#but expect me to cause further harm to myself for their sake

[knife-at-a-knife-fight]

so I've been trying to figure something out that bothers me and I think i got it;

if you tell someone that they shouldn't tell you if you've done something that hurt them - during, before, or after - you are actually doing the exact same thing as telling someone that they should fake an orgasm during sex, only about 50% shittier.

[cyberdenizen]

Welcome, little doll, to the depths of my mind.

This space is like a home, one I've carved for myself, where desire flows free, and dream might be shaped into reality.

Before you proceed further into my depths, I ask three things of you: 1. If you are a minor, pedo, homo/trans/xenophobic and so on, or if you're going to be an asshole, simply turn away now and make all our lives easier. 2. If you're not fond of the desperation on display here, the lewd writings, depraved visuals, then I ask that you merely block me and carry on as if nothing happened. This is an 18+ space composed by an adult for adults. I am not here to cause harm, and I ask you not cause me harm in return. 3. Do continue down this little post until you reach it's conclusion, understand who Cyber is, and do not be shy to ask questions after.

Now then, I do hope your curiosity is swelling deep within you, dear little reader mine. Won't you be so kind as to press that little "keep reading" button and let your eyes continue to dart through my words? Come now and see what secrets await.

WHO IS CYBER? Cyber is merely my handle, a name I choose to go by for privacy's sake, but then... I suppose that part was obvious, now wasn't it? Cyber is many things, I am many things. Dominant, poly-amorous, pan-sexual... A man who has begun to loss count of all the dripping depravities that swirl within his mind... And, as stated in my bio, I am currently in my late-20s, but time moves ever onward, and so in time 20s shall be 30s. There's much more to say beyond this simple introduction, so don't be shy, dear reader, come and see what hides in my About page.

WHAT DEPRAVITY DOES CYBER DREAM OF? While I keep a much more detailed expression of my desires, my fantasies, my kinks on my Desires page, I feel it worthwhile to provide even a mere snippet of what you might expect to see from this space I continue to form here. And do note that these are kept alphabetically, rather than any form of priority order:

Bladder control, Wetting, Omorashi, etc.

Body-writing, Tattoos & Similar markings

Bondage & BDSM

CNC & Rape-play

Corruption

Degradation

Diapers & Pull-Ups

Drooling

Exhibitionism & Public-play

Hypnosis & Brainwashing

Intox-play (Alcohol & Light drug-play)

Orgasm control (Both denial & forced)

Tentacles

Come and visit my Desires page to learn more. Much, much more…

D.N.I. I made comment above, but I feel it worth reiterating here... If you fit into one of the following categories, please turn back:

Under the age of 18, or attracted to said individuals.

Homophobic, transphobic, xenophobic or any other sort of related -phobic.

Clearly a bot, not that you're capable of processing the contents of this post anyway.

A general asshole... seriously, just respect people, it isn't that difficult.

CYBER'S LEWD TALES When creativity strikes, I find thorough enjoyment in writing some wonderfully depraved little tales. Each story I've written gets posted here with the tag #cyber.stories, but I also keep the whole collection organized via my Stories page, so do make sure you visit and read to your heart's content, doll.

THE CHALLENGE GAME Once upon a time, I was urged by some wonderful little anon dolls to compose a game that would challenge my lovely readers to sink deeper into their depraved nature. Currently, I am reworking this little game from the ground up, but rest assured, when it is ready, you will know.

ADDITIONAL SOCIALS While tumblr is my primary platform of choice, I do have a range of other socials including Discord, Twitter, Reddit and more... Don't be shy, little one. Come and ask to know more, if you dare.

ANON SIGN-OFFS As time goes on, those sweet little things that regularly send anonymous messages come and go, so I will try my best to keep track of what sign-offs have been claimed here. CLAIMED: ⛵��(sailor moon), 💜🌟💜(heart-star-heart/little soaked pet), 🐙(octopus), 🕯️(candle), 🧁(cupcake/muffin)

IMAGE CREDITS Icon - Orignal art by Merunyaa, edit by me. Banner - Original art by Brassica, edit by me. Background (look closely when viewing my page on browser) - Original art by Maria Rose, edit by me.

AND NOW, I SET YOU FREE But remember, there's no need to be shy, dear reader. Come now, follow, return regularly. Become captivated, enthralled, and let yourself sink deeper.

Final Note: My blog is best experienced through a web-browser/on desktop. The mobile app is sorely lacking in functionality still to this day...

[ivomartins]

Sorry was casually reading through your blog and I just want to agree with all of your points. Not middle eastern but live in a non western country where despite some progress is still VERY conservative on a lot of matters. I love your take on tolerating vs accepting things as they are cause misogyny and all that stuff are so deeply rooted in culture and society that it cannot he so easily changed.

Also life's already miserable, why can't people just let people be, let them have their fun, it doesn't really harm anyone. A stranger on the internet romancing problematic pixels is the LEAST of your concern.

no apologies needed! thank you so much for your support and for reaching out with your insight <3 i really appreciate it :')

it's hilarious because there really was this expectation that i have to take this aggressive stance and raise hell when it's like. if i adopted that kind of mentality then i would need to drop my parents (bc guess what my mom also has misogynistic tendencies lol), my grandparents (bc it's the same with my grandma woohoo!), my uncles, my brothers, my cousins, my guy friends and live in complete isolation, not even just from men bc a lot of women here share the same problematic views, just to prove a point and live a politically correct (from a western view) life because guess what, all these people i mentioned WITHOUT EXCEPTION have displayed/expressed/practiced misogynistic views. and guess what i actually argue with them and try to educate them and have done that my whole life but has it led to any actual change? no. instead there's this running joke in my family about me being a feminist (derogatory) and i get made fun of and still nobody changes their ways

so instead of just continuing my life stewing in womanly rage and hating my life and everyone in it, especially because i don't have the luxury to just Leave and decide i'll be living somewhere else, i've made the healthy choice to just tolerate and focus my energy on myself and being a better person in my core instead of forcing that onto others or flipping out against anyone who doesn't share my views. because no matter what, i don't have the luxury of the choice to just disassociate myself from problematic shit like this when it permeates every corner of the society i live in. i'm only one person and i think i have the right to choose the stance that works best for me and my happiness when it comes to this losing battle. because that's literally exactly what it is

but no, apparently all this nuance and grey area doesn't matter for shit, i'm just "justifying misogyny"!!! LOL and what's even more hilarious is that the person sent me ANOTHER ask literally not acknowledging a single point that i raised or even trying to pretend they want to have an actual discussion but arguing further, clearly just for the sake of arguing which actually takes away from the validity of their points 🤷🏼‍♀️ you should be debating because you want to see others do better and make a change, not just to get the "i'm right and they're wrong" kick out of it lol

[acesknights]

Past actions

- oc x canon [Warlock x Phillip Graves]

Word Count : 1133 Summary: Backstory lore on how my cod oc warlock got his facial injury and the slight aftermath of it all tags: Character injury, descriptions of said injury (not really sure how to tag that sorry), slight angst but turns into fluff

note: told myself i'd write something happy but instead some brainworms in my mind told me to write this instead.

Constant beeping and an array of noises coming from the countless different hospital equipment around the sides of the bed had filled the sterile-smelling room. How many days has it been? Five? Ten? Has it even been a week yet? (please be more than a week).

The last mission the two of them were on had quickly (and very easily) gone backwards on the two of them. Eventually harmful chemicals had gotten involved so here they were.

Warlock had laid on this hospital bed for countless days now, still completely passed out - possibly it being a medically induced coma from how bad the chemical burn had gotten to his face.

Graves couldn't remember what the doctor had told him, his mind made everything sound muffled and his vision going fuzzy. With the addition of an all too familiar feeling of a huge blockage in his throat that painfully and eagerly wanted to claw its way out to escape.

God this was his fault (it really wasn't). If things hadn't gone the way that they did during that mission then the two of them would be sitting currently in graves' office talking as they always did while Phillip sat at his desk filling out yet another piece of paperwork. All the while warlock would have a small yet subtle smile plastered onto his usual cold and overly-abrasive face. Yet here they were. Not inside that office and definitely not talking.

The room smelt of hand sanitizer and countless other medical chemicals yet it felt so dirty at the same time. Was it his everlasting guilt? His need(want) of knowing what is and will happen in any situation just so casualties won't occur?

Phillip always felt a sense of dread and guilt build up in him whenever he heard or saw any of his shadows sustain an injury while on the field. What did he expect? This was the military for heaven's sake (he wished it wasn't).

Fresh, clean bandages were wrapped tightly  around his face, keeping whatever that was left of his left-half together without it causing further damage to the red, blistered and quite frankly peeled off skin layers he had acquired. Fuckin' hell this pained for him to look at, he wanted to vomit, cry, scream - god knows what. Just anything to get this internal feeling of pure sorrow out of his system.

It wouldn't be worth it. He'd just get kicked out from the hospital room or just the whole hospital itself. So he continued to sit there, like how he has been for the past god knows amount of days it's been. Just simply watching how the machines were pumping warlock's veins with codeine or even morphine perhaps to help ease the painfully agonising yet also surprisingly numbing feeling of half his face being practically burned off to the muscle itself.

Phillip's hand had always found itself resting on top of warlock's, it wasn't intentional at first, just a small caring action he'd do (it's not like its not well-known inside the PMC that he was so touchy with his shadows), yet when he did this - it even felt rather comforting to him. It had been a while since he smiled after the mission, but to be honest - what is there really to smile about watching the man you love ever so dearly get met with such a horrific and gruesome fate.

Yet whenever he did feel some sort of slight movement from warlock - graves was horrendously quick with retracting his hand from the others as if he wasn't just caressing the others hand with his calloused thumb - perhaps even wishing he could place his lips against the back of its palm in a romantic yet also endearing way.

While the wait for the other to finally wake up still continued. 

Graves was sure a good month had passed now perhaps, and if not - it felt like a month had passed. He'd always visit and sit in the same room as the injured other, either doing his countless pages of paperwork there, or simply just watching over him. Like some sort of sick and twisted version of a guardian angel (not really given he blames himself for this all). 

A small groan leaves warlock's throat. God even with the constant pain killers being fed into his body, everything on his face hurt so agonisingly much. His uncovered eye opened slightly yet very quickly, shutting once more with how bright the ceiling light was to his eye. It took a while of fighting his eyes to adjust for him to finally be able to keep his eye open long enough to inspect the room. 

It smelt horrendously sterile, to the point it even hurt his nose when breathing in the cold hospital air. The blinds were shut and he could make out the slight blur of someone in the room with him. His wondering and theorising didn't last long once he felt a hand placed on top of his own, a faint smell of earthy yet warm tones was nearby - only now did he finally recognise who it was. 

Graves, Phillip mother-fucking graves. 

Good god he was the last person who he even wanted to have seen him like this (that was a lie). He would rather die than admit that feeling graves' hand holding onto his was a feeling he couldn't get enough of. 

His chest having a fluttering feeling while also having the hair on the back of his head stand up. 

"hey-"  warlock's voice was hoarse and heavily accented given the fact that he hadn't spoken at all for god knows how long (seriously? Just 'hey' amazing work Adrian, round of applause to you). 

"don't 'hey' me Adrian- you fuckin' scared me" there's that Southern tinge in his tone,it always only comes out properly when he's pissed off (maybe even more). 

The two had spent a moment just staring at each other's eyes, had they always acted like this towards one another or is this just because Adrian was currently injured? (it's always been like this). 

"i'm so fuckin' sorry adr-" Phillip was very quickly cut off with the feeling of his hand being properly held by the other, taking a quick - short moment to look down at this before trying to speak again to no avail when warlock had cut him off once more. 

"nie, to nie jest- ...it's not your fault phil" his throat was so badly dry his own voice sounded like it was practically begging to have a glass of water.  (Why was talking to him now so difficult all of a sudden?), an awkward silence had engulfed them both once again, this time it had a more sombre feel to it all. 

"look - 'm just glad that you're alright an' awake now-" 

[mumblingsage]

I don't think I've been shy about my purposes in my multiple posts (and reblogs of other people's posts) about literature, trauma, and stigma. In fact I stated one such purpose in the tags of the OP of this thread: #at this point I'm not even being snarky. I'm begging people to put down fiction and spend a crumb of compassion on real people's suffering

I think many people's unwillingness to acknowledge "Yeah, reading that scene sucked. But it didn't actually traumatize me, and I can use my experience as a bridge to understand and find ways to help people who have gone through worse suffering" is a problem. As one of the post rebloggers said, "Sometimes you SHOULD be upset." (I also think some people...need to touch grass, frankly. And I don't mean that dismissively. If someone IS reacting so strongly to fiction or fandom that they can't find ways to cope, they should probably re-balance where they put their time and energy. Not only because it can be pretty offensive to take fictional events and characters more seriously than what real people have been through, but for their own sake.)

Re: contrarian brains, I have one myself. I find that habit in myself unproductive, leading to many forests lost for the sake of the bark on one tree, and one of my attempts to fight it is to relearn being comfortable making sweeping and inexact statements, rather than dithering and qualifying and hesitating myself into incoherence or silence (especially because no statement, however qualified, will be satisfactory). But also, for this particular conversation, I am troubled by the prioritizing of experiences of people who are either 1) explicitly merely upset, not traumatized or 2) purely hypothetical, rather than the real people who have experienced trauma. Until I, for example, read the case study of someone who needed EMDR to recover from the shell shock they received reading Pat Barker's Regeneration trilogy (if this person does in fact exist, they deserve the best of care), I am comfortable assuming that person is not relevant to the actual conversation I am having, which is "People need stop acting like reading about [rape/suicide/war crimes/natural disasters/etc.] is irreparably harmful, especially when this attitude furthers stigma and leaves people with those experiences feeling less able to express themselves or be understood, and also puts wind under the wings of arguments for censorship."

I am willing to agree with you and the other reblogger that the occasional Barker-induced shell shock case is acceptable collateral damage in exchange for freedom of speech. But, without evidence of that happening or even a good causal explanation of how it would happen*, I reserve the right to be skeptical we are called upon to make that sacrifice. In fact, the claim gives me the same knee-jerk response you were getting to my universal statement. In any event, it can only help clarify the stakes if more people followed the plea of my first post to stop saying “traumatize” when we truly mean “upset." (Whether any given person is using 'traumatize' accurately isn't really between them and me; I am not God or even their conscience. But I'm also not calling out individual people. I'm bitching about an existing and worrisome trend where people act put-upon at being reminded that other people suffer. The other day I had to read a letterbox review where someone called an incest survivor's short film "trauma dumping," for Christ's sake! And no matter how upset I am from having read that, I'm not actually traumatized by it...I'm morally irate.)

*One reblogger briefly explains the causal mechanisms of PTSD here. And I'm not being pedantic when I say being triggered is different from being traumatized, nor am I changing the terms of my argument after pushback--it was in the tags of the very first post, and I think it's reasonable of me to expect anyone chiming in on trauma to be able to make that cause vs symptoms distinction on their own. Insofar as anyone's actually confusing these terms, that seems like a sign in favor of my related point, that we as a society desperately need a better baseline knowledge of how traumatic disorders (and other mental disorders) work. But a number of people with trauma histories (not that anyone is obligated to disclose this to internet strangers!) are reblogging with agreement that they have been triggered by scenes in media but not traumatized by them. My original post also said "A traumatic experience might be adjacent to books... But it’s not caused by the book," to acknowledge the role pieces of media play in various Rube Goldberg Machines from Hell that result in trauma. I just think that if we removed the book from the equation, it's unlikely the problem would be solved. Reiterating my belief that reducing access to books is not a viable option to protect people from harm.

(To add one last pedantic digression, I'm not necessarily even saying "traumatized" should only apply to people who receive a PTSD diagnosis. PTSD is actually the minority outcome of most encounters with trauma--for instance, 85% of the people who evacuated the Twin Towers on 9/11 did not develop it. This doesn't mean people who get PTSD did anything wrong!! It's a hugely complex issue. George Bonanno's The End of Trauma is an interesting book on resilience and shorter-term stress responses to trauma. But to take up that earlier example, even though the hypothetical kid didn't get PTSD from their dog dying, their dog dying is still a real trauma--exposure to the death of a loved one--and reading "Where the Red Fern Grows" is not a trauma. It's a gut-wrenching story and many of its readers will need different coping strategies to manage that sadness, and should have them, but at some point they need to get a grip, get out of their own asses, and check in on their friends with actual dead dogs. Or maybe donate/volunteer to the local humane society. In fact, doing something concrete to help people in the real world is a solid coping strategy!)

A few too many people are reblogging my Literature Isn't Traumatizing post with statements to the effect of, "But reading about X is an awful experience that made me feel terrible" to which I can only say "I think experiencing X in real life is an eensy bit worse."

(I could also say "Would you rather read 'Where the Red Fern Grows' or have me shoot your real dog?" but that is probably a mean thing to say.)

[queerprayers]

prayer request (cw transphobia and bad mental health, general spilling of guts)

i am a young (college age) nonbinary christian in a christian home. while my dad is an ally, my mom is not. i am home for the summer and my mom recently forced me to come out to her. it really upset her and she keeps sitting me down to ask me questions and make me explain my identity to her. she thinks i identify as nonbinary because i do not think i am good enough the way God made me. she will not call me by my chosen name or use my pronouns. she makes a point of always calling trans people by their birth names and pronouns and she is not about to start trying with her own child.

it is exhausting to live with a person who does not accept you but insists that they do and you are the one who does not accept yourself.

she told me it feels like mourning a death. she told me i’m just not thinking about how hard it is on her. that i must not care about her. i hate that i hurt her so much by trying to be authentic.

it would be so much easier to just walk it all back, to say mom i’m sorry, mom i was wrong, mom forgive me, i’m back on the right path now. i’ve always been your little girl and i always will be. it would be so easy to give up on myself for the sake of safety.

it is taking a toll on both of our mental health. it hurts to be here and i am so tired. i have five more weeks to live through until i go back to college. pray for me to have the knowledge of what is right to do and the strength not to give up on myself. pray for her too.

-ambrose (they/he)

Beloved, it's been a while, but I'm answering finally!

I'm assuming you're back at college now, and I prayed for you those five weeks, I promise. Praying for people comes much more easily to me than typing out responses!

I'm proud of you. For knowing yourself. For taking the hard but necessary road of being a person apart from others' expectations. It is so painful to be questioned like that, to have someone mourn a person you aren't anymore, and may never have been. Being outed/having to come out before you're ready is a unique pain, one that I know well.

I hear your exhaustion and your strength and however your summer went, and however your school year is going, I pray you have remembered what you typed here, that you know what you must do, that you don't want to give up on yourself, however tempting it may be.

We all hurt people in our lives, but sometimes someone is hurt by something we cannot and should not repent of. Someone being hurt by our existence is because of their own bigotry, and this is not something you have to ask forgiveness for. You have not done this to your mother. She is mourning what should not be mourned, and is burdened by things that should not hurt. She cannot see the joy of your authenticity and the respect you have for yourself, and that is not your sin to be sorry for.

I hope you recognize and honor the love that you have, to ask me to pray for your mother as well. And I have. She has caused the pain, and I have asked God to help her remember what it means to be a mother, to understand how many parents really do have to mourn their children, and what a blessing it is that you are here and willing to offer prayers for her after the harm she has done. There is time, and hope, and I pray she takes her own hard but necessary road God offers her, of repentance and willingness to grow.

I pray you are freer now. That those weeks are not still haunting you. That you have support where you are now, that you've found other safe places to be and people to love. That you remember God wants you to share in the act of creation, growing further into yourself and every day realizing more what it means to be a child of God.

Whatever paths your family members choose, there is more for you. There are safe homes you've never been to, and people you haven't met yet who love your name and use your pronouns and honor your past but do not mourn your growth, and good music you haven't listened to, and breakthroughs you haven't had. You are young, and you have so much beautiful time. You know more than most that creation is ongoing, and there is a life out there to be created. I have faith you will live out things you haven't even dared to hope for.

Keep yourself safe (even if that means biding your time, and not yet saying everything you want to), but don't lose yourself in the process. Have courage (even if that means distancing yourself from those you may love but cannot survive with). Check out your school's counseling program--they often offer some free sessions, and can help you get set up with resources (medical/social/financial). I have so much love for you, Ambrose. God is with you.

<3 Johanna

[mochie85]

Misguided Ghosts

Chapter 31 of my Mayari series.

Mayari Masterlist | Complete Masterlist

Summary: You and Loki fight about your past as you try to fight the effects of Dreykov's serum. A/N: This entire series is inspired by songs. The complete playlist can be found here on Spotify. Please!! I cannot stress this enough, please take into consideration the trigger warnings. Warnings: Angst - LOTS of angst, fight sequence, thoughts of self-harm, and suicide. Word Count: Over 2K

Loki let go of your head. He stumbled back from your memories. So long and so much heartache. How had he not known? There was a whole life you had before you ever met that you hadn’t shared with him. You were right. He didn’t know you at all. Loki felt ashamed and confused. He only meant to subdue you. Maybe put you to sleep. He had not expected the flood of memories that rushed through.

Your similarities were a lot more in common than he thought. A cruel father. An overbearing older brother. A lost mother.

You compelled the soldiers to do your bidding, then you had inadvertently caused her death. You thought yourself a monster.

You stumbled to the ground sobbing. You had not thought about those memories in a long time. You had suppressed the recollections of seeing her lying there cold in her blood. You tried to push those memories down now, so you wouldn’t feel the ever-crushing guilt that came with it.

Looking back at the times you had used your powers in front of him. You were always wary of them. You didn’t like compelling people to do your bidding. You hated your powers, he realized.

You were trying to find a way to tell him all along. But all he ever thought about was having you in his arms, on his bed. He thought that if he could keep you satisfied and feeling wanted, that it would be enough. You thought it would be enough. In the end, it was only a distraction.

“Darling. I know now. Please. I’m sorry I didn’t listen before. But I’m here now.”

“No! I need to leave.”

“Mayari, I don’t understand. We were in this together.” He yelled after you. Your hand gripped his throat. His eyes widened in shock. Your nails digging into his skin. He seized your wrist trying to get a grip. Trying to break free from your surprising strength. He twisted your arm, burning your skin. You squeezed harder, pushing him away from you.

“No! I was meant to be alone. People would use me. They would USE ME! I see why my papa tried to hide me away now.”

“Mayari, stop…this…now. We need…”

“I need no man!” You pushed him away from you. Loki’s body was weak from the lack of oxygen. He lay on the ground like a rag doll trying to catch his breath. Your eyes grew wide at what you just did. What you were capable of. You needed to get away before you hurt him any further. He needs to let you go. For both your sakes. Loki coughed as he tried to regain his balance. His bloodshot eyes were blurry, searching for you.

“I am sick and tired of being told what to do. People use me for their own selfish gains and then tell me that I’m not good enough when I don’t do as they ask. Don’t you think I know that? Doesn’t the universe know that I feel like shit every day? That I hate myself because of what I’ve done. The horrible things I have done in my past. I killed my mama! I caused that to happen, Loki! I force people to like me. Then I take their souls away. I am a monster.” You could barely get the words out. Your anger and sadness overflowing, causing them to form tears and spill.

“Mayari, please. Don’t do this,” he said, holding his hands up towards your hazy figure approaching him. “No one thinks that of you! I don’t think that of you!”

That’s when it clicked. Loki will never let you go until he feels like he’s fixed you. But you will never be fixed. You have to make him see that. You’re never going to be good enough. You have to make him hate you.

“You will never stop, will you?” You said as you pushed him down to the ground with your right foot. Your heel stabbing his shoulder. He let out a cry, grabbing your leg. He tried to push you off. “Fight me!”

“No!” he said panting below you.

“FIGHT ME!”

“NO!”

“Fight me.” You said in a whisper, with the strength of your compulsion. His daggers materialized in his hands. He lunged for your right leg that was pinning his shoulder. You jumped back, landing clear from one of the many body parts surrounding you.  He lunged for you, and you parried as your own daggers emerged from your hands. You swiped with your other dagger, narrowly missing his abdomen. You went on the offensive, swiping and attacking in a constant downward twirl. His strength waned with each assault. He was getting tired. Where did you get your strength?

You were quick too. He had only a small window of opportunity when your back was turned on one of your upward swings. When you narrowly miss nicking his throat, he lunged down and kicked your shin, causing you to tumble to your knees. He turned his dagger, hilt-up to your neck. Even compelled, he still had his own wits to try to protect you. You growled at the realization.

“Why won’t you hurt me?! Do I have to compel you to do that too? Do I have to tell you to do everything? You’re so worthless!” You pushed off, angry. You lunged for his throat, but he transported himself behind you. He locked you in an embrace. One of his hands was on your throat. The other hand holding both your arms behind you, against his chest.

“This seems rather familiar, doesn’t it love?” he whispered in your ear. He squeezed your arms further into his chest, pulling them from you, making you wince. “Come on. Drop them.” He tightened his grip on your throat. “Drop them, Mayari. Now!” You dropped your daggers to the ground. His hand on your throat keeping you from making a sound. He must be using his seidr.

“If I were a different man, in a different time, I would not hesitate to rip your vocal cord out right now so you would never speak again.” He moved your head so you could face him. “So I will give you one chance to explain yourself.” He declared furiously.

Gods, you were so tired. At that moment, you thought, ‘Why not just end it all? Stop the pain. Stop the hurt.’

“Why won’t you just kill me?” A solitary tear fell from your eyes. “KILL ME!” You cried out.

He let go of you. His eyes were wide in shock. He was so confused. Why would you want that? He didn’t want to kill you! But if you compelled him to, he would have no choice. He had to run away from you. But if he ran, someone else would come and you would compel them to. You would get killed either way.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your pained laughter. You were on your knees on the ground looking up at the moon. You looked so unhinged. He’s never seen you like this before.

“You are so pitiful. Always needing something to save. To prove your worth. And here I come, marching along. I was just a project for you, wasn’t I? A pet. Isn’t that what you like to call me? Someone weak and vulnerable to protect. So you could prove to your hero friends that you were just like them.” You laughed at him.

“Stop! Now! You know that’s not true, Mayari.”

“You never loved me. You loved the idea of me. You loved me being the weak one. You loved how I would always come to you, to hide behind you. You wanted to have what Thor has with Jane.”

“I AM NOT MY BROTHER!” He grabbed you again by the throat, lifting you up into the air. You looked down into his eyes and you gave him a bloody smile.

“Do it.” You whispered with your compulsion. He stared into your eyes. Your all-black, fathomless eyes. He missed your beautiful dark brown shade. The color of black coffee. Or the pearlescent color when you were in your natural moon form. He would regret never seeing them again, as he tightened his grip around your throat.

Wanda came into his field of vision. Loki pleaded with her to stop him. “Wanda! Please! Help me. She compelled me.”

She came up behind you and sprayed an antidote on your face. You gagged, sputtering as you breathed in the remedy. Hopefully, it would be enough to calm you down. Loki’s grip on you loosened slightly. Wanda then held her hands out on opposite sides of your head and tried to connect to your mind. You and Wanda screamed at the same time. The moon turned a darker shade of red, a scarlet moon.

In a span of a few short seconds, Wanda had seen your past. The memories Loki saw earlier in your head. All of it replaying in your mind. The torture of having to witness your mother die again and the betrayal of the people closest to you.

“Loki, I’m going to try and calm her down. But I can’t hold her much longer.” Wanda spoke through you. He looked at your eyes glowing red. Your mouth was open to a silent scream. “Speak to her. Heal her. She needs you.”

“I don’t know what to say, that I haven’t already said,” Loki yelled.

“Only you know what she needs to hear.”

Loki was stunned. He couldn’t understand what Wanda was trying to convey. He was lost and confused. The one thing he was always sure of was his love for you and your love for him. Right now, he didn’t know where that was. At times like this, he would always turn to you. He would seek your comfort. Your guidance. Your kindness.

“I don’t know what you mean about being weak, Mayari. You were always the strongest one of either of us. You know that.” He took both your hands and placed them above his heart. “You overcame your own fear and found your voice again. You trained to the near point of exhaustion to be able to use it without fear of hurting your friends or family. You overcame your attacker, that night at Tony’s birthday, and defended yourself when I selfishly couldn’t protect you. You protected my soul in that Norns-forsaken purgatory just so you could stay with me. And right now, even though you and I are battling each other to our wit’s end. I still want to turn to you and ask for your guidance. For your courage. How could you ever think you were the weaker one! When all you would have to do is say the word and I would do as you ask. With or without your call.”

A pained look happened upon your face. Both you and Wanda screamed again in unison. She couldn’t hold on much longer. With one final yell, she let go. Wanda fell to the ground, Loki catching her with his seidr, never letting go of your hands. He laid her gently on the ground then turned his focus back to you.

Your face was devoid of expression. It was like you were back in the coma again. Although, this time, your eyes were wide open. You were looking up at the moon. The moon that you had conjured earlier tonight. It was bright and round. The rouge tint slowly fading. It was so close that its pull on you almost made you levitate.

“I was angry when I met you. I think I’m angry still. I love you Loki. With all my heart.” Your voice echoed. It held the weight of your compulsion. Loki watched you. Anticipation made him anxious. He felt it, somewhere in his heart, there was a weight hanging from a frayed rope. “I love you, but I don’t think I know how to love myself. I have been subdued and underestimated my whole life. I’ve lived my life, accepting that I was meant to be alone. I was always alone. Until you came along, and I gave you my heart fully. Not knowing how to leave some for myself. I am not enough for you if there’s not enough for me. I think…I need time to be by myself before I can figure out how to love…again.”

The rope in his heart snapped. The weight it was carrying fell through, breaking his heart into pieces. Why would you want to leave him? He didn’t understand. “But you just said, you loved me?” A cry escaped his lips. He asked the question a little more angrily than he intended it to be. He held on to your hands tighter. He held them against his heart hoping that you would stop it from breaking further.

“I do. I’m sorry, Loki. I have to go.” You pulled your hand away from him. He couldn’t let you go.

“Watch over Wanda till the others get here. Take care of yourself.” He couldn’t ignore your command. He stood there as he watched you walk away from his life, never once looking back at him.

It felt like hours before the others arrived to help Wanda and himself, even though he knew it was only minutes. He never stopped looking in the direction you left, As soon as the others came, he could feel his feet free to move. He ran in the direction you disappeared from, knowing that you had a head start. He had to find you.

“Loki!” he turned around to see Barnes running up to him. “Where is she, Loki?”

“I don’t know. She spewed some nonsense about not being enough. Then compelled me to stay with Wanda till you lot showed up. Now I’m trying to find her.” Loki’s eyes searched frantically around himself.

Disoriented and frustrated he screamed into the night air. His seidr causing smoke to cascade off him.

“Come on. The team had secured all the party-goers and visitors. All of Dreykov’s men had been caught. Everyone’s safe and going back home. They’re all rallying back at your house after the last group leaves. They would want to know what happened. Once we regroup, I’ll help you find her.” Barnes clapped him on the shoulder and waited for him to turn around. Loki split himself into two.

“I’m going to continue looking for her. This one will go with you. Don’t let anyone touch him. Find me when you’re done.” Loki instructed as he split his image into two. As Bucky left to go tell the others with the clone Loki next to him, the original Loki picked up something glinting off the ground. It was your emerald ring.

⬅️Chapter 30: I'm So Sick | Chapter 32: War With Heaven➡️

Taglist: @user13cabs @alexs12001200 @lokiprompts @huntress-artemiss @mischief2sarawr

[zhansww]

210227 — Xiao Zhan's weibo update | translation by xzhan1005

Today, I have some things I’d like to say to everyone. I thought about various methods, and in the end I decided to use the simplest one, which is to tell everyone my feelings and perceptions this year. These thoughts may not represent anything, and may not solve anything, but I still hope to say this openly today.

This time last year, the storm happened very suddenly, and like a bomb that suddenly exploded, it sent me into a state of shock — my phone rang off the hook, my Wechat notifications never stopped, everyone’s suggestions and questions all came at me at the same time. I wanted to speak out, but I didn’t know what to say. I had many concerns, and I was scared that any word or sentence would be over-analyzed and exaggerated, causing further disturbance. So at that time, I chose to not say anything.

I didn’t expect for the feelings of opposition between various circles and levels of online discourse to snowball bigger and bigger, with more and more ramifications. Gradually, it was out of one person’s control, and even though afterwards, I wanted to speak out to recover it, nothing could have worked out the way I had hoped for anymore.

This kind of life clamored and tore at me until now. And this year, my condition was as if I had been through countless long and dark corridors. Uneasiness, reflection, struggle… I also once questioned, what did I do wrong, why did everything after that day sail off like an uncontrollable ship?

I spent a long time digesting all this, and I spent even longer to understand everyone’s actions and words. Slowly, I began to understand what everyone’s criticisms were of me. From the moment that I didn’t express my attitude, I had already missed the window to rationally communicate with everyone; from the start, I was wrong.

At that time, I hadn’t gotten a clear understanding of the entire issue, and I didn’t understand everyone’s emotions. Further to that, I didn’t understand what kind of responsibility I needed to take on at times like this. Therefore, I missed the timing to communicate with everyone, and missed out on taking the responsibility to guide those oppositional emotions. Now, I clearly realize and understand that in this year, everyone’s criticism towards me being “idol without a voice” is correct. In this year, I constantly reflected that as a public figure, aside from improving my skills continuously, it’s even more important that I bear responsibility, take on my social duties, and bravely express correct values. Within my limitations, I should guide those who love me, and pay attention to me. Even though in this year, my studio and myself have expressed this attitude through Weibo and interviews, the storm caused because of me and the harm brought to others due to opposition of different circles is hard to heal.

No matter how late, I must correct my problems. I hope to make my first stance — Xiao Zhan hereby apologizes, to the people who were hurt last year and continue to be hurt because of my “loss of voice”. This is the first responsibility I should take on towards the public; face the problem straight on, and accept my mistake.

At the same time, I hope to use this chance to say some things to my fans. This is the second responsibility I need to take on. In an interview last year, I said, I don’t agree with “managing” fans, because everyone is their own individual person, and whether it’s me or my studio, we don’t have the right to treat this relationship like a senior-junior management relationship. Later on, I repeatedly thought and reflected, and maybe I can’t use the word “manage” for the relationship with fans, but I have the duty to “guide correctly and encourage actively.” So today, I want to tell my fans, everyone has the right to like or dislike, and regardless of whether it’s liked or disliked, it should be respected, and allowed in its respective spaces of expression. Of course, this right applies within the boundaries of correct values and if it’s rational and doesn’t hurt others. I hope that my fans can understand, no matter what industry or age group you’re in, your likes and actions cannot reach outside of those boundaries, and definitely can’t be against the rules of the profession or beyond moral limits. Whether it’s online or in the real world, each person should be responsible for their own words and actions. Furthermore, I hope that each of us do not let ourselves be represented by the self-created label of “so and so’s fans”, and don’t form a distinct position from this, and even more importantly, don’t judge good and bad from this position. Everyone has their interests and likes, please respect each person’s choice and freedom of speech. Whether they like me or dislike me, it’s in their own right. Love should be the source of strength for us, and I hope that this source doesn’t wear on or hurt others. Maybe I cannot change the overall environment, but at least we can start from you and me; today is a new starting point.

Finally, I want to chat with everyone about myself. From the moment I entered this industry, until now, I’ve always had labels on me. But my original reason for coming into the industry was my love for acting and music. And because of this, I’m always working hard to become a more professional actor and singer. In the face of the sudden criticism of “idol without a voice”, I realized that aside from focusing on my own skills, I need to take on my rightful responsibilities and duties as a public figure, as an idol. I was born in an ordinary Chongqing family, and like many people, I lived an ordinary life for more than twenty years. Today, I want to take this opportunity to express my apology for inappropriate remarks I made as a regular person, and to the people I unintentionally hurt. I will work had to learn to become a better “public figure”, as I do my own tasks well. I’ll make it so that these two Xiao Zhans can accept each other and merge so that I can become a better version of myself.

I need to be responsible for the various disturbances that arose because of me in this past year, whether big or small. I can have requirements for myself, but I cannot force them upon others. I just hope that the people who truly like me can listen seriously to me; please add a level of “rationality” beyond a person’s likes and dislikes. Live positive and healthy lives, and put your focus and most of your energy in your real lives. Spend less time fighting, battling, opposing virtual IDs in the online world, and more time working to improve in the real world. It’s just for the sake of becoming better versions of yourselves.

[seonghwashibber]

Proving to love

Pairing: Tattoo Artist! Single Dad! Yeosang x Teacher Reader 

Genre: Angst, Fluff 

Note: This story is written for enjoyment for the audience of this blog. I do not support abuse in any way or shape. Please do not think I believe this is okay. I was thinking, if this became good, If you guys would let me know if you wanted more. 

Tag List: @latte-fairytaekwoon​ @queenofgames​ @moonchildsmoon​ @subways-stuff @actuallythatwaspromise

Scenario: Single dad Yeosang, Yeosang tried his best to make a life for his daughter, ever since he left her mother. Y/n is Yuna’s teacher, after talking to Yeosang about her behavior. The two don’t meet eye to eye, yeosang tries to prove to Y/n he’s a great father, and possible lover too.

The sun shined throughout the house, Yeosang was asleep he was exhausted from last night’s tattoo session. Kang Yeosang was a tattoo artist, he had tattoos himself, His right ankle had a moon tattooed in perfect smooth ink, His left arm was tattooed with a dragon, the cherry blossom on his right hand had set perfectly, while his daughter’s birthday was inked perfectly on his finger, on his left hand. The medium sized tattoo was placed on his neck. It was a heart but it held much meaning to him, every tattoo held much meaning to Yeosang. Sure he looked intimidating, he would always sit with no expression, maybe the ink on his body scared people? What if the eyebrow and tongue piercing is giving it away. Yeosang was reckless, he remembers the time he got so drunk he went and slept with a girl, she gave birth to his beautiful little Yuna. Who was now 8 years old without her mother. Yeosang was in a toxic relationship with her for awhile. She had become jealous of the bond the two carried since Yuna was born. It got bad to where she abused Yeosang, to where she hit Yuna whenever Yuna made one small mess. It got worse, to where Yeosang had hit her...only once. Because she was not letting go of Yuna who was scared and crying her heart out from the physical pain through her body. Yeosang soon moved out, taking his daughter with him and never ever going back to her again. 

Yuna walked downstairs, she frowned as she put the bag beside the chair. “You don’t seem so enthusiastic?” Yeosang asked. Yuna sighed, “I wanna keep my hair down appa,” her lip quivered. Yeosang knew why, her birthmark, just like her father she had her birthmark on display. It was much more red, bigger and set on her right cheek. “You look beautiful, Yuna you are my child, and what have I always taught you?” he asked. As he adjusted her cat shape earrings. “To stand up for myself and always defend myself,” She smiled as he nodded his head and went back to cooking. Yeosang smiled as he remembers all the moments he spent with Yuna before school came along, friends, etc. 

Yeosang held Yuna’s hand as he walked her into school, standing at the front desk. “Good Morning, Mr. Kang,” the front desk lady said. She never liked Yeosang, the two argued a lot, maybe more than others could count. “Good Morning to you too, I’m just here to check Yuna in, I don’t see why you guys have a desk,” he rolled his eyes. She scoffed. “Because it helps us keep up with the kids and figure out who comes in or may be missing,”. Once he checked Yuna into school, she held his hand giving it a small squeeze. “Can you walk with me? I don’t wanna show up alone, and we have a new teacher, She could be mean to me,” Yuna said. Yeosang ruffled her hand with his free hand, walking her to her class. “It doesn’t matter who she is, tell me if she’s mean, I’ll handle it,” he said as he opened the door. The class looked at Yuna and her father. Some kids finding him scary and intimidating, others judging Yuna for claiming such a man as a father. “Welcome to class, I’m Y/n,” the teacher said. She gave Yuna a small smile as she got down to her height, sticking her hand out. “Yuna,” she said as she shook the older woman’s hand. 

Yuna walked to her seat, You looked up to see her father, standing up to your regular height, You took in his appearance. He was very handsome, his dyed blond hair had sat perfectly on top of his head, his tattoos, his eyebrow piercing. His gaze, all of it could make a woman fall in love in a second. “You must be the father, I’m Y/n, the new teacher,” you introduced yourself. “Kang Yeosang,” he said in a low tone. You caught sight of his tongue piercing. “Yuna gets out early today, we’re scheduling a field trip for the kids so they get to leave a bit early,”. He nodded his head, not giving an expression and walking out of the classroom. You felt a little off about Yuna being his daughter. I mean they were identical, but was she in good hands?. You didn’t wanna snoop but you couldn’t help but be a bit suspicious of the situation. “Okay class, Today we’re gonna team up and study for our written test, Hangul is important to learn,” you said as you eyed around at the kids. Yuna was a clone of Yeosang, no doubt, but something didn’t feel right. 

Yeosang walked into the tattoo shop, he had dropped Yuna off at her school, Now he can come to work and relax until he’s needed. “You look like you had a bad morning,” Yunho remarked as he looked up from the tattoo he was working on. “I’m having a good morning, just a little tired, taking care of Yuna isn’t easy you know,” Yeosang said. Yunho nodded as he turned back to work on the tattoo. Yeosang walked back to his station, he felt sadness overtake him, Yuna didn’t seem to be having a good day. Yeosang tried his best to help his little one with her temper. But sometimes it became too much for him to handle. While raising Yuna, Yeosang had noticed his daughter was angry. He soon found out that she was angry for not having a mother, but he knew it wouldn’t be easy to just go fish her one out. He knew it would take time for him to even find someone special for them both, Yeosang wasn’t an easy guy and he learned not to settle for just about anyone. He learned that he had to play it smart, mainly for Yuna’s sake. “You have a client today, Something about a ankle tattoo?” San said. “Send em in,” Yeosang said, he put the cigarette down as he got everything ready. 

You sat at the desk, looking over some papers as the kids chattered and worked on their Hangul in groups. The door opened to reveal someone, someone you’ve never met at the school. “Is it okay if I see you for a moment Y/n? It won’t be long,” he said. You nodded your head as you stood up. “You kids continue to work together, I’m going out to speak with someone,”. The class hummed as you walked outside of the room, closing the door behind you. “I’m the art teacher here, Park Seonghwa, I wanted to come visit you to ask you if I can pull Yuna out of the classroom? I needed to speak with her for a moment about the art project she had missed,” he said. You nodded your head and told him to give you a minute, You opened the door and noticed the kids were arguing. Yuna, Mung, Hana, and Jun. Sighing you walked over. “You can’t be mean to Mung like that, Hana!” Yuna yelled. Hana snatched the pencil from Yuna as she jabbed Yuna with it in the cheek. “You need to watch out, You tomato face,”. Before you could speak up to catch the attention of the kids fully, Yuna had jumped across, She begin to hit Hana over. Tears filling within her eyes. “Children, Quit!” you yelled out as you pulled Hana away. Yuna had glared at you. “Yuna, Principles office, now,”. She stomped away as you looked at Seonghwa. “Could you please take Hana to the nurse,”. He nodded his head. 

Yeosang laughed with the client, almost done with her tattoo, the two begin to chat up a storm. “So your girlfriend does tattoo’s?” Yeosang asked as he leaned back in his chair. He grabbed the cigarette from the table side, lighting it and inhaling it. Seulgi hummed as she smiled. “She’s been doing them for awhile, but when she later was sent out to see her family, I started to miss her and wanted to get a tattoo on my ankle to surprise her,” Seulgi explained. Yeosang exhaled the smoke from his mouth before nodding his head. “That makes sense, plus on top of that you got a badass tattoo,”. Before the two could speak further, San rushed in, holding Yeosang’s phone. “Yuna got in a fight at school, they need you there,”. Seulgi frowned as she waved Yeosang off, He had told San to finish the tattoo and he walked along out of the door. He was a bit proud inside, Yuna was finally sticking up for herself, just maybe not the way he expected or wanted her to do it. Yeosang rushed to the school, he wanted to make sure she was okay in every way possible. When he arrived he walked in the office to find Yuna slouched in the chair, avoiding the burning gaze her father sent. She was aware that she would be in serious trouble for it. “Please have a seat, Mr. Kang,” The principle said. Yeosang sat in the chair beside Yuna. 

“I would like to just say that I’m not aware of the full story but I do wanna say that whatever is going on personally, is effecting Yuna during school hours,” he said. “I can promise you Mr. Kim, I’m in no way putting my daughter in harm, you must have the wrong idea about me,”. You opened the door and looked at the three in the room, gently putting the bag beside Yuna. “I brought her backpack,” you said. “Could you please tell Yeosang what happened?” he said. Yeosang soon turned his head towards you. “Uhh...Well, I was brought outside the classroom by Seonghwa, he wanted to speak with me, When I came back to get Yuna for him, I found the kids arguing, I couldn’t very much hear or understand the situation well, except for the fact that Ms. Yuna here is causing fights, but her behavior wasn’t the best this morning,” you explained in full details. Kim Seokjin nodded his head as he looked over at Yeosang. “Yuna is always sad throughout her day, she’s either hitting the kids, making smart remarks, or she often avoids everyone. Last week, Yuna came to school with a bruise on her cheek, it seems to still be there, I know you must be putting her through a lot, I would hate to get anything serious involved, so fess up or your daughter gets suspended from school,” he said. 

Yeosang stood up quickly, knocking the chair back, his glare on the older man and you were strong. But you looked over to see Yuna a bit shocked by her fathers sudden outburst. “You two are terrible, My daughter is perfectly fine, her home life is good and doesn’t concern you, If you think I’m just some deadbeat or uncaring father! you’re wrong! And it’s her birthmark!” he yelled as he grabbed her bag. “Suspend Yuna,” he said as he guided his 8 year old daughter out of school. You followed behind the angry man, when you made it outside, he was putting her in the car, putting her bag in. “Mr. Kang,” you said as you approached him as he was closing her car door. “What? Did you come out here to judge me?” he asked. You sighed. “Your behavior could be taking a toll on Yuna, I don’t think you’re giving a good example to her, for one, you are teaching her how to be careless in this life, which is no way to abuse her young mind,” you explained. He glared at you. “Look, Just shut the fuck up okay?!?!”. You soon felt anger take over you. “I’m telling you that the way she’s acting isn’t okay! And you know it!”. He soon pinned you against the car, the smirk plastered on his face. “You know what? I got some news for you, I’m a good father, a single good father at that, and I’m gonna prove it, one way or another,”. Yeosang snatched your phone, as he placed his number in it, he handed it back and left without giving a word. You were shocked but a little smirk showed on your face, you were up for a challenge. 

Later that night, the rain fell heavily from the sky, Yuna sat at the dining table, a frown on her face as she looked down. “You haven’t touched hardly any of your food,” Yeosang said as he eyed the full bowl. She only hummed in response. “What’s gotten into you? I took you to anger management? I’ve done everything I could for an 8 year old, yet you still choose to act out, Why did you hit her Yuna?”. Yuna looked up at her father, the sight broke his heart, her small eyes, filled with tears as she wanted to give up already. “Hana made fun of me again, She was being mean to my friend, So I wanted to stop her, and she was making jokes about my face, So I hit her...I’m sorry,” she apologized. What she didn’t expect was the chuckle leaving her fathers lips. He was proud of her. “What’s funny?” Yuna asked confused. “What’s funny is that you assumed I was angry at you for sticking up for yourself. Look, I taught you to be happy with who you are, Just next time walk away from the situation,” he said. The knock at the door interrupted the father and daughter moment. Yeosang stood up, opening the door and soon seen you. You held the umbrella tightly as you smiled. “Mr. Kang, I’m sorry to be showing at this hour, but I brought some work for Yuna to do,” you said. He slowly took the papers from your head before opening the door wider. “Come in, It’s cold out there,” he said. You shook your head. “I’m fine, I’m gonna be going home,” you said. He shrugged and grabbed your wrist, gently guiding you inside. He closed the door. 

“It’s cold, you should lay low here for a bit until the rain decides to stop, would you like to have some Ramen?” he asked. You nodded your head and followed him to the dining room, you had to admit. His place was very nice, much nicer than you thought. It was clean too and it smelt pretty decent. “Yuna, Your new teacher’s here to give you some work and have Ramen with us,” Yeosang said. You sat at the table, bowing your head slightly to the little girl. “I’m sorry about earlier,” Yuna apologized. She had bowed her head as she finished the broth in her Ramen. “You hardly ate anything, you just sat and drank the broth, You need to fill up your stomach princess,” Yeosang said as he kissed Yuna’s forehead. She whined. “But I don’t feel like eating a lot appa,”. He chuckled. “Alright, Well go change into your pajamas, Brush your teeth, brush your hair really good, and lay down, you might not be going to school for awhile but you still have a bedtime little lady,” he said. She nodded her head before waving bye at the two adults, making her way upstairs. Yeosang sighed as he placed a full bowl of Ramen in front of you. “I’m sorry about Yuna’s behavior at school lately, but you have to understand, Yuna is just a small girl, she’s growing up without a mom, as her dad I try to learn things so I can teach her but please next time, Instead of making me wanna punch that stupid Seokjin in the face, Just agree with me,” he said. You chuckled as you ate the ramen. 

You two had talked for a bit of time, you got to learn a few things about Yuna and her father. Even though you recently met a lot of people today, you found a lot of interest in the family. “If you don’t mind me asking, where is Yuna’s mother?” you asked. Yeosang shrugged as he sipped his Soju. “I left her a long time ago when Yuna was a newborn still, she was toxic, we weren’t working out and a lot of bad things were happening,” he explained. You only frowned. “What do you do for a living?” you asked. “I’m a tattoo artist, I was an irresponsible idiot who thought the world revolved around me, soon I fell in love, had Yuna, moved away, raised her alone, and it built me into the man I am today,”. Soon the small girl had came downstairs, walking towards her dad with a frown. “Appa, I’m not feeling well,” Yuna whined. He put the Soju on the table as he picked up Yuna, putting her on the counter and checking her forehead. “Running a fever, Get the medicine out of the cupboard for me,”. You did as he said and walked over. “I’m not taking it!” she whined louder. Yeosang frowned. “Guess you won’t be a pretty and strong princess when you grow up,” he said. She finally took the red colored liquid, she whined as she begin to cling to you. “I’m tired,” she said. You sighed. “Yuna, You must get rest, when you rest and take your medicine, you’ll wake up and feel better, I promise,” you said. She soon drifted to sleep. Yeosang thanked you and took her from your arms. 

He put her to bed, she gently opened her eyes. “Appa, Where is Eomma?” she asked. He stopped his sudden movements and frowned. “She’s somewhere else, probably off living her life Yuna, but don’t worry cause you have me okay?” he said. “Can I sleep in the bed with you?” Yuna asked. He nodded his head. “Of course, just as soon as your teacher leaves, I’ll be back up here,”. He kissed her forehead as he walked downstairs. You smiled a little. “It was really nice being in your home Mr. Kang, Really but I have to go, just be sure Yuna does her work and you don’t let her slack off,” you said. He rolled his eyes. “Call me Yeosang. And stop doubting me, Yuna is in great hands, I can assure you of that, but I have a lot of things to do tomorrow, can you come by tomorrow to help Yuna with her work?” he asked. “I have to teach tomorrow, Will tomorrow night be fine?” you asked. He agreed and you thanked him, walking outside of his place. You felt good and you couldn’t wait to see where things were going. 

The next day was like any other day, you taught your class, picked up some food, chatted with some people for a bit. And finally night fell, the night you would be helping Yuna with her work. You knocked on the door waiting for the answer, when the door opened, you found Yuna. “Where’s your father?” you asked. She smiled. “He’s getting dressed in the room! And you were right Y/n! My fever is gone, thank you so much!” she hugged you. You hugged a bit as you entered the home. Once the door closed, Yeosang came out, he wore a black shirt with a black leather jacket. His ripped jeans and shoes going along with the jewelry and ink that fit his body. And his mullet to top it off. “I’ll be heading out, Keep watch on her, she’s a bit sneaky but she gets it from me,” he winked. Yeosang kissed her forehead and ruffled your hair before he left the house. You sat down on the couch beside Yuna who had no interest in her work at all. “You have a lovely home Yuna, I forgot to tell you that,” you spoke as you tried to start conversation. “Thank you! My appa’s done a lot, I told him a small home would be fine, but Appa said I deserved the best in life, He even came home hurt...I think he said it was some money situation,” she frowned during her explanation. You sighed trying your best to take her mind off of it. 

You grabbed the stack of papers and put them on the coffee table in front of you. “Let’s start working shall we,” you said. You both begin to work, Yuna had struggled a bit along the way but you were wiling to help her through a lot. Time had passed and you worked with her, even taking small snack breaks, playing around with her. You found yourself doing a lot to entertain the child that was with you. Still wondering where her father had to be off to. 

Yeosang though, he was at the bar, not to drink his life away, but because he was invited to celebrate Hongjoong’s birthday with him. Seonghwa took a sip as the men all sat in a booth. “Can’t believe you’re so old now,” Jongho joked as Hongjoong sent a glare. “I’m just stressed out, the kids have my back in a lot of pain, thankfully Y/n was there to help,” Seonghwa said. Yeosang chuckled at the thought of you working with kids. Now this is something that Yeosang didn’t very much understand. You were like a drug, he could never stop thinking about you. No matter how hard he tried. You always managed to come up in his mind. “Let’s just celebrate the night away,” Mingi suggested. And that they did, the guys found themselves getting a little too drunk. They danced and sang a bit, Yeosang though, Yeosang stayed sober. He would’ve gotten drunk out of his mind but he wanted to be sober for Yuna’s sake, she deserved a healthy and well minded father. As hours upon hours passed, Yeosang sent his friends home, one by one before finally retreating home himself. “Damn, 1:20 AM?” he said as he checked the time. He made it home and opened the door gently. Only to find Yuna asleep on the couch, you cleaned the mess around the living area. “Welcome home, Yeosang, Yuna did most of her lessons, I thought it would be okay if she was practically knocked out,” you said. He nodded his head with a tired smile. “Thank you, Could you continue to help her? I’ll start paying you,” he said. You shook your head. “Keep the money, I do this because I love Yuna,”. Without another word, you grabbed your belongings and walked out of the door. 

1 Week passed

You continued to help Yuna work on her papers, teaching her, every night you would go over and help her. Sometimes Yeosang there to help her too. You guys would have snack breaks, play together, and often go on outings to reward Yuna for her hard work. Yeosang sometimes coming home too tired, he looked drained. He had many appointments to handle at the tattoo shop. He was like a ghost. 

2 Weeks passed

You grew closer to Yeosang and Yuna, hanging out with them. You would often take Yuna to play at the park, you liked to call it a teaching lesson but Yeosang was aware you tagged along because you wanted. 

3 Weeks passed

Yuna was finally able to come back to school. But she never did. It left you confused. Yuna hadn’t been sick the last few weeks you’ve spent with her. You were mainly concerned about Yeosang. You heard from Seonghwa he was coming home drunk now, he wasn’t making much time for Yuna, enough time for Yuna to be exact. It got bad to where Yeosang hardly showed up to work. 

4 Weeks passed

You still hadn’t seen Yuna, so much that you wanted to run over to her place, ask her if her father was okay. But you didn’t want to disturb in case they are taking time alone. 

{Current Week}

You had enough, it was now a new week and no sign of the father or daughter you adored. You had rushed over to their place as soon as you got done with your teaching of the day. You knocked on the door, but no response, you knocked and knocked. Again and Again. The stress, worry, all of it was eating you up inside. What could be going on that Yeosang and Yuna ghosted you so much. 3 Hours passed, still no sign. You refused to leave though, you knocked again and finally the door open. Only to reveal a weak and pale Yeosang. “Oh my god! Yeosang,” you said. Without any thought, you hugged him tightly. The tears threatening to fall down your face. He frowned. “You shouldn’t be here, Yuna’s sick,” he coughed. You looked at him. “You’re both sick?” you asked. He nodded his head, as he was going to speak, he was interrupted, hearing a sudden. “APPA” throughout the house. Yeosang weakly and slowly made his way upstairs with you following in toll, he walked in the room and there on her bed was Yuna. “Appa, I threw up again,” she said. “Alright, just relax, I can give you a bath and you can-”. Without another word, Yeosang collapsed, sending him down. “Yeosang!”. 

.........

Yeosang opened his eyes, his vision coming into focus, he had suddenly remember what happened, without another thought he raised up. Only to find Yuna asleep beside him. The bedroom door opened and you walked in, a wet cloth in your hand. “Someone’s awake, how are you feeling?” you asked placing it on his forehead. “A bit weak, sick, tired, I mean what else am I supposed to do? What can I say? I’m a weak kinda guy,” he joked earning a small laugh from your lips. “I wouldn’t say weak, just an over worker, And a good father,” you said. He suddenly stopped and looked at you, you stopped your movements as he gripped your wrist. “What did you say?” He said a bit shocked. “I said you were a good father?. I’m sorry that I judged you too quickly, I based you off of your tattoos and piercings, your clothes, your tone, your car, your motorcycle, I judged you so much that I realized recently, You truly are a great father, You deserve to be happy,” you said. Without another thought, Yeosang had pulled you into a tight kiss. Your body relaxing under his soft lips as you fell deeper into the kiss with him. He had pulled away, his heart racing but his mind was relaxing. It was you he was kissing, he had no complaints since it felt so....right.  

“I should go,” you said checking the time from the dark blush on your face. “I did enjoy the kiss a lot though,” you said. He smirked. “So I proved to you I was a good father, what about a lover?” he said. You chuckled. “You never proved that, guess we’ll have to see another time, just take care of Yuna and take care of yourself, I’ll see you guys some other time,” you said walking out of the house. He sighed and leaned back into his soft bed. A proud smile crept on Yuna’s hidden face. So her plan worked after all. 

.

.

.

.

Hello! I’m glad you guys read this, and comment if you want this to be a series or if you want anything else. I am here to fully listen to any suggestions or request you guys may have! 

[iturbide]

This is gonna be pretty rambly and I'm almost certain is makes no sense, but I think Hegemon Edelgard represents the pinnacle of Edelgard's hypocrisy. She's spent this entire war claiming to fight "for the peoplr" and "for humans" against the "inhuman creatures" that control the church. And yet here, she allows herself to be twisted into something not even human herself, because she's too bullheaded to realize she should stop. How can she claim to fight with humanity's strength when she gives that up just to keep fighting? She calls Dimitri a king of delusion when she kills him, yet somehow expects her road of bloodshed to create a solid foundation. Blood may run thick, but it doesn't take much to slip.

of course, I dunno why I'm saying this when I'm 90% sure IntSys is gonna glorify Hegemon Edelgard somehow, but dbdndb

Actually I think you’re on to something. 

Hegemon Husk Edelgard is in many ways the deepest proof of how far she’s willing to go, and how deep she’s willing to sink, in order to achieve her ambitions -- and ultimately lays bare her hypocrisy, as she becomes something as inhuman as the things she hates simply to win.  She can claim all she wants that she did everything for the people of Fodlan, and while it’s an argument that doesn’t really hold up to scrutiny considering the death toll associated with war and how that’s hardly helpful for people (especially since it’s the common folk who are going to suffer most from it), she does have a point: the Crest system is toxic and does need to be changed.  But when she agrees to let the Twisted turn her into the Hegemon Husk, she proves that not only is she willing to work with the people who caused her and her family unimaginable harm, she’s willing to let them violate her further for the sake of achieving her goals.  For all that she hates the dragons that founded the Seiros Faith, she’s willing to forsake her humanity just so that she can win, and therefore place herself at the top of the new world order she intends to create -- something she effectively admits in her Forging Bonds, no less, when she insists that the strong should lead and reshape the world as they see fit.

Part of what frustrates me about Edelgard is that she clearly doesn’t realize how difficult it is to create and maintain a society built on the conquest and subjugation of other people.  She assumes that the Church had a hand in splitting the Kingdom off from the Empire and that the proper state of things is for all of Fodlan to be united under the Imperial banner, not realizing that divisions are capable of arising naturally among populations dealing with radically different conditions: they have to develop unique survival measures, and cultural differences are going to arise because of it.  She believes that things will return to the way they “should” be once she conquers Fodlan, when instead she’s imposing her foreign will on nations that fought for their personal sovereignty and who are not going to be happy about losing it.  Her worldview is so narrow and so biased, she actively resists learning about others (be they people or cultures), and she herself puts all her effort into immediate action rather than long-term planning, that I find myself constantly frustrated with her -- and I really don’t imagine that she will have the success she dreams of.

(Also I hate the fact that you were 100% correct about the Forging Bonds generally validating Hegemon Edelgard and Edelgard’s methods in general.)

[pjstafford]

Meditation on The Mind of Winter song by David Duchovny.

David Duchovny's newest album is Gestureland. The song Mind of Winter is not my favorite song off the album, but it is the song that causes me to think the most. The Mind of Winter reference is to a poem by Wallace Stevens called The Snow Man. Some recent viewers of The Chair likely heard David Duchovny strumming his guitar and singing a few lines from Mind of Winter and heard Sandra Oh say "That's the only rock song I've heard that references Wallace Stevens" With all of that as the backdrop of this song, I wanted to share my thoughts on the lyrics.

First, let me express what the Stevens poem means to me. Worth noting that I did not study this poem in any academic sense or read much on it and so, my thoughts on it are my own and the reader of this may not agree or may have, in fact, more knowledge. However, these are my meditations. So, when I read The Snow Man I see two themes in opposition to each other (which is something that I enjoy).

The first is that the snowman must devoid himself of the emotion connected with winter to appreciate the landscape of winter. The second is that the snowman must be himself well familiar with cold and winter to see beyond the misery of winter and become unfeeling within that landscape.

The first appeals to me as a philosophy in that if we can devoid ourselves of preferring the beach in summer or knowing any of the literary imagery of the winter months or having walked in a snowstorm or fallen on ice, then we can experience the now and the moment and beauty of frost and junipers shagged with ice. It is the same way to me of how I see the beauty of the desert which is the environment in which I was raised and in which I now live. It has an amazing beauty if you stop associating it with concepts of a barren wasteland of heat and thirst.

The second causes my heart to feeze but I understand it so well. When you have lived without rain, then you can become accustomed to drought. In the poem then we take all the imagery of winter cold to heart and think that because I have not had warmth I have become immune to the element of cold. My emotions have frozen over because I have not felt the emotions of passion or caring I might prefer to have known.

This frames me, then, in a way for the contradictory elements in David Duchovny's song The Mind of Winter. The refrain hook of I swear that I'll be simpler is repeated in a song that seems to be not simple at all and sung by a character so complex that simpler is not possible. I have to remind myself that this is not a song of The Snow man. It is a song reflecting only a reference to the phrase The Mind of Winter from the poem The Snow Man.

So the song begins with a journey. As opposed to the snowman who cannot journey. There was weather everywhere on this journey and I bring in the emotion I have to the concept of "weather everywhere". That makes it a hard and dangerous "stormy" journey. A pretender on the throne could be someone usurping your place in a marriage or a stepfather to your kids, but it could also be a King or President who doesn't really belong in the position- but in looking back there didn't seem to be a silver-tongued pleaser who could rise to the times - another love to take the place in the relationship you've lost or possibly the person who could unite a nation?

Then the character explains the reason for the journey- if you hadn't put the words on me - if I could grow up and throw away the maps and geography. Did you tell me I was smart? Did you tell me I was born poor? Did you tell me I was a man and made me think toxic masculinity was the norm? Was I expected to get married? Was I expected to be a father? Was I expected to be a stud in order to be a man? How much of who I am and what I've done in my life is because of who I was told I was and what I was supposed to do? Can I become a better, more self-aware and self-actualized human being through this journey? Wow- that's a really great verse.

Then the chorus and If I come back sounds like he is not sure he will make it back due to the dangers of the journey, but it could also be that he will choose not to come back to the life he led or from which he fled. Perhaps he will be an expatriate never to return to his country. But if he does come back he will be simpler (I will wait to discuss this further). Then the refrain from The Snowman I"'ll have a mind of winter. (a mind that will live in the moment now on whatever landscape he finds himself, will not judge the moment or the landscape based on preconceptions or will learn to accept the frozen conditions of a life without love?}

The next verse is the verse I have the most difficultly understanding. I keep thinking there are references contained within this verse not to the Mind of Winter, but to other works I cannot connect. Certainly, the person is lost at sea without land in sight. Yet, he does not accept a landless condition or the beauty of the sea as a merman (a play on Snowman) might. This is a desperate man with no end in sight to his misery and in the fog which I am interpreting as the noise, the cloud, the environment which surrounds him, he sees blame and people pointing at him, blaming him, shaming him. Perhaps they are keeping him from the land because he is not deserving. He falls to his knees among the birds and dying bees. He is desperate. When I think of the birds and the bees I think of sex. But why the dying bees? Here I think this is a call to an environmental awakening because the bees are dying, folks! Then he tries to find his tongue to trace the maiden name of God. Ok, I still think of sex, but I also think of mother earth. I have heard about the rare Jewish use of the name El Shaddai which means nurturing God or the God that should be sufficient? I don't know enough about it to know if it fits within these words.

I need to have more knowledge or more meditation but for now, I think it has the double meaning of we are adrift with no way to solve our ecological disaster and restore mother earth and the man is adrift and is to blame and he must find his connection to the sacred within women so he can understand and relate to the harm he's done. Again, this is the verse I am the least sure about even my own interpretations or what I am reading into them.

However, the next verse reinforces what I believe I understood from the verse before which is that nature is wounded and we need to throw away all of our deadly philosophy around conquering, claiming, drilling and mining and learn to live in a more harmonious coexistent with mother earth. Also, that if I can feel my own pain and the pain of others and live the isolation I deserve then I can arrive at a place where I can both appreciate the landscape and the life I have at the moment I am in now AND that I have adjusted to the lack of warmth in my life enough to not seek warmth for the sake of warmth alone. Either way, the verse takes us back to the reason for the journey - I need to learn who I would be if I could shed myself of your deadly philosophy.

Then the chorus again. So does simpler mean I will have fewer expectations for myself? Does it mean I will stop consuming as much and try to leave a footprint of less ecological impact? I think it means both. I will have a mind of winter and be ok with where I am at now because that is all any of us can do. I will live life simpler so I don't destroy the planet more?

I think this song is very reflective of the title of the album Gestureland because we all want to reflect our identity and what it means - are we woke, or we politically correct, are we fuck the establishment, but all of that is complicated. Does the snowman have to wear a sign saying snowman for you to know that's what he is? Less noise. Simpler. But then I start thinking of everything is noise, and then the I can't reverse line from chapter and verse, and I am back to all the songs in the album which, without this being a theme album, fits so well together. Then I relisten to it all and find this is the song I stop at to mediate on a bit more.

Go to DavidDuchovny.com to read the lyrics to Mind of Winter and to wherever you find music to listen to it.

[aiimaginesbts]

Eternal Summer (M)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Genre: Loads of Angst | Fluff mixed in between | Smut | Childhood friends to lovers AU Warnings: Language | Alcohol | Masturbating | Rough sex | Public sex Word Count: 39k+ words

Disclaimer/Copyright

Summary:  Breaking up with my boyfriend leaves an empty spot on the overseas vacation that I had been looking forward to for a long time. I’m torn between abandoning the trip or going it solo when someone offers to tag along. However, having Jimin, my best friend go with me may not be the best idea — since my crush on him has never gone away.

Author’s Note: This is my fic for the ‘The Summer Bucketlist’ writing event hosted by @jamaisjoons​ with ‘Go sightseeing on a vacation’ as my prompt.

This grin just can’t be wiped off my face. While I’m aware that people passing by me are shooting me weird looks thanks to my humming, I don’t want to stop for their sake. I can barely hold myself from skipping down the street, lined with leafy trees on one side and boutique stores on the other – I’m that excited. The merciless rays of the late sun are welcome on my skin after weeks of slaving away even more than usual at work just so I can enjoy this long awaited vacation. It has completely paid off, since I’ve managed to settle everything I needed to with one day to spare. Everyone – myself included – expected me to be toiling away until the last minute. I even packed my luggage in advance, little by little, whenever I could, since I didn’t think I would have time to do it. So, with everything ready and time to spare, I head towards the only place I could think of going when I don’t know what to do with myself.

After making a stop at Se Hoon’s favourite restaurant to order take-out for dinner, I continue on my way towards his apartment. Since I plan to make this a surprise visit, he might still be working. Still, another glance at my watch convinces me that he will definitely be at home. Se Hoon prefers to work from home, so unless there’s work that he must settle at the office, he’s usually home by this time, even if he has to continue working there. It might mean that I’ll be shooed away while he finishes, but I don’t care. I’m content to just watch him as I eat my dinner. As long as I’m with him. We’ll be going together on vacation the day after tomorrow, but there’s no harm in starting early, is there? Plus, I’ve been too busy to see him lately. And the few scant times I could manage to get some time off, he would be busy instead. It seems like we’ve been missing each other for a while now, and I just miss being with someone.

Another fifteen minutes of walking and an elevator ride to the eighteenth floor later, I arrive in front of Se Hoon’s dark brown apartment door. I hesitate, wondering if I should let myself in or announce myself first. It has been a while since I’ve arrived here on my own, but recalling the times he got grumpy because he was interrupted to open the door for me way in the beginning of our relationship, I pressed the keys to unlock his door. No sense making him stop whatever he’s doing and come for me when I can open the door on my own.

Although I’ve been telling myself that I’m perfectly happy just to be in his presence this evening, my lips purse into a disappointed pout when I notice a pair of unfamiliar women’s black pumps at the entrance. It’s rare for Se Hoon to have visitors to his house, other than myself, but I suppose it’s safe to say that he isn’t done with work. At least his co-worker is willing to come over, so he doesn’t have to stay in the office. Otherwise I’d have arrived at an empty house.

Not wanting to interfere with his work by calling out, I kick off my similar, but lower, heels next to hers and start making my way inside. It has been a while since I’d had time to visit, but the surroundings are pretty much the same as I remember it from last time. Neither of us are the type of people to periodically arrange furniture, or make any changes at all, for that matter. Some people may find it boring, but I’m comfortable in its familiarity.

However, just a few steps in and my eyes land on an unexpected sight. A dark blue tie, adorned with a tiny white diamond pattern, lying on the floor. Se Hoon’s tie. I remember giving it to him for his birthday several months ago. Then a light pink shirt that I don’t recognise – I don’t pride myself on knowing Se Hoon’s wardrobe inside and out, but this shirt is way too small for him. My feet slow to a stop, but my breathing becomes laboured; like I’m running a marathon. Even though I scream in my head in denial, telling myself to turn around and not to continue looking, my eyes betray me by straying ahead, following the trail of clothes into his bedroom.

“Se Hoon?” I call out without thinking, but my voice comes out a croak, volume barely a whisper. The world I thought I had built solidly enough is crumbling under the soles of my feet. Familiar comfort no longer.

“Looks like our plane is here.”

Although my eyes are wide open and the world is bright, blinding even; the light from the sun is relentlessly shining through the gigantic glass panes of the airport, everything looks like a blur to me. I see vague shapes moving inconsequentially in my field of vision, but I can’t make out anything. The world hasn’t righted itself after it got thrown off its axis just yet. I’m dimly aware of where I currently am, of what brought me to this point. And yet in my mind, I’m still frozen in Se Hoon’s apartment two days ago.

While words cannot describe my feelings at the moment, I’m sure whatever combination of letters that the dictionary can come up with won’t be anything good. It doesn’t help that the voice that calls my name repeatedly in attempts to bring me back to reality is noticeably higher than Se Hoon’s. No, it isn’t even that. I wouldn’t be this bothered if it were anyone else’s voice. However, my best friend’s insistence that I return to Earth and get ready to board the plane throws my emotions into a jumbled mess. Forcing myself back to the present time, the surroundings gradually come into focus, like a camera lens finally being adjusted properly. “People are still getting off the plane, Jimin,” I grumble, sinking myself further into the chair in the waiting area petulantly. Maybe I don’t want to board this airplane after all.

This empty feeling has seeped in from yesterday. After a fitful sleep, I’d gotten out of my bed to stare at my luggage, all ready and packed for the next day. I wasn’t sure what time it was then; I’d rolled out of bed onto the floor and turning back to look at the small clock on my nightstand had felt like it would have consumed too much energy. All I knew was that dawn had not even broken yet, as the light blue curtains of my room, so useless at blocking even the smallest bit of light, were still dim. As my eyes slowly adjusted to the dark and started to trace the royal blue strips lining the white canvas, I’d thought about the times I’d chucked the things I wanted to bring into the bag. When I’d seen a shirt that Jimin had said looked good on me, I’d thrown it in there. The cap he’d bought me on a whim after he’d dropped by my office for an impromptu lunch. A pair of socks that Jimin had insisted matched with the pair that he’d bought, just because both pairs have a striped motif. Earrings that he’d helped me choose because Se Hoon couldn’t make it for our date that day. Perhaps he couldn’t make it because of that woman, and not because of work, like he’d claimed.

Hours must have flown by as I’d sat there brooding. Not even sure what I was thinking about – was it really all about Se Hoon? My mind feels empty, but I couldn’t believe that I’d just been blankly staring at the luggage in the corner of my room for so long. And yet I must have had, because when the sound of my vibrating phone grated my ears, making me jump out of my reverie, the room was already bright despite the drawn curtains.

Groaning from grumpiness and the aching of my back and ass from sitting in one spot for so long, I’d braced my right palm on the still-cool floor to twist my body and reach for my phone. “Ugh.” My fingertips had brushed against it, causing it to move forward and teeter off the edge of my nightstand. The next round of vibrations had led to a losing battle with its balance, but thankfully I’d managed to catch it before it made contact with the hard floor. The scramble to play hero to save my phone had left me on both my elbows, horizontal against the floor. By this time, the call had become a missed one. Probably gone to voicemail, but that hadn’t stopped me from glaring at the offending device.

Before I could even look at the screen properly to check who had called, I heard the sharp beeping of my front door lock keypad, quickly followed by the chime indicating a successful breach and the softer click of the door opening to the intruder. Then a call of my name greeted my ears, betraying the identity of the visitor and setting my frayed nerves at ease. In a split second, however, my shock had melted away, leaving mild irritation in its wake. At first I didn’t want to answer him. Let him search the whole place, I’d thought pettily, even while knowing that my bedroom would have been the first place he’d check, then changed my mind. “In here.”

Trust him to hear me even though I’d hardly raised my voice. His chipper, “’Morning!” had reminded me that he didn’t have a clue to what had transpired the previous evening, leaving me torn between two choices; remain in my miserable mood and risk him prying for the reason behind it, or put up a cheerful front. I’m supposed to go for the vacation I’d been looking forward to so much, after all.

In the end, my “’morning,” had come out as a sullen reply. Simply couldn’t be bothered with pretence when this guy was concerned. With my partner for the trip automatically cancelling less than twenty-four hours ago, he was going to unearth the source of my moodiness sooner or later, even if I’d pretended there was nothing wrong.

“What’s wrong?” He’d immediately quipped at my tone, joining me on the floor.

I’d narrowed my eyes at the luggage I’d refused to tear my eyes away from. Still, it was always annoying when Jimin would zero in on me like that.

“Just.”

Jimin had rested his back against the side of the bed next to me, keeping mum instead of answering. I’d always hated that he knew exactly how to handle me at times like these. Several minutes had passed as I’d stewed in silence, then inevitably worked out what I’d wanted to say, like he’d known I would. I’d let one or two more minutes go by, just to spite him, but in the end I’d relented with a resolved sigh.

He’d taken the cue to open his mouth. “Wanna grab brunch?”

Is it that late already? I’d thought, unwillingly softening just a bit more when he didn’t automatically repeat his first question. “Not now.” Holding fast onto my vast – though slowly depleting – reserves of gloominess and fury, I’d willed my stomach not to grumble just then. Under strict orders from my highly distressed brain, my stomach had cowered and obeyed, even as his question had evoked pangs of hunger. Another sigh, then, “I don’t know if I’m going tomorrow,” I finally gave in to the inevitable need to confess, if not my need to eat.

“What? Why?” He’d leaned forward in surprise. I’d wished he hadn’t. Despite not having shed a single tear, I’d had no idea what sort of expression I was making, or whether I had any control over it. Thoughts had been racing through my mind at uncontrollable speeds. Obviously I hadn’t used the time I’d had to think this all the way through. Should I tell him that I’d broken up with Se Hoon?

I hadn’t wanted to.

“Se Hoon has urgent business to attend to and can’t make it.” Ugh. Even uttering his name had made me want to spit and brush my tongue with a scrubber. Bringing my legs up, I’d buried my face in my knees, unable to bear the sight of Jimin’s brows furrowing with concern. Aside from the guilt I’d felt about lying to my best friend, the mix of emotions roiling inside me were – and still is – muddling. There was overwhelming outrage towards Se Hoon, which was not surprising. However, endless hours of pondering had made me realise that the nature of my grief was befuddling.

There had been no tears. Even after the shock of seeing Se Hoon in bed with another woman had worn off as I’d trudged all the way home, walking for about an hour instead of taking the subway, there had been no heartbreak over our failed relationship. When I’d finally reached home and collapsed on my bed, no burning tears had even threatened my eyes. Later in the shower, the only wetness had come from the metal pipes. I didn’t care about losing him. No, I’d thought, with Jimin’s presence solidifying my belief, I’m sad because I’m alone. Even when I was with Jimin – actually, because I was with Jimin – I’d felt so lonely. He made me feel hopeless. He made me feel like a loser. Especially now, I’d felt like I was worth nothing. No, I’d always felt like I was worthless when I was with Se Hoon, or with any of my other exes. That’s why I’ve always chased after a relationship. Because otherwise, I would be worth less than nothing.

It had made me all the more desperate not to let Jimin find out. Better to have him think that Se Hoon was being a jerk – which he was, and still is – by ditching me for work instead of finding out that we’d broken up. Jimin was sure to take great umbrage at Se Hoon – never mind that I  was the one who did the dumping – and would definitely demand to know the reason behind it. To tell him that I wasn’t even worth being faithful for… that would just take the ugly, miserable cake that is my life, wouldn’t it? I’d much rather die than come clean, so I’d pressed the truth as deep down as it could go, took a deep breath and turned to rest my chin on my knee, facing that frown painted on his adorably worried features.

“It’s work. You know how it is. Can’t be helped.” Tossed words accompanied by a cavalier shrug; hopefully passing it off as a small matter that I’d wanted it to appear like. There. It gave the impression that I had a responsible boyfriend, and I was being a magnanimous, understanding girlfriend. Plus, this way I could forge ahead with unloading my immediate problem to Jimin without seeming too pathetic. “But I don’t know if I want to go alone.”

“Hey, what’s the point of riding business if you’re going to zone out and queue with the people in economy?” Jimin’s irritated complaint as he swats my arm knocks me back to the present. Still in a daze, I let him grab my hand and pull me up and towards the air stewardess waiting to check the customers’ boarding passes without complaint, only having the presence of mind to hold my camera bag securely against my side. True, I was really torn between going on the trip alone or cancelling it altogether, but when I’d voiced my indecision to Jimin yesterday, I didn’t imagine that it would lead to this.

We zip past the long queue of people waiting to be allowed to board, all the way to the front. The sweet-looking stewardess takes a look at our documents and smiles, complimenting her rosy cheeks, made up carefully to look perfectly natural, ushering us in. As we stride towards the door to the aircraft, I can’t help but look at our connecting hands, then up towards his slender, but comforting back. Never in a million years would I have thought that he would actually offer to accompany me. In all actuality, ‘offer’ is too mild a word for what he did. After calling in to take a week off of work, then buying flight tickets while I’d showered, did he really think he left me with any choice?

He might have been right that not going just because Se Hoon couldn’t make it, after I’d worked my ass off to get a holiday, paid for the tickets and hotel, would be ridiculous. But I maintain that what he did in a span of less than thirty minutes – because it couldn’t have taken longer than that for me to shower – was the more inane of the two.

However, as we step inside the plane itself, past another stewardess welcoming us onto the flight, the reality of this finally starts to sink in. For the first time since I’ve become single, my face relaxes, and I can feel my whole body relaxing with it. While the cause of this current situation is unfortunate, the outcome is quite fortuitous. After settling in my window seat first, I glance towards Jimin, trying to get comfortable in the next seat over. I’m very aware that allowing myself to enjoy this, or even think about this, is idiocy of the highest degree. That it will just bring me more pain down the road. I know. Years of suffering had taught me that really well. Yet still, being the fool that I am, I don’t deny the giddiness of having Jimin come with me, instead of Se Hoon. Not to myself, at least. If it’s going to hurt me either way, might as well milk whatever joy I can get out of it, right? My future self will probably hate my current self later, so I apologise to her in advance in my head.

“Everything okay over there?” Jimin leans over the wide armrest to ask.

“Mm-hmm,” I answer simply, still half-lost in my thoughts. Sometimes I want to roll my eyes and laugh at myself. Whatever am I thinking, while Jimin is just trying to be a good friend? Imagination running wild can inject a really swift and powerful dose of euphoria, and goodness knows that my spirits need a bit of lifting, but prolonged daydreaming will not do anyone any good. Jimin is just a friend. Just a friend. Indulging in idyllic notions will just burn me in the end.

The process of achieving resolution is interrupted when the plane begins to move. It isn’t very obvious at first due to its size, but I notice it backing out into the runway. As it begins to pick up speed, I forget everything else; from depressing thoughts of being single, to silly fantasies. Turning to Jimin, I whisper excitedly; “My favourite part is coming!”

Before I can start to explain what it is, Jimin laughs and nods. “I know.”

Sitting back against the chair, I absorb the fact that Jimin remembers that I’ve told him before. It’s such a random piece of uninteresting information, but I suppose that’s what best friends pick up over the years. I’m sure I subconsciously collect seemingly useless information about him, too. Not wanting to miss it, I don’t comment any further, instead just grinning at him before shifting my attention towards the window. My heart rate picks up as the vehicle accelerates so rapidly that I feel myself getting thrown back into my seat, gaining momentum until it finally lifts itself up into the air. Sighing contentedly, I told Jimin; “It’s such a rush when the plane moves like that. Like our journey is truly starting, and we’re running towards it with all our might.” He just shakes his head with a chuckle at my childish delight. We’re already high enough that the view outside displays the landscape of Seoul city of buildings and cars. On any other day, I’d be down there somewhere. But not today. And while this may not have turned out exactly as I’d expected it to, I have no complaints about the arrangement now.

As though he’d picked up on my uplifted mood, Jimin asks jovially, “So, remind me, why did you choose to go to Malaysia?”

I remember telling him that I was the one who’d picked the holiday destination. This time, it’s not surprising that he remembers; the way my excited gushing about the trip had escalated as it had approached bordered on annoying, even I will admit that. “It’s a multicultural, multi-racial country, so there’s a diverse variety of things to explore,” I begin to explain, sounding like a tourist brochure, pause to consider, then confess. “Actually, we’re going to Penang, which is famous for having the best food.”

Even though his lips curl down, the way Jimin bites his plump lower lip and holds his shuddering body is a tell-tale sign that he’s not frowning; in fact, I know that he’s trying to hold back from laughing out loud. “Why am I not surprised?” Guffaws escape alongside his words, and I smack his shaking arms playfully.

“Shut up.” Although my pretense at affront is a tiny bit better than his attempt to keep a straight face, it’s impossible to hide the mirth dancing in my eyes. With impeccable timing, one of the stewardesses appears by our side to inquire about our choice of lunch. Ever a fan of chicken, I order without hesitation, whereas Jimin chooses pork as his protein.

“Mmm,” – is Jimin’s way of articulating the tastiness of his meal. “What’s the name of the place,” he picks up his boarding pass to sneak a peek at the name of our holiday destination before returning it into his seat pocket, “Penang food better top this.”

Of course, I have never been there, so I can’t guarantee anything. “If their food is that well known around the region, I should think that it’s better than airplane food.”

Both of us know that I’ve made a sound justification, and Jimin doesn’t have any comebacks. The journey grows quiet soon after, my full stomach encouraging my already heavy eyes to shutter closed. Our transfer in Bangkok, Thailand via Suvarnabumi Airport is a short, uneventful one, and from there, it’s a quick flight to our final destination. Watching the evening sky serving as the backdrop for the sun making a dramatic exit for the night is breathtaking. By the time we land, streaks of orange are all that remain of the sun’s waning presence, and a light smattering of stars twinkle, not to be outdone by the numerous city lights.

“So, are we going to take a taxi to the hotel?” Jimin wants to know our next move after retrieving our bags from the baggage claim carousel.

“Yep, but we won’t be using a taxi.” Armed with the WiFi device I’ve rented in advance, I breathe a sigh of relief as my phone connects to the internet successfully. Sometimes I feel a little ashamed by it, but I can’t stop the feeling of unease whenever I’m cut off and unreachable by phone. I keep imagining the worst things happening. “There’s an app people use here to call for a driver instead of using a taxi. It’s cheaper and easy to use.”

“Oooh.” As I open said app, Jimin looks at the screen of my phone over my shoulder curiously. Compared to Incheon and Suvarnabumi Airports, Penang Airport is very small, which I suppose is befitting of the size of the northern island. It makes the place seem especially busy, and we stand slightly away from one of the exits, doing our best to keep out of people’s way. There must be a lot of drivers on the app service, because one immediately takes our request. Ride secured, we make our way out of the building, looking out for a white car with the specified plate number.

Soon our luggage is secured in the trunk of the car, and we speed away from the airport. From the handy app, I find out that our tanned driver is a man named Hisyam. His fatherly manner and gentle way of speaking reinforces my instinct that he seems to be in his late forties or early fifties, a deduction I’d made upon seeing him. Our friendly responses when he’d initiated the standard questioning – where we’re from, and our purpose of coming here – encourage him to strike up further conversation. From my simple research about Malaysia before coming here, I know that being able to converse in English is enough to communicate with the locals, but I didn’t think that it would go so smoothly. I’d thought that it would be only mostly youngsters who are able to speak fluently in English, but despite his age, Hisyam sounds comfortable talking to us in the language. A comment on this from me has him explaining that many Malaysians can speak English well enough to be understood at the very least, which is a relief. It’s nice to feel so welcomed, especially since he has an eager and easy answer when I wonder where we should get our dinner aloud. “There’s a place that’s famous for its char kuey teow that’s not far from here. You have to try it!”

“Char kuey teow?” Jimin hasn’t eaten anything after our lunch on the flight earlier, and the mention of food, however foreign, quickly piques his interest.

“It’s stir-fried noodle,” he explains. “But the noodles are flat and made of rice. It’s a really popular dish around this region. I’ll drive you there first, if you want.”

Sneaking a glance at Jimin, I can see that he is also in favour of this. “Is that okay, though? Do we need to call another driver after we’re done?”

“I’ll just take some other requests until you’re done, then I’ll come back for you. There’s always people calling for service in this area,” he assures us. “This shop’s reputation is rightly deserved, I promise. So, don’t worry about me and enjoy yourselves!”

Good thing Jimin and I are able to decide on taking Hisyam up on his offer so quickly, because he really isn’t kidding – the restaurant is a mere few turns after that. It’s a place next to the large road, with most of the dining tables spread over an open space past the low fence enclosing the area of the restaurant. I suppose the cooking is done within the small building to the side of the restaurant. The tables and chairs are purposeful rather than decorative, but I know that sometimes a simple, humble place can serve better food than fancy ones. With Hisyam’s phone number saved inside my phone, Jimin and I take a seat at a table in the middle of the place. It has barely gotten dark, but more than half of the tables are already occupied by people who look to be locals. A good sign.

Thankfully the restaurant is well-staffed, and in less than five minutes, we’ve gotten our order in. “Smells good,” Jimin comments hungrily, eyeing the plates on the tables around us. I grin and stop myself from teasing him with the old ‘I told you so’ before I actually try the food. It arrives quickly, although I’m not sure if it’s soon enough for Jimin, who starts to dig in without even waiting for me. “Mmm!” His smiley eyes widen, with an extra twinkle as he swallows the char kuey teow.

If my reaction upon tasting it didn’t mirror his so much, I would have laughed at him. However, our driver’s recommendation has given us a great start to our trip – the char kuey teow tastes much better than I expected. Strips of rice noodles that look like a very thick piece of paper that had gone through a coarse shredder are coated with sauce. This dark sauce isn’t paste-like, yet not runny, either. It’s rich; probably infused with the flavours of the prawns and cockles that accompany the dish. The noodles slide down my throat easily, but chives and bean sprouts mixed in provides a contrasting, crunchy texture.

Our silence during the meal says everything about it. Neither of us are interested in talking; we’re too busy enjoying the food. Only after I finish the last bite do I come up for air to confirm what I already know. “How was it?” But Jimin can’t hear me with his body twisted away in his plastic chair. Even if he could, he’s too concentrated in his effort to attract the attention of one of the waitresses to pay me any heed.

Once the young girl has acknowledged Jimin’s call, he turns back to me. “I’m ordering another one. Do you want anything?”

Looks like Jimin had definitely enjoyed his meal. I did too, but my appetite is nowhere as big as his, so I add another order of milk tea to drink while I wait for him to finish his second plate. Less than half an hour later, we’re back with Hisyam, who is happy that his suggestion is getting rave reviews. “Your hotel is in the center of Georgetown, so it will take about thirty minutes to get there,” he informs us, explaining that Georgetown is in the northern part of the island, while the airport is somewhere down south. The three-story building that he points out sits at the end of the block, and he turns from the main road into a smaller one to let us off. He looks at the hotel in approval. “You chose a good place to stay,” he comments. “The last tourist couple I drove booked a famous hotel, but they didn’t know that it’s known for being haunted.” The corners of his lips twitch while his eyebrows scrunch in the middle, as if he still isn’t sure whether to laugh or sympathise with the poor people’s misfortune. “It broke my heart to tell them.”

“Oooooh, which hotel is it?” Pretty sure that I didn’t come across this morsel of information when I was searching for hotels to stay in, I wanted to know. However, Jimin protests, saying that he’d like to get some sleep tonight. He’s already going to sleep in an unfamiliar bed, and hearing a ghost story just before that is not going to help him sleep easier. Hisyam and I whisper conspiratorially, arranging for a private story time via message while Jimin unloads our bags from the trunk of the car.

Unfortunately for Jimin, this isn’t going to be our first disagreement for tonight. Not ten minutes later we’re standing at the front desk, arguing over sleeping arrangements while the staff looks on patiently. “I should get my own room,” Jimin insists again, his tone riding the line between firm and incredulous at my disagreement.

“Why should we?” This is not the first time I’ve said these words in the last few minutes either, but I’m unwilling to back down. “The room is huge, and,” grabbing his arm to turn him away from the listening employee, “it’s really expensive.”

“I just won’t take a suite, then,” Jimin says with finality, accompanied by an eye roll.

Truly upset now, I let my lower lip jut out in an infuriated pout. “Even a normal room is expensive, and our rooms won’t be close to each other’s, then,” I inform him. “Is sharing a room with me really that bad? I thought it would be fun. Plus, I already feel bad enough for making you come here with me without having you spend even more.” Even though I know that Jimin can easily afford whichever room he wants, even the suite that Se Hoon and I had decided to splurge on to enjoy together, I’m not exactly sure why I want Jimin to share a room with me so much. The reasoning that I’ve given him are all true. Having him spend so much money, on top of messing up his work schedule to go on an impromptu trip with me makes me feel really guilty, even if he’d done it on his own accord. I just hope that’s the main reason I’m so adamant that we share the suite, more so than the fear of having my crippling insecurity issues creeping up on me alone in the room I was supposed to share with Se Hoon.

Since Jimin and I have had sleepovers when we were kids and had even shared a tent when we went camping with friends in high school, I didn’t think he would mind. So when he’d neglected to ask which hotel we would be staying in, I didn’t bother to book another room. In hindsight, perhaps it was just an oversight on his part. He did only have less than twenty-four hours to prepare to go overseas, after all. However, if he’s this against sharing a room with me, perhaps he does feel uncomfortable about it. Sighing, I decide internally that forcing him to share when he isn’t willing would eat at my conscience even more, so I face the staff again as my hand reaches inside my bag, rummaging for my purse. “Could you give us another room? As close to mine as possible, please.”

“Fine, fine, let’s share.” This isn’t the effect that I had intended – I’m fully prepared to pay for his room – but surprisingly, this made him finally give in. “That is, if you don’t mind.”

“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I minded.” Now that Jimin has agreed, I find myself at odds, feeling like I’d coerced him into saying yes. “Are you sure you don’t mind? I could just get another room if you really don’t want to share.”

He shakes his head but doesn’t meet my eyes. “Nah, I just thought you’d feel awkward since you’re supposed to be here with Se Hoon. Are you sure he won’t mind?”

Oh. So that’s why Jimin had put up such a fight. The realisation makes me feel a little disappointed. I guess I’m a fool for expecting something else. Jimin had never been attracted to me, after all. Why would he care about sharing a room, other than concern over causing trouble in my relationship? If only he knew that he’s worrying about a nonexistent problem. “I’m sure. No worries.” Funnily enough, Se Hoon had been the one sharing his bed with another woman while we were still a couple, not me.

“I guess he thinks I’m a robot, too.”

“What?” I’m in the middle of confirming with the now-thoroughly-confused man at the front desk that we’re definitely not adding any extra rooms to our booking, so I’m not sure if I heard Jimin’s mumblings right.

“Nothing.” He dismisses me, taking our luggage and wheeling them towards the lift, leaving me behind to take the room key.

“Hey, wait! Oi!”

“Here are your room keys,” the young man at the front desk calls for my attention, and I turn around to take the two sets of cards from him. His, “I hope you enjoy your trip,” sounds more heartfelt rather than obligatory, sending embarrassed heat to my face. He’d obviously gathered that things are not hunky-dory between his guests… wait, he probably thinks we’re a bickering couple. At first I open my mouth, automatically about to launch into my go-to explanation that we’re friends, not a couple like I usually do back home, then I close it. There’s no longer a boyfriend who might find out that someone thinks that Jimin and I are in a relationship, and Jimin, that jerk, went ahead without me so he didn’t hear it. What’s the point of clarifying such a trivial thing to a stranger in a foreign land that I probably won’t ever see again anyway?

“Thanks.” Still slightly sheepish over our argument in front of the man, I quickly scatter away towards the lift. “Thanks for waiting,” I repeat the sentiment – but this time in a very different intonation that borders on the churlish – towards Jimin when I reach his side.

“Mm.” His non-committal reply doesn’t indicate whether he missed the sarcasm in my greeting or heard but doesn’t care to respond. It does nothing to improve my mood. I narrow my eyes at him, but he carefully avoids my glare, instead pressing the button to summon the lift, then keeping his gaze locked on the red digits changing from 2 to G. His reaction jolts me away from the displeasure I’d felt when he’d left the counter without me, back to the root of our argument. Uncertainty and guilt replace my ebbing anger.

“Sorry that you had to come all the way here to keep me company,” I begin my apology by addressing the sacrifice he’d made for me. “If it really bothers you, I don’t mind taking two rooms. I’ll pay for it. It’s the least I can do, after all.”

The lift doors open just then, and Jimin goes in without acknowledging my words, dragging both our luggage with him. I follow in and press the first-floor button. If he doesn’t want to talk about it, I’m not about to push it any further. I’ve said my piece. Of course, I’m still upset, but Jimin can be scary when he’s truly angry, and I’m not in the mood to deal with that right now. Not that I ever actually want to take on an incensed Jimin. But then, the lift has barely moved when he shifts to face me, his features not quite frowning, but nowhere near friendly, either. “Do you really not care about sharing a room with me? Se Hoon as well?”

“Yes, really.” Well, I really prefer it that way. Se Hoon doesn’t have a say in it, but there’s no reason to tell Jimin that. “No sense wasting money on another room when we’ll only use it to sleep, anyway.”

“You booked an expensive suite in a nice hotel just to sleep?” If I were still with Se Hoon, Jimin’s pointed question would have made me blush. However, all it made me think about is how Se Hoon fucked another woman two days before our vacation. There’s no doubt that there were other incidents before that that I’m not privy to. My blood boils at the thought.

“Well, right now I’d rather get herpes than touch him.” I reply acidly. Jimin might have done a lot for me, especially since I broke up with Se Hoon, but there’s just so much my self-beating, bruised heart can take. This time Jimin is the one doing the following, walking just behind me down the corridor until we reach the door to the suite. Holding the key cards up, I ask him one last time, “Are you sure about this? There’s still a chance to get another room.”

“No need, since you’re so sure,” his reply is slightly curt, but has lost most of the venom. I belatedly realise that he thinks I’m furious with Se Hoon for bailing out because of work, which must have had him softening towards me again. In reality, I’m far more pitiful than that, but I’ll take what I can get. Under his breath, Jimin mumbles again, “I’ll be sure to conduct myself like the saint you both think I am.”

The light musical notes of the door unlocking mask Jimin’s murmuring, so I only register his earlier response, taking it as a reconciliation. Opening the heavy wooden door, I fumble the adjacent wall for a switch, and upon turning it on, white light bathes the space to reward us with a very welcome sight. The entrance stretches and opens up to a spacious living room, decorated with black wooden furniture enhanced by splashes of red – small red cushions and red drawers. Simple white walls provide a nice contrast to the beautiful dark, polished timber floor. While I was looking for a place to stay while we’re here, I had seen some photos of the room, but seeing it in front of my own eyes is just breathtaking. From behind me, the sound of Jimin’s long inhale is audible as he takes it all in with completely fresh eyes.

Excited, I bounce further in towards the bedroom. On my left is a wooden door matching the ones I’ve walked through so far. The walls sandwiching it are also wooden with carvings, but the whole expanse is covered with glass. A peek through it reveals the bathroom, complete with a jacuzzi tub that had been promised in the hotel website in addition to a shower cubicle. The bedroom itself is as beautifully decorated as the living room. Majestic four-poster king-sized bed dominates the center of the room, matching the ornate tables and wardrobe well. Sliding glass doors lead to the balcony, and a large stained-glass window on the other side of the bathroom facing the bed completes the luxurious room.

“I’d be happy to just hang out here until the end of the trip,” Jimin comments in awe as he enters the room.

“I know,” I agree breathily, then compose myself before sending him a firm look. “But there’s food to be eaten.”

My honest statement invokes a helpless laughter from Jimin. “You’re not even pretending that you want to see the sights!” Just like that, all the animosity from before melts away completely. Jimin’s giggles must be infused with magic, drawing out a grin from me effortlessly every single time.

Finally, we collapse on the bed – Jimin resting completely on the left side of the bed, while I lay down partially on the side closest to the balcony with my lower legs dangling over the foot of the bed. If I let myself lay down properly, I know that it’s just a matter of time before I’m knocked out cold from the exhaustion of the journey. A bath in the tub sounds really nice, but it’s too much of a hassle for me now. I just want to sleep; but not with the day’s journey sticking to my body. After some time resting my tired muscles, I let out a loud groan and pull myself up. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

“Mm.” From the way Jimin lazily acknowledges my announcement, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already sleep-talking.

“Do you want to take one too, or are you just going to stink up the bed the whole night?” Poking the sole of his right foot sharply with my finger, I try to verify this with him before I lose him to sleep completely.

“Mmph.” This time he rubs his face against his pillow, perhaps in an attempt to give a more intelligible answer that fails. Opening up his eyes a crack, he asks, “Together?”

I’m not sure if he’s really lucid or not. But I refuse to let him – and myself – entertain the idea for even one minute. My honest answer isn’t good for the health of both my mental state and our friendship. “I’ll wake you up once I’m done.” Jimin responds with another vague hum that I take as a ‘yes’.

Just a little over twelve hours later, I’m sorely wishing for a nice soak in the jacuzzi tub, followed by a nice afternoon just chilling in the hotel room being blasted by the air conditioner. Jimin echoes my innermost thoughts, as if he can read them; “I swear I must have sweat out all the water in my body,” he complains. “Why did you choose such a hot place to go for a holiday? Don’t people run to cool places in the summer?”

“I think it’s the opposite,” I muse out loud. “People go to hot places to escape the bitter winter.” Right now, the freezing winter sounds good to me. It’s slightly past noon and the sun, which has been slowly creeping up on us since about an hour ago, has become downright menacing. Mentally I congratulate myself on forcing an early start this morning, despite both of us being too lazy to get up several hours earlier. The sky had just been kissed by the sun when we set out from the hotel, using the app to get another driver to bring us to Beach Street.

Despite the name, the street is a few blocks away from the jetty. We started our Penang street art hunt here. The UNESCO World Heritage Site is home to numerous street arts, painted by international and local artists. From what I’ve read, there are some very popular pieces that still survive thanks to restoration, but the art scene changes frequently as the old murals fade with time and new ones take the spotlight. Thankfully, the ones I’ve really taken a liking to haven’t disappeared. An early start gives us some advantages – not having to compete with other people for photos, and most importantly, cool weather for a pleasant walk.

Trusty digital SLR in hand, Jimin and I enjoyed searching for the murals, snapping pictures with them as trophies. To my delight – and Jimin’s amusement – many of these artworks on the wall are interactive. The bicycle that a pair of painted siblings ride on is an actual bicycle that you can sit on, similar to the swings a bit of distance away. Jimin declared that the painting of a realistic little boy walking a very-cartoonish dinosaur as his favourite, until he finds out that the artist, Ernest Zacharevic later made a series of paintings he called the ‘101 Lost Kittens’ project. Whilst indulging him in his renewed vigour to find all the lost cats, I noticed that the street art isn’t all that the capital of the island, George Town, has to offer. Narrow streets snake around terraced store fronts and as the morning aged, some of them started to open. Most of them look old, but many retain an interesting charm unique to each one, be it tiles with beautiful patterns covering the doorstep of the store, or windows and doors carved in cultural patterns that hide a rich history that I’m not privy to.

Dotted between these cramped stores are various eateries, cafes, bakeries and bars, many whimsically decorated, just waiting to surprise us as if saying ‘peek-a-boo’! It wasn't long before our stomachs were rumbling, and we chose our breakfast stop. We managed to get roti canai, a flatbread eaten with curry, which was one of my goals for this trip. Jimin tsk-tsked upon hearing that my goals are food instead of attractions, but even he was mesmerised by the sight of the cook twirling the bread dough expertly in the air. “Okay, this is good,” he relents after taking a bite of the savoury bread.

After filling ourselves up, we resume the search for Jimin’s kittens, but I don’t think we managed to get even halfway before we’re reminded that Malaysia is a country that has sunny and rainy days instead of four seasons. And today is definitely sunny. My trusty cap might be protecting my face, but it’s not doing much against the unforgiving heat. “Korea isn’t this hot, even in the summer,” Jimin insists.

“It’s more humid here,” I explain as my eyes rove about the walls, looking for cat paintings. The grey cat surrounded by red fortune cats has been my favourite so far, but Jimin got more excited about the giant depiction of Skippy, the orange cat.

“How come real cats don’t come in this size?” One would think that Jimin’s wish was an adorable one, but I imagined if it came true, and was horrified at the thought.

“They would eat us whole!” Terrified, I eyed the painting up and down, trying to gauge its size. It must be twice as tall as I am. “It would be worse than a tiger!”

Jimin had laughed at my seriousness, but it isn’t long before I’m ready to call it quits, and he’s right behind me. “Summers are probably more bearable in Korea because we’re in the air conditioning most of the time, while we’ve been out in the sun all morning here.” As if granting my wish, I spy blinds hung over a shop with white lettering written across it. A peek underneath tells me that this is probably a café, since I see wooden stools and tables taking up the storefront space. Without hesitation, I grab Jimin’s arm and lead him towards it. I don’t know what sort of store it is, but I know I could use some shade right now.

It turns out that it really is a café, thankfully. Jimin doesn’t need much persuading to agree on grabbing a bite to eat; it’s lunchtime anyway. We snap up some seats inside, where the air conditioning graces us with its mercy. The menu quickly tells us that this place specialises in bagels. Our bagels are perfectly toasty and crunchy after being reheated over a wood fire in an oven, and I take complete delight in the sour kiwi slices coated in honey topping yogurt in an adorable glass jar. Since I don’t eat as much as Jimin, I opt for a lighter salmon and cream cheese bagel. Although I’m doubtful of the bagel’s ability to satisfy Jimin’s appetite, he insists that the bacon and egg served with his bagel is enough to tide him over.

As Jimin inhales his food, then orders more after giving me a sheepish shrug, my attention keeps straying to one corner of the eatery where I watch a group of young girls snapping pictures amidst raucous laughter. Grabbing the opportunity to catch Jimin’s attention when he looks up from his plate, I gesture towards the corner with my chin. “Look, look. We have to take a picture there.”

By the time we’re done, the girls have gone, so I pick up a piece of white chalk on a nearby table to write on the small chalkboard they’d left behind. “Name… Park Jimin.” The texture of the chalk isn’t pleasant to my skin, but I ignore it to fill in Jimin’s height and the date, chuckling when I think about what to write in the last space. “Charge… laughing too much.”

“What?” My best friend states his incredulity as he lets loose the same charming laughter that I’m charging him with. “Laughter brings joy to the world! How could that be a crime?”

“Shh,” I ignore his weak protests, shoving the board into his hands and nudging him against the wall. He guffaws as I lift up my camera and snap pictures of him against a lineup board to take his mugshot. He then declares that he’s good to go for another search for the lost kitties. But it has been a long day, and with our energy already been sapped by yesterday’s journey, the afternoon is spent in more leisurely walks instead, with Jimin quietly indulging my sweet tooth by popping into trendy and yummy cafes instead of religiously keeping an eye out for more murals. I silently appreciate his thoughtfulness but don’t comment on it, knowing that it’ll give him a golden opportunity to tease me for eating so many sweets. Of course, it might just be him wanting to escape the heat without admitting it, even though the sun’s power seems to have diminished as it slips to the west. Yeah, that must be it, I think to myself, refusing to read more into it.

We’ve just exited another café, the bitter taste of coffee tampered by milk and sugar still lingering on our tongues, when Jimin points out something unfamiliar on the road. “Look, what’s that?” It’s a small cart, just big enough so that two people can sit on the seat underneath a grey shade. Behind it is a bicycle with one wheel, attached to the cart to drive the small cart with two more wheels on its side – like a tricycle – forward. I’ve never seen one in Korea, but I do know that this is a mode of transport in several Asian countries.

“It’s a rickshaw,” I tell him, miraculously pulling the name from my memory.

“Huh.” Jimin eyes it with interest. It doesn’t take a genius to see where this is going. “Wanna try riding it?”

At this point, we don’t even know where we are. It has thankfully cooled down now that it’s late afternoon, but my feet are weary from walking so much. Still… My eyes move from the empty cart, where the two of us can sit comfortably and give our feet much needed rest, towards the back, where the driver is sitting. “It would be nice to support his livelihood, but I’d feel bad asking him to bring us around.” I turn to Jimin, unthinkingly placing my heart in my eyes as I entreat him to reconsider.

Taking in the thin, old man resting his forearms on the bicycle handles as he waits for the traffic light to change, Jimin nods his agreement. “You’re right, I can’t in good conscience hire a man at least twice my age to do that.”

So it’s with mixed feelings that I open the map on my phone to determine where we are. When the phone loads, I sigh with relief. We’ve somehow walked all over Georgetown to end up almost next to our next destination, Chowrasta Market, which is in turn a mere 5-minute walk from our hotel. The large three-storey building looks ordinary from afar, but when we get closer, my eyes widen at the selection of goods in the shops on the ground floor. “Oooh.” Lines and lines of pickled fruits and local titbits remind me of some of the stalls in Korean markets. The vibrant colours of the pickled fruits match the packaging of the snacks, making me go crazy trying to decide what to buy.

Sensing that a lot of time is about to be spent choosing snacks, followed by a lot of money traded, leading to him carrying a lot of things, Jimin interjects. “Why don’t we check out the other floors first? That way we don’t have to carry our purchases everywhere.”

“Okay,” I agree readily, but also absent-mindedly, and he has to take me by the hand to lead me further in towards the escalator. The first floor of the market is nowhere near as exciting as the ground floor to me at first glance. There are some clothing stores, which don’t manage to catch mine or Jimin’s interest. However, as we walk towards the back of the building, a familiar musty smell greets my nose, putting me on alert. Even as we walk in its direction, I start to lean forward, trying to get a good look as soon as I can. “Are those… books?”  

They really are. Several tiny stores filled to the brim with second-hand books – so many that we can barely walk between the shelves. Some people may find the air stale and stuffy, but I see it as staunch, ancient guardians protecting hidden treasures. And some of the books are real treasures; with the help of the shopkeepers, we unearth books in every topic under the sun, some of them a little worse for wear, but the newer releases – like the Harry Potter series – look practically brand new. I don’t find any books in Korean, which isn’t surprising, but I do discover a first edition of a title in the Lord of the Rings series. It isn’t in the best condition, sadly, but it makes me wonder what else I could find had I had the time to thoroughly comb the enormous collection of books. We barely made a scratch before Jimin cautions me against bringing home too many things.

Since I know I won’t be able to decide which book to buy, I decide to not get anything. Pangs of regret echo silently within me as we leave, but then I remember that a plethora of food stalls are supposed to line the few streets next to the market. Picking myself up, I grab Jimin’s arms with an excited grin. “Hey, why don’t we walk a bit more to the food stalls?”

“More walking?” Jimin despairs at the thought.

“It’s just a block or two from here.” As we go down the escalator, I pull him towards the exit by his arm, boding no arguments.

“What about the snacks you wanted to buy?” Digging his heels in, Jimin gestures towards the goods in the small shops we’re passing by, desperately attempting to keep further steps at a minimum.

Sadly for him, I already have a plan of action in mind, and there’s nothing he can do to dissuade me. Shaking my head, I explain to him the logical steps that we should take. “We’ll be passing by this place again on our way back to the hotel. We can buy them then.” As an answer to Jimin’s subsequent whine of protest, I tell him, “Shopping on an empty stomach will make you buy more than you should. So we need to get some sustenance before we buy these.”

Jimin may be following my lead out of the market and opposite the direction we came from prior to arriving at the market, but his mouth isn’t about to admit defeat so easily. “How can your stomach still be empty after eating so many sweets??”

It doesn’t alleviate his disbelief when he’s informed that I’m looking for one stall in particular – a famous cendol stall. When his question of “What is that?” is met with my answer of “It’s a local dessert,” he scoffs in incredulity.

However, as soon as we cross to the next block, both Jimin and I are easily distracted by the shops lining the ground floor. At first the t-shirts with Penang’s attractions, including the murals printed on them as well as the colourful clothes draw our attention. As I start to thumb through some trousers with unusual prints hanging on a rack, Jimin ventures inside the shop then quickly calls me over. I suppress a groan. The shops, with their open fronts, are not air-conditioned, and while the temperature has become much more bearable now that the sun is starting to set, I’d rather stay where the wind isn’t just coming from the fans affixed to the walls. But it is worth it. Even though it’s just your typical souvenir – magnets, miniatures of the country’s famous buildings, and other memorabilia – for me it shows what the country’s people are most proud of. An insight to the people’s minds.

There are also bags and purses of different sizes, some bearing similar patterns to the clothes, while some are woven. “Is this what you want, of all things?” Having Jimin’s heavy arm suddenly drop around my shoulder as I examine a beige bag with red square markings makes me grunt and sag a little.

“What’s wrong with wanting this?” To be honest, I don’t actually plan to buy it, but now I’m tempted to, just to be contrary. Jimin really brings out the childish part of me sometimes; a side that I feel is too immature to show others. My head swivels around to stick my tongue out at him for good measure, but then I notice how close his face is to mine. I can just move my head forward a little and kiss him. Alarmed that this thought is the first that comes to mind, I look back down at the bag so quickly I get whiplash.

Jimin doesn’t seem to notice my reaction to his extremely close proximity, because I can feel him shrug nonchalantly at my verbal response. “Mmm, well, if you like it that much, I won’t stop you.” He ruffles my hair affectionately, earning an angrier “Hey!” than I would have normally given him had I not been so flustered, before I saunter back towards the entrance of the shop, right towards the pants that I’d been browsing when he first called me in.

Sensing a possible sale, or, in hindsight, an opportunity to play the responsible cupid, the shopkeeper who has been watching our shenanigans quietly all this while sidles up to me. “That is a good choice, miss. You should ask your boyfriend to buy it for you.” The woman is very young; probably a few years younger than I am, and her speech sounds a little different than Hisyam’s. I sense that she isn’t as fluent as our driver the night before. However, I can understand her perfectly well, and that’s all that matters.

Or perhaps it would have been better if I couldn’t catch her words, because they made me even more agitated. But before I can tell her that Jimin and I are not a couple, she grins brightly and takes my hand in hers, pressing something small into it. “Here, I’ll give you this. Stay safe!”

Curious, I open my hand to see what she has given me accompanied by that suspicious, conspiratorial look. Eyes widening with surprise and hackles raised, I panic; “No no! You–“

“What’s going on?” Jimin walks over, making me shriek in horror and push the condom back into the shopkeeper’s hands then cover them with the bag I’m holding. I’m not sure why I’m so perturbed. It’s not as if I’m the one suggesting that Jimin and I have sex, but damn it, I want to. And I’m deathly afraid that my best friend would somehow figure out my secret, inappropriate desire.

But of course, my startled and over the top reaction only serves to drum up Jimin’s interest. “What are you hiding there?” It isn’t difficult for him to push my hands – and the bag, my only saving grace – away and uncover the little ‘gift’ that the owner thought she’d thoughtfully given to me. What is up with her, anyway?! I thought this is a conservative country! Looking back towards the winking shopkeeper, I decided that she must be a really forward woman, or a foreigner, despite not knowing enough to tell. Either way, the cat’s out of the bag now that Jimin has seen it. Blinking several times blankly at the small packet, Jimin then looks quizzically at me, cocking an eyebrow.

“Oh God.” My mortified groan is muffled by the bag that I’d stuffed my head into, unable to bear the embarrassment.

Needless to say, we don’t buy anything from the shop. The steps we take forward are sluggish and unsteady, just like my emotions. Although Jimin had laughed it off as he’d simply told the shopkeeper that we’re all good the whole time he’d dragged me out of the small shop, his silence now clues me in on the awkwardness that he’s feeling, too. After the row we’d had the night before, I really don’t want this to go on. Must keep my feelings hidden. How hard can it be, right? I’ve done it all these years. No one had ever questioned my friendship with Jimin, so it must have looked easy on the outside. I hope no one would ever find out how torn and beat up I am on the inside.

“Sorry about that,” I broach the incident carefully, wanting to put it behind us instead of making it worse. “She suddenly shoved the… it into my hand.”

“Ah, no worries.” Scratching his head like it doesn’t matter to him, Jimin smiles, but he doesn’t quite look me in the eye. “She must have been desperate to make a sale.”

“That must have been the weirdest tactic I’ve ever seen.” I roll my eyes with a chuckle. Good. This may have started out forced, but it’s sounding more natural to my ears now. Just ignore that the woman had thought that Jimin and I are a couple, and more importantly, how much I want it to be true. We’re really close friends, it’s normal that strangers would think that we’re more than that. Just laugh it off and things will go back to normal. They always do.

Shrugging, Jimin tries to give her some credit. “At least it’s a fresh approach!”

I start to shake my head, but we reach the other end of the building, greeted by the sight of a long line running along the side of the next block, starting at a small, humble stall. “There it is!” I exclaim in excitement, recognising it instantly from the photos I’ve seen online. Jimin’s grunt when I grab his arm to join the line goes ignored, but he doesn’t complain once we’re there, even though I can’t even see the stall from where we’re standing.

Thankfully, the line moves up pretty rapidly. Once we approach the stall, we see why; the green droplet jellies and red beans are already laid out and ready to be scooped into the small bowl with the white coconut milk and brown syrup. The only wait time is caused by the man making shaved ice from the initial blocks with a green machine that takes up almost half their workspace. There isn’t much allowance for chairs and tables by the roadside, so after paying, Jimin and I join the other customers in standing while downing our sweet treat.

“This is sooooo good.” My compliment is backed up by my tilting the remnants of the bowl into my mouth.

“Want to get one more?” Jimin says gamely, and I grin at the offer. Obviously he’d enjoyed it as well, but I shake my head.

“I’d love to, but there are more treats for us to try,” I explain, motioning with my chin away from the direction of the cendol queue. Sure enough, just walking down the road has us stopping every hundred meters or so to check out what this stall or that restaurant had to offer. And not just the local cuisine either! We even come across a Harry Potter café that serves more than just Butterbeer. Penangites sure love their trendy cafes.

It isn’t surprising to hear a local complain over the prices of some of these delectable goodies though. “This much for sotong kangkong?!” A woman about my age gasps after paying the waitress for two plates of some squid dish. I simply listen to her talk to her friends one table away as we skewer our own squid and water spinach, enriched by the dark, savoury sauce that has my taste buds dancing with joy.

Jimin, who is eavesdropping on their conversation too, remarks amusedly, “Looks like we got conned.”

“Not surprising. This place is well known after all. I’m sure they marked up the price since tourists come here a lot,” I muse, unbothered but interested. “It would be nice to have a local show us the good and cheap places. I’m sure there are many that are unknown to us tourists.”

“Hmm,” Jimin hums thoughtfully, but doesn’t say anything else. For a few moments, I watch him in silence, waiting for him to express his train of thought out loud, but he doesn’t continue. By the time we start making our way back to the hotel, we’re so full that the walk is more than welcome. Not as welcome as the stop we make at the Chowrasta Market to buy some snacks – for souvenirs, but I admit to Jimin honestly that I can’t promise that at least half of them might be gone by the time we’re going back to Korea.

The food coma that we fall victim to continues into the late morning the next day, but it’s very well worth it. Both of us sleep so soundly that even the blazing glare of the sun can only make me moan tiredly, trying to shuffle into a better position to continue my slumber. Which is when I come to a realisation that jolts me wide awake.

Jimin’s arms and legs are wrapped around me.

No wonder I feel so snug and warm. It isn’t just all the food breaking down in my stomach. Jimin has hugged me on countless occasions before, but this feels different. More like what a couple would do, while I’ve always thought of our hugs as friendly. Or perhaps I force myself to think that way. I would use all my willpower to make myself pretend that this is the same as well, just for self-preservation. He’s just cuddling me in his sleep after all. It’s not like it’s intentional. Right?

I might have convinced myself, if I didn’t feel a definite, insistent hardness pressing against my butt. Yes, even that is unintentional I’m sure, but my dumb body can’t help reacting to it. Closing my eyes, I stifle another moan – not a sleepy one this time – as I feel how wet I’ve already become in reaction to him.

Against my better judgement, I arch my back, leaning forward and shuffling as subtly as I can into a better position. Tingles that spark like tiny electric shocks when my covered slit comes into contact with Jimin’s clothed morning wood has me stifling a wanton sound of pleasure. I’m not sure if he’s fully hard, but he feels like a good size. Any size would be good, as long as it’s Jimin. My hips rock back and forth, years of depravity leaving me utterly shameless. Unthinking about how wrong it is to take advantage of my unassuming best friend while he’s asleep.

My right hand dives down past the waistband of my shorts and into my panties, seeking the nub that would multiply the pleasure. “Hnn,” I bite my lower lip in an attempt to stop any further sounds from spilling past, while letting my eyelids flutter shut. The better to enjoy this — it is no longer a fantasy I indulge myself in when I’m pleasuring myself. If only I could have more. Deft fingers toy with my clit as I rub my pussy faster against Jimin’s cock. It’s undoubtedly growing bigger. It almost feels like it wants to pierce through the fabric separating us. Even though I’m really just dry humping him, moving by myself, it already feels incredible. What I wouldn’t give to have it inside me, giving my weeping pussy just what it’s craving. If only these fingers were his; flicking the stiffened bud while whispering in my ear, telling me to come for him...

As if answering my obscene prayers, a deep groan from behind startles me into a frozen statue. Belatedly realising the gravity of my actions, I yank my arm up and out of my shorts. Shit, what the hell am I doing??? However, taking a look at my hand; fingers soaked with my arousal, flowing all the way to my wrist, I have to gulp down another wave of desire. No, this is just too risky.

Heart beating deafeningly in my chest, I stay deathly still for a minute or two, hoping that Jimin hasn’t awoken and realised what I was up to. If he has, I don’t even know how to explain myself to him. Hell, I don’t even know how to explain myself to myself. Thankfully, he seems to be in a deep sleep. Even luckier for me, he just loosens his hold on me, turning onto his back with a deep sigh. Like a rabbit sprung free from a trap, I scoot out of the bed as fast as I can without waking him up. Once I climb off the bed, I spin around to look at him, making sure that he really is asleep. His face is positively angelic in his slumber. It would be painful for me to look at it if it wasn’t such a contrast to the tent that his hard-on is making out of the pristine white sheets. Sheets that would no longer remain unsoiled if only he had any interest in having his way with me. They would turn near transparent – if I’m already this wet from brushing against him and touching myself, what state would I be in if Jimin is the one touching me? If he’s the one rubbing against my clit frantically? If there was nothing separating us, if he’s actually inside me, stroking my inner walls with his hard cock? The beddings will be soaked through.

These traitorous thoughts make me whine out loud without thinking. The way I’m looking at him now is no way someone would look at a best friend. No; as much as I’ve convinced myself that I’ve been keeping my emotions in check, I haven’t been looking at Jimin as just a friend for a very long time.

And if he wakes up to find me drooling and mewling for him, there won’t be hiding it any longer. His breathing isn’t the long, calm ones of one in deep slumber. He could wake up anytime. So I hasten to the bathroom, willing my eyes not to stray towards his obvious yet unintentional arousal.

After swiftly divesting myself of my clothes, I hop into the shower, blasting it on full force. Two seconds later, I have to bite the inside of my cheeks to keep myself from screeching and cursing at the temperature of the water. Somehow I’d managed not only to set it on full force, I had turned it on at the hottest temperature as well.

The cold shower I give myself after hurriedly changing the settings doesn’t do much to clear my mind. My body is crying from rebuffed desire. Clearly this sharing-a-room thing isn’t working out in my favour.

As a compromise to my physical needs that allows most of my pride to remain intact, I turn off the shower and get into the bathtub instead. Reaching for the hose, once again I turn it on full force, but this time only after checking the temperature. Uncaring if it’s shameless to do this when my best friend is asleep on the opposite side of the wall, I open my legs and direct the head between them. The intense pressure of the water hitting my pussy awards me with immediate relief from my pent-up frustration, immediately followed by building pleasure that had been denied from me in the bed just now. Keeping the steady jet continuously hitting my sensitive nub with my left hand, I reach down with my right to trace my slit. It’s completely drenched, and I know that it’s not all from the water coming out of the faucet.

My middle and index fingers slip past my entrance easily. Scooting down the tub to get into a better, lower position with only the upper half of my torso resting against the wall of the tub, I begin to move my fingers in and out of my warm depths. Pretending that it’s Jimin’s cock that I’d felt against my pussy, the memory still fresh, I burn the sensation inside my mind to last me for all time. Soon I’m panting and moaning, though still of sound enough mind to be careful not to utter his name out loud, but unable to stop the aroused sighs that fall out of my mouth at the thought of him doing all of this to me, and more.

The fantasy brings me to a climax in record time with a loud cry that I hope is masked by the sound of running water and thick stained glass. Just in case Jimin is awake, I try to clean myself up as fast as I can. If I’m lucky, maybe he’d still be asleep.

When I step out of the bathroom, he’s still on the four-poster, turned onto his side with his back facing me once more. However, I can see movement underneath the sheets that tells me that he is no longer asleep. Is he… masturbating? Even though it’s covered, I can see his right arm moving rapidly, almost desperately. His breathing is unsteady, just like mine was right before in the bathtub.

A part of me that must be sick and perverted wants to watch him. I stand rooted on the spot with my hand on the doorknob, fascinated, longing to see him pleasure himself. Dying to help him do it. Already my center is reacting again. I’m so ready for him. I’ve been ready for him for so long.

But before I can rationalise continuing to watch my best friend masturbate like a total creep, unthinkingly I release my hand from the door of the bathroom, causing it to close shut with a sharp click. Jimin immediately stills, confirming to me that my suspicions were right. The sound also brings me back to my senses. What should I do now?

In the end, I opt for the safe option, the one that I’ve chosen over and over and over again. Striding past the bed, I greet him as normally as I can. “Hey, wake up, we’ve already wasted half a day just snoozing.”

I’m sure that Jimin is going for a sleepy grunt, but it came out sounding more like a horny groan than anything else to my ears. To keep things from becoming awkward, I pretend not to notice it. Instead, I open the wardrobe in the corner of the room, giving him a chance to hightail it to the bathroom with my back turned to him. He grabs the opportunity readily. As he showers, I dress quickly then let myself out onto the balcony, closing the doors behind me. It’s so much easier to tell myself that he hadn’t heard my shameless moans while I was inside the bathroom if I don’t hear him making them either.

Since he doesn’t comment on it, I assume that he either really didn’t hear me in the bathroom, or that he’d rather not say anything in case I saw him and return the favour. I’m more than happy to just pretend nothing had happened. Especially the fact that I used him to get myself off, although I’m pretty sure he’s oblivious to that. Otherwise I doubt he’d let me go on for as long as I did. Masturbating is something normal, he’d probably spare me the embarrassment even if he hadn’t been caught doing it himself. But using your best friend for your own orgasm is something else entirely.

So, with me neglecting to say anything about sorting out his morning wood – which is completely understandable – and him either not knowing that he wasn’t the only one who got off today, or choosing not to mortify me by saying that he does, the afternoon is spent in peace at Batu Feringghi. It doesn’t cost us much to get a driver to bring us to the long stretch of beach less than half an hour from Georgetown. Going there on a weekday means that we’re spared from the throng of people I’m sure would flock the tranquil strip of sand and sea on weekends. The salty wind is refreshing on my skin; perfect after a proper rest the night before.

Even more perfect than the breeze hitting my face and whipping through my hair is having Jimin by my side, leisurely walking in a more or less straight line marked by the water kissing the sand. We’re close enough that the gentle waves wash over our feet every few seconds, but not too deep into the sea that we’re wet past our ankles. I want to go on like this forever, strolling next to Jimin, feeling like a real couple.

It isn’t long before the blissful walk morphs into a food outing though, as it has always been on this trip, when we spot a stall further up the beach and Jimin wiggles his eyebrows as he asks me if I want to check the food out. He knows me well, so I can see how he immediately thought that’s what I wanted. However, this time, I’d really rather just spend some quality time with him. No words or anything else needed. Just basking in his presence, soaking in the happiness I feel simply by having him here with me. Once we get back to Seoul, we’ll get caught up in the flow of our own lives again. With people we know all around us, we will truly go back to being just best friends. He will get a girlfriend, and I’ll probably find another boyfriend to fill in the emptiness that can never be satiated by anyone other than Jimin. Is it wrong of me to want to continue this make-believe game of being his girlfriend a little bit longer, even if it’s only in my head?

Of course, it’s not as if I can tell Jimin any of this out loud. Plastering a smile on my face instead, I jokingly praise him, “Wow, when did you learn to read my mind?” and start off towards the stall ahead of him. His, “Oy, wait for me!” is met with laughter, but it rings hollow in my ears. I bounce and skip along, but it’s hard to do so and maintain a steady foothold on the ground thanks to the soft sand giving way underneath my feet. My body feels unbalanced, struggling to remain upright despite – or perhaps because – of the jolly movements I’m forcing upon myself, parallel to the emotions I’ve been keeping inside me for so long. Always on the verge of crumbling, threatening to fall into the unknown, even as I put up a front of being Jimin’s happy best friend.

Blinking back tears, I clear my throat as I stop in front of the stall to read the menu. “What is this?” Pointing to a foreign word on the small white board propped in front of me, I ask the young guy, barely a man, manning the stall as Jimin steps up next to me, bumping my shoulder on purpose.

“Oh, uhm…” he looks visibly flustered, eyes moving all over the separated goods on his workspace as he tries to find the words in English to answer my question. He must be taking care of this place for someone. He seems new and a little inexperienced with customers. I feel bad for him, but I still want an answer, so I wait patiently, flashing him an encouraging smile.

Jimin is quick to take pity on him. “Well, all that matters is that it tastes good, right?”

Given an out, the young man breathes a sigh of relief, obviously feeling more at ease. “Miss, pasembur is a mixture of all these things,” he makes a sweeping gesture towards the ingredients laid out on the table in front of him, “covered with peanut sauce. Can you handle a bit of spice?”

Placated by his effort to explain, I lean forward to look at the dry stuff he has sorted out in different containers. Some shredded cucumbers and turnips, bean sprouts, fried tofu and a fried pancake-looking thing that looks crispy. “Yeah, I love spicy food!”

The ingredients just need to be put together in a large plate, and soon Jimin and I are sitting at one of the tables propped up around the stall under a leafy tree. Both of us take the chairs on opposite sides, so we can enjoy the view of the sea as we sip our coconut juice straight from the fruit. Halfway through our afternoon snack, Jimin muses, “I wonder how much weight we’ve put on since we’ve been here?”

His question makes the mouthful I have in my mouth hard to swallow. “Ugh, must you think about that? We’re supposed to enjoy our holiday with no worries!” I wag my fork at him grumpily, reaching for a glass of ice I’d asked from the boy to wash down the food with the cool, melted water.

My chiding rolls off of him like water off a duck’s back. “If I’m going to continue going with you for more food after this, I’m gonna have to make some space,” he says playfully, getting up with a gesture towards the small building that houses restrooms a few hundred meters away.

“Ew!” After sending a chuckling Jimin off by flinging what’s left of the ice in my cup at him, I turn back to the remnants of our food. The peanut sauce is only mildly spicy, but still very enjoyable. We’ve found out that the fried pancake-like thing is actually prawn fritters, but I like the turnip the most. Coupled with the heavier peanut sauce, the juice that flows into my mouth when I bite the turnip provides a refreshing, contrasting taste that reinvigorates my senses. As I try to pick out the turnip strips among the few other toppings left over, a man I haven’t seen before pulls the stool next to mine.

Confused, I give the surroundings a quick glance before turning back to him. Only one other table is occupied. The rest are empty. Even while sitting, I can tell he’s taller than many Malaysians I’ve seen so far. He’s fair-skinned, and although he looks Asian, he doesn’t look quite like a Malaysian – I’ve seen many of the main three races of Malaysians; Malays, Chinese and Indians – and I’m no expert, but there’s something about him that tells me that he’s a tourist, too. “Excuse me, why are you sitting here?”

“So I can take a better look at you, cutes,” he responds arrogantly, turning me off in a split second. Trying to find someone to hook up with on his vacation, I suppose.

Frowning, I pointedly continue spearing one of the small nuggets of the pasembur with my fork, uncaring of what I choose to pop into my mouth in a show of blowing him off. “Well, I don’t care to look at you, so please leave.”

As expected, he’s not going to give up so easily. “I came over ‘cause you look really bored, sitting here alone by yourself. The name’s Charlie. Why don’t you come with me? My room is just over at that hotel,” he points towards one of the ritzy resorts by the beach, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction by looking at it. “I’ll show you a fun time.”

“No, tha–“ I start to turn him down again, but he grabs my hand, uninterested in my response.

“Hey! Ah, uhm…” Before I can put up a struggle to get myself free, we’re stopped by the boy taking care of the stall. From the way his words are coming up in short stutters, it’s clear that he’s scared out of his wits. Yet he’s still standing up to the much bigger man for my sake. “The miss has a boyfriend!”

“Eh?” Charlie looks from the boy to me, then scans the open space. “Where is he then?”

“Uh.” Great. What am I supposed to tell him now?

But before I can think of a reply, he shrugs indifferently. “Just ditch him, then.”

Again, I start to pull away from him, but this time it’s Jimin who stops us in our tracks. “What’s going on here?” His tone is light, but I can sense the undercurrent of what I’ve named the Angry Jimin; the quiet man who speaks in a soft voice, hiding a dangerous persona that can cut a person with one cold look. In all the years I’ve known him, I can probably count the number of times I’ve seen Jimin like this with the fingers on one hand, but the departure from the usual Jimin that I know is so drastic, there’s no mistaking it when he’s truly furious like this. Even though I know that I’m not in the wrong, he has me shaking in my flip-flops.

Charlie, on the other hand, does not recognise the cue signalling that he’s in hot water. “Who are you?” Then, making the same assumption as the boy, “what, are you her boyfriend?”

Afraid of what Jimin might say and its consequences – not just about Charlie, but I selfishly can’t bear to hear him say that he’s not my boyfriend, either – I wrestle away from Charlie’s grip, rushing forward towards Jimin to link my arm around his. “Yeah, he’s my boyfriend.”

My unexpected move confuses Jimin, earning a bewildered expression from him, but Charlie doesn’t seem to care either way. “Tch. Look man, don’t be such a spoilsport. I just want to borrow her for a couple of hours. Or do you wanna come join us too? I hate sharing, but I’m sure we can find someone for you, too. If you don’t mind ‘em ugly,” he laughs nastily, reaching out for me again.

However, Jimin snaps out of his bafflement quickly, and snatches Charlie’s wrist in a firm grip before he can get his hand on me. “Do not touch her.” Jimin’s icy voice intimidates Charlie, I can tell, as the latter hesitates for a moment. But he waves away the warning.

“Aw, c’mon. I–aaaaaaargh!” Charlie’s flippant tone hikes up several notches as his knees buckle, attempting to wrench out of Jimin’s grip, which has tightened so much that his hand is starting to bend at an unnatural angle. Once he manages to get out of it, he backs up several large steps, staying clear out of Jimin’s reach. “What the fuck, man! I thought we were cool! If you’re going to be such a stick about it, you could’ve just said something!”

Now that his switch has been turned on, Jimin is in no mood for any tomfoolery. “I told you not to dare lay a hand on her. Now. Fuck Off.” His words still come out composed and almost unaffected, but his normally smiling eyes now have a malicious glint to them, and even Charlie has learnt his lesson.

We leave the place soon after he does, after I thank the boy for standing up for me. Both Jimin and I know where we’re heading to next; I told him our plans before we headed out a few hours earlier, and I think that we’re walking in the right general direction, but neither of us are checking if we’re going the right way. When the heart is lost, does it matter where the body goes? I’m not sure what’s going on with Jimin, though. He isn’t checking if we’re going the right way, and he doesn’t seem to care, either. I’d ask him what’s bothering him if I wasn’t so preoccupied myself. Having him protect me like that made me ecstatic, even though I was also scared back there. But the aftermath is excruciating. Having him act like he’s my boyfriend, as short-lived as it was, only makes it more painful to face reality. He will be that for another lucky girl, one day, forever. But that girl isn’t going to be me.

While I’m musing on the thoughts that I’ve been burying for ages and plan to do so until the end of time, Jimin isn’t planning on taking the same approach. I should never have worried about asking him what’s wrong – he’s going to address it himself without any prodding from me. “You could’ve just told that ass that your boyfriend is back at home.”

Frayed nerves and a permanently broken heart immediately fuel the ire that rises inside me at his comment. Is that really important? “Do you really think he would have left me alone if I’d said that? He was trying to take off with me even with you there,” I bite off bitterly.

Jimin sighs, unable to argue with the validity of my statement. “I guess that’s true. I just wish I didn’t have to pretend to be your boyfriend to chase him away.”

“Why, is the idea of being my boyfriend that horrible to you?” No, wrong thing to say. I shouldn’t lash out like this. I’m only inviting trouble. But I can’t stop. Jimin might have not done anything wrong, but I still can’t help being resentful towards him for this. I can’t stop hating myself for still being hung up over him. He might not have meant anything hurtful by it, right now and back then, but it doesn’t stop it from eating away at me, turning me into an ugly monster inside.

At least he has enough wits to recognise that he’d put his foot in his mouth. “No, I didn’t mean–“

“Just stop.” I don’t want to hear it. I can’t bear it. His meaning is crystal clear. It always has been. Jimin just doesn’t see me as anything more than a friend. However, if I hear the exact words, I don’t think I can handle it. All of me wants to run far from him, but I can’t do that without appearing even more suspicious than I am now. So I settle for increasing my walking speed just short of a run, surprising Jimin as I leave him behind to cross the road. The few seconds it takes for him to wait for the cars to pass and lengthen his strides to return to my side grants me a bit of time to furiously blink my tears away, clearing my throat. I hope he’d missed the way my voice cracked just now.

“Hey, what’s up with you?” Jimin pulls me to the curb, holding me by the shoulder to face him. “You’ve been acting weird. I didn’t mean to offend you, it’s just–“

“It’s nothing. I’m fine,” I throw out fake words meant to reassure him, using my phone as an excuse not to look at him. “Just checking the direction for the night market.” My thumb shakes with the rest of me, making it difficult to type, but I will myself to make it steady. I can’t break down now. Not after all this time, in the middle of the road in a foreign country, no less.

“No, you’re not.” It isn’t the same Jimin that had dealt with Charlie earlier, but I can tell that I’m trying his patience. Still, I can’t tell him. If I do, not just this trip; everything will fall apart. And I need Jimin more than I need air. If I can only have him as a friend, then I’ll take it with the heartbreak that comes with it.

“Just let it go. Please, Jimin,” I plead with him, finally tilting my face up towards his concerned one. The annoyance on his face crumbles when he sees the raw agony I know I can no longer hide. My watery eyes that betray a world of pain, even if he doesn’t know why. His hold on me loosens, then releases me, his arms falling limply to his sides. The last thing I want is to see him like this. It’s even worse because I’m the cause. But there’s nothing else I can do. “I’m sorry.”

“If you think it’s best for you, I’d do anything,” Jimin says, not asking for an explanation. “Just know that you can come to me about anything. Anything at all. I would always be there for you.”

I nod appreciatively, thinking to myself that he can’t be the medicine to the disease that he himself has created. “Thank you,” I whisper. We stand like that for a while, ignoring other people walking by us, some peering curiously at two foreigners just frozen there. Wiping my tears as discreetly as I can with him watching, I take a few deep breaths, determined to return to my normal self again – as normal as I can be, anyway – and get this day back on track. It has been a roller coaster so far.

The night market spanning along the main road and beyond are made of countless makeshifts stalls that light up the descending night. I can see just about everything I can think of here – from the standard souvenirs, to traditional clothes and bikinis, knockoff bags and watches, to paintings. Normally I would have soaked up the atmosphere, growing so excited that I’d border on crazy just trying to decide what to buy and ending up with more goods than I could carry, but somehow I can’t quite muster up the energy. It isn’t the fault of the vendors, who are friendly and inviting, but not too pushy. Nor is it because I’m turned off by the prices; although I do notice that things here are a little overpriced compared to some other places I’ve been to so far. As desperate as I am to return things to how it was before, I can’t get over Jimin rejecting me as a girlfriend. If he doesn’t even want to pretend to be my boyfriend, I can only imagine how much of a turn off it is to him to have it become a reality. And while I’ve known all along that this is how he feels, I’ve spent so long denying it to myself as I pretend on the outside that I’m all good with it. Without anyone knowing, I’ve allowed myself to fantasise being his girlfriend for too long. It’s just daydreaming, I’d thought. Just a fantasy. I know what’s real, I’d told myself. But I didn’t realise that it had made me hope that it would someday come true, and to be forced to face reality like that – it left me in a state of shock. Things are even worse, because I’m here with nowhere to run from him.

It certainly doesn’t help matters that many of the vendors assume that we’re a couple. While not surprising, it makes the air feel more awkward between us, and drives the knife deeper into my heart. I don’t need to be reminded that Jimin doesn’t see me as girlfriend material, no matter how much it may seem differently to everyone else. Every “No, no, we’re just friends,” I tell every friendly seller is a cruel admittance to the fact that I’ve been denying since we were young. Like a punishment for thinking that I can one day have more than I deserve. I couldn’t have been more wrong. And this whole day is just full of occurrences driving the point home, over and over and over. I want to cry my heart out in anguish. I want to scream my lungs out in frustration. And I want to run, to the ends of the earth, and fall off to a place where I can hurt no longer.

I’m sure Jimin knows that something isn’t right with me, but he doesn’t say or ask anything. While I really appreciate that he’s giving me space and keeping his distance so I can lick my wounds as best as I can in such a crowded place, a foolish part of me still hopes that he cares. His suggestion that we call it a night and get an early start tomorrow after popping for dinner at a food court wedged among the stalls is a very welcome one. At this point I just want to sleep and forget all this ever happened. The latter might be too much to ask for, but I can’t imagine that some rest would make anything worse than it already is.

 “When I said an early morning, I didn’t mean this!”

Jimin’s whining is ignored, although he doesn’t notice me giggle softly at his dismay. I’m glad that a few hours’ sleep is enough to restore the normalcy between us. At least that’s how it looks on the surface. My own feelings for him, now escalated to an irreversible state, have been repressed back inside me, where they have been kept carefully under lock and key for as long as I’ve realised them. And I tell myself that I’m okay with this. I’ve always known that Jimin will forever be my best friend, and only that. It was just my stupidity that kept embers of hope burning within that it might somehow change. As long as I can extinguish my impossible wishes, I can hold onto what I have – Jimin’s friendship. That is more than enough. It has to be. The alternative is to confront him with the truth, and lose him.

So I choose to maintain this delicate equilibrium. What happened yesterday should never come to pass again. I was careless, foolishly allowing my real feelings to surface. That mistake should never be repeated. Hopefully Jimin would think that I’m just still upset about Se Hoon, and leave it at that. Jimin has never been all that keen on talking too much about my boyfriends. The time we spend together has always been for just the two of us. We may chat about our partners once in a while, just to check in on the other person, but we never delved into it. I never cared to talk about my boyfriends when Jimin is the only one I truly wanted, and perhaps Jimin has never had much to share about his relationships, either. It would just be frustrating if I had to listen to him talk about them, so if he doesn’t say anything, I’ve never asked.

Addressing him from the front on the narrow dirt path, I point out, “It’s not that early, you know,” then yelp as I almost stumble over a root jutting out of the ground.

“Look out!” Relying on his animal-like reflexes, Jimin rushes forward and seizes me by the arms before I tumble to the ground. Wrapped in his arms, his sweat and slightly heavier breathing from the exertion of our exercise should be anything but romantic, but as I look up into his soft eyes, filled with concern, I can hear my heartbeat pounding erratically in my ears, and I know it’s not because we’ve been navigating this leafy terrain over the past half hour. Even in this awkward, uncomfortable position, with most of my body weight resting on him and both of us smelling way less fresh than daisies, I can’t help but notice how inviting his lips look from this close proximity. I’d give my whole fortune to be able to kiss them.

No. I’m letting myself fall into the same trap all over again. Before I do anything I will regret later, I clear my throat and extract myself from his embrace. Jimin lets me go readily. “Sorry,” I mumble to hide both my embarrassment and disappointment.

At first, Jimin looks as stunned as I feel, but my movements and apology snaps him out of it. “I told you that hiking is a bad idea,” he takes the opportunity to chide me for my choice, in the aggravating I-told-you-so manner only a childhood friend can manage. It automatically incites an immature response in me, pulling me away from my years-old worries, if only for a moment.

“It so isn’t! Just wait until we get there. Besides, it’s the perfect way to burn off all the food we ate.” Finishing with a loud huff, I turn around and continue on the narrow trail towards Monkey Beach, a stopping point on our way to the Muka Head lighthouse in Penang National Park.

We arrive at the beach just a little under an hour later. It’s already midmorning, and the sun has begun its work warming the sand and the water. I had my fill of the beach yesterday, and there’s still more hiking to do before we reach the lighthouse, but I can’t resist running my hand through the clear water and then splashing an unsuspecting Jimin who’d crouched down next to me. “Hey!” He scolds me indignantly as I erupt into laughter; my first uninhibited one since only yesterday, but it seems like forever since I’d last felt such unadulterated joy. The world just isn’t right when things are not going well with Jimin. It makes me more determined to keep everything just as they are. A life where I’m on the outs with Jimin just isn’t right.

If either of us thought that going to Monkey Beach was tiring enough, we’re in for an unpleasant surprise. While the trail to the beach was slightly challenging, it was mostly flat. From the beach to the lighthouse is a far less forgiving climb – one that would have knocked me out if I were in a worse shape than I’m in. Jimin, the fitter one of the two of us, insists that we would have gotten to our destination in less than forty minutes if I hadn’t stopped to catch my breath, but I pretend not to hear his annoying remark, choosing to roll my eyes and stick my tongue out at him when his back is turned.

Despite the journey that was more tiring than we’d bargained for, it’s well worth it now that we’re here. The lighthouse is an old one; there’s nothing really remarkable about its appearance. Our climb is really rewarded by the view that we see from the top of the lighthouse. Jimin makes his way up first, then calls out to me excitedly, and I give up on regaining my strength at the bottom of the lighthouse to join him. The narrow walkway surrounding the lighthouse peak offers us a fantastic view of the islands surrounding this one, and we stand there for a while, just taking in the endless stretch of the blue sea, trying to figure out where it meets the azure sky in the horizon.

The climb down from the lighthouse is significantly easier compared to going in the opposite direction, and we find ourselves back at the beach in no time. “Do you know that we can see turtles here?”

“Where?” The possibility of this gets Jimin on his toes at once, excitedly looking around the beach for any stray turtles wandering around. I can’t help but giggle at his enthusiastic response.

“I don’t know. I read that you might see them here. Maybe we’d have a higher chance to see them at one of the other beaches in the park. It’s a nesting place for the turtles, and the season is right about now.” My clarification disappoints him, and his shoulders sagging makes me want to pull him into a tight hug. “Do you want to go there and see if we can find any?”

At first he brightens up at the idea, then looks at me sceptically. “How far is it from here?”

“Uh…” As much as I like playing tour guide, I’m not actually sure of the answer to his question. “A little far, maybe? The way there uses an almost completely different trail, I think.”

That draws an easy response from him; “pass”. By the time we’ve walked all the way back to the park entrance, had a tasty lunch and got back to our hotel to shower, it’s already late in the afternoon. “The day just flew by,” Jimin remarks as we sit in the car, on our way to our next stop.

“I know, right? But this isn’t bad.” We’re on the main road, surrounded by buildings on our left and right, but we must be on the edges of the island, because I can see glimpses of the sea and the reddish-purplish dusky sky as the car zips by the gaps between the buildings. “It’s kind of relaxing when we’re not rushing from one place to another.”

“I wouldn’t call a morning hike relaxing though,” Jimin mumbles under his breath, earning a playful smack on the arm from me.

The easy-going mood and light banter continue even after we get to Straits Quay, a beautiful marina enclosed by a shopping mall. Perhaps too easy-going, as we indulge in some drinks after dinner. Having western food is definitely a departure from the norm after several scrumptious Malaysian meals, but I don’t mind the change very much. Especially now that the alcohol has made its way into my system – losing my inhibitions is making me tap into my repressed emotions more deeply than usual, and it’s confusing me. While I’m happy that Jimin is here with me, I’m also tired and angry at him for rousing my irrepressible hopes once more.

Without thinking, I’ve downed more than I can handle. I’ve belatedly realised that Jimin is keeping a modest pace, not imbibing even half as much as I have, but at that point, I’m beyond caring. “You should slow down a bit,” he warns me, and only then I put my mug down with a sigh, heeding his advice. “You okay?”

“Mm-hmm.” Although I’m starting to feel a little woozy, I still have a bit of wits about me yet.

Jimin stares at me, trying to judge if I’m still of sound mind. He must have been aiming for the delicate balance between loosening my tight lips and inability to think coherently, and I’ve fallen neatly into his trap. “Is everything going well with Se Hoon?”

“Why, do you think there’s trouble in paradise?” My answer is sharp and bitter out of sheer anger and defensiveness, instinctively seeking to protect myself even when I’m not in the best state to do so.

“I’m just concerned. I know you’re pissed because he bailed out of this trip at the last minute, but you seem more… prickly than I thought you would be,” Jimin hedges, expertly opening my precious treasure box of jealously guarded secrets. I’ve always worried that Jimin knows that I’m keeping something from him. He could always tell when there’s something I’d rather not tell him, and he usually manages to make me spill everything out. Everything… but my real feelings for him.

“And whose fault do you think it is?” I ask testily, not thinking that there can be more than one answer to this question.

“Se Hoon?” Jimin’s wrong answer makes me want to slap my forehead. At this point I’m not sure who’s the stupid one; him or me. Of course he would think Se Hoon is behind my irritable behaviour, but should I have clued Jimin in on my troubles in the first place?

“Not any longer.” His clueless answer bursts the balloon of fury blowing up within me, and I deflate in my seat. How can I expect him to put all the pieces together when I’m withholding so much of them from him? Jimin can’t possibly know that I’m hopelessly in love with him. Not when I’ve done everything that I can to hide it from him. But I’m tired of concealing things. I’ve gotten sick of it for a long time, and it has risen stealthily to the surface, slipping through my defences, biding its time until an opportunity comes for it to spill forth. Like right now. “We broke up just before we came here.”

“Oh.” His response is quiet, and I can’t tell if he’s indifferent, or sad for me, or feeling awkward from the sudden news bomb. “So it wasn’t some business thing that made him cancel the trip?”

“It was business, alright. A meeting with his colleague on his bed.” Funny, I should feel more upset about it, but I’m not. Whatever Se Hoon has done during the course of our relationship has never affected me much one way or another. Naturally he did please me and annoy me at times, but nothing he ever did got to me the way Jimin does. It’s the same for all my past relationships. I’m aware of that. But what else can I do but accept these pseudo relationships, since I can’t have the one I truly want?

Jimin’s brows shoot up upon hearing this, then crash down in a frown, accompanied by some colourful curses under his breath as he processes the information. “Sorry about that. Never liked the smarmy guy anyway. You can do way better,” he rattles off the typical sympathetic words that don’t do anything to lift up my spirits. “You could have just told me though,” he mumbles, almost as an afterthought, but I can tell that he’s offended that I kept it from him. Far from making me feel guilty though, his expectations that I share anything about my half-hearted relationships only serves to stab another wound in my already well-punctured heart.

“Guess I don’t want to feel like an even bigger loser in front of the guy who rejected me before I could even tell him how I feel.” A large lump lodges itself in my throat, obstructing my air flow, but the words come out anyway.

“What do you mean?” Leave it to Jimin to be stymied even after being told outright. “Who are you talking about?”

I don’t know what else I would have blabbed to him if a wave of dizziness didn’t strike me right then. Finally, something – alcohol in this case – saves me from my stupidity, even though it was precisely the same thing that led to my foolish confession in the first place. “Whoa!” Jimin reaches out to steady me, almost upsetting the glasses on the table in the process. “Okay, I think we’ve had enough.”

I’m not sure when or how Jimin paid for our drinks, but he must have somehow, because we made it out of the shopping mall and down at the seafront without anyone hounding us to pay the bill.

It’s hard to believe that this beautiful place is this quiet when the night is still young, but I suppose we have the weekday to thank for that. The sea breeze does wonders to whip me awake, and although I remain tipsy and a little unsteady on my feet, I manage to convince Jimin that I’m up to the night-time stroll without any danger of falling into the sea unsupported in no time at all.

The yachts lined up along the marina give the place a luxurious feeling, while the lights from the high-end apartments above the shopping mall illuminate the scene behind us against the darkness of the night and the mysterious sea before us. A white lighthouse marking the end of the yachts is clearly much newer than the one we visited earlier today. What it lacks in character and history, it makes up in pristine beauty, befitting the dreamlike scenery we’ve found ourselves in. While I’m not exactly in a romantic mood that this setting is obviously perfect for, I can still appreciate the atmosphere. Well, as much as I can while focusing on putting one foot in front of the other without losing my balance.

We turn right at the lighthouse, following the wide walkway past white houses surrounded by greenery; surely a picture-perfect setting had we seen it during the day. Lamps glow softly above us as we walk unhurriedly to the end of the straight path, both unwilling for the idyllic time to end. The silence between us is a companionable one. Jimin and I have never felt the need to fill them with idle chatter if we have nothing to say to each other. Or even when we do, sometimes, like we do now. I’m slowly becoming aware of the fact that I have said something I never should have, but I’m still buzzed enough to not care about the consequences.

However, Jimin, the more sensible of the two of us at the moment, isn’t content with letting things be. By the time we turn around to head back towards the shopping mall, I start to feel the weight of the empty air, filled with burning questions on the tip of Jimin’s tongue. In my heart of hearts, I don’t want to do it, but I look at him nevertheless; a silent permission for him to go ahead and say what is on his mind.

“When you were talking about the guy whom you couldn’t confess to, whom did you mean?”

Somehow I just knew that he’s going to zero in on that. “Does it really matter?” I sigh.

“Of course it does! I want to know who is stupid enough to reject you before you could tell him anything.” He pauses, trying to make sense of the whole thing. Of course he doesn’t know. He isn’t even aware that I know what he said, so long ago. Heck, he probably doesn’t even remember – people don’t tend to remember things that aren’t important to them, anyway. I want to snort in derision at his comment. He doesn’t even know that he’s talking about himself.

I shake my head; partly in mild disbelief, but mostly in hopelessness. The events of yesterday had solidified reality and brought me back down to earth. “It’s not gonna happen, so I’m trying not to think about it. Even if it’s just pretend, I just want to feel cherished, by the right guy, for once.”

Jimin stares at me intently, both of us standing so still we could be mistaken for statues but for our hair and garments swaying gently in the calm breeze of the night sea. I can tell that he wants to say something, to offer me words of comfort, but the agony that I’ve suffered for years must be showing on my face. A pain so deep that nothing he can say can make me feel better. Yet I wait. Hanging onto foolish hope that the source of my sickness can provide me with the remedy I need. An eternity passes by, and I know that there’s nothing he can do. So I give up, and step forward, alone. Perhaps this time I really can leave him behind.

But of course, my feet somehow get tangled with each other, and I start to trip. “Whoa!” Jimin’s quick reaction saves me in a very similar fashion to what happened less than an hour earlier, pulling me back against gravity. “Oof!” Like a big oaf, I stumble heavily into his arms, almost causing him to topple over. He manages to stay upright though, leaving me in a very awkward position; a heart-thumping position that I’ve always longed to be in, and also one that is counter-productive to my aim of forgetting him. “You okay?”

“Mmhmm.” I’m not. Intoxicated, the closest I’ve been to outing myself in ages, in dangerous proximity to the man whom I can never have. Carefully, trying not to lose my balance again and to avoid making it look like I’m pushing him away, I extract myself from his embrace. Immediately my body cries out for the warmth of his body. It isn’t that cold, but my desire for his nearness transcends physical needs. Best to get out of this situation before I start daydreaming again. “Can we go back? I’m not feeling so good.”

Without protest Jimin agrees, helping me call for a driver this time, and soon we’re back in our hotel room. We take turns showering, the motions almost feeling like a routine at this point, like we’ve been living together for years instead of this being only the fourth night we’ve shared a room consecutively. Ever since the ride back to the hotel, we haven’t said much to each other beyond short, necessary things, like, “I’ll pay for the ride.” Rather than awkward, the silence is heavy. Jimin seems lost in his thoughts while I’m just trying to clear my head for the most part. When we lay down on the bed together, I’m more aware of his nearness than ever before.

Skin prickling and thoughts all jumbled up, I shift to rest on my side, facing away from him. Perhaps I can try to get some sleep like this, I try to convince myself even though I’m hyperaware of his presence behind me. Why is this so damn hard? Tears well up behind my eyelids at the futility of it all. Jimin is just a guy. Okay, he’s an amazing guy, and the greatest friend anyone can ask for, but he is still just a normal human being. With flaws. He irritates me at times. We get into arguments and fights. So why is it that I can’t let him go? Why do I still pine for him? Why can’t I fall in love with someone else? It’s not like all my past boyfriends were assholes like Se Hoon. There have been decent guys. Nice guys. Men who are just as good as Jimin. Maybe even better. Why am I not with them? Why didn’t those relationships work out?

A wet sob makes its way out involuntarily, inducing one more, then another. I hope Jimin is asleep, so he doesn’t hear me. Slowly, I begin to slip out from under the covers, trying to keep the pitiful noises wedging in my throat contained, at least until I can make my way to the balcony where I can cry my eyes out. However, before I can reach the edge of the bed, Jimin grabs hold of me from behind, pulling me back against his chest. “Shh,” he whispers soothingly into my ear, stroking me softly without demanding an explanation.

His gentle encouragement eases me to let myself go, drawing up the white blanket up to my face, cupping it as I cry in earnest, drenching the quality cloth with my tears. Although Jimin doesn’t know that he’s the cause behind my sadness, it doesn’t make his tender brand of solace any less comforting. For me, Jimin has always been able to evoke the most extreme emotions within; the highest bliss, the deepest pain, the best comfort. And even though I can’t let it go – perhaps I never will – the overwhelming agony eventually subsides. Tendrils of exhaustion begin to creep in on the edges of my consciousness, as they always do after a good cry. My eyes will probably be bloodshot and puffy tomorrow.

After finding a dry spot on the blanket to wipe them, I twist around in Jimin’s arms to face him again. None of the lights are on in the room, but the pinpricks of light from the lamps outside shine dimly through the thin inner curtains that have been drawn over the glass doors, softly illuminating the room like faraway stars. I can make out Jimin’s kind expression as he looks at me, plump lips curled into a tiny smile. “Thank you.” My gratitude comes in a soft voice, even though I can’t return his smile.

“Anytime,” he answers lightly. The arm that was wrapped around me lifts so he can caress the side of my face tenderly with his hand. His touch feels like heaven, and my eyelids flutter shut, wanting to savour and burn this kind warmth into my memory so I can relive it a million times in the future.

When I open them again, my sight is clearer than before, with all the moisture previously clouding them washed away like they have been wiped by the windshield of a car. Jimin looks so close. Over the course of our friendship, I thought I’ve seen all of Jimin, but this is different somehow. He has never looked so attainable. I’ve never wanted him as much as I want him now, right at the cusp of cementing the determination of letting him go forever.

Against my better judgement, I shuffle closer to him, but he doesn’t move away even though he’s now just a hair’s breadth away from me. We’re so close, our breaths are mingling together. His palm is still cradling my cheek. Perhaps I’m deluding myself, but he’s looking at me as if… as if he actually loves me. I’m not sure what came over me, but I lean forward, doing what I’ve always wanted to do but never had the courage to in all the years of knowing him;

I kiss Jimin.

Even though I can feel his surprise from the way his body stiffens and his lips part in astonishment, I keep my eyes squeezed tightly shut, afraid of his reaction now that I’ve taken the plunge. I don’t know what’s possessing me to make such a rash move after holding back for so long, and I’m sure I’ll live to regret it. Either from the embarrassment of being rejected, or from losing Jimin’s friendship. Maybe both. But right at this moment, I don’t care. If I’m never going to have him, the least I can ask for is one kiss, and savour it as much as I can before he pushes me away.

However… he doesn’t do anything of the sort. Quite the opposite, actually. Once he’s gotten over my unexpected move, his arms wrap around me once more, but this isn’t the tender hold meant to comfort me. No, Jimin is squeezing me with a strength that I’m not even aware he possesses, his hand cupping the nape of my neck so he can kiss me more passionately. His tongue teases my bottom lip; not making its way into my mouth, but rather content tracing my lips, as if getting to know every corner of it before going further. It’s like he’s turned the tables on me, leaving me in shock. But not for long. It’s impossible not to react when Jimin’s soft lips are melding into mine, his breaths fanning across my face, the sensations too real for it to be a dream.

It gets even more vivid as his body, much like his mouth, brushes intimately against mine, and I feel the unmistakable evidence of his desire against my stomach. My own body jumps to life immediately. I can feel my blood heating up with need, my leg hugging one of his so I can press my aching pussy against it, and I moan into his throat wantonly. The sound rouses Jimin from his trance, and finally he does what I’d expected him to do from the very start. Sitting up, he breaks the kiss, leaving me disappointed, befuddled and breathless. I hadn’t thought about how I would feel about his reaction – or rather, I didn’t expect that he’d only push me away after reciprocating my kiss, and thus have no clue what to think of it – but his fierce scowl has me trembling in fear. What have I done? Why is he like this?

 “Why did you do that?” Jimin’s voice is rumbling and low, a sure-fire mark of seething anger, and this time I’m on the receiving end. I open my mouth to explain, then close it again. No words will come out. How am I supposed to explain myself? Even if I’m honest with him about my feelings, I already know what his answer will be. While I’ve gone and done the stupidest thing possible, I still can’t bear to hear the rejection from him as he looks straight into my eyes. Seeing that no answer is forthcoming, he bites out, “Do not test me like this.”

He extricates himself from me none too gently, almost kicking my leg off of him so he can get out of the bed. Still trying to gather my wits, I sit up, wanting to call out for him, but he looks back at me, his eyes narrowed in fury as if anticipating what I will do and daring me to do it. I draw back like a frightened deer and let him leave the room. The door closes shut softly, but in the silence of the night following what had transpired, it’s as loud and final as a booming thunderclap in the sky. As much as I want to go after him, I know that’s not a good idea. Especially when I don’t know what to say. What did he mean by testing him? Me kissing him might have been a stupid decision, or even a drunken mistake, but it certainly wasn’t a test. I can’t figure him out. Heck, I can’t even figure myself out.

Even though I should be tired, sleep eludes me tonight. I can’t stop thinking about my unrequited love for Jimin, what happened tonight, the incident that occurred so long ago and all the time in between. With my exhausted body and my overloaded brain wrestling for control, I slip in and out of consciousness several times during the course of the night, but when the darkness is lightened by dawn, I’m still no closer to figuring anything out than I was in the beginning.

Jimin hasn’t returned to the bed, either. A blessing, perhaps, because I can’t face him right now. I’m not sure if I can look at him in the eye ever again. After taking a quick shower, I get dressed and make my way out of the bedroom. As expected, I see him passed out on the sofa in the living room. Guilt hikes up my conscience. I should’ve been the one to take the couch, not him. He hasn’t done anything wrong. But instead of waking him up to tell him to sleep on the bed, I tiptoe out of the room, praying that he wouldn’t wake up.

Yes, I’m running away like the coward I am.

At first I wanted to just leave, but I remember that we’re not in Korea, and my disappearing without notice could cause real panic. So I scribbled a simple note saying, ‘Going out for some fresh air. See you later.’ and left it on the small wooden table next to the couch Jimin was sleeping on before slipping out. It doesn’t diminish my guilt for abandoning him on a trip like this, but it does lessen it somewhat.

Not enough for me to enjoy the time by myself, though. Even though the nasi lemak highly recommended by locals and tourists alike hits all the spicy and yummy levels on the scale, the rich coconut rice accompanied by fried anchovies and peanuts, slices of cucumber, boiled egg and fried chicken – talk about decimating two generations in one go – is only enough to fill my stomach, not my happiness meter. I stay long after my food is gone, sipping the milk tea absent-mindedly until late morning, when I figure some of the touristy places must be open by now.

Using the handy app, I get drivers to take me around a temple and a museum, but as interesting and beautiful as they are, I’m unable to get myself to enjoy them. After ending up walking aimlessly and failing to take anything in, I accept the fact that I’m just wasting my time. Resolving to find a way out, I pop into the first café that I see. With a clear aim in mind, I try to focus, forcing myself to push past the dense fog of self-loathing and denial.

Yet still almost an hour later, I can’t think of anything to say to Jimin. Is there any excuse for acting as moody as I have been, lashing out at him, then getting stupidly drunk and making a move on him like that? On top of that, I even walked out while he was sleeping. He has every right to be royally pissed off at me. Knowing Jimin though, he’s too kind to be mad at me for long. He really is more than I deserve. Looks like I’ll have to be angry at myself for the both of us. And I think that I’m doing the job quite well on my own.

In the end when I pull out my phone, instead of a long explanation that Jimin deserves, I type, ‘Jimin, I’m really, really sorry. I wasn’t in my right mind. Please let me know how I can make it up to you.’

Before I can close the chat, a reply from Jimin appears on the screen. ‘When will you be back?’

I hesitate, wondering which answer would be the right one. Does Jimin want me to come back, or is he so angry that he wishes not to see me, at least for a little while? ‘Do you want me to go back now?’

While waiting for Jimin to type out his answer, I fidget in my seat, belatedly weighing my choice of words. Did I sound like an errant child who is being questioned by her parents about her whereabouts? Or did it sound like a desperate admirer finally being given the time of day? The latter is probably closer to the truth, I laugh deprecatingly at myself. Jimin’s reply, however, doesn’t fall within my expectations;

‘The sooner the better.’

Curiosity filling me to the brim, I quickly make my way back to the hotel. Why on Earth would Jimin want me to come back as soon as I could? Does he not want to do anything touristy by himself? Or does he want to scold me? Or… does he want to continue where we stopped last night? I shake my head in disbelief at my foolish dreams. As if he’d want to do that. Pushing me away and sleeping on the couch made his rejection painfully clear.

Heart threatening to burst out of my chest in anticipation and fear, I pause for a minute to take a deep breath before opening the door to the hotel room that Jimin and I share. “Sorry I–“

“There you are.” Jimin greets me with a smile that has my pulse racing. Memories of last night flood my mind just at the sight of him, but somehow Jimin is acting like nothing had happened. I should be relieved, but for some reason I feel dismayed. Did the kiss mean nothing to him after all? After pushing me away and going so far as to sleep on the couch, I thought my coming onto him had an effect – anger, frustration, befuddlement – something. Anything. I’d risked everything for that kiss. And for a second, I was sure that he’d kissed me back. It doesn’t seem like something that can be swept under a rug. I was expecting a severe scolding. A less sane part of my brain feeds to the hope that he would pull me into his arms and kiss me, just as passionately as we did last night. However, he’s just walking around the room, collecting things as he speaks. It feels anticlimactic.

“Have you had lunch?”

I shake my head. I’ve only had a cup of coffee at the café while I agonised over what to say to him. I haven’t given a thought about lunch. Looks like all that effort was just a waste of time.

“Good. Are you ready to go? Let’s grab some food together,” he says, swiping up keys from the small table where I’d left the note for him this morning.

“Uh, okay,” I reply stupidly, not really being given a choice, as Jimin strides past me to get the door. He is acting slightly weird, but at least he doesn’t seem outwardly angry at me. I’m not sure if this is better, but my instincts tell me to go with the flow, so I follow him out of the building without protest.

“Where are we going?” Instead of waiting at the hotel lobby to call a driver, he leads me to the parking lot next to the hotel. My bewilderment deepens when he presses a button on the set of keys and a silver sedan unlocks with a flash of lights and a friendly beep. “How did you–?”

“Rented it,” Jimin answers simply, opening the passenger door and beckoning me in. In my state of confusion, I thought he wanted me to drive, but then I remember that here the driver’s seat is on the right, not the left. “It’s not that hard to find, and I can just leave the key at the hotel lobby for the owner to collect later.”

“Okay…” It doesn’t really answer the question I have in mind, but I’m not even sure what I want to ask, so I suppose this answer is as good as any.

“Buckle up.” Before I can follow up on his instructions though, he reaches over my seat to pull the seat belt and strap me in. When his body brushes against mine, all the air whooshes out of my lungs, like I’ve been hit in the stomach. He may be able to do it but no, I can’t pretend last night didn’t happen. But I want to remain friends with Jimin more than anything else, so I don’t comment on it, even if I can’t act as nonchalantly as he is.

He has no problem driving on the opposite side, easing out of the parking and making his way down the small alley to join the busy main road with no issues. The only thing that might clue anyone in that he’s not actually from around here is his phone on its holder on the dashboard, displaying the directions to our destination on the navigation app. It says that we will take about forty minutes to get there, but not the actual location we’re headed to. “Where are we going?” I repeat my question from earlier. “Is it too far to get a driver to drive us there?”

“Hmm.” Instead of answering me, Jimin glances at the screen of his phone. “It’ll take us a little under an hour to get there, so I guess it is kind of far, or maybe too expensive?”

“Uh.” I’m not sure what to say to that. How am I supposed to know how much it’ll cost us to get there with a driver, or how far is ‘far’? A question better kept to myself, because I’m sure Jimin would find it ridiculous if I voice it out loud. Why ask when I’ve no idea what I want to get out of it?

“It doesn’t matter, anyway,” Jimin continues, seemingly knowing what I want to say when I don’t even know it myself, as usual. “I’d like to spend some quality time alone with you, just the two of us. It’s not the same when there’s a driver here.”

“Oh... okay.” My dead heart sputters weakly to life, but I tell myself not to read too much into it. Isn’t that what always gets me into trouble and hurts me in the first place? “It does feel a little awkward to chat between the two of us when there’s someone else there.” Yeah, that sounds like what a friend with no romantic feelings would say on the matter.

Laughing, Jimin nods, agreeing with my statement. “I totally get you! Even if we’re not speaking in English, I feel really guilty when we don’t include them in the conversation.”

“It’s the worst when the driver is totally quiet and unfriendly!” Relieved, I catch Jimin’s jovial, cheerful energy and run with it, happy that this car ride isn’t going to be as awkward as I was afraid it would be.

“What about those who play awful music?” Jimin challenges.

“No, no, that’s still not as bad as the ones who don’t play anything and won’t say a word!”

In this vein, we continue merrily all the way along the coastline of the island. “Look, Jimin, there’s an island over there!”

“Hmm?” Taking his eyes off the road for a moment, he briefly looks in the direction I’m pointing at. “Oh, that’s pretty close, isn’t it? I wonder what island it is.”

“Yeah, there’s a ferry making its way over there,” I inform him as I figure out the keywords to type into my phone to find out about the island. “Turns out it was a leprosarium, then became a quarantine station, and then a prison, but now it’s a resort.”

“Yikes, that’s weird.” Jimin cocks his head, unsure whether to laugh or disapprove. His sentiment echoes mine.

“I know, right?” Casting a look at the cluster of buildings I can see from inside the car, I try to reason the decision behind building a resort there. “Maybe there’s something that still draws people to it, even with its history.”

“Maybe.” His concentration back on driving, Jimin simply agrees with my assumption. “Maybe we can check it out next time.”

Next time? Just two words can make my mind race with endless possibilities, but I force myself not to think about them. It’s probably Jimin making polite conversation. I watch him steer the car smoothly out of the exit, gliding onto the spacious bridge that spans out almost ninety degrees away from the island. “You’re really good at this.” Grasping for a topic that would take my mind off his vague invitation to come to the island again, I comment on his superb driving skills on the left side of the road.

“Oh, yeah, it’s not my first time.” Even though he tries to play it off coolly, I can make out the smug smile yanking at the corners of his lips. It’s so easy to make Jimin happy — just a praise and he’d be on cloud nine. Like a cute puppy. I try not to laugh at the imagery. “Several of the countries I’ve been to also drive on this side.”

“Oh... really.” Just like that, the wind is blown right out of my sails. Are these the trips that he’d invited me to, but I couldn’t go either because of work or because I thought that going on one with him would be too much for me to take? Whom did he go with? Were other girls there with him? My jeans are too unforgiving for me to grab, so I clench my fists around nothing; the dull pain of my nails digging into my palm feeling like a punishment I very much deserve. I don’t have the right to ask or even think of any of this. The more I ponder on it, the more pain I’ll put myself through; I know this, I’ve told myself countless times, yet I still can’t stop myself from doing it.

Thankfully, just then, Jimin’s stomach roars past my troubled thoughts. “Have you eaten anything?” I ask him guiltily, remembering that I’d left him to his own devices just this morning.

“Yeah, just something light near the hotel.” He grins sheepishly, his right hand leaving the steering wheel to push his hair back to cover his embarrassment. Somehow he melts my soul with his cuteness when he makes such an expression, and when he concentrates on driving again, he makes my heart thump hard from how cool he’s become. Feeling flustered on my own, I whip my head to the left to turn my attention out the window once again. There isn’t anything out of the ordinary to capture my attention this time, so I’m left to the mercy of my self-deprecating line of thinking until Jimin’s poor stomach rumbles again.

“Maybe we should stop to get something to eat.” Really, I don’t need any more reminders of my childish behaviour from last night to this morning. I don’t know if I can feel any worse than this.

Chuckling apologetically, Jimin reassures me, “It’s fine, we’re going to a place where we can eat.”

Slightly irritated that I have to ask this a third time, I grind out, “and where would that be?”

“You’ll see,” Jimin says teasingly, darkening my mood, but I don’t retaliate — I shouldn’t be cross with him.

“Well, I hope it’s not too far from here.” Giving in, I simply cross my arms petulantly. “If I hear your stomach growling one more time, I’m gonna go deaf.”

As Jimin promised, it’s not too far after we’ve gotten off the bridge. “This is still Penang, you know,” he informs me as he veers left to exit the highway. “It’s not just the island; part of Penang is also on the mainland.”

“Really...” It’s interesting that he’s playing the tour guide now. All the top Penang attractions I saw on the Internet are on the island, so I’d missed this fact. I wonder what Jimin has found that makes it worth driving all the way here. It doesn’t look to be a bustling city like Georgetown. While not exactly rural, the town seems more relaxed, with two-storied shops and houses filling the landscape instead of towering buildings. After only a few turns, we enter an even less developed area, this one a village. Brick houses are mixed with ones made out of wood, with trees growing all over the place, lending the scenery on both sides of the road a more natural appearance, different from the carefully structured planning of the city.

Shortly after, Jimin turns right and pulls over by the side of the road. I peer over the dashboard to see what’s in front of us — it’s a dead end. “Are we here?”

“Yup,” Jimin quips happily, getting out of the car, and I follow suit. It really feels like we’re in the middle of nowhere. Especially since we’re at the end of the road, facing a river with a very narrow bridge that’s only wide enough for pedestrians and motorists to cross, giving the impression that there’s no way out.

However, the small shop on my left at the end of the row catches my attention. I can tell that it’s been there for years and years; there’s an air of homeliness, like it has blended completely with the surroundings, and it’s filled with people. Most of them are much older than Jimin and I — probably around our parents’ age, or maybe even older than that. From their relaxed, casual dressing, they seem to be villagers. A few men are chatting excitedly over white cups of coffee, but the other patrons are all eating, despite it being slightly late for lunch. Jimin and I sit at one of the two tables just beyond the threshold of the shop, which is the only one available. I shift in my seat a little, looking around for a menu. They’re usually displayed somewhere on the wall, or given on the tables, but I don’t see any. “Ah, you’re the one who called earlier, yes?” A middle- aged man comes over to our table, all smiles as he greets us.

“Oh, you remember me?” Jimin’s obvious surprise at being remembered has the man chuckling good-naturedly.

“Of course, we very rarely see foreigners all the way out here,” the man, later introducing himself as the owner, explains to us. “It’s not exactly a touristy place. There’s a university campus close by, and I bet not even half of them know about this restaurant!”

Neither of us know how to respond to that, but the owner seems more than happy with the customers he has. And from the lack of empty tables, I’m guessing this place is actually a local favourite — with the villagers, if not the students of the nearby campus. Small and out of the way it may be, but this restaurant has a certain charm to it. The menu turns out to be very simple; freshwater curry prawns, fried fish with three-flavoured sauce and stir-fried cabbage. We forgo the fish in favour of the prawns, which were caught just this morning, and is the signature dish, as well as the cabbage.

Thanks to the simple and limited menu, our food arrives at our table quickly. The owner recommended that we get bread to accompany our prawns instead of rice, and I’m glad we’d followed his advice. The slices of white bread are perfect for soaking up the curry, and the concentrated flavour married to the sweetness of the fresh prawns is nothing short of bliss. In his state of hunger, Jimin had ordered a daunting kilogram of prawns, and although it takes us a while to finish them, it’s not as gargantuan a task as I was afraid of when I first saw the plate. Washing down the food with some homemade sugar cane juice, I smack my lips happily at Jimin. “How did you find this place?”

“It was just a stroke of luck. I was scrolling through the phone while waiting for you to come back when I saw it.” It might have sounded like Jimin was trying to make me feel guilty if he didn’t say it with a nonchalant shrug and follow it with, “I was hoping to help you take your mind off of things.”

“Oh.” I don’t know what to say. It seems like I haven’t made such a blunder last night as I’d thought I did. He was so angry when he’d pushed me away then, even though he’d reciprocated the kiss for a bit. I’m sure I hadn’t imagined that. What was that all about then? Something tells me that it wouldn’t be a wise decision to ask, as much as I’m dying to find out. The last thing I want to do is to sour the mood once again, after Jimin had gone out of his way to make me feel better. It’s more than I deserve, after the way I’ve treated him. So I decide to just play along, ignoring the stronger feelings and questions burning away at me, like I always do. As long as I can keep being by Jimin’s side. The momentary lapse in judgement last night could have destroyed our friendship, but somehow we’re still here, eating and talking and laughing like nothing had happened. The enormous burden that the fear of losing Jimin had pressed on my chest eases off of it, now that I’m assured that things are back to normal. Although the niggling desire for something more remains there. Always there. “Thanks, Jimin.”

Jimin’s smile at my appreciation is more dazzling than the late afternoon sun behind us. The sight of it cements our friendship, now back to equilibrium. Our passionate kiss is to become a hazy, slightly drunk mistake, and will be swept under the rug to be forgotten forever, except in the innermost secret corner of my heart, where I tuck in the sweetest memories of myself with Jimin. Tiny, insignificant instances that are surely nothing to him, but are the most precious jewels of my life, to be taken out and admired whenever I’m at my lowest and loneliest. Or sometimes even when I’m not. 

A belly full is one of the easiest ways to make Jimin happy; next to praising him, and seeing him happy is definitely the simplest way to make me happy in turn. How can I not be, when presented with those bright giggles that eat up his whole body, always leaving his position on any chair in precarious balance, and scrunching up his face so adorably? Before I get lost in my thoughts of him again, I snap myself out of it by asking, “So, where to next, Mr. Tour Guide?”

My impromptu title for him jolts him into an upright position in his red plastic chair, immediately assuming a serious, business-like mien that has me in stitches. “Ahem,” he glares at me warningly, wanting me to play along. “Looks like we have–“ he takes a peek at his watch “–a bit of time left before dusk. But I think we should go soon.” Indeed, we had been sitting there for way past an hour, and the place is completely empty of other customers now. I wonder if the owner is keeping the shop open for our sake. Clearly Jimin is thinking the same thing, because he thanks the owner profusely as he pays for our meal before we leave the premises.

As Jimin skilfully manoeuvres the car out of the dead end, he playfully manoeuvres his way out of answering my increasingly insistent questions regarding our next destination. His refusal to tell me only digs my hole of curiosity deeper and deeper, however, I can’t help but laugh and wish that he doesn’t give in to my badgering. For Jimin to be this happily secretive; it must be a pleasant surprise, right? Despite myself, I’m starting to really look forward to the unknown evening plans.

Instead of going to the mysterious location, though, he drives us around the small town. As expected, there isn’t much for visitors to be interested in. “There is supposed to be a haunted mansion somewhere in here,” Jimin interrupts his tour-guide-like speech by breaking into an evil grin, the picture of the very devil with the dark orange and red hues of the sky colouring the background behind him. “Wanna go and see it?”

I don’t have to look at the rubber plantation on our left to imagine the horrors that await beyond the rows of rubber trees. “NO!” Finding Jimin’s raucous guffawing grating on my indignity, I pout petulantly at him. “Hmph. You laugh at me, but you don’t want to go either, do you?”

That was effective in getting him to stop. “You got me there.”

“Really, what would you have done if I’d said, ‘let’s go’? I bet you’d pee your pants!”

“No I wouldn’t!” It’s Jimin’s turn to be affronted. I have to bite the inside of my cheeks to keep myself from bursting with laughter. “I’d just say we don’t have enough time to visit it, because I’ve already made other arrangements.”

“Oh, have you now?” Every opportunity to tease him is a chance that cannot be wasted. “And is that really true?”

“No,” he admits unabashedly, drawing chuckles from both of us. Just like Jimin knows I’m not the greatest with ghosts, I’m perfectly aware of how easy it is to scare him. “The house has an interesting story to it though. It’s supposed to have ninety-nine doors.”

“Really?” Scaredy cat I may be, but I always love a good story regardless of the genre. Horror stories are always great – as long as I don’t have to watch, or heaven forbid, experience it myself. “I wonder how big it is, to have that many doors. It’s such a specific number though.”

Jimin shrugs, not knowing the answer to that and seemingly not caring enough to find out. “A witch doctor is supposed to be staying there now.”

“Oh?” Since Jimin has turned the car around, I peer at the trees now on my right, trying to catch a glimpse of the mansion in vain. “I wonder what happened to the owners.”

“Murdered, supposedly.”

With a shiver, I tear my gaze away from the shadows of the trees that had been hypnotically pulling me in. “Okay, let’s stop talking about it. It’s giving me the creeps.”

“Aww, sorry if I scared you.” Letting the car move at a snail’s pace along the empty road, Jimin strokes my hair gently. Normally my instinct would be to swipe his hand away, perhaps with a warning to not treat me like a child. However, his touch is oddly soothing, so I simply sit back in my seat, enjoying the comforting touch. It’s not often that Jimin would treat me as preciously as this. Better set aside my ego and make the most of it.

In no time at all, we’ve arrived at a parking lot next to the river. I don’t see the curry prawn restaurant anywhere, and I wonder if we’re currently on the other side. I’m pretty sure we crossed a bridge at some point. Jimin leads me out of the car and up some narrow steps to a small jetty. Sitting down along one of the edges with our legs hanging over the side, we settle down to gaze at the beautiful sunset. “I was going to book a sunset cruise, but I wasn’t sure if we’d get here in time for that.”

“Sorry,” I apologise again in a small voice. Although it isn’t Jimin’s intention to make me feel bad, I can’t get over my guilt. I’m sure if the tables were turned, I’d be completely livid with him. So to have him treat me this kindly makes me feel doubly worse. “I don’t know what came over me.” At least that’s the truth. After managing to reign my feelings for Jimin in for so long, to have it all spill in the span of one night was beyond careless. It’s unbelievable.

Lucky for me, Jimin remains mostly oblivious to the whole thing. “It’s okay. I’d be out of sorts too,  if my girlfriend did to me what Se Hoon did to you.” Jimin tries to lay his hand on my shoulder, but I move away.

“Your girlfriend?”

“Yeah, I mean, hypothetically.”

“Oh.” My idiocy knows no bounds. I settle down again next to him, trying to play it off like I was just surprised that he had a girlfriend that I didn’t know of. It wouldn’t be the first time that he’s had one, but he had always told me about them. It pained me to listen, every single time, but I did anyway, because in a perverse way, I wanted to know about the girls that Jimin is into. Not that any of it matters. Nothing would change the fact that he isn’t interested in me. Even after everything that had transpired last night; after I’d told him that he’d rejected me before I could even tell him how I feel, after that kiss – especially after that kiss – he still doesn’t realise. That’s how little thought he has given to having me as someone more than just a friend. Zero thought. He just thinks that I’m unstable and vulnerable after a bad breakup and is trying to be a good friend. My wandering hand finds a small pebble on the dusty and less than clean jetty, and throws it into the river with all my might. That’s what I need right now. A good friend. Yeah.

All in all, I suppose I have to be grateful. At least things haven’t become awkward between us. I can even almost enjoy the gradual darkening of the sky as the wisps of colour dissipate into the overwhelming dark blues and blacks. Not far behind us, lights from the building next to the jetty battle against the darkness, illuminating the river and trees beyond. “What’s that place?” I wonder aloud.

“A café,” Jimin replies, catching me by surprise. I didn’t expect him to know. Peering at the two-story building curiously, I see waiters seating some customers at a table on the space on the first floor, which is left open to the elements.

“It looks nice.”

“I’m glad you think so.” There is a note of relief in Jimin’s voice. “I booked a table for us, for dinner later.”

“Didn’t we eat just a few hours ago?” Trust Jimin to want to eat again so soon. I can still taste the thick curry on my tongue as I laugh and shake my head at him.

“No, no, you got it all wrong.” He levels his serious gaze at me. “I believe it’s already been a few hours since we last ate.”

Trying not to spray saliva all over him, I curl my lips down in an effort to hold in my mirth. “Is that why we’re here, then?”

“No, actually we – oh! Speak of the devil.” His words are interrupted as our space is invaded by a man who looks like he hasn’t slept in a year. Despite his tired appearance, he’s still all smiles. “Mr. Jimin?” He inquires.

“Yes, that’s me,” Jimin confirms. “I was starting to worry that you’re not coming.”

“Sorry for being late! My wife was supposed to wake me up from my nap, but then between cooking and our son, I was forgotten.” Jimin and I exchange amused glances. Looks like I wasn’t the only one who thought that the man could do with some sleep. “But that’s okay, since it’s just the two of you today, I’d say we’re right on time. Let’s go.”

“Go where?” I whisper to Jimin as the man leads us down the jetty and into a boat, which can easily accommodate at least six people, but will apparently only bring the three of us tonight.

“You’ll see,” Jimin sits next to me and squeezes my hand, determined to not give anything away. If I was told that I’d be getting in a small boat with a stranger in the middle of nowhere, shrouded by the cloak of darkness a few days ago, I’d be alarmed. However, Jimin’s presence changes the experience into an exciting, mysterious adventure.

And we’re off.

The boat glides away from the jetty and the lights of the café, further and further into the ghostly arms of the shadows, barely making any noise. Soon, the river widens, and we can no longer see any signs of civilisation. Only the moon, a whisper away from being full, and the glinting stars offer any glowing relief to the endless blackness, made even darker by the trees lining the riverbank. “These are mangrove trees, called berembang,” our tour guide gestures to the crowding trees clustered together, shielding everything on land from view. I doubt I would be able to see anything but branches and leaves even if we came during the day.

But we’re here at night, and a different sight awaits us.

Our guide steers us close to the riverbank, and stops the boat. “Anytime now,” he informs us cryptically, and I take a look around. What are we supposed to see? With the meagre illumination from the moon and the stars, most of the trees remain in eerie shadows. I silently hope that we’re not on some ghost-hunting expedition. For a split second, I feel panic rising within, but then I remember that there’s no way Jimin would want to go for such an experience either.

Then I see it. A blinking light, so soft and unworldly that I thought I’m seeing things. Before I can pull on Jimin’s shirt to ask him if he saw what I’d seen, I see another small, flickering glow. And another. And another. Suddenly we’re surrounded by them; tiny lights that shine brightly, suddenly from seemingly random locations, making the trees around us glitter like Christmas trees. “Wow!” I whisper in awe.

“Fireflies,” Jimin breathes into my ear, his hushed tone pulling me in against him, unthinkingly wanting to be close to him in such a magical world that we’ve been suspended in. Their light joins the reflection of the stars in the river. Our very own stars on earth. With Jimin’s arm holding me tightly and the ethereal scenery all around us, it’s hard to tell if I’m awake or if I’m  in the most amazing dream I’ve ever had. The same gentle light from the fireflies that juxtaposes with the inky blackness of the night also casts an angelic glow over Jimin’s features, taking my breath away. There’s something in the atmosphere that makes me feel closer to him than usual, and that makes the whole experience even more dreamlike. My hand stretches out to touch the marvels of nature, but even if I can reach them, I can’t bear to actually brush against them for fear of hurting such minute, wondrous creatures, or bring myself back to the real world. So we watch them in silence for a while, until the tour guide breaks the moment by asking if we’re ready to go back.

It feels like time has stopped while we were on our journey, but in reality, only about an hour has passed. Part of me wanted to stay there forever, surrounded by glimmering lights, where real life feels so far away. To be with Jimin, just the two of us. The lights from the café next to the jetty, while not exceptionally bright, are jarring in comparison to the gentle twinkling of the fireflies. I almost refuse to get off the boat. However, all good things must come to an end, and I let Jimin help me out of the boat and lead me to the café.

“Are you hungry?” He asks after we’re seated at one of the tables on the open first floor.

“Mmm, not really,” I muse as I thumb through the menu. Majority of the food here is of the western variety, and although I do enjoy it, I’m still full of the prawn from earlier. Mostly I’m eager to hold on to the memories of the boat ride. Irrationally, I’m afraid that having a meal would distract me and cause the warmth of Jimin’s embrace as well as the magic of the fireflies to slip through my fingers.

“Neither am I,” Jimin sighs with regret, clearly wishing that he could fit some more food into his stomach. With an eye roll, I tell him that I’m not surprised – he ate the lion’s share of the prawns, and there was way more than what two people could normally eat. “Maybe we can share a cake.”

“Ooooh, cake!” His suggestion is met with enthusiasm on my part. Although I’m loathe to share my dessert with anyone, Jimin is – a very, very occasional – exception, and my stomach is panicking at the thought of being stuffed with more food, so I relent. The burnt cheesecake we choose makes me regret having to share a little. It’s downright heavenly; I can probably eat all the slices available if I don’t mind the button of my jeans popping right off. Thankfully, Jimin is fuller than I am, and gives up after about two small bites. “Are you sure you don’t want any more?” This is a treat that warrants opening up that extra stomach I know we all have for dessert, but at the same time, I slyly hope that he doesn’t take me up on my offer.

Shaking his head, he gestures for me to finish it. Quick as lightning, I pull the plate towards my side of the table gleefully. Now that I don’t have to share it with anyone, I can take my time to savour it. In my excitement, I don’t sense Jimin’s intent gaze on me until I’m about halfway through the slice. Realising that I must look like a complete and utter glutton, I pause and smile at him sheepishly, trying to wipe off any crumbs as inconspicuously as I can. Trying to cover my embarrassment, my mind races for something to say. “Thank you for such a great day.” I can’t believe I didn’t think about telling him this until now. He must have put a lot of thought into this, and at the last minute, too.

Those words bring the most tender expression I’ve ever seen grace Jimin’s face. My breath stills for a moment to give my brain a chance to process and commit the sight to memory. “Everyone needs to feel loved once in a while, right?” This is the first time I’ve heard him say such a thing so seriously, without it sounding like an off-handed comment. He always makes these sort of statements like it’s an insignificant matter, sometimes literally waving the words away with his hand in the air as he says them. However, the look in his eyes is intense, as if I’m the only thing he can see. It helps his words come across — I do feel very loved. Maybe not in the way I’m hoping from him, but loved nevertheless. At least that’s what I think, until he continues, “And if I could, I want to cherish you always.”

This is the problem I have with Jimin. Biting my tongue to keep from asking him to elaborate his statement, I try to not get my hopes up. He’s forever uttering things that make me feel special, while I know he doesn’t mean anything by them. His rejection from years ago is as clear in my mind as if it happened yesterday. Yet to this day I still can’t get over him, even after being forced to hear the bitter truth ages ago. “Thanks.” Lowering my gaze towards my plate to hide my tears, I stab at the cake. Suddenly the delicious dessert doesn’t look so appealing anymore. “You don’t need to go this far just because you feel bad for me though. I’m a big girl. I can handle a breakup or two.”

My statement, heavily injected with denial, is met with complete silence. Nervously, I lift my head, chancing a glance at him out of curiosity. His soft features have been rearranged to one of... anger? Frustration? He’s taking deep breaths, as if to calm himself down. At the moment, he’s about to burst into a tirade, which occasionally happens when I do something stupid that warrants a scolding from him. But this time, for some reason, he’s trying to hold it in. While I’ve never relished being reprimanded like a child, no matter how much I deserve it, funnily enough, I find myself eager to find out what he’s trying so hard to keep in. “I didn’t do any of this because I feel bad for you,” he grinds out between his teeth — even after cooling down somewhat, he’s unable to completely contain his vexation. If this is his tempered down version, what had he originally meant to say? “It’s only because you’ve broken up that I can do this. I’ve always wanted to indulge you. All the time if I could, but you’ve always had a boyfriend, haven’t you? I didn’t want to cause trouble.”

Okay, this is seriously maddening. How am I supposed to get over him when he frequently sends mixed signals through his words and actions? Sometimes I really want to grab him by the shoulders, shake him hard and demand him to treat me like a friend since he only sees me as one. I like to tell myself that he treats me differently than his other female friends when I watch him interact with them, but I cannot convince myself that this is true. I know I can’t look at them objectively. What if I’m fantasising by myself, fancying that he treats me better, when in reality he behaves similarly towards everyone, and I’m just seeing him with rose-tinted lenses? I really hate myself when I’m like this. When it comes to Jimin, my logic lays down the hard truth mercilessly, but my wishful side can never fully accept it, encouraging me to indulge in useless visions of us together. 

Out of reflex more than anything else, I laugh self-deprecatingly. If imagining being with Jimin would bring me the most pain, then I’ll just focus on everything else. Even if that may hurt me as well. Nothing can be as bad as being rejected by him. And thanks to my brain reminding me that he doesn’t want me everytime I fantasise about us, I’ve felt the pain of rejection again and again, even if it’s all replayed memories in my own head. “Being single sucks,” I try to make it out as a joke, stabbing at the cake, picturing Se Hoon’s face there and maiming him repeatedly. It’s nowhere near as satisfying as it would be to do it to the real thing. He’s the reason Jimin is here now, so close to me for such a long duration while I’m single and vulnerable. Fucking Se Hoon. “It just reminds me that I’m not good enough for the guy I really want.”

“That guy must be the stupidest person on Earth,” Jimin quips loyally at once. I keep my head down so he doesn’t see me roll my eyes at his ignorant statement. How can he be so dense? The most devastating moment of my life, doled out by the person I love most, my best friend, and he doesn’t even remember that he was the one who’d said that.

Jimin and I have known each other since we were in kindergarten, but I have no idea how long it has been since I fell in love with him. It’s just one of those emotions that builds up gradually, so subtly that you don’t notice until one day; BAM! You realise that you love him and there’s no turning back. But even back then, before the rejection,  we’d grown really close, and I wasn’t sure if it was wise to jeopardise our friendship by coming clean about my romantic feelings for him.

It turned out that my hesitation was for the best, because Jimin made his feelings for me crystal clear in our second year of high school. He doesn’t know that I’m aware of it, though, since I’d heard my name being mentioned by one of his friends as I was approaching, and quietly hid against the wall around the corner to eavesdrop on their conversation.

Jimin’s then-new-girlfriend was with the group, being harassed by one of his friends, Ji Woo. Although I can’t remember who she was, or even her face, I do remember feeling some satisfaction over the fact that Jimin’s friends didn’t like her. It was a feeling that I shared. “I’m surprised you’re with her, Jimin,” Ji Woo had commented, not at all caring that she was right there with them. “When there’s already a perfect girl for you.”

“Really?” Jimin had pressed the button on the vending machine, and I’d heard the loud clanking sound of his drink being dropped into the hatch. “And who is it? Must have walked right by me.”

“He means your best friend, you dumbass,” another one of Jimin’s friends, Ha Rim, had filled him in. His then-girlfriend had made an outraged sound at hearing Jimin’s friends promote me to replace her, but no one other than Jimin seemed to pay her any attention. They were acting like only thin air was present where she stood, which was a good indication of how annoying she was. I never understood what Jimin had seen in her. True, she was extremely pretty, but other than that, she had no redeeming qualities. Peeking out of my corner, I’d seen Jimin rub her shoulder placatingly as he’d chuckled.

He’d said my name in a disbelieving tone, as if the idea of me being his girlfriend was so ridiculous that it was out of this world. The way he’d said it echoed in my mind for many weeks after that. I could still hear it in my head sometimes. “She’s one of us, yeah? You don’t fuck a bro, that’s gross.”

“I don’t know if she’d appreciate you treating her like one of the ‘bros’, Jimin,” Ha Rim had rebuked him gently, but it didn’t change Jimin’s mind. He’d just shrugged, not willing to get into an argument with them.

“Whatever it is, she’s just not girlfriend material.”

I hadn’t stayed to hear anything else after that, since I’d fled from the scene, afraid that my sobs would break out and they would discover me. Since then I’d done everything I could think of to get over him, but nothing had worked. All my boyfriends were just distractions, temporary fixes to the gaping hole in my heart that could never be filled.

“How I wish he knew that,” I say cryptically. A savage laugh bubbles up my throat, hearing Jimin unknowingly call himself stupid, but I refrain myself. My rage over his befuddling attitude still manages to sour the delectable dessert, and I shove down the rest of it. Before the day is completely ruined, it’s better if we return to the hotel. 

Being the dense dummy that he is, Jimin doesn’t notice that anything’s amiss, and we get into the car to drive back without incident. The bridge back to the island isn’t too far off from the small town and soon we’re on it once more. “There’s another bridge connecting the island to the mainland, you know,” Jimin breaks the more-or-less comfortable silence with this little tidbit of information.

“I know. You can see it from this bridge.” It makes me look to my right, past Jimin in the direction of the first bridge, just to double-check if I can see it from here. I’m sure I saw it during the day, but it’s a completely different scene now that it’s nighttime. The orange lamps overhead lighting our way along the second bridge are dull, but the same ones appear romantic and beautiful after a stretch of darkness in between the two bridges, illuminating the first bridge. Is the view of the second bridge just as pretty if we were to look at it from the first one? I’m not sure, but I’m content with enjoying the view from here.

“Then do you know that this is the longest bridge in Malaysia?” Jimin’s voice draws my eyes back from the distance to the man being outlined by the scenery I’ve been staring at. Unlike the flickering glow of the fireflies, the bulbs shine relentlessly from afar, never giving up on irradiating Jimin’s face. While not quite the same view, these lights make him look just as dazzling as he had in the boat. A halo of soft backlight, juxtaposing against the night to bathe him in their radiance.

Although I’ve been staring at him like an idiot, or perhaps because I’m proving myself a veritable one, only when he calls my name does it dawn on me that we’re having a conversation. Well, sort of. I’m not really in a chatty mood, but he has been making stabs at sparking up a discussion. “Uh,” I grunt without thinking, then mentally hit myself for pushing myself further down the ‘being a dummy’ road.

“What does that mean?” Jimin laughs, sparing me a quick glance before turning his focus back on the road. The windsocks are blowing merrily in a perpendicular direction to the mostly straight lanes, and Jimin is taking care not to drive too fast. It’s hard for me to ensure that we’re not speeding when there are hardly any cars around to compare our speed to. I can almost believe that Jimin and I are the only ones in this world, on a never-ending road surrounded by the sea. “Do you know or not?”

“No.” My eyes shift away as I answer, since I have no idea what I don’t know. Which is a fair answer – either I didn’t hear what he’d asked me, or I simply got distracted and forgot. Both sounds highly likely. Sensing a risk of him further probing me on whatever topic it is and figuring out that I haven’t been paying attention, I roll down the car window, hoping some fresh air will clear my mind.

Boy, is that a wrong decision. A strong, unrelenting gust of wind immediately blasts into the car. Jimin’s surprised yelp is barely heard over the loud howl from the sea, exacerbated by the speed we’re going at. Before the window has even reached halfway down, I pull the tiny lever the other way, quickly closing it back up.

“What was that?” As soon as soothing quiet fills the car again, Jimin demands to know the reason behind my inexplicable actions. While he doesn’t sound angry, it’s obvious that he’s genuinely concerned. I can’t blame him, after everything that’s been happening since last night. “You’ve been acting really weird.”

My reflection on the window on my side of the car shows a frowning woman with mussed hair chewing nervously on her bottom lip, brows fused together in confusion and frustration. “I feel out of it. But I’m not sure why.” This much is true. After suppressing my feelings for Jimin successfully since I was in school, why are they surfacing now? If I’ve known that we will never end up together for just as long, why is the pain becoming unbearable now? How can one kiss cause my world to implode? The emotional roller coaster has wrung me out and left me completely bewildered. Everything is so jumbled up inside my head that I’m not even sure where to even begin unravelling the mess.

At first Jimin doesn’t respond, which is understandable. I wouldn’t know what to say to such a vague statement either. We eventually reach the other end of the bridge. The scenery morphs from a dreamy wonderland to cold reality, with factories lining up the side of the road, replacing the endless sea. “Who’s that guy?”

“What guy?” This time I’m sure I haven’t been wrapped in my own thoughts, yet I still can’t make the head or tail of whatever Jimin is asking. Maybe I’ve lost all my wits for the second night in a row, even though this time there isn’t a drop of alcohol in me.

“The one that you want,” he clarifies bluntly.

What am I supposed to answer? ‘It’s you, stupid’?

Not wanting to make the rest of the ride more awkward than it is, I shrug. “Just a guy.” Just the kindest, perfect, heart-warming, densest guy.

Up until he parks the car next to the hotel, Jimin attempts to wear down my defenses, unwilling to leave his curiosity unsatisfied since I don’t fly off the handle or directly ask him to stop. Truthfully, the urge to tell him is becoming stronger by the minute. The dam holding my feelings back has become strained without my noticing. Just one more drop of persuasion threatens to loosen my tongue.

After making sure that I’ve gotten out of the car safely and closed the door, he locks the car. However, when he starts walking towards the hotel, I follow him at a much slower pace, lagging behind. Alternating between looking at the ground and his lean back. It doesn’t take long for him to notice that I’m getting farther and farther away from him; my slowing and fainting footsteps are a giveaway. Unsurprisingly, he turns back, wanting to return for me. However, his approach only heightens my nervousness. “Do you really want to know who he is?” I blurt out when he’s about a meter away from me. If he gets any closer, I don’t think I’ll be able to gather the courage to say it.

Thankfully, he stops at my question. Sensing my vulnerability. Like a bewildered, terrified animal, wary of anyone getting closer. “Of course, if you’re okay with sharing with me.”

Before I can change my mind or rethink my decision, I take the plunge. “It’s you.”

“Huh?” Why is he acting shocked? I think angrily, unfairly. He has no right to be surprised by this. This is not supposed to be news to him. “I’m the one? That you’re not good enough for?”

“It’s you, Jimin. You’re the one I want to be with.” Damn it, my voice is already cracking. But now that I’ve started, I can’t stop. All the things I’ve bottled up inside have become hot and angry from the constantly added pressure of being kept secret for so long. At this point, I might hate myself more than I love him. I hate myself because I still love him. “Isn’t it laughable? Even though you already made it clear that I’m not good enough for you from the beginning, I still can’t move on.”

Horrified by the words rushing like waterfall from my mouth, I try to escape, but Jimin catches my arm as I stride past him. I would have stumbled if his grip wasn’t so strong. In contrast to his strength, the street lamp is enough for me to see that all colour has drained from his face. “I would have never said such a thing. When did I say that?” His challenging words come out in an intense whisper, like he can’t believe he ever did such a thing and yet unsure if he hadn’t.

“I don’t know. High school, maybe?” It’s too late but I still play it off as if it isn’t a big deal. Like I don’t remember every detail of that excruciating incident vividly. “I’m not girlfriend material, and you made sure Ji Woo and Ha Rim know that too. And.. someone-or-other girl. Whoever it was you were dating back then. Can’t remember her name.”

I didn’t think it was possible for Jimin to grow paler, but he does, and his hold on me loosens as well. Not wanting to hear an insincere apology years too late, or worse, an encore of how I’m not girlfriend material, I yank myself out of his grasp and practically run into the safety of the building.

Once I’m ensconced in the relative safety of our room, I sit on the edge of the bed and take three deep breaths before panicking. What have I done?! It doesn’t look like Jimin pursued me inside, but he’s going to come in sooner or later. What will I say to him then? How will I ever face him again?

Sighing, I let my body slump dejectedly. I shouldn’t have said anything. Ever. I’ve always known that, but all the pent-up emotions have accumulated for far too long, and under constant continuous stress on this trip, they finally spilled over. And I had to choose the worst time and place to do it — in a foreign country where I have no place to run to. Just as I’m berating myself for that particular bit of foolishness, I hear the outside door to our room open and close. Belatedly realising that I should have searched for a place to hide before agonising over my recent mistakes, I get into a frenzy, whipping my head around every which way, desperately looking for a hole to crawl into.

That’s how Jimin finds me with my arms stretched wide, holding the doors to the wardrobe open, and one of my legs inside the furniture. “Uh.” Not the first time a dumb monosyllable is all I can think of today, but still, way to go.

“What are you doing?” Seeing my crazy antics, Jimin’s tortured expression rearranges into a befuddled one.

“Uhm, nothing.” Climbing out of the furniture, I pretend that I walk out of closets every day of my life. It doesn’t help ease the awkwardness after I close the doors and lean on them, though. I don’t trust myself to not say any more stupid things, and it looks like Jimin doesn’t know what to say either. But he does have something to say, if the way he opens his mouth, pauses, then closes it again is any indication. Seeing this, I keep quiet, waiting for him to figure out where to start. I’m not sure if I’m going to like anything he has to say, but short of jumping out of the balcony, I don’t see any way to escape from him. I cast a longing gaze at the door leading to it, wondering if it’s at all possible.

After what feels like an eternity, Jimin hesitantly hedges, “Uhm, can we… talk?”

I nod, still not trusting my verbal communication skills.

Jimin walks further into the room to take a seat at the edge of the bed, less than two meters from the wardrobe, and I have to fight the urge to distance myself from him. He inhales deeply, loud enough for me to hear, and finally starts. “Look, I’m really sorry about what I said back then. I didn’t even remember that it happened.”

“Of course you didn’t. It didn’t happen to you,” I bite out. Even though I can see that he’s beating himself up over it, I can’t help but drive the nail a little deeper. It has been a wound that has always festered under the surface, never healing.

“You’re right.” Jimin’s ready admission makes me feel slightly bad for being mean over it. “I have no excuse. It was a horrible thing to say. And it wasn’t true at all.”

“It wasn’t?” Damn it, I’m not supposed to be happy about it! Getting my hopes up over just a few vague words is only going to screw me over again, but I can’t stop myself from being elated. Did I mishear him? Did I misunderstand him somehow? So many lessons and I clearly haven’t learnt anything at all.

With a shake of his head, he explains; “Back then I was a dumb kid with raging hormones, and all I could think about was fucking everything that moved. Heh.” He lowers his head and scratches the back of it sheepishly, aware of how immature and shallow he was. Involuntarily, I soften at his words and actions, with his hair getting messy from his vigorous haphazard brushing. “You’ve never been someone that I want to simply fool around with. I might not have been smart enough to realise how special you are back then, but I knew that much. I must have said that to get that girl to go out with me. You, not being good enough for me – that’s ridiculous. If anything, I’m not good enough for you.”

“Oh.” Despite wishing for something like this, now that it has become reality, I can hardly believe it. “So me not being girlfriend material–“

“Was not true at all.” Jimin leans forward to take my right hand, securing it in both of his. He turns up his eyes at me, silently pleading for me to understand. To forgive him. And my defences against Jimin have always been paper-thin. “Is still not true. God.” He hangs his head again in defeat, slightly pulling me towards him as he sags against the bed. “It can’t be more opposite than that. You’re the one I’ve been in love with for the longest time.”

“What?” I try to breathe, but the air is lost somewhere in my lungs.

Instead of answering, Jimin stands up. The sudden movement startles me, especially as it puts him just inches away from me. The warmth is not just from our connected hands now, but I can feel it radiating from his whole body in the coolness of the air-conditioned room. His words coupled with his nearness make me even hotter – probably even more than the scorching outdoors in Penang during the day. When he reaches up to softly caress the side of my face, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear, I can’t be sure that I haven’t self-combusted. “You’ve become more than my best friend for ages. I might have even loved you since we were in school. Hell, I don’t know.” Taking another step forward, he closes the little distance left between us to lean his head against my shoulder. Facing this completely unexpected progress, I stand there stiffly, not knowing what else to do except trying not to lose my head. “I wanted to tell you so many times, but you’ve always had a boyfriend hanging around. Every time I swore I’d tell you once you broke up, but before I could work up the courage to say anything you’ve already found a new one. You never considered me, so I thought you just didn’t think of me that way. I guess I know why now.” Lifting his head, he stares into my eyes earnestly. I can’t look away even if I wanted to. His face is etched with regret, and yet I can see hope buried in his eyes. It mirrors the hope I’ve always felt. I just didn’t know that he felt the same way. “I’m really sorry for being a dick.”

A bubble of horrified laughter bursts out at hearing him describe himself as such. Trust Jimin to mend my bruised heart so easily, and break such a heavy moment by sort-of-playfully bashing himself. He deserves it, but now knowing that I’ve put him through similar anguish, I can’t stay mad at him for long. “It’s okay,” I say with a teary smile.

“Well, the cat’s out of the bag now. I love you.” He cocks his head, then asks, “You’re single now, right?”

Another string of gleeful laughter fills the room. “I am,” I confirm.

“Would you do me the honour of being my girlfriend, then?”

“I would.”

“Finally,” he sighs in relief, and my next round of giggles is lost somewhere between our lips as Jimin kisses me. If our first kiss was incredible, this one is a hundred times better. With no more doubts plaguing my mind, I can give all of myself into my love for Jimin. Just as he’s giving to me. At first he cups my face in his hands, tilting his head to deepen our kiss. In the hazy air of passion, it’s unclear who started to open up beyond the joining of our lips. I know he traced the line between my lips at some point, but I also sucked on his full bottom lip that has always, always caught my attention. Among his many flattering features, it’s the one that has always struck me as striking. A guy shouldn’t have such seductive, plump lips that no woman can resist.

Soon his hand is pressing me to him from the nape of my neck, like I’m not close enough to him. He needs to bring me closer. Our tongues dance with each other, within our mouths like they’re dark, dangerous ballrooms, before things get more intense, and these caverns morph into wet, sweaty arenas, where we wrestle out our lust. In a match that is a win-win for both players, where the energy only heightens, never ending. The palm covering my cheek moves so his arm can wrap against my waist, crushing me against him. Every part of my body is touching his, sending tremors of excitement from outside in. I huff against his mouth, out of breath, but past caring. I just want Jimin. More of him. All of him. And then some more.

From the looks of things, Jimin doesn’t want to let me go either. A tell-tale bulge is impossible to miss, but when I feel it pressing against me, a modicum of sense nudges against my muggy brain. Regretfully breaking the kiss, I pant out, “We should… take… a shower,” in between fighting my lungs for air.

Jimin’s groan ends in a whine that usually gets him what he wants. “Do we have to?”

“We should. I’m all sweaty.” Being outside most of the day has left me sticky. It’s one of those things that you can’t forget or ignore once you’ve noticed it, and I’m starting to feel uncomfortable. What’s going to transpire between Jimin and I is a no-brainer, and I don’t want my first time with him to be when I’m smelling of sweat.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty sure I’m going to sweat either way.” Unwilling to stop for something as trivial as cleaning up when we’re bound to get dirty again, Jimin slips his hand under my shirt, attempting to get me to agree with him.

However, I will not be deterred, even if my moan at his palm stroking the side of my body doesn’t sound very convincing. “Please, Jimin. It would make me feel better.”

This time Jimin’s groan is one of defeat. “Fine.” Honestly, I’m surprised that he relented so easily. I never really noticed how much he normally gives up for me. Perhaps I only notice when he’s whining like a child on the occasions where he really doesn’t want to give in, so I thought that he always gets his way. But if I really stop to think about it, he rarely pulls such an act – most of the time he actually listens to what I want, or outright asks me, and goes along with whatever I wish. Heart swelling with renewed affection, I nod without hesitation when he tugs against the hem of my shirt. “May I?”

Baring the tops of my breasts by removing my shirt, he can’t seem to stop himself from ogling them in my bra. Pushing so my back is against the closet, he dips his mouth against the skin available to him as his fingers fiddle with the clasp of my bra. Once the garment is loosened, he all but pulls it off, tossing to the floor, so he can move on to my nipples. “Jimin!” My cry for him is from pleasure, but he mistakes it as a warning.

“Just… for a little bit.” My right nipple pucker under the ministrations of his tongue, growing stiff more quickly than it takes for him to unbutton and unzip my jeans, dragging them onto the floor with my panties. It’s all happening so fast. I haven’t even processed the fact that I’m now completely naked before him, in the dimness of the room filled only by a lone lamp in the corner I’d switched on when I came in. He slips his knee between my legs, spreading them apart. What his words cannot achieve; lowering my defenses, is being threatened by the difference between the texture of his jeans and the smoothness of my bare legs.

And Jimin, that devil, knows this very well. Propping his leg up against the sturdy wooden wardrobe, he brings it into contact with my exposed center. The friction draws a moan from me instantly, and without prompting, I begin to rub against him like a deranged nymphomaniac, seeking traction from the rough material against my pussy. He hasn’t even touched me there, yet I’m already wet enough to lubricate my movements against his muscular thigh. Each stroke stimulates countless sparks that shakes my body like electricity. I know I should stop, but I can’t. Latching on to his upper arms, I lift my head up to look at him imploringly. “Jimin… please.” Right now I’m not even sure what I’m asking from him.

There must be something on my face that makes him look at me with blazing fire in his eyes, before swooping down to brand another soul-searing kiss on my lips. How am I supposed to hold myself back when he’s holding me so closely, when his hard muscles encourage me to move my hips even faster, when he takes my lips like he wants to inhale my very soul into his body? It hasn’t taken much, but I’m already trembling with my impending orgasm. “Fuck,” Jimin spits out, abruptly wrenching himself away from me. My feet land flat against the floor as I howl in protest at having my high yanked away from me.

He doesn’t listen to my objections. Instead he grabs my hand and pulls me in the direction of the bathroom, his free one working furiously to tear his own clothes off. His haste almost makes him trip at the threshold of the bathroom as he attempts to step out of his jeans. My horrified chuckle at this is met with an impatient, don’t-you-dare-laugh glare, which makes it even harder to hold back my mirth.

“Get in,” he growls so ferociously that I stumble backwards, laughter gulped down as my body follows the motion of his chin. Predatory eyes burn holes along my body, suddenly making me self-conscious of my nakedness, but not for long. My own gaze is fixed on him as he moves forward, the clumsiness from a second ago replaced by panther-like steps, only pausing to take off his underwear in a far smoother move than he did his jeans. For the second time, I gulp; on my saliva this time, upon seeing his erection spring out from its confines. While his length looks average, his girth has me excited and apprehensive at the same time. He steps into the glass cubicle, backing me up against the wall, and closes the door separating the shower from the rest of the bathroom behind him. The shower is spacious enough for two people to fit comfortably inside, yet I somehow find myself cornered like a trapped animal. “Well, what are you waiting for?” he asks edgily. “You wanted to shower, didn’t you?” He reaches around me to turn it on.

A stream of cold water hitting my skin makes me gasp, forming goose bumps that are soothed away once it warms to the temperature that Jimin has set. As incensed as I am by the unexpected shift in our relationship and Jimin’s enthusiasm, I’m comforted by having the grime and sweat of the day being washed away.

Jimin’s mind isn’t as easily distracted though. Pressing me up against the wall facing the shower head, he envelops my lips in another fervent kiss. I’m more than happy to give in to it, wrapping my arms around his neck, but instead of holding me, he extends his reach towards the soap, pumping a generous amount of viscous liquid into his palm. “Looks like I’m going to have to help you wash if I want to move things along,” he mutters against my lips.

His soapy palms move slowly down, from my neck, branching outwards along my clavicles then dip down to cup my breasts. My breathing grows heavy as he massages them. Moans start forming in the back of my throat when he begins paying attention to my nipples, flicking them almost playfully with his thumbs. He doesn’t remain there long enough for me, one of his hands continuing down my stomach to the apex of my thighs. “Funny, I’d say it’s wetter here than my whole body.” He rubs his fingers against my folds, as if inspecting them. I can’t argue; even though most of the shower water is hitting his back, my pussy is arguably wetter than he is, and I’m pretty sure it’s not from the pipes.

Without warning, Jimin pushes his index finger in, eliciting a startled gasp from me. “So wet,” he crows delightedly at how easily it slips in. “Do you think you can fit another one in here?” He doesn’t wait for my response before cramming another finger in, making me whimper in pleasure. “You like how it feels?” I nod, turning my face away in embarrassment. It doesn’t deter Jimin. He simply whispers in my exposed ear, “You want me to fuck you with my fingers?”

Yes. I want it so badly, yet to say the words is mortifying, so I nod again. Jimin tsk-tsks disapprovingly at my refusal to vocalise my answer. “Communication is key to a relationship, you know,” he teases, pushing his fingers in up to his knuckles, but refusing to move them any more. “How am I supposed to know what you want if you won’t tell me?”

This cruelly taunting side of Jimin is new to me. I can’t say that I hate it. Not when it’s turning me on so much. “Please Jimin,” I plead with him. “Fuck me with your fingers.”

Tilting his head to the side, Jimin puts on a show of considering my plea. Then he shakes his head, and I know that he never intended to do it in the first place. “No, I don’t think I will.” Leaning forward, he nibbles at my earlobe, telling me, “I’d rather taste you instead.”

Getting the full brunt of the jet of water from the shower when Jimin suddenly kneels at my feet, I sputter in surprise. Jimin uses my momentary confusion to spread my legs even further apart so he can bury his face between them. “Oh!” My hands fly to grasp at his wet hair, holding on for dear life as he goes all out from the get-go. Easily capturing my clit between his lips, he sucks hard, making my knees buckle and my previously unfulfilled orgasm rush back with a vengeance. “Jimin!!” He’s relentlessly alternating between flicking the tiny bud with the tip of his tongue and trying to suck it right off, and I can’t withstand his attack. Flick, flick, flick. And then suck, as hard as he can. In less than a minute I’ve lost completely, making him bear my weight as I cum violently. If he isn’t holding me up by the waist, I probably would’ve collapsed, maybe even slipped in the wet cubicle. Without missing a beat, he releases my clit to run his tongue along my slit, lapping up every drop of his victorious spoils and prolonging my orgasm.

Standing up, he maintains his hold on me, which I appreciate because I still don’t trust the strength of my legs. “You okay?” I can barely register his question in the hazy aftermath of my orgasm, but I manage to nod. Jimin pumps more soap to wash me with as I recover, then swiftly washes himself. Once he determines that both of us are clean enough, he turns the water off. “Can we go now?” He asks, wrapping his arms around me so he can rub his dick, which has grown slightly soft, against my belly. It’s unfair that he’s pushing his advantage like that. Just doing this is getting me aroused again.

As much as I want to get out as soon as we can, there is unfortunately one thing that we need to do first. “Jimin, we should dry our hair. Otherwise we’ll catch a chill.”

Relenting after letting out only one dissatisfied huff indicates that he agrees with me. It doesn’t mean that he’s happy with it. I smother a smile at his adorable childishness, which is a stark contrast to what he was just doing to me in the shower, and what he wants to skip all these small details to do to me in bed. By the time I’ve wrapped myself in a towel, he’s already by the socket next to the sink, hair dryer in hand. “Hurry, hurry,” he urges, pointing the device on full blast to my face.

“Ooof!” Instinctively squeezing my eyes shut to protect them from the powerful gust of warm air, I blindly swipe in his direction, hoping to smack Jimin for his immature prank and the mischievous guffawing that comes with it. Once Jimin directs the nozzle back towards his own hair and out of my face, I fix him a glare, which he returns with a Cheshire grin. He rakes his fingers through his hair roughly, anxious to be done with it. Sure enough, he finishes in record time. “Come on, let’s do you.” He tries to turn me around, but I refuse the offer, giving his messy job, with soft strands sticking up every which way, a pointed look.

“I’ll do it myself, thanks.”

Wisely deciding that handing me the hair dryer will be quicker than trying to argue with me, he relents. Then he leans against the wall next to the sink. With only a towel around his waist, looking like he has all the time in the world to just watch me do something as mundane as drying my hair. I turn towards the mirror, mentally instructing my eyes not to look at him. However, they’re not keen to follow orders, and flick towards his reflection every few seconds. It’s impossible for me to calm myself down like this. Especially not when I can see the obvious tent in his towel, threatening to part the cloth that’s barely covering him. It must have grown harder from the friction against my stomach just now, as well as the anticipation of what’s to come.

 “You can go ahead and wait outside.”

“Eh?” He starts to protest but stops when he sees my entreating look. “Okay,” he yields in a wounded puppy pitch. “But hurry, okay?”

I nod, only turning towards the mirror again after I see him closing the door to the bathroom. I’m glad that he’s giving me this bit of space to think. Even though I’m ecstatic by this turn of events, there’s so much to process that it’s overwhelming. And I’m hesitant to go all the way with Jimin without sorting it out. To me it’s a monumental thing. A really huge step. My sigh is drowned out by the loud whirring of the hair dryer, but the sound has become white noise.

So the incident that has plagued me for so many years turned out to be a misunderstanding. While it doesn’t excuse Jimin from what he’d said, there was never any truth behind those words. It had always baffled me that Jimin would think, much less say, such a thing. Even if he wasn’t interested in me, it doesn’t seem to be in line with Jimin’s personality to measure a girl’s worth so much as to label her something as horrid as ‘not girlfriend material’. The most is he’d think someone isn’t his type, and just move on. He’s one of the kindest people I know, but he isn’t perfect. I’m aware of that. We were young back then. It makes more sense that Jimin was only thinking about getting a girl in bed with him rather than weighing the consequences or fairness of saying something so hurtful.

Switching the electric device off, I gaze at myself in the mirror one last time, finding resolution. What matters now is the future. Am I ready to go forward?

The first thing I notice when I enter the bedroom is that Jimin has gathered all the pillows on his side of the bed, and is resting against them. Before I can wonder what he’s up to, he notices my presence and sits up, like a puppy waiting for his master to come home. It would have been heart-meltingly cute and endearing if he wasn’t gripping his erection in his right hand. Was he masturbating while waiting for me? The thought of it is more arousing than I’d have thought. Maybe there is something wrong with me. “Come here,” he beckons me over, and I approach him a little warily. He helps me atop the bed, manoeuvring my legs so I sit astride his lap.

This puts me face-to-face with him, but more importantly, he’s holding me so I’m sitting right atop his cock. I can predict a very speedy loss in focus. “Jimin,” I begin to ask, then moan when he grinds his hips against mine. “Jimin, are you sure about this?”

“A hundred and ten percent,” he responds, but his attention isn’t on me. Even in the semi-darkness, I can see his eyes are narrowed in the direction of our lower bodies.

Exasperated, I try again, wanting to make myself clear before anything happens that I may regret later. Damn, I’m cockblocking myself, but I know that I’ll be in a world of hurt if this turns out to be a temporary thing. I may be asking for too much, but I can’t do it. Not with Jimin. “No, not just this. I mean… are you sure about… going into a relationship with me? What if…”

Jimin looks up, his expression turning serious, and places a finger against my lips. “Stop that. We’ve known each other since we were kids, and I think I know you pretty well.” He briefly stops, waiting for confirmation, and I nod. No one knows me better than Jimin does. “You always overthink things, and when you’re not doing that, your head is filled with thoughts of food.” Even though his assessment is accurate, it doesn’t stop me from hitting him in the chest indignantly, but he only chortles. “It doesn’t matter what you lack. I still love you after all this time, and I’m confident that I won’t stop, no matter what happens. And about what I said back then…” Adopting a sober mien, he brushes my cheek lovingly, leaning closer to gaze into my eyes intently. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make up for it. Okay?”

“Okay,” I concede tearfully. There’s no one else who can put me at ease so easily. I wouldn’t say that the years-old scar has magically healed, but his touch soothes away all the pain. Closing the scant centimeters between us, I give him a quick peck. An innocent move, which Jimin changes immediately by drawing me into his arms, pulling me back in for a far more intense kiss. He pulls on my towel, already loosened by my movements, exposing my body to his touch. It’s like there’s fire in his fingertips, setting me aflame wherever he touches – from my hip, to the side of my waist, up to my breasts. Devilishly zoning in on my sensitive spots, sweeping back and forth over the stiffening tips of my chest. All night he has been giving me pleasure, and I want to return the favour.

Ignoring both the loss of the heady sensation from being in contact with his cock and Jimin’s growl of protest, I shift myself down towards the foot of the bed. Taking his half-hard erection in my hand, once again I marvel at its girth. Already I can’t wrap my hand completely around it. The thought of having it inside me is making me shiver in anticipation. Wanting to get a feel of it, I slide my hand up from the base, taking care not to be too rough with my dry hand. It’s enough to get Jimin to moan, the wild yet melodic sound instantly heating up my insides with lust. I want to make him feel good. I move down even further, lowering myself to do just that, but Jimin stops me halfway. “Wait.”

Surprised that he would keep me from sucking him off, I glance up at him, tucking my hair behind my ear so that it doesn’t obstruct my view. “Hmm?”

“Plenty of time for that later,” he exhales restlessly. Grabbing me by my waist, he lifts me up slightly, getting me off of him. Then he wiggles down the space between me and the mattress, comically moving to lie down on his back. It’s hard not to snort all over him.

“What are you doing?” Just how many times is he going to make me laugh while we try to get it on tonight?

“Getting what I want,” he pants, and I’m guessing it’s due to the exertion of his completely unnecessary action rather than being horny. Jimin is such an idiot sometimes. He ignores my eye roll though. “More importantly, are you ready for me?”

Instead of waiting for me to formulate a verbal answer, he reaches down to find the answer for himself. I jolt forward with a moan when Jimin swipes his fingers over my slit, then immediately rams two inside me. I’m sure I dried myself off after getting out of the shower earlier, but somehow I’ve gotten wet enough for his digits to slide into me without much resistance. “So wet already,” Jimin answers for me, even though the mortifying squelching sounds coming from my pussy makes it pretty clear that I’m ready for him. “I want to fuck you. Right now.”

Even though Jimin’s fingers are wrecking the best kind of havoc in me, I want the same thing. More than that, I want to make him feel good too. Before I can put my plan into action though, Jimin slaps the bed angrily. “Shit. I’m clean, but I don’t have a condom.” Scowling, he runs his fingers through his hair angrily, following it with a longer string of curses than I’ve ever heard him utter in my presence. I bite the insides of my cheeks so I can swallow the bubble of laughter back into my throat.

“It’s fine,” I reassure him. “I’m on the pill.” Although I haven’t slept with Se Hoon for ages, I kept taking them. Maybe I’ve continued doing so out of habit. Or maybe I was always unconsciously hoping for something to happen between me and Jimin, as far fetched as it seemed. Well, it’s clearly not as impossible as I’d thought.

“Thank goodness,” Jimin collapses back onto the sheets in relief, amusing me to no end. He doesn’t miss it, and shoots me a look that tells me he’s aware that I’m finding him funny. “I don’t think I can hold back at this point,” he warns me darkly, and I take it as a cue to continue. Bracing my hands on his chest, I sit up shakily. Reading my mind like he always does so expertly, he removes his hand so I can move my hips along the length of his dick. Up and down, up and down, covering him in my juices. I don’t know how he became this hard when I’ve barely done anything for him. But I’ll pleasure both of us now. Lining the tip of his cock with my pussy, I take a deep breath as I feel the bulbous head poking against my entrance. Then I face up to find that Jimin is staring at me with such scorching fire that I can feel my skin blister from the heat. He might just want this more than I do, although I can’t imagine a yearning any stronger than mine.

“Hnng,” I groan as I lower myself down slowly. Belatedly I attempt to figure out the last time I had sex in my head. Even before breaking up, Se Hoon and I hadn’t slept together for a while due to our busy schedules. I didn’t think much of it back then, and had thought that he didn’t mind, either. It turns out that he didn’t mind, but only because he was satisfying his urges with someone else. But I don’t want to think about that now. Not when Jimin’s cock is parting my flesh, its girth pushing my walls aside to make its way in. It’s not even halfway in yet I’m already breathless. The burn feels amazing, even if it’s making me mewl from the pain.

“Does it hurt?” Jimin asks through gritted teeth. “Go slowly.”

Unable to voice an answer, I bob my head in acknowledgement. Taking my time descending on Jimin magnifies the sensation of his cock stretching me out. By the time I’ve sheathed myself over him completely, I feel ready to burst. I’ve never felt so full and I tilt my head back as if to absorb the feeling. But I’m not the only one adjusting to this. Jimin’s grip on either side of my waist is slightly painful, betraying a strength that I wasn’t aware he possesses. “Fuck, so tight,” he grinds out like he can hardly stand the pleasure. “Fuck.”

After giving myself a few seconds to get used to having him inside me, I begin to lift myself up again, then sit back down on him, making both of us groan. I don’t know if I can ever get used to this. Still, I repeat the motion, impaling myself over and over his cock, hips accelerating as I get a sense of the rhythm. Jimin’s unconcealed moans spur me on; knowing how good I’m making me feel drives me to take it higher. But I’m not the only one determined to bring pleasure to my partner.

Even as I bounce on his cock, Jimin manages to reach for my clit, capturing it between his index and middle fingers in a ‘V’. Helped by my rapid movements, he pulls up, exposing my clit to the air. Tongue licking his lips, he looks at it like a delicacy that he’d love to devour. However, unable to do that, he makes do with his thumb. He alternates moving it in circular motions around the nub and grinding against it, all the while pinching it with his other two fingers. My hips stutter from his ministrations, but I don’t want to stop. I can’t, even if I wanted to. Not when he’s stimulating me like this. But I can feel the end approaching me rapidly, faster than I want it to. “Ji—Jimin, wait.”

I should’ve known that he’s not going to do as I say this time. “Give me a good reason to wait,” he challenges.

“I can’t take it.” My body is already shaking from its proximity. I’m about to crest the high, but I want to last longer. “Please, Jimin, or I’m going to come.”

“All the more reason for me not to wait, then.” Jimin takes my reasoning and tosses it out the window. In direct contrast to my request, he teases my clit even more, pushing me forward so I can’t stall it any longer. The knot growing inside me shrinks into itself, compressing impossibly before exploding like fireworks. With a cry of his name, I catch myself from collapsing completely on top of him by bracing my hands on either side of his torso. Jimin releases my clit to grab my waist, pushing me down against him, moaning as he feels my muscles contracting around him. “You’re so sensitive,” he remarks as I start to recover.

There’s nothing I can say to his comment. There’s nothing to say, really. I don’t recall ever being this receptive to someone else’s touch. It has been a while, I think, not wanting to admit that my sensitivity might have been caused by the person touching me, rather than the duration I’ve been deprived of such attention. Burying my face into the crook of Jimin’s shoulder, I inhale his scent; the perfect home to come to after falling down from my high. The realisation that I must be crushing him with my weight comes suddenly. I jolt up to move off of him, but he tightens his hold on my waist, halting me. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Uh, I must be heavy, and I–“ Jimin doesn’t give me the time to inform him that I can barely move, returning me back into place right above him and whispering;

“I’m not done yet.”

Digging his fingers in so deep I’m sure he’ll leave me with bruises, he pulls out of me, all the way to the tip. My sigh at the loss becomes a shriek midway when Jimin slams back all the way in without so much as a warning. He doesn’t stop there; in fact, that’s the speed that he’s setting for me. Pounding into me from underneath without mercy, without hesitation, without pause. My relaxed legs quickly grow tense again, as his rapid thrusting stokes a new fire in me. “Jimin, Jimin!” I call out for him in between gasps, every thrust knocking the air out of my lungs and every shred of intelligible thought out of my head, until his name is all that remains. My feet curl inwards, trying to withstand the pleasure but in futility. If he isn’t gripping me so firmly, I would have ended up sprawled over him. However, I have nowhere to run. Forced to take every single one of his hard thrusts. Each one making my lower body wrap tighter and tighter around him.

“Close.” Out of breath, Jimin manages to utter only one word, but he slips a hand between our bodies, closer now that I’ve crumpled over him under his rough pounding, leaving no question as to what he means when he pinches my clit between his fingers again. My body contracts until there’s no space left, and I can’t breathe. Whether my brain is hazy due to the lack of oxygen or because I’m on the verge of cumming, I don’t know. One moment later I climaxing again. Jimin doesn’t need to be told that; my cries of ecstasy and squeezing walls are enough to clue him in. He wraps an arm around my waist and seizes my right shoulder, holding me even more securely in place as his hips accelerates to a speed beyond my imagination. Panting and moaning, I latch onto his shoulders so I can receive his rough thrusts, each one knocking me several inches upwards. Unlike before, Jimin doesn’t give me time to recover, too focused on using my tightening muscles spasming around his cock to reach his own high.

It doesn’t take long, but I’ve regained enough sense of mind to register him sinking his face against my neck as he comes. Each of his grunts accompanying every deliberate, deep thrust, pumping his seed into me is so close to my ear, I can feel the hot air that comes with them. There is an odd feeling of being the one to comfort him as his body quakes. It’s like he trusts me to keep him safe at his most vulnerable, and I immerse myself in the feeling proudly for a while.

By the time Jimin rolls me over to the side, I’m starting to get drowsy. My legs twitch when his limp dick slips out a little, and my eyes flutter open to find that he’s staring at me. “What is it?” Absurdly, I feel a little shy. This is just Jimin after all. On the other hand, I’ve never been with Jimin like this before.

“Nothing. I just can’t believe this isn’t a dream.”

The relatable statement makes me grin. “I know. Me too.”

“It seems like such a waste to just… go to sleep.”

No way. “What do you mean?”

“You know, just…” He shrugs with all the innocence of a toddler, but it doesn’t fool me for one second. Especially when he nuzzles against my neck, then almost immediately switches to kissing and sucking the sensitive flesh. A pressure within makes me moan, feeling myself getting fuller as Jimin grows hard again. “I spent four nights in bed with you and I couldn’t even touch you. Do you know how difficult that was? I was about to go insane.”

The dawn of the following morning is slightly chilly, but that’s what makes it refreshing. Even though I greet the day with a yawn as I rest my forearms against the railing of the balcony, I’m feeling very content and reinvigorated. A light mist shrouding the garden before me gives it a cool, dream-like quality. Each plant has bountiful leaves – it’s always summer in Malaysia, after all – and each one is heavy with morning dew. I wish I could reach and touch the moisture with my fingers.

With time, my brain starts to function more efficiently, and I begin to think about the events of last night. Of course I’m ecstatic about finally being in a romantic relationship with Jimin, the man that I’ve been pining over for so long, but I’d be lying if I say that I don’t have any doubts. I’ve been so focused on getting over him that I never stopped to think what it would mean to have my best friend as my boyfriend. The obvious question is: what if it doesn’t work out between us?

Like Jimin said last night, he has known me for many years now. There aren’t many flaws of mine that he isn’t aware of. I’m quite confident that I know most of the things I need to know about him too. And just like Jimin, none of it has made me fall out of love with him. If anything, his imperfections make me love him even more. I can’t think of any reason that would make us break up, but it’s always a possibility. What would happen to our friendship should the worst come to pass? I hope we can still be friends somehow.

Just the thought of it is depressing enough to make me heave a sigh. There’s no point in speculating about the future. I already know that I can barely endure not being with him. It was torture to watch him with girlfriends when I so desperately, so selfishly wanted to fill that role. Now that my wish has come true, we just have to go forward and do our best. If it doesn’t work out, then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. I’m not delusional enough to think that everything will be perfect from now on, but I hope for every rainy day we have to suffer through, there will be a sunny one that will balance it out. Smiling to myself, I enjoy this blissful feeling I never knew I’m capable of feeling. With Jimin, I’m sure my life will be full of happy days, like an eternal summer.

“What’s up with you?” A teasing, rhetorical question comes from behind, making me jump in surprise. I turn around to find Jimin leaning against the frame of the glass door, looking cool as a cucumber. But I see the laughter dancing in his eyes. “One second you were sighing, and the next you were grinning like an idiot.”

Feeling blood rushing to my cheeks in embarrassment at being caught entertaining my thoughts, I spin back to face the garden. “Nothing! How long have you been here?”

“Long enough to want to get a closer look at you.” Jimin approaches and hugs me from behind. He wastes no time sniffing against my neck like a little puppy. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mmhmm.” How could I not? After that second round, I was ready to nod off, but he’d recovered by then and had asked me if he could take me up on that earlier offer to give him a blowjob. How could I say no? And he wasn’t content to finish up in my mouth, either – no, he wasn’t as rough as he was the first time, but he still finished inside me. It left me exhausted and I went out like a light afterwards. I’m not sure what made me wake up so early, but I do feel well-rested, though quite sore.

“I’m glad.” I can feel and hear him smiling against my ear rather than see it. Although I’m not sure if he’s glad because I’ve gotten enough rest, or because the stiff shaft I can feel pressing against my back needs some attention. Given that he’s already tracing the crevices of my ear with his tongue, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter.

“I’m beginning to think that you’re a monster.” My complaint doesn’t sound very convincing since it’s followed by a keening moan. He’s quick to slide his hand up my thighs and under my bathrobe, discovering that I’m not wearing anything underneath. His sharp inhale lets me know how aroused he got from that revelation.

“I’m not usually this horny,” he admits, leaning me down to rest my upper body against the railing so my ass juts out. I can hear the shuffling of his slippers as he moves back, but before I can turn around to see what he’s doing, I feel his tongue running all the way from the bottom up to my asshole. My back arches from the unexpected jolt of pleasure, hitting me like a bolt of lightning down my spine. “Maybe we need to make up for… what, a decade’s worth of love-making?” Despite being sore, my pussy clenches at the ridiculous notion. A whole  decade? “Fuck, you’re so wet already.” The loud, wet sounds his tongue makes as he laps against my slit doesn’t leave me any room to argue. I only let out a whine when he reaches around to press against my engorged nub. “You’re swollen,” he says concernedly, contrasting with his unrelenting ministrations. “Are you okay?”

“If you’re worried–mmmnn–“ Against my better judgement, I push myself back against his mouth, craving for more. “Why are you doing this?”

Jimin’s reply is lost somewhere within my folds, but once his tongue pushes past my entrance, I stop caring about his answer. It’s amazing how easily Jimin unearths my most sensitive spots. Not just how putting pressure against my clit stimulates me more than circular motions, but also how a feather-like touch along the side of my body makes me tremble or that lightly nibbling my nipples makes me buck beneath him. However, a night of thorough attention has made all of me super sensitive, and I’m already on the verge of tears while my head is screaming for more. “Jimin, please,” I beg. “I need you now.”

Those words are all the encouragement that Jimin needs. Standing behind me, he lifts the lower part of the bathrobe up so he can press his insistent hard-on against my entrance. “No, wait, Jimin.” Remembering where we are right now, I begin to panic. “Let’s go inside.”

Of course, Jimin has never been one to listen to orders. “No one’s up yet,” he overrides my protest, and cuts off any oncoming ones by slamming his hips against mine, pushing his thick cock all the way inside in one stroke. Tears fall from my eyes and my scream breaks the stillness of the morning at the brutal insertion. “Shh,” he comforts me, raining kisses all over the side of my neck and shoulders as I sob. “Someone will hear us if you don’t keep it down.”

“Damn it, Jimin, you’re the meanest – ah! Ah!” I can’t even finish reprimanding him. How can I, when my body reacts to him so easily, and the fact that anyone passing by can see us, or other hotel guests can hear us turns me on even more? Taking a little mercy on me, Jimin grabs my chin, directing me to look back so he can kiss me, somewhat effectively swallowing my moans. The intense kiss matches the force of his thrusts below; slower than last night but with more strength. He lowers his hand to slip it inside my bathrobe, groping my left breast, using it as an anchor as his cock drives me to oblivion. Everything he does intoxicates me, making me drunk to the point I don’t know up and down, so that I no longer give a damn about anyone seeing him pounding into me in broad daylight. All I can think about is the tingling sparks of friction from every stroke of his cock sliding in and out of me, the tiny pinpricks of pleasure and pain like scorching embers feeding a bonfire growing more and more out of control within me. “Jimin,” I gasp when he releases my lips for air, “coming.”

He kisses me, then pulls at my lower lip. “Come,” he coaxes me with his fingers pinching my nipple, making me mewl, and with the short words his brain can muster in his state. “With me. Now.”

After several hard thrusts, Jimin brings me to my climax and follows me right after. He holds me tightly, supporting me so my shaking legs don’t suddenly give way from under me, although I can tell from his quivering body that he’s having trouble keeping himself up. The sturdy railing provides the support we both need, and we cling to it as we catch our breaths. A few minutes later, we’re still panting, but Jimin slowly sits down on the floor, guiding me to sit across his lap. I’ve hugged Jimin countless times before when we were still just friends, but I think after sex might be the best time for cuddling with him.

His comforting arms almost lulls me to sleep, but the gradually escalating heat of the rising sun brings me back to my senses. Opening my eyes, I ask drowsily, “What time is it?”

Jimin shrugs. “Who knows.”

Resisting the urge to follow his devil-may-care attitude, I climb out of his lap to crawl towards the table where I’d left my handphone. My eyes widen when I see the numbers on display. “Jimin! There’s less than three hours before our flight! We need to go, now!”

We get ready and packed in record time. Soon we’re begging our driver to drive us as quickly as possible to the airport, both of us still huffing and panting, but this time for a completely different reason compared to this morning. The young driver shakes his head in disapproval, but accedes to our wishes, driving at a speed I’m not sure is legal, expertly zipping in and out between cars. We earn a few honks, but I try to detach myself from the chaos, leaning back against the seat to try and calm my racing heartbeat.

“This is all your fault, you pervy animal,” I hiss at Jimin under my breath. “If we can’t board our plane you’re going to pay for both our tickets back home.”

Jimin’s smirk is charming and utterly unrepentant. “Worth it.”

Thank you for reading! As always, comments/asks/likes are very welcome :)

[shadowsfiguresfigments-blog]

A good place to die Chapter 26 (smut)

Warning: Harsh language, violence, smut

He was all over me, literally. Whilst he kept my lips and tongue busy with his, his hands roamed across my body, gently caressing every square inch of it. The last tattered remains of my clothes fell off, but his silken gloves kept me warm against the cold air. I sucked on his lower lip to encourage him further, and in response he leaned into me. The sensation of his touch multiplied, and during a breath pause to draw breath I opened my eyes. Penny had sprouted another two pairs of arms, giving him a slightly spider-like appearance.

Whilst he played with my hair, he simultaneously worjed my erect nipples, kneading them; pinching them just enough to illicit a sweet stinging pain. And all the while his hands wandered down further, along my hips, in between my thighs. I pressed harder against him, the familiar desperate yearning overcoming any sense of self-control I had left. There needn’t be any more barriers between us, nothing to separate us – I had been inside him, literally, for fuck’s sake – and I tore at his clothes, fighting against the last veil of silk that stood between us.

His chuckle was barely audible, more of a deep rumble that went through his body right into mine. The hands in my hair disappeared and the pressure against me lessened, but before I could protest his fingers slipped inside me. My insides clamped down on him in an unconscious effort to pull him further along, and their effort was rewarded; Penny’s finger went deeper and deeper into me, as if they were growing in length. The weirdest sensation filled my stomach – his gloves, he must have popped his gloves – and a heartbeat later he touched that sweet, sweet spot.

I screamed as the orgasm hit me like a sledge hammer, but Penny was nowhere near done. His body pressed back against mine, finally rid of clothes and all decency, and he held me so tight I was no longer able to breathe properly. He was still mercilessly working my pussy, but another hand made its way between my ass cheeks. I briefly and very feebly thought about protesting, but in response he pressed against my G-spot again. Whether it was because I was dripping wet or by some transformation of his, his fingers quickly spread some hot liquid around my asshole. Then he inserted one.

One moment, there was the sensation of having soiled myself; then he pushed through the barrier and there was some pain. It didn’t last long, though, as having him inside both front and back quickly overwhelmed me. Still, it wasn’t enough for him. His tongue swelled up, almost forcing my jaws apart, and picked up the rhythm of his fingers as it thrust deeper and deeper into me. As he had swallowed me whole, enveloping me completely, he now filled my up with himself in every way possible. I no longer could feel any ending to my body, nor the beginning of his; all of my senses were filled with him alone.

Again, there was a brief pause as he withdrew his fingers from my pussy, then he shoved his dick into me. I came immediately, and this time it lasted. Wave after wave hit me, eroding my sense of self further and further. Something was different from all the times we had had sex before – something inside me had changed. It resonated with Penny in a way that was difficult to understand – like two sound waves with just the right frequency to suddenly amplify each other.

That resonance almost tore me apart, and I screamed on the top of my lungs as Penny shuddered and came.

The following week was entirely governed by the last minute preparations for both Bee’s return as well as the store opening, which would coincide. With Auntie’s help I fought my way through the rooms and seemingly unending layers of garbage and dirt. Thankfully Bee had already declared her intentions to renovate the whole apartment by herself, and she had spent countless hours picking colors and some new furniture from catalogs. The little insurance money she got wouldn’t allow for much more, but her DIY-attitude had significantly improved over the last days. We just made sure the dirt was gone and that the facilities worked; which they did. Still, by the time I was done every evening I did little more than hit the shower and fall into bed.

Penny found his own way to keep me company – he usually waited in my room, made good use of the phone I had gotten him, and occasionally accompanied me on my ways in the form of a big orange tabby. At night he would cradle me in his arms, making our fight seem like nothing more than a bad dream.

I didn’t have the energy to discuss it any further, either; nor could I bring myself to tell him I still felt rather overwhelmed by the sex we had had. It was a weird, uncomfortable balance that I just couldn’t deal with.

He had carried me home that night, wrapped into silk-like sheets he had miraculously produced, and he had washed me in our tiny shower. I was still entirely beside myself – I didn’t even spend a thought on auntie – and just stood there as he rinsed away his cum that poured out of my body.

He even tucked me into bed.

When the big day finally arrived, I was too tired to feel the least bit excited. I almost fell asleep twice during school, but fortunately no one noticed. It was Friday, and I was excused for the last lesson (P.E.), so I got to leave early. That also meant there was no chance of any potential bully waiting for me, and I didn’t bother checking my bike for any manipulations, as there hadn’t been any for quite a while. Of course, that didn’t turn out too well – somebody had opened the valves of my tires, and by the time I got to the shop, there was no air left in them. I didn’t care, though, as I had to prepare the little buffet auntie had organized for me (nothing major, just some tea and coffee, and some cupcakes she had surprised me with in the morning). After I finished that, I went through the registry and my documents for the last time, in a desperate attempt to not think about Penny and focus on the task at hand.

A quick glance at my watch told me that I had about fifteen minutes left before the official opening hours started. I briefly wondered whether anyone would show up at all – Auntie and I had invested in some flyers, and we had distributed them both at her working place as well as my school. I had also thrown the remaining ones into random mail boxes on my various ways. Despite that, my reputation might very well end up keeping any potential customer from actually seeking the store – my store, I reminded myself – out.

For the first time in a long while I thought back to Yaneesha, Shot and the other idiots that despised me so much. The reason for their unwavering hate was still very much of a mystery to me, but I couldn’t bring myself to wish them harm. After all, they had ultimately suffered bigger losses than I did, and ever since Yaneesha had left school, I hadn’t been physically attacked anymore.

At least not by humans.

I sighed and unlocked the doors.

To my big surprise a couple of people entered while I was putting out the huge board I had painted. They roamed around the shelves, and a tiny silver-hair lady even told me how happy she was that the store was open again. I vaguely remembered her face and came to the conclusion that she was one of the very few somewhat regular visitors. Didn’t she have a fondness for novels? I directed her towards some new arrivals, which prompted my first successful sale.

It was somewhat difficult to believe, and the whole situation felt unreal. Something about the ordinariness was quite at odds with the crazy circus my life had become. I answered questions, recommended books, and made a couple of other sales. It wasn’t much, but still a whole lot more than what I’d expected – nothing.

Auntie joined me after I had been open for ninety minutes, and I could tell how tired she was. We both forced smiles, and despite my best efforts, she insisted on staying with me, though her face grew paler by the minute. Just when I had convinced her to sit down and stop fussing, her face lit up with recognition.

“Oh, you didn’t tell me he was coming. How nice!”

I whirled around just to see Benny-Penny standing outside the store, a red balloon on a string in his hands. For some reason that really touched me – I was just glad auntie sat behind me, so she couldn’t see the stupid smile spreading across my face. I rushed out and grasped his hands.

“I’m so glad you’re here”, I gushed. “I can’t believe you’re willing to go through this… Are you okay?”

He nodded, a familiar twinkle in his eyes, and handed me the balloon. It even read “Congratulations” on it. After quickly wiping my eyes I ushered him inside, ignoring the weird vibrations that built up in my stomach.

Penny looked utterly out of place, a wonderful mixture of awkwardness and otherworldly beauty that was just a tick off – probably not enough for anyone to realize but enough to cause the other visitors to show signs of unease. It was almost comical – a guy in a rather fancy suit started fiddling with his tie, a young girl put her jacket back on, and a group of teens moved closer together. Despite the fact that it wasn’t a good thing unnerve the people who I was supposed to sell to, it was still entertaining to observe. And I couldn’t help myself but marvel at his human form; the way his muscles visibly moved beneath the thin, tight sweater he was wearing; the way that ass looked in that pair of jeans; the way his movements were still the same as in his clown form.

I quickly went into the back room and tied the balloon to my backpack, not wanting to leave Penny alone for too long; but by the time I had returned he sat beside auntie and they chatted away merrily. He laughed – that wonderful, over-the-top crazy laugh of his, and shook his head. Auntie smiled, said something and started chuckling. For a moment she looked much younger, the stress lines fading, and my heart started hurting again.

How I wished I could see her like that every day.

I joined them, but I admittedly didn’t pay much attention, nor contribute much to the conversation – I was just content to see auntie and Benny-Penny happy. My odd behavior wasn’t noticed, though; Benny told one joke after another, and soon, my costumers had circled around us, joining in on the laughs. From time to time I could have sworn I saw a glint of something in Benny’s eyes, but it always disappeared so quickly I couldn’t be sure.

It was a rather pleasant experience to have him around. Time flew by quickly, and making sales felt like something I did on the side whilst I was mainly focusing on Benny. Finally the last pulk of people left the store, and I waved after them. Auntie stood up and started cleaning the buffet table; throwing away crumbled napkins and stacking plates. I offered to help, but she refused me; so I started counting the money I had made. When she left to bring the plates upstairs to the apartment, I dropped all pretence and threw myself into Benny’s arms.

“Thank you for coming”, I whispered, somewhat at a loss at how to convey the deep gratitude I felt.

He just patted my head, but I could feel how exhausted he was. I understood all too well – being around other humans and having to act normally was difficult enough for me, and I was part of their race. I reached up and cradled his cheek in my hand.

“I will make this up to you, I promise.”

Benny’s head shot up so fast I didn’t realize he had moved for a second.

Something was wrong.

His face had become devoid of emotion, the smile that had just been there completely gone, and there was an orange hue in his eyes. He stood utterly still.

“What’s the matter?”

“One of them is coming closer.”

“Who?”

“One of them.”

It took me a second to put his words and his behavior together.

“You mean… the ones that hurt you?”

He nodded, his eyes turning ever more orange. I took his hands and pulled him around to face me.

“Listen, if you need to get out of here, go. But I don’t think you’re in danger – you look like a human, you’re in a fucking bookstore, and besides, I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, okay?” That had absolutely no effect whatsoever. He was still as tense as before. “Penny, I promise, you’re safe.”

He slowly lowered his eyes, exhaling loudly. Not even a second later, he tensed up again. This time, he was watching someone outside. I turned around and saw two young men walking down the street. They held brown paper bags and yelled loudly, pushing each other constantly. My somewhat rusty instinct for bad situations told me they were trouble.

“They want to trash your shop.”

I didn’t even question him; I was too focused on the fact that they had changed direction and were now clearly walking up to us.

“I won’t allow that.” I reached into my pocket for my phone, with every intention to call the cops, but this time, Penny grabbed my hands. He had the weirdest little smile, and his left eye started drifting to the side. For some reason, I got goosebumps. I could only watch as he left me and stood in front of the duo. They shouted something, he replied, and the three of them walked away.

What was I supposed to do? I still had my phone in my hand, and I contemplated dialing 911. But what should I say? That I had possibly evaded big trouble? That my killer clown boyfriend had just left with the troublemakers and they’d better start searching for the leftovers, if there would be any? And that Pennywise might be in danger? Hello officer, you know, there’s this creature that kills and feeds on humans, and I love him very much, and he got spooked, so could you please start an investigation, and by the way, clean up after him?

“Where’d he go?”

Auntie had come back to me and looked out the door. I shook my head, gathering my jumbled thoughts.

“Oh, his mom called, he’s supposed to help her with something.”

“It was nice of him to stop by.”

“Yeah, very nice.” I still stared at the corner around which they had disappeared, as if I could make my gaze bend around it to follow them and make sure everything was okay.

“Is everything alright? Did you quarrel?”

“Oh no, I guess I’m just… a little overwhelmed with everything.” My attempt at a reassuring smile was bad at best, but somehow auntie bought it.

“Oh well, it’s been some hectic weeks for both of us.”

I nodded. A quick glance at my phone told me it was time to close down. That, thankfully, wouldn’t take long. However, there was still-

“Look who’s come!”

For the second time that day, a very welcome visitor approached the store. This time it wasn’t my favorite alien killer clown, it was Bee; with a large suitcase in hand and a warm smile on her face.

[hysterialevi]

Veien Hjem - A Sigurd/Male Eivor Fanfic

Fanfic summary: After Sigurd single-handedly attacks a bandit camp in hopes of reaching Valhalla, he survives thanks to Eivor and realizes that his life is far from over.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

Author’s note: Sorry if the title isn’t entirely correct. My Norwegian isn’t that great.

SOMEWHERE IN EURVICSCIRE

NOON

Sigurd sat lifelessly on the edge of the river bank, watching in silence as droplets of blood blossomed beneath the water.

At the moment, the river was littered with fresh corpses of bandits from the nearby camp, and had clots of red snow crumbling into its frozen embrace. Sporadic ripples danced above its glassy surface and carried fragments of ice with their delicate push, warping the broken reflection Sigurd found staring back at him.

...He could hardly recognize himself by this point.

Instead of the steadfast warrior who once wielded the Raven Clan’s respect and admiration, he now saw nothing but the desolate remains of a once great man, desperately holding onto the life he had ruined so long ago.

He just felt... so lost. So vulnerable. The world seemed to be doing everything it could to knock him down into the mud, and he didn’t know how to get back up anymore.

He had completely lost the will to fight, and without any reason to push forward, he saw no point in trekking further down this aimless road. He felt as if he had outstayed his welcome in this world... and that was why he tried to reach Valhalla today.

Like a madman drunk on blood, Sigurd had charged into the bandits’ camp with nothing but an axe in hand, prepared to fall in this tomb of ice and snow. He fought with the wrath of Thor himself, and tore his enemies apart in a hurricane of iron.

For a few moments, there had been nothing but chaos. He experienced no fear, no hate, no love -- not even pain. The only thing that had been on his mind was reaching the end of his saga, and greeting the Valkyries with open arms.

Contrary to what Sigurd expected though, he survived.

In spite of the numerous injuries that he now sustained, he remained the last man standing among this newly forged battlefield and sat alone amidst the mayhem, unsure of where to go from here.

He was freezing to the bone in the wind’s icy breath, and yet, he couldn’t push himself to get up. He had been completely exhausted of any motivation, and now, he simply waited for death to arrive, dreaming of what its shrill whispers would sound like.

Before that could happen though, another voice called out to him.

“Sigurd?” Eivor exclaimed in the distance, wandering through the woods. “Sigurd! Are you there?”

A series of footsteps crunched through the snow, leading Sigurd’s ears to perk up as his brother approached him.

“Sigurd...!” The man said with relief, somewhat out of breath. “There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you. What in Hel’s name are you doing out here? Are you alright?”

The older man offered nothing but silence in return, causing Eivor to step in front of him.

“Sigurd,” he repeated, his boots softly splashing through the water. “Brother? Are you listening to me?”

Sigurd remained seated on the ground, still staring blankly at the river.

“Hey,” Eivor said more firmly, gripping his brother by the shoulder. “It’s me.”

The other man uttered out a quiet response, barely shifting his gaze from the bandits’ scattered bodies.

“...I should’ve died with them.”

Eivor glanced back at the corpses in confusion, bewildered by Sigurd’s sudden change in behavior. “What? What are you talking about? Who are these people? Why were you fighting? Are you okay? You’re covered in blood.”

Sigurd looked down at his beaten body and clenched one of his hands into a fist, attempting to fight back the numbness that was starting to paralyze it.

“I’m not supposed to be here.” Sigurd whispered to himself. “I should’ve... I should’ve...”

Eivor knelt down in front of the man, growing increasingly concerned by the minute.

“Sigurd,” he said softly, “look at me.”

Tearing his eyes away from the chaos he had wrought, Sigurd slowly brought his line of sight to the face in front of him, breaking out of his trance-like state as a certain warmth returned to his skin.

“...Eivor?” He finally replied, his tone devoid of any emotion. “What... what are you doing here?”

The younger man’s brow crinkled in heartache. “Searching for you, of course. What else would I be doing? Gods above, Sigurd...” Eivor took a deep breath, “...do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? How long I’ve been trying to find you? When you disappeared from Ravensthorpe, I thought that you might’ve... that you might’ve been killed. Or worse. Why are you all the way out here? Why did you even fight these men? Who were they?”

Sigurd shook his head. “...I don’t know. I don’t care. It doesn’t matter anyways.”

Eivor gestured to the other man’s wounds. “What do you mean it doesn’t matter? Look at you. You could’ve died, Sigurd. There’s an entire army of them in these woods, and you attacked them alone. What if I never found you? What if--”

He came to an abrupt pause, suddenly realizing exactly what was going on.

...Sigurd never meant for Eivor to find him, did he? He never intended to be seen again. 

There was a reason he had traveled so far out into the wilderness, and it was because he didn’t want anyone in Ravensthorpe to know where he had gone. 

He didn’t want the world to stop turning because of his absence, nor did he want others to grieve for his loss. He didn’t want to say goodbye.

He didn’t intend to walk away with his life.

These bandits -- whoever they once were -- were supposed to be no more than Sigurd’s passage to Valhalla. He didn’t care where they came from, or if they even meant him any harm. All that mattered was the fact that they outnumbered him.

And yet, against all odds, Sigurd ended up on the winning side of the fight. He had persevered throughout the battle, and come out as the sole survivor. Though, in spite of his miraculous victory, it was clear that the mission hadn’t been a success. At least, not in his eyes.

Instead of earning a glorious entrance to Valhalla like he had planned, Sigurd remained trapped in this dreary realm, even more beaten than before. His body was riddled with all sorts of injuries, and now, he found himself at a dead end, uncertain of how he was going to proceed.

Even though he was confident that the two of them would be able to make it back home, Sigurd knew his brother wouldn’t dare take his eyes off him again. Now that Eivor fully understood what was going on, it was evident that the man was only going to be far more attentive from here on out.

He was almost like his protector in a way. Anytime something bad happened to Sigurd, Eivor was always there mere moments later, swooping in to rescue him. He was the guardian constantly watching over him, and Sigurd usually seemed to be the one in distress.

But he was tired of it being that way. He was tired of being a burden.

Eivor had other things to be concerned about. He had an entire clan of people to look after, and needed all the help he could find to pacify England. He was fighting a war, for goodness’ sake. He couldn’t afford to waste time fretting over a single man.

And yet, despite the never-ending list of matters he had to attend to... Eivor was out here. With Sigurd.

He had been worried enough about the man to completely abandon everything else going on in his life, and it was all for the sake of making sure his brother was okay.

...But why?

“Sigurd?” Eivor repeated, his voice much gentler now. “...You’re worrying me.”

The older man sighed, shutting his eyes in defeat. “That’s all I seem to do nowadays -- worry people. It’s the only thing they talk about when I’m not around. ‘Is Sigurd alright?’ ‘Is he doing okay?’ ‘Why is he so angry today?’ ‘What’s going on?”

Eivor’s face sank with empathy. “We worry about you because we care, Sigurd.”

“I know,” he said plainly, “but you shouldn’t have to. You deserve a jarl who can stand on his own two feet. You deserve someone who isn’t like... this.”

“What do you mean?”

Sigurd scoffed. “Are you joking? Look at me, Eivor. You know what I used to be like. You know how I once was. But this...” his shoulders slouched in despondency, “...this is pathetic. I am nothing more than a hobbling stick now. A wretch of a warrior. A mere fragment of what I could be.”

Eivor shot him a puzzled stare. “What you could be? I... I don’t understand.”

“I am so much more than what you see, Eivor,” Sigurd explained. “I carry the blood of gods within my veins. I saw it for myself when I was with Fulke. Despite her cruelty, she did open my eyes to an unfathomable truth. She showed me a place destined for people like me -- a home that I’ve never known. There, I was a great warrior. A lord of pragmatism and battle prowess. People called me brother. They admired me.”

Eivor automatically glowered at the mention of Fulke’s name. “That woman was mad, Sigurd. She knew nothing of what she spoke. She only saw you as a tool, and used you for her own benefit. Do not let her ravings distort your mind.” He stopped for a second, thinking about his last words. “...But this place you speak of; this home that you desire -- you already have that here, brother. With our clan. With me.”

Sigurd’s expression only seemed to dim at that. “You don’t need me, Eivor. You’re more than capable of taking care of yourself. You--”

“--No, I do need you.” He corrected. “You really think I came all this way just to find someone that I don’t need?”

The older man shrugged morosely. “What could you possibly need me for? I can hardly fight nowadays, my mind is stuck in a haze, and I bring nothing except hardship and confusion to the people of our clan. What would you lose if I were to disappear?”

Eivor’s eyes softened with sorrow. “...Everything.”

Sigurd fell silent at the answer, unsure of how to react. Part of him suspected that the younger man was only saying what he wanted to hear, but the pain in his voice told him otherwise.

“Listen to me,” Eivor continued, “I may not always understand what’s going through your mind, but I understand your fear. I know you’ve been in pain for a long time now -- even before what happened with Fulke -- and I know it’s been a battle. But you mean more to people than you realize, Sigurd. You don’t need to be a god or a warrior to earn our love. You already have it.”

He brought Sigurd into a secure embrace, holding the man tightly.

“I need you because I love you. We may have our disagreements from time-to-time, but a life shaped by your struggles will always be better than a life without you at all. You helped create who I am today, and I would surely lose that part of myself if I lost you.”

Sigurd rested his head in the crook of Eivor’s neck, doing his best to hide the tears that were gathering in his eyes.

“...You truly believe that?”

The younger man separated the hug, gently holding Sigurd’s face in his hands.

“I do. So please... come home with me. It doesn’t have to end like this. You don’t need to be alone in this fight.”

The other man looked away from Eivor, staring at the ground in desolation.

“...But where do I go from here? How will I survive?”

Eivor gave him a sincere answer. “I don’t know. That’s for you to decide. The only thing I can tell you is that it won’t be easy, and you won’t heal overnight. But no matter what happens, I’ll always be here if you need me.”

He stood up from the ground, extending a hand out to Sigurd as the snow grew heavier around them.

“Come, love. Your journey isn’t over yet.”

Gazing upwards at the man, Sigurd found himself at a loss for words as a thousand different thoughts collided with each other inside his head, causing him to come face-to-face with an epiphany.

He would’ve been lying if he said he felt any better than he did earlier, but unlike before, Sigurd now wondered if death was truly worth it. At first, he envisioned the experience as a solution, or as a way to pacify the unrest in his soul. He thought it would finally be the end to all of his pain, but now... he couldn’t help but question if death was really the answer.

After all, he saw how it affected Tove when Svend suddenly passed. It was just so... abrupt. So final. He dropped out of the world like it was nothing, and slipped free from this realm’s grasp without any warning. There was no goodbye; no closure, no glorious end to the tale. 

It was just death. Plain and simple.

Sigurd couldn’t even begin to imagine how much it would damage Eivor if he went through the same thing. Despite the doubts that constantly crept into his mind, he knew that the man cared for him more than anyone else in his life. They were practically inseparable at this point, and if something were to happen to either of them, Sigurd knew it would devastate him.

He may have been desperate for a way to stop the pain, but no solution was worth hurting Eivor like that.

And so, with one last thought, Sigurd finally rose from the snow and grabbed onto Eivor’s hand, feeling determined to push through this once again. He didn’t know what sort of obstacles awaited him in the future, or how long this battle would carry on, but he could see now that it was fight worth pursuing.

Death was an inevitable face that he would have to greet eventually, but its time had yet to come. There was still an entire ocean of endless waves and ripples waiting beyond the horizon, and even though there was no guarantee that another storm wouldn’t hit, Sigurd hadn’t quite lost the curiosity to see what rested behind the fog.

He was just starting to write his saga, and the end would come when it was ready.

“...A-Alright,” Sigurd said quietly, his voice trembling slightly. “I’ll go with you.” He paused for a moment, gazing downwards in guilt. “I’m... I’m sorry for frightening you. I didn’t mean to worry you so much.”

Eivor gently caressed Sigurd’s cheek with the back of his knuckles, looking at him with a sense of love no one else ever had. “There’s no need to apologize. I’m just glad you’re still here.”

He planted a brief kiss on the older man’s lips, holding tightly onto his weathered hands as a shower of snowflakes fluttered down on top of them.

“Come on,” Eivor whispered affectionately, his words turning into clouds of mist. “...Let’s go home.”

[athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit]

Of Ice and Blood

Part 5

Look who's back with a 5k+ word count chapter?! Me!

I was planning on posting 1k+ at a time but stuff happened and I'm posting it all at once!

Enjoy and I'd appreciate it dearly if you reblog! Thank you!

Edit: Reached the 250 block limit so... The inevitable decision had to be made! Part 5 has a total of 3.42k words! The rest will be in a separate post <3

Pairing: Tai'chi Kashharzol (Orc) x Pearl Blackbell (Human OC/Reader)

Warnings: Cursing, Violence, brief mentions of blood and injury.

Overall SFW (but 16+ for language)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4 Part 6

*

The walk back to the school building was quiet.

Or so I thought.

Because it wasn't. At all.

Whispers, mutterings, echoed from the rooms as we passed by.

Are they doing it on purpose, or is my hearing sharper than usual?

"Hey look it's that girl."

"You mean the freak who sat beside the orc—"

"First day of school and someone already got killed. Should've expected him to be a savage."

"You think she wears a mask to hide her identity? Maybe she's a criminal-"

Probably the latter.

I shrugged. There stood a decent amount of distance between us anyway. So it's likely my hearing.

Students were watching us with weird suspecting eyes from a distance behind the windows. Sensing apprehension and outward hate when they saw Tai'chi next to me, his face in a neutral expression. But with my nose at this proximity, he smells pretty annoyed.

Just— why are there so many people,— humans–garnering these feelings towards someone they don't even know! And to even mock him like that! How dare —

"Pearl," Tai'chi called. His rich voice resonating, making the gossips of the students stop for a brief moment before they continued. Most likely slandering my name now. I didn't know I was standing still. Looking up, Tai'chi was a decent 9 meters away, with the staff members further ahead of him. He gave me a wondering look, worry along with his natural fragrance, drifted through me, carried by air.

I straightened up and took long strides, Tai'chi beside me, to catch up with them.

"Yeah, just thinking. I'm okay." Replying, not looking up to him. He didn't ask, but I felt like he would.

************short pov shift************

He was a bit bothered by the change in your scent and looked back when he noticed you weren't beside him anymore. There you were, standing in the middle of the wide hallway, brows scrunched up in aggravation.

He called out to you, probably a little louder than he meant to, but you looked up and hastily made your way beside him, both of you catching up to the rest towards the dean's office. He didn't ask, but you answered, only making him worry even more.

**********first person pov**************

As soon as we entered the main office of the center building, we were greeted with the sight of the dean and David, together with Miss Holson. He was a white fat man, though a bit taller than me, wearing a light grey suit with a few buttons open revealing a white undershirt, and a silly yellow, violet polka dot tie. I barely held back from snorting at the sight.

Mr. Silverstone was fussing over his son, his voice raised in slight panic was heard by everyone.

They went ahead of us then.

"My son! My dear, dear David! Who did this to you?!" he cried out. Once David, that son of a bitch, spotted me, he flashed me that blasted grin of his. He was acting, pretending to be hurt.

I hardly even left a scratch on him for fuck's sake. How I regret not punching him straight in the face.

Reverting to his fake, frightened, and miserable state, he pointed at me. "I-I-It's her father! She is the one who attacked me! Along with that thing with her."

Thing?! That sick bastard!

The dean whipped his head in my direction, eyes scanning me up and down before he diverted them to Tai'chi.

Well, it seems I'll ve packing up sooner than I thought.

My shoulders sagged.

Some professors were alarmed by this, frantically pushing forward to grab his attention.

"Mr. Silverstone, we still do not know what's for certain. We must interrogate them properly and listen to each of their sides before we make a decision." Mr. Dulrik asserted, his voice strained and close to animosity. He was not pleased with what the student had said.

The elder professor from earlier followed up.

"Listen to Mr. Dulrik, sir. We cannot take any risks and ju—"

"Silence!" the dean shouted. "I will not hear your reasoning. My son has told me everything I need to know. Miss Holson supported his claims and that's enough to decide what to do with these criminals."

Criminals?!

"The girl and that orc shall be expelled from this institution immediately. We do not need any murderers or barbarians here. I have always suspected why that Ernestine brat even allowed these monstrosities to be with us. To breathe the same air and walk the same land as we do, endangering our safety no less! A pathetic excuse of a founder she is! If it were me I would've—"

"You would've what?" Words came out before I stopped myself, my voice low, but it was heard still, drawing their attention to me.

"What did you just say?" He demanded, his anger slipping out more. The room was silent, except for the subtle ticking of the wall clock behind me, and the movement of air around us.

I lifted my head and looked at him dead in the eye. "You would've what?" This time, I replied, louder.

Before he could retort I went on, emotion fueling my words as I advanced with every question asked.

"Would've banned every single, non-human race from the university?

"Would've taught every human that they are greater beings and the ones that were different were meant to be stepped on?

"Would've ordered and tolerated bullying on anyone who was unnatural and weird looking?

"Would've put them in their place?

Isolate them? Degrade them? Despise them for being alive?" No-one stopped me as I approached him, the teachers separating and making way. Even Mr. Dulrik was regarding me curiously.

I scoffed. " 'If it were me' you said. You think I wouldn't notice how everyone else, that isn't human, was oppressed and treated like shit in this school? It seems to me that you already did what you would've done, didn't you? You are no dean, you are a clown, a pillock, a dumbass, and you call yourself human? You are more monster than any of us in this room."

I breathed heavily as I stood a couple of feet in front of him. His face grew to a crimson hue, my ears catching the sound of smoke seething out of him. At the back, David and Miss Holson were dumbfounded, shocked into place, shaken like ugly statues.

Finally, the dean spoke, his fists clenching hard as he faced me, almost drawing blood.

I am so gonna beat him up. Hell yeah, I will.

"Keep out of trouble if you can." Well, shit happened Mama, forgive me.

"How dare you speak to me like that! I, a pure-blood Silverstone, a line of royalty! If we were still at war I would've had you executed from where you stand—"

"How about you do it yourself then, oh mighty Silverstone jerk?" I mocked and gave a toothy smile, then I remembered he wouldn't see it. That was all it took to have him launching himself at me, the professors running to the sides to avoid his wrath.

His hands were balled tight, a fist aiming for my face, eyes filled with deadly intent.

Oh, he really wants to kill me.

Before it connected, I sidestepped, causing him to stumble forward. Even so, he immediately regained his balance and reached to grab my hoodie. I didn't dodge this time, but before he touched me, I used my right hand to slap it away. With my other hand, fitted with my crimson knuckle dusters, I met his fist with mine. Almost instantly, he stumbled back and crouched down, his left hand holding his bloodied one.

"You bitch!!!" he screamed in agony.

I think I broke his hand.

I glanced to my brass knuckles, some of the blood covering them, merely visible because of its color.

Shattered it perhaps.

"I will have you killed you insolent brat! I'll kill you!" he cursed.

"Now, now, Silverstone, you will do no such thing." A feminine voice cut through the large room. We all turned to the door to see a slim, tall, tanned woman who seemed to be in her 40s, her slightly wrinkled face showing it. She was wearing a black high-waist pencil skirt paired with a black one-button suit and a baby blue undershirt. The lady also wore classic white loafers and white hand gloves made of leather, with her ebony hair tied up in a bun.

Everything about her screams 'important'. I scented an intimidating yet reassuring aura around her.

I met her eyes and a sense of familiarity fell upon me. I know her and I've seen her before.

Wait. Could it be— she's—

"Madame Ernestine!" A professor exclaimed.

That means she's, "The founder," I said out loud.

She began sauntering in my direction, each step clicking on the floor, carrying herself with grace.

"M-Ma-Madame Ernestine!" The dean, shrieked as he stood up, shaking, his busted hand in his chest, his back facing me. "I didn't expect you to visit this year! We could've prepared for your arrival—"

"You shut your mouth now Welmir." She spoke out, her voice firm and borderline hostile. "I've had enough of your blabbering mug. I made it so that my arrival is unexpected. Leaving my outside duties rather early and rushed this year when news got to me that you, the dean, were neglecting your duties, or so, doing it wrong. Not to mention I had my assistant install extra cameras in... certain places last year and because of that, I saw what you did in the shadows. Maybe not all, but it confirmed my suspicions of you, and so," She clapped her together, "I decided to visit you today. And what a surprise it was to see you get beaten up by this lovely young lady behind you."

Me?! Lovely—

My face warmed from her comment.

"Listen here, brat." he regarded the founder. The founder. "I do not know what you are talking about. I have done my duties and more for this university. I made it so that everyone here is safe and this girl,"— he spat— "harmed me, my precious son, and his friends!"

"And all of you deserved it, severely," she responded flatly. "You put my dear students at risk and antagonized them with your schemes, tolerating the behavior of treating other races like animals, disrespecting even the professors who are different in kind," she glanced at Mr. Dulrik and the others. "You even forced a minotaur, an elf, and a dwarven student to act the part of being in a student council, hoping people wouldn't notice the crimes you did behind our backs. Did you expect me to turn blind eye to this?"

It was all pretend?!

The mere thought of what he did to threaten them to it makes me wanna puke.

"I am furious, Welmir Silverstone. To think I believed you'd change your ways after my father's death with the renovation of the institute. Trusted you to do your job as dean and make the students comfortable, welcomed. But, no. You chose to follow his footsteps, became selfish, blinded by greed and pointless hate. You are a disappointment to all of us."

I smelled her rage under that near non-expressive facade of hers. It was spicy, like fire having an odor of its own.

"You are but a child! You know nothing of this world! This world of ours needs to be purged off of those rats. You cannot tell me what to do!" He yelled as he brought up his uninjured hand to hit her. I was about to step in when Madame Ernestine grabbed his arm and threw a right uppercut, blood spilling out of his jaw. The punch sent him a few steps back, he would have landed on me if I didn't move out of the way before he collapsed on the floor groaning and holding his mouth.

Ooh she's strong! Nice! I grinned.

"You are hereby stripped off of your job as dean along with all of your titles, properties, and henceforth banished from these grounds, together with your son and Emma Holson, whom I found out laid with him, and the abusive acts they had engaged in." Her words laced with poison, disgust and anger as she gave the final judgement.

"Never show yourselves. Ever. Again," she spat. "Take them away."

Out of nowhere, men in black suits came in and apprehended the young instructor, who twisted her heel trying to escape. She yelled at them to let her go, saying she has done nothing wrong. David, the bastard, was held in place by one of them as he struggled in their grasp. The dean— or should I say, Mr. Silverstone, in pain and bleeding, was dragged up by two others and headed straight out of the door. He shouted ;

"Mark my words, brat! I will—"

And the door slammed close.

With my gaze following them, my eyes landed on Tai'chi. I took off my dusters and waved, tucking them back up my sleeve.

He is smiling! And oh wow he's damn gorgeous— wait what?

My attention was drawn away to the lady in front of me. I got distracted by Tai'chi that I almost forgot about her.

"Oh my God I uhm— hello Madame Ernestine." I took one step back before bowing. "It's an honor to meet you. I—"

"Oh dear, please raise your head. No need for such formal gestures. I am Valerie Ernestine, founder of the new Ernestine State University." She stated as she beamed at me.

"I uh- Yes ma'am I know of you. I'm quite a fan actually— I mean! My name is Pearl Blackbell, ma'am."

Oh God, that sounded so stupid.

Then she hugged me.

"Ma'am?!" I squeaked. My arms went stiff, nervous to even touch her. Before I could, she pulled back, a gentle expression on her face.

"Nice to meet you, Pearl Blackbell."

"I- nice to meet you too Ma'am Ernestine!" I stammered, praying my face and ears isn't as red as I feel them to be.

"Please, call me Valerie."

"Ma'am Valerie."

"Just Valerie, dear."

"I'm so sorry ma'am but I can't— my mother will hit me in the head with a frying pan if I forget my manners."

"Very well, then. It brings me joy that you were raised properly by your parents."

"Thank you ma'am, I really am happy to have them, and I only hope for them to be proud of me— oh wait. Uh, ma'am Valerie?"

"Yes?"

"Am I gonna get punished or expelled?" I shrunk, expecting the worst.

"Why ever did you think of that?"

"W-Well you see, I did harm uh, students and they're probably in the infirmary right now and—"

"Oh, Pearl, no." She let out a light chuckle. "You won't be punished or even expelled for that! In fact, I saw how you defended yourself and your friend from them. They did attack you first, sweetie. And what you did was impressive!" She clapped her hands. As I stood there in relief, I couldn't help but shot up when the words sank in.

"Oh, thank you. But how...?"

"Apparently, I had my assistant install some cameras in the forest area for particular reasons. I watched you from the monitor as I made my way here," she replied.

"Oh. Oh, wow. That's actually pretty awesome," I sighed.

"Indeed, it is," she smiled. "Excuse me for a bit."

******pov shift to 2nd person (two characters)*****

Madame Ernestine turned and walked towards the remaining teachers to talk about important matters at hand.

"Greetings, my friends." She beamed at the staff and looked at Professor Dulrik and the woman who supported him earlier. "Hello, Roldo and Amila. I have missed you dearly." She bent down to hug the two of them before she went on. "I apologize for not taking action immediately. To think he did this to all of you right under my nose! Why didn't you contact me Roldo?"

"My apologies, Madame Ernestine. I didn't have any proof to show his plot against you and the others. He was very elusive and kept us very busy in our own offices for the past year with you away. That was until today, with the young lady over there standing up against his son, he snapped."

"It really is a good thing she came here, didn't she?" she whispered.

"Indeed, Madame," Amila replied.

There was a brief silence, before Valerie spoke up again. Her gaze locked at the dwarven professor.

"Roldo, my old friend, I want you to take your place as the new dean of this university. I trust you to do your duty a hundred percent better than that impudent man ever did. Will you accept this responsibility?"

"I- Valerie this is-"

"Roldo, you are wise and have seen things most of us here have not. I will not force you on something you do not want, but I put my faith in you, to help me, along with the rest of the staff, to teach everyone here that all of us stand in equal ground, and that we must respect and acknowledge each individual, regardless of their kind. No one, no student, should ever feel uncomfortable in this haven of mine."

"I understand, Valerie." The dwarf took a deep breath and vowed;

"I, Roldo Dulrik, son of Grol II, son of Frerin, accept the responsibilities given to me as dean of Ernestine State University. I will do my duty to the best of my abilities, and remain loyal to you and to this institution." He responded as he thumped his right fist against his chest.

"I know you will, my friend." Valerie grinned at him, her eyes full of trust and hope.

While they were occupied with discussing certain issues, you tried to sneak away, only to be called back by Madame Ernestine.

"Pearl, my dear."

"Yes ma'am?"

"Thank you."

She had a soft smile, emotions clear on her face, directed at you. The founder, Valerie was thanking you for your bravery, kindness and overall honesty. You simply nodded and grinned from ear to ear behind your mask. You were, however, suddenly nervous when Valerie and the two professors approached you. No, actually, all of them were, but the others are heading out of the office, perhaps to go back to their respective classrooms and start working, they gave their thanks as they went out.

"Pearl Blackbell, a wonderful name!" Professor Dulrik remarked. "May the Gods bless you and shine upon you in all your days," he grinned. Before you could reply, Professor Amila hugged you and whispered. "Thank you, for beating up those idiots," —which made you giggle— "It was the right thing to do, and also I had to defend myself. and thank you, Professor Dulrik."

"Nonsense, call me Professor Roldo, lass." He patted your shoulder as he went past you and out of the office, but not before he slapped Tai'chi's forearm.

"You best protect her if you can, lad. Even so, it is obvious she won't need protecting!" He laughed, and went on, quietly, as if whispering. "...Be her friend, my boy. Her eyes...they show the pain she had gone through. You saw that in her, didn't you?"

Tai'chi simply nodded in response. He knew what he meant.

"Then do what you must. If word ever comes to me that you hurt her, I will hunt you down with me battle axe hidden in my office, you hear?"

This time, he chuckled. "I hear you, Professor. I won't. I swear on the the name of my clan, no harm will befall on her." He told him, his voice firm and true.

"That's what I'm talking about, lad!" He replied as he finally exited the room.

Tai'chi shifted his gaze to you. You and the dean were still talking so he stood there, patiently.

"We best be on our way. We still have a number of things to set straight. We will see you around, Miss Blackbell. Don't get into trouble now." The founder giggled.

"I will try my best, ma'am."

"Oh sure you will, sweetie. Goodluck. And oh, the two of you should start going back. It's past lunchbreak afterall." She said as the two ladies sauntered past you and went out.

"Thank you, we will." You said, mostly to yourself.

**************************************

Part 6 will be posted shortly! Like, shortly shortly. Like, an hour or so shortly. Stay tuned! Thank you for reaching this point uwu✨

Tags: @crackinanutshell @kokokatsworld @mitchiesdungeon <3

[raitrolling]

Calm, After the Storm

[Easy Reading Version on Toyhou.se]

The clean-up for Vernrot Harbour had been slower going than Lusien expected. There was no structural damage to the town, no residents had been harmed as far as he was aware of, and the organisation that’d moved in to defeat the ‘threat’ were able to manage the situation quite cleanly. He had numerous encounters with members of Gaia since the incident: first on the night of the event when he was prevented from getting anywhere close to the shoreline, no matter how many times he insisted he knew the person causing all the trouble; again the night after when a member of the hospital wing knocked on his door to check him for signs of eldritch mental corruption, due to his close contact with a horrorterror (supposedly the results were normal… For this town’s standards); and then at least once a night after that as more people were brought in for clean-up duty.

The clean-up duty, of course, being restoring the balance between the numerous other entities inhabiting the town.

Lusien has always been familiar with the supernatural, and this familiarity has made him attuned to the state of the town. Those Who Slumber In The Deep are placid for a collective of horrorterrors living in the depths of Vernrot Harbour’s, well, harbour. Their influence is subtle, altering the weather patterns to their liking, and infecting the minds of the residents as the eldritch are wont to do. Some are more susceptible to their influence, typically those who live closer to their abode or spend much longer in the ocean than the average troll. But only he, gifted with the power to see the unseen and comprehend the incomprehensible, are aware of just what they’re doing to the residents. The scientist who lives by the shoreline doesn’t know why he feels lonely when he is unable to hear the whispers in the back of his mind, the author further towards the centre of town doesn’t think about why they’re always so drawn to the ocean whenever they feel troubled. And Lusien cannot tell them, the horrorterrors don’t allow them to believe him.

It is the other entities that are of most concern. The shadow beings were more restless than usual, and their home invasions became more frequent. The spirits residing in the lighthouse required more favours to pacify, feeling extra capricious out of spite for their ‘territory’ being infringed upon. Mostly they just required food or a small sacrifice, and while Lusien didn’t enjoy whenever they sought out something more from him, he was still compelled to carry out their wishes. Every other supernatural being that made their home in the town had their own sets of rules to follow, an invisible checklist of tasks and favours that once completed will make them consider not acting out again for an unspecified amount of time. No one else in the town was aware of their existence, and thus it became Lusien’s duty to tend to each and every one of their needs for the sake of the livelihoods of others. No one but him would notice if a resident was spirited away to another realm or possessed by a cranky entity who was rudely awoken by the songs of The Choir, and no one would be grateful for his efforts, but he still felt it was important to help them.

The staff at Gaia had been more than helpful. The trolls they sent were all well-equipped to handle the supernatural in a non-violent manner, although Lusien would often be called over to guide them through the more unpredictable whims of the entities. “Look for the blueblood with the starry eye” became a phrase often spoken by members of the organisation, and it was not uncommon for someone to come running over to the lighthouse to seek him out for an emergency. He would ask about what happened to Thri- The horrorterror they captured that caused all of this, but no one had an answer for him. They probably wouldn’t have an answer if he used his actual name either, given their tendency for codenames and classifications. The best he’d heard is that ‘the creature’ had returned to its troll form, and was currently detained. Lusien didn’t particularly enjoy the way they spoke of his friend, but he’d given up on correcting every single person he asked.

He was at the pier again, fishing up some more flounders to harvest their skeletons for a ritual as his nightly routine had been for the past couple of nights, when he heard the sound of heeled boots stomping on the wooden boardwalk approaching him. 

“Ugh… No one told me there were gonna be some fucked up toads here.”

Lusien turned to face the Gaia employee whining about the wildlife they must have come across, a tall indigblood wearing a white, slightly-translucent coat. They had a company umbrella in their hand that was most likely issued to them as part of their excursion to the rainy town, and they’d pulled up the hood of their coat over their head for extra protection against the wet weather. Through their scrunched-up expression of disgust, Lusien had noticed their eyes were rather striking: He’d never seen heterochromia as intense as their pale purple and reddish-pink eyes. Before he can make a comment about how the ‘toad’ they mentioned was most likely a mutated variation of the juvenile fishmen that plague the waters of the harbour, they’re quick to continue.

“You’re Lusien, right? The guy everyone’s been going on about?” There’s a nice, casual tone to their voice, which contrasts greatly against the horrendous vibes Lusien can see latching onto them. They’ve been deeply tainted by something he cannot quite figure out, but just like all the other residents of this town they seem completely unbothered by it. 

He nods in response to their question, and cannot help but wonder if they’re genuinely unaware of whatever magical influence has poisoned their mind or if they’re simply choosing to ignore it. They smile, in a way that makes Lusien’s hypothesis favour towards the latter.

“Pog. Yeah so I’m guessing you’re used to us coming up to you to give progress reports on the state of the town, but I got nothing. The reports I’ve been getting seem to suggest it’s getting better, so we’ll be outta here in a couple nights once we’re certain it’s all back to your usual level of fucked up.” They shrug. “If it was still out of control, I wouldn’t be here. I’m like a canary in a mineshaft, I’m not assigning myself to check out certain towns if there’s a risk of Shitbrains Syndrome. I already got enough of that.”

Yep, definitely aware of it but choosing to ignore it. Somehow even more off-putting than if they were just as clueless as the residents of the town. Despite feeling disconcerted, Lusien nods again. He’s always polite, no matter how disturbing his conversational partner may be.

“Okay. Thank you for the update.” It wasn’t his place to pry into anything else they had implied, and they probably appreciate that. It’s hard to get a read on what they’re thinking.

“Oh yeah, also. Update from the Starfish himself. I’m not a messenger but he’d probs appreciate it if I told you this-”

Lusien’s ears twitch at the mention of the ‘starfish’. He thinks he recalls Thrixe once mentioning his lusus, in a conversation a long time ago about stargazing. 

“He’s like, legit crushed about the whole horrorterror thing. He asked a couple times if you were alright, but psychological records are confidential and all that so I just told him yeah. Don’t really blame him that much about being kinda emo about the whole ordeal. And no one really wanted to give him any updates cuz, y’know, that’s a wholeass horrorterror we got locked up, but I knew the guy already so it kinda became my job to deliver the goods. I didn’t even get a bonus added to my pay for that...” They mutter that last part as they look away, glancing down towards the shoreline where Thrixe turned. “Anyway. I’m sure he’d probs wanna tell you to your face if the town’s ever gonna want him back here, but. Just thought you should know.”

For the first time in nights, Lusien felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. That feeling of relief with almost as much intensity to that of whenever he sees Anirus’ ship float into the harbour. He was okay. Thrixe was okay. 

“I’m glad to hear that.” The blueblood smiles. “And thank you for being so kind to him.”

The indigoblood was right. It probably won’t be likely that Thrixe would be able to return here for a long time given the whims of the entities, but Lusien would look forward to that night, whenever it may be.