a finger pointing accusingly.
"Well, fuck, what did you expect me to do?" She asked. "You were sulking."
"Listen to me!" You cried. "I want you to listen to me. I was with them for two years. It hasn't even been two weeks and you're going behind my fucking back and trying to set me up with fucking Percival? How the fuck do you even know him? Do you even know him?" She ignored your last question. How convenient.
"I thought it would be good to get it out of your system." She tried to defend, her pissyness now matching yours. "You always do this. I was just trying to help."
"What do you mean 'I always do this'?" Your eyes turned into slits.
"Why don't we just calm down and-" Tabitha tried to stop the escalation. Mere, very obviously, ignored that cue.
"You get so hung up on a guy, or in this case guys, it takes you fucking weeks to recover." You stare at her. Unsure if she was really comprehending the bullshit that had come out of her mouth.
"I'm certain you aren't trying to make me feel bad for grieving a relationship that I was in for over three years to a man I was engaged to. To find him fucking in my apartment, in my bed the same week I was going to get my wedding dress."
"It's not just Cardan," she went on. "Issac in our second year of school?" You gave a humorless chuckle.
"Oh yes," you said condescendingly, "the boy I had dated from 14-years old- until I was 19. The boy I gave my virginity two months before he told me he was not only not interested in me, but women in general." As if that somehow lessened the blow. "Absolutely shouldn't have bothered me a bit."
"You only went out for classes and food for two months!" She said as if you had hit a pedestrian with your car. As if you were a fool for being so distracted by a breakup you couldn't be bothered to carry on with life as normal.
"I'm sorry that I actually take the time to grieve my relationships." You said. "I forgot that it may be hard for either of you to comprehend what a relationship is like considering the only relationship either of you have is with your work or with each of us."
"Hey!" Tabitha said. "I understand your pissed, but there isn't need to attack us like this."
"Attack you?" You asked. "Attack you? This isn't me attacking you. This is me responding to an uncomfortable situation that you put me in. I told you I didn't want to even think about me. I didn't want to fuck someone else and you go and do this?"
"He seems like a decent guy." You roll your eyes.
"Probably why he's not your type, right?" Mere crossed her arms over chest. Eyebrow arched as if she were hoping the words enticed you to realize that you had a history of going after the wrong guys.
Unfortunately, it did not.
You sucked on your teeth, carefully choosing your words before World War III broke out in a nearly vacant bathroom in South London. You took a deep breath. Calming yourself as best as you could.
Before saying fuck it and letting it loose.
"Just because your idea of coping is getting drunk and fucking someone you plan on never speaking to again, quite literally discarding them like trash, doesn't mean the rest of us cope the same way." You hoped it hurt. You hope it stung the same way she had tried to sting you.
You had hoped that your word would be the final blow before both sides called a treaty.
"You mean like they did you?"
And just like that, you heart stuttered. A rapid dum dum dum in your chest as it had been tripped up by her words. The truth in them heavy. The shift in the air was almost immediate;.
"Sweetheart-" Tabitha had tried to reach out before you jerked away.
"Enjoy your night." You said, grabbing your purse where you had left it by the sink. "I'm going to go home and wallow in my self pity." You exited the bathroom, hearing your named called again before shifting it into gear and getting the fuck out of there.
Weaving through the sea of bodies like water flowing around rocks.
Who the fuck cares if you want to cry? To grieve? To be angry? To get closure? To move on? Who cares if you don't want to be the girl who gets her heart shattered and not fuck somone else? Who wants to feel the comfort of a familiar body, a touch that feels safe one last time before you go back into a world where you will only be touched by a stranger?
It didn't matter that you were the one to breakup with them, even if the relationship was broken. It's foundation cracked.
What did matter is that the people who should have supported you and in the way you were dealing with your loss in your own way, didn't. And that's the part that they seem to forget. It is a loss. It's mourning someone who hasn't died. Someone who is still living, yet still no longer there.
"Off already?" Percy cut in the way, blocking your escape. You weren't in the mood.
"Listen-" you started before he cut you off.
"Not anything romantic, I know," he raised his hands as if in defense, "but maybe like another drink or a dance?"
You closed your eyes, wanting to hold off starting a scene and tearing him a new asshole. "Like I said, not. interested." How much clearer could you spell it out?
"Come on." He said, his hand coming to rest on your hip. The grip on it weak. You were by no means the type of woman that could take on a man like the ones you still held in a chamber of your heart. But you could most certainly handle your own against Percival. "I'm asking for a dance. After what Meredith told me, I figured you'd be down for at a little more than that."
"I don't follow." Your blood ran cold. Your heart praying that any assumptions that were running through your mind were wrong, they were wrong.
"She mentioned you having a group of like guys you fucked, but stopped fucking." He shrugged, offering a coy smile that you ached to wipe off with the back of your hand. "I don't judge. It's kind of hot honest. Did they run train or-" You felt it then. His hand had traveled from your hip to the curve of your ass.
And you froze. You froze like a coward. Too afraid to speak or scream. Too ashamed to push him away, cause a scene.
But you didn't need to do any of that.
In an instant, Percy's hand was off of you. It took you a moment to realize that a figure dressed in black stood beside you. Your own personal grim reaper.
"Put him go!" You pleaded, breaking out of your trance. You took hold of his arm putting all of your body weight on his arm, trying to break his hold. He didn't falter.
You could handle you own against Percy.
But Simon could fucking kill him without breaking a sweat.
You looked at Simon's face. His eyes were darkened. The soft brown you had once loved staring into were now almost black. You could even make out the dark circles, even in the unsettling flickering of strobe lights in the club.
"You touch her again and I'll slit your fucking throat. Understood?" Pure venom fell from Simon's lips, but you knew he wasn't lying. Simon was the type of man who didn't say something he didn't mean.
You knew that all too well.
Percy choked out an ineligible, gurgled response as Simon's hand held firm on his throat. "He understands, goddammit, no let him down!" You ordered hitting at him as if it would stop him. "Simon, please!"
It was only when you said his name, did Simon loosen his grip. Letting Percy drop to a heap on the floor before he started a having a coughing fit, trying to suck in as much air as he could.
Simon looked down at you and the exit before scooping you up and hauling you over his shoulder like a sack of flower.
You wanted to die. You wanted to crawl in a hole and die and never show your face again.
"Get in the car." He at least had the decency to open the door for you. Simon wasn't a flashy man, by any means, but he was still a man. A men did love their cars.
He stood, waiting for you but you didn't move. You glared up at him. He had carried you out of there in the most humiliating way possible. You had to fight against the hemline of your dress or else everyone would have gotten an eyeful.
Hand still on the door, he leaned down, getting closer and closer to your height. "You get your ass in this car right now," his breath warm against your ear. "Or I'll have you over my fuckin' knee." His tone was sharp. It wasn't seduction in form of a threat. It wasn't even a threat.
It was a promise.
"We're over." You reminded.
"Do you think that'll fuckin' stop me from spankin' some sense into your bratty ass?"
"It doesn't give you the right to fucking do that to people, Simon!" You huffed. "You could have killed in."
"Could have," he agreed. "But didn't. You're welcome." he nodded toward the car. "Now, in you go or I'll do it here. You already know I don't mind an audience."
The heated seats were a bit to warm for your liking against your bare ass. The tension in the air was uncomfortable. Your hands ached to touch the radio. Anything to stop the silence between the two of you.
"I got home fine the other night by the way." You said, looking out the window, hoping to make him feel like shit for not checking in like he should have.
"I know you did."
"What do you mean you know I did?" You asked, turning to look at him. He shrugged as if it wasn't anything out of the ordinary, not stopping.
"Just did." Was his only answer.
"Are you fucking stalking me, Riley?" That made him laugh. You would have felt better if there was at least a sense of humor in it, but, instead, only disbelief.
"Oh, Riley now, is it?" He asked.
"You're not my body guard, Simon." You snapped.
"Not trying to be," he said. "I was never trying to be." You caught it. A very small slip, but it was something... something you couldn't place.
"Then why?" You ask, your tone softening. "For someone who makes it very apparent to be done with me, you sure do show up at convenient times. Hard not to think your keeping tabs on me."
He didn't say anything. No explanation or excuse. Not evena smart ass comeback or remark.
His hands reached forward and turned on the radio, turning the volume just loud enough that if you were to try and continue the conversation, your words would be drowned out.
He pulled up in front of your building, yet you made no move to get out. You turned off the radio, soaking in the silence once more. You wanted to know why? Why was he appearing out of nowhere like a fucking ghost? Why was he helping you?
He sighed before putting the car in park and stepping out. Coming around to your side he opened the door. "Get inside. Go to bed." There he was again. Fucking bossing you around as if he still had a say.
You wanted to cuss him out. To spew hateful words just as he did you.
But you didn't.
You were tired.
So fucking tired. And the idea of going to bed did sound pretty good in that moment. You made it to the door of your building before he spoke again. "And if you need to out at this time at night call a goddamn cab."
"Why?" You asked, turning around. "Getting tired of having to follow me around on foot, Si?"
There was a pregnant pause. Neither of you speaking. His body shifted forward, as if contemplating getting closer to you. As if the pull you once had was still there.
With his eyes trained on you, you felt a chill run down your spine. Twice you had seen that look on Simon's face before. The look that he had given the figures concealed in the shadows last night. The same look he had given Percy.
Only this time, it was directed at you.
One that personified the saying, 'if looks could kill.'
"Because," he growled out, "the next time I find someone else touching you that way, I'll fucking kill them."
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itneverendshere · 3 months ago
Text
LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - TWO
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pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of possible pregnancy, of abortion, of pregnancy risks & death. self-loathing. chapter one ┆ chapter three ┆ chapter four
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You lied.
You didn’t take the tests the next day.
Or the next. You couldn’t. Every time you picked up one of the stupid boxes, your heart would drop to the pits of hell and your hands would start sweating. You’d shove it back in the drawer like it could disappear if you just ignored it hard enough.
Once you knew, you knew. 
There was no more pretending as if nothing happened.
No more pretending like you didn't care that Rafe moved on like he didn’t just dump you, with no real closure and ran to the next girl he found. 
Fuck, why did he have to look so happy that night? He got to be carefree, living his perfect little life with her, and you were there, sitting on the bathroom floor, too scared to even pee on a stick.
What if it was positive? Then what? The thought of seeing his name pop up on your phone after you blocked him, or worse, hearing her voice if she picked up...you’d rather die. He didn't deserve to know.
He didn't deserve anything from you anymore.
You started googling abortion clinics before you even touched the tests. You could afford it. That wasn’t even the issue.
You had more money than you knew what to do with. Your inheritance was just sitting there. You could book a flight tomorrow, pay for whatever procedure, whatever it took—fly out of state, out of the country, if you had to. 
But that wasn’t the point. It has never been about the money. It was the overwhelming shame. The fear. The realization that Rafe might have left you, but he was still there, stuck in your head, in your body, in your fucking life. Even when he wasn’t.  
He didn’t have to worry about any of this. He was most likely out on the boat, not even thinking about you. Not thinking about what he did to you. 
And you— you were left with this. Sitting on a bathroom floor for hours a day, trying to figure out how you were supposed to make a decision that changed everything.
You started looking up clinics again, scrolling through the options, but your mind was barely even there. It was legal in North Carolina for now, but you read something about the 12-week ban they passed in June, and suddenly you were spiraling one more time, wondering how much time you even had. 
Could you wait? Could you put it off like you’d been putting off the tests, like if you waited long enough, maybe the problem would just... disappear? Shit, wouldn’t that be easier?
You heard that voice in your head, the one that sounded like your mom, at least what you remembered from watching old videos.
It was depressing how life didn’t let you hold tightly to your memories sometimes. She always reminded you of the kind of person you were supposed to be. The type of girl who had her shit together. The type of girl who didn’t get herself into situations like this, in the first place.
But instead, you were the girl who lost everything—the life you were supposed to have—and somehow, you’d still found a way to screw up what was left.
You kept scrolling like you couldn’t stop.
One page led to another, and soon you weren’t just looking up clinics—you were looking up everything. 
What happened during the procedure, how long it took, the side effects, the complications. You read horror stories about infections, about women who thought it was over and then bled for weeks, about people who changed their minds too late.
You even looked up what could happen if you didn’t get an abortion—what pregnancy could do to your body. And that was a whole other rabbit hole you didn’t need to go down. Your body changing, your hormones going insane. You thought about your boobs getting sore, your stomach stretching, the possibility of throwing up every morning, and it felt like your body was already betraying you. And then you read the serious stuff—gestational diabetes, preeclampsia, all these words you didn’t even know existed before that night. There was a minefield of things that could go wrong, things that would go wrong.
Complications. Risks. Dangers.
You read about women who almost died in labor. About miscarriages and stillbirths and the trauma of carrying a baby for months, only to lose it. You never even thought about that, how pregnancy wasn’t just this smooth, magical process people make it out to be. It was brutal. But you’d been the little sister, you never saw your mother go through it, or anyone for that matter.
Your younger cousin, Topper the bitching backstabber, had been born and raised in Los Angeles before he moved to Figure 8 when he was five. 
You were terrified—not just of being pregnant, but of what it meant to stay pregnant. Would your body even handle it? You’d always lived off coffee and takeout half the time. An unreasonable amount of parties. Too many drinks some nights.
You weren’t exactly the picture of health. What if you weren’t strong enough? What if something went wrong, and you ended up in a hospital bed, alone, because Rafe sure as fuck wouldn’t be there. It was just you.
For a second there, you thought you might pass out.
You’d thrown your phone across the room, it hit the wall with a thud, but it didn’t help. The anxiety was still there, vibrating under your skin, making you want to scream. You glanced at the bathroom drawer again, where the pregnancy tests were hidden like some cursed thing.
Maybe you should’ve just taken one.
Rip off the bandaid.
The stupid phone rang, like was having fun pissing you off, vibrating on the floor where you’d thrown it. You stared at it for a second, debating if you should even pick it up. You didn’t feel like dealing with anyone, especially not whoever was about to ask something from you.
But it kept ringing, and of course, it was a number you recognized—Lily, one of the coordinators from your dad’s foundation. Shit. You forgot about the gala. Again. The one that was happening in two freaking days, the one you haven’t even thought about preparing for.
You swiped to answer, “Yeah?”
“Hey, I didn’t want to bother you, but we need to go over the final details for the gala,” She greeted you, sounding way too perky for how you were feeling. “I really need your input on the seating arrangements, and the auction items, and—”
It hit you just how ironic this was. You were sitting here, freaking out about being possibly pregnant, scrolling through nightmare stories about abortion and pregnancy complications, while Lily was talking about a fundraiser for children’s health. Kids. It felt like some twisted repulsive joke the universe was playing on you.
You blinked back into the conversation, realizing she still talking, and you hadn’t said a word. “Uh, yeah, sorry. I’ve been busy. Can you just handle it?” you muttered, feeling guilty but not enough to actually deal with any of it.
“I’ve already taken care of most things,” she said carefully, “but we really need your approval on the final guest list and the speech. You’re the face of the foundation, after all.”
The face of the foundation. The legacy your dad left you. It was supposed to be this huge responsibility. And it was. You’d always taken it seriously. The one thing in your life you never ruined. But this year, you hadn’t written the speech yet. Jesus, you forgot it was even happening. And the guest list? No clue.
You rubbed your forehead, “I’ll look at it later. Just send it over.”
Lily hesitated again, probably sensing that something was off, you'd always been a control freak. “Okay, I’ll email it to you. Just let me know by tomorrow, alright?”
“Yeah, sure.”
You hung up before she could add anything else, staring at the ceiling. One more thing. One more responsibility piled on top of everything else. You were drowning in all these expectations—being the good daughter to dead parents, the responsible one, the perfect kook girl who was supposed to have everything. You were supposed to be the girl who had the trust fund, the perfect life, the foundation that helped kids in need.
You earned to be her.
Your phone buzzed again, this time with an email notification. You rolled your eyes, already knowing it was from Lily. She’d sent over the guest list, and you groaned, thinking you’d skim it, give it a half-assed glance, and send it back. But as you scrolled down the names, you stopped.
Rafe Cameron.
Of course, he was going to be there. Why wouldn’t he? His family had been involved in your dad’s foundation for years. It was like you couldn’t escape him.
The fucking nerve. To your gala. Your blood boiled instantly, your fingers gripping the phone so tight you almost cracked the screen.
Fuck him. 
If he thought he could just show up and rub his new life in your face, he had another thing coming. Without thinking twice, you deleted his name, erasing him like he didn’t even exist. And then, without checking another name, you sent the list back to Lily.
You didn’t give a shit if it was petty. You didn’t care if it wasn’t professional.
If Rafe wanted to play games, you’d ruin his life if you had to. He thought he could fuck you over, leave you with all this—leave you with nothing? No. You weren’t going to let him have that power.
Not over this. Not over you.
You were shaking now, but it almost felt good. Even if it was just a stupid guest list. Let him find out when he got there and there was no table for him. No seat. No fucking room. 
You still sat there staring at the screen with that stupid blinking cursor. The email from Lily sat open in front of you, and somewhere buried in the list of attachments was the speech. Blank.
Your speech—the one you were supposed to read at the gala in two days. The one you hadn’t even started writing.
This was always the hardest part. Writing it. Saying it. You used to cry every time. Standing in front of all those people, talking about your dad, your family, how the foundation was this beautiful way of keeping their memory alive. It was never just a speech—it was like ripping your heart out of your chest and letting everyone see it, year after year. It never got easier.
But Rafe, used to be there with you.
Every year. He’d sit with you while you struggled through every word, telling you it was okay to take your time, reminding you that you didn’t have to do it if you didn’t want to. And when the gala came, he was always by your side, standing just off stage, waiting for you after the speech was done. You’d run into his arms, and he’d whisper that you 'did great baby', holding you until the room stopped spinning so much.
You could still hear his voice in your head sometimes, 'you’re stronger than you think'.
That’s what he always said, even when you didn’t believe it. He’d hold you, kiss your forehead, and make you feel like it was true, like you really could get through it. He was always so sure of you. But this year? He wasn’t going to be there. He’d stop believing the lies he fed you. You were angry. You were seething. You were utterly alone.
You’d been avoiding this moment—writing.
This time around, it wasn’t just about the speech. It was about the fact that when you walked out of that stage, you wouldn’t have him waiting for you.
You’d step down into nothingness, with no one to catch you.
Your fingers hovered over the screen, but they wouldn’t move. What were you even supposed to say this year? How were you supposed to stand up in front of all those people and talk about love and family and legacy when yours was shattered?
You hated looking at yourself in the mirror, feeling like you’d lost every single piece of who you used to be.
Fuck the speech. Fuck the gala. Fuck Rafe Cameron and his stupid lies, his stupid smile, his stupid promises that he never kept.  
If he thought you were weak, if he thought he could break you, if he thought you were the same girl who used to cling to him like he was the only thing keeping you together—he was wrong.
You were going to do this without him.
You were going to stand up there and give that speech, no matter how much it hurt. And if it killed you, so be it. You’d still do it.
Because unlike him, you didn’t just walk away from the things that mattered. Even if it tore you apart. Even if it was killing you to keep pretending like you were fine. You weren’t fine. But you’d fake it. You’d fake it until the whole world believed it. 
You’d barely hit send on the email when your phone rang again, and this time it wasn’t Lily.
It was Topper. You hadn’t talked to him since that night—the night. The party where you’d found out, where you’d seen Rafe and Sofia together for the first time. Where you realized that everyone knew.
How he’d called Rafe over, like you needed him to fix it, like he was still yours to rely on.
“What?”
“Hey…” Topper’s voice was cautious, “I, uh, I wanted to call and apologize for the other night.”
You snorted, leaning your head back against the wall. “Yeah? For what part? For calling Rafe like his little bitch or for getting in front of my car when I was trying to leave?”
“I didn’t mean to fuck things up. I was just trying to stop you from doing something stupid.”
“Like what?” you snapped. “Leaving the party? Getting out of there before I had to watch him with her for one more second? Yeah, Top, real dumb of me.”
“You almost ran me over,” Topper shot back, his voice rising just a little, like he was offended you hadn’t mentioned that part. “Kinda felt like maybe you weren’t thinking straight.”
“You jumped in front of the car you fucking idiot. What the hell did you expect me to do? Slam on the brakes and listen to whatever bullshit you and Rafe had to say? Because trust me, ’m all out of patience for either of you.”
There was a sigh on the other end, the sound of him trying to not to lose his patentience, like he was the one in the right here. Typical Topper. Always wanting to smooth things over, play peacemaker between you and Rafe, like this was just another fight you’d get over.
He never really got it.
“Look,” Your cousin started, calmer this time, “I didn’t mean to call him. I just thought—”
“You always think calling him will fix things,” you cut in, “Like he’s the answer to every problem I have. He’s not. Not anymore.”
“I get that,” He added quickly, like he was afraid you’d hang up. “But I didn’t know what else to do! You were upset, and I thought maybe—”
“Maybe what? That he could swoop in and save the day?” You let out a bitter laugh. “He’s not your golden boy, Top. He doesn’t fix anything. He ruins things.”
Topper went quiet for a second, probably trying to figure out how to respond without setting you off on an angry rant again. “I get it,” he said finally, “You’re pissed at him. You have every right to be. But I didn’t call him to hurt you, okay? I was worried about you.”
You hated how genuine he sounded, hated that he meant well. He was a nuisance half of the time, sure, but he wasn’t malicious. He never was. He just had terrible judgment. 
“Next time, don’t,” you muttered, rubbing a hand over your face. “I don’t need you playing little brother and calling him when things go wrong."
“I wasn’t trying to clean anything up,” Topper explained, a little defensive now. “I just didn’t want you driving like that. You were upset.”
You rolled your eyes. “Upset doesn’t mean I need you or Rafe deciding what’s best for me. I’m not a kid.”
“You’re not,” he agreed, “But you weren’t exactly in a great headspace, so yeah, I stopped you. I wasn’t gonna let you leave like that and end up in a ditch somewhere.”
It hurt like a bitch, because deep down, you knew Topper had a point.
You were having a meltdown, and he’d stepped in, like he always did when you went off the rails. That was the problem with him—he cared, even when you didn’t want him to. He was family, the only family you had left, and he was too loyal for his own good.
“You could’ve told me,” you confessed what had been upsetting you, your voice losing some of its initial attitude. “About them. Instead of letting me walk into that party blind.”
Topper sighed again, “I should’ve,” he admitted. “I didn’t want you to find out like that. But it wasn’t my place to say anything. And I didn’t want to make things worse.”
Your hand instinctively moved to cup your stomach. You didn’t even realize you were doing it at first, but the second your fingers touched your shirt, the earlier panic welled up inside you again. If he only knew how bad things were. How bad they could get. You yanked your hand away like you’d been burned, heart hammering against your ribs most painfully. There was no way you could even begin to explain what was going on inside your head—or your body.
Not to Topper. Not to anyone. If he knew, he’d freak and you didn’t need that right now.
You clenched your jaw, pushing yourself to focus on the conversation, on Topper still yammering on about apologies and guilt You shook your head, a bitter smile tugging at your lips. 
“Are you even listening?”
“Unfortunately,” You sounded apathetic even to yourself, fingers tapping against the phone, agitated. “Look, Top, I don’t have time for this right now. I’m busy.”
He sighed. “I know you’re pissed, okay? I get it. But the gala’s in, like, two days. You... you still going, right?”
“Of course I’m going,” you scowled, barely able to hide the bitterness in your voice. “I have to. It’s not like I can just dip out and pretend it’s not happening.”
Unlike some people, you thought, but you bit your tongue.
“Good, because I’ll be there too. And I—”
“Oh, joy,” you interrupted, “Another chance for you to babysit me and make sure I don’t make a scene? Can’t wait.”
“Jesus, I’m just trying to help!” Topper groaned. “I didn’t want to make things worse the other night. I—”
“Yeah. Whatever, I’ll see you at the gala.”
You hung up. You didn’t have the patience to deal with him right now. 
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The day of the gala came faster than you thought it would.
It was like you blinked, and suddenly, you were standing in the middle of the venue, walking through final checks with Lily, nodding along as she rattled off details you barely absorbed.
The room was all glitz and glamour, with chandeliers dripping from the ceiling, and everything draped in the foundation’s signature gold and white. 
Crisp tablecloths. Flowers in perfect, elegant arrangements. Waiters in black-tie uniforms were circulating, making sure everything looked flawless. Flawless.
That word made you want to gag.
You moved through the space like a ghost, smiling at the right moments, giving half-hearted approvals when needed.  You didn’t care. People were running around, asking for your opinion on this or that. You’d stayed at the venue longer than planned, making sure everything was in order, but your mind was stuck in that floating-place. You wanted to burn the whole thing down, if you were being honest.
You should’ve called your doctor. Days ago. Hell, maybe weeks ago.
Making smart choices wasn’t your thing lately, was it?
When you finally slipped into the room where they’d set up your glam team, you just wanted to sleep. The room itself was a suite off to the side of the venue, a private space meant to make you feel like royalty.
A massive mirror ran across one wall, surrounded by soft, glowing lights. A table was set up with everything—hair tools, makeup brushes, palettes, serums. Bottles of champagne sat chilled in the corner, the condensation dripping down the glass, untouched. It was the kind of place you were supposed to feel special in.
Normally you did. But this year you were numb.
The stylist worked quietly on your hair, soft curls falling into place as she tugged and pinned each section with meticulous care. The makeup artist was dabbing foundation onto your skin, blending and contouring until you didn’t even recognize yourself in the mirror. The dress hung behind you, a shimmering white gown, custom-designed by Versace for the occasion.
You looked like you were stepping into one of those perfect, glamorous lives. But on the inside, you felt like you were going to lose it at any second. You nodded along, giving tight-lipped smiles when they complimented you, and then they finally left.
The room was dead silent now, just you and your reflection. You stood in front of the mirror, staring at yourself, the perfect curls, the glowy skin, the gown waiting behind you. It all felt wrong. It felt fake. You didn’t bear a resemblance to yourself.
You looked like the version of you that the world expected—the untouchable girl. A doll.
Your rifled through your bag for your phone, but instead, your fingers brushed something else. Cold, hard. 
You hadn’t even realized it was in there.
One of the pregnancy tests. You must’ve thrown it in without thinking earlier that morning when you were rushing out the door. You hadn’t even noticed it until now.
What the fuck were you doing?
You had a gala to host in less than an hour. People were going to be looking at you, waiting for you to give the speech, expecting you to hold everything together like always. And there you were, standing in a private dressing room, about to do something so monumentally stupid. Maybe it was the pressure of tonight, or maybe it was the anger you’d been shoving down for weeks, but suddenly, you didn’t care.
You were going to do it.
Without even thinking, you stormed into the bathroom. You were so fucking tired of avoiding this. Tired of pretending like everything was fine, like you were fine.
What the hell was fine about any of this? You tore open the box, hands trembling as you pulled out the test. The room was so quiet, you could hear every little sound—your breath still uneven, the rustle of your dress against the tiles, the click of the test cap as you flicked it off.
You sat down, staring at the stick in your hand. This was insane. You were insane. Who the fuck took a pregnancy test ten minutes before they’re supposed to host a charity gala? 
You couldn’t get a proper breath out as you waited, heart pounding so hard it felt like it might rip your chest open. You leaned against the sink, gripping the edge. Your stomach churned, the nausea rising again, and you had to close your eyes to stop the floor from spinning.
What if it was positive? What if it wasn’t?
You stared at the test, willing the result to appear, but it didn’t. Not yet. The little window stayed blank, as if taunting you, making you feel like you were losing your mind. You knew you had to wait longer. You weren’t stupid. You’d read those instructions a million times by now, but you hated waiting.
Hated not knowing.
You couldn’t take your eyes off the stupid little piece of plastic. Just one line or two. That was all it came down to. One fucking line or two, and your entire life would either fall apart or what? Be fine?
You glanced at the mirror, catching another glimpse of yourself, and it almost startled you—your eyes were wild. Desperate. They were the eyes of someone who was just about ready to do anything to get this over with. 
You tried to picture telling him again, but the idea alone made you sick. You thought of Sofia, of her perfect smile next to his, and bile rose in your throat. Your hands never stopped shaking. You wanted to run. You wanted to throw that thing in the garbage can and never stare at it again.
Your thoughts spun in circles, going nowhere, just making everything worse. The clock on your phone ticked louder and louder, and you knew—somewhere out there, everyone was getting ready. Guests were arriving. The gala would start soon, and they’d all be waiting for you. Watching you. Expecting you to be the poised, perfect version of yourself you’d spent your whole life pretending to be.
And you were in here, trying not to lose your fucking mind.
You peeked back at it. Still nothing.
No line. No answer.
It felt like you were suspended in time. You closed your eyes, gripping the sink harder, praying for it to end—something to happen, anything.
Then finally, you felt it in your chest—a heavy, sinking feeling, like the moment before a fall.
You opened your eyes. 
There it was.
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