#but it's one that ends up resonating a lot once the stories are over and you see how much he has to deal with all of this

[icharchivist]

"Percy villain arc", does Aglovale mean nothing to you people

You're right though, it would be funny to see Percy go truly evil. The fire association is super common in villains. Making it hot in several senses. You're completely valid

LIKE I SAID -- it's about a different type of villainy!! the brothers may look alike but they're not interchangeable!!!!

Aglovale's villainy came from an hatred of all of humanity, a desire to control people out of fear, and a desire to get his family back, including his mother.

Lamorak's villainy came from selflessness, a desire to help absolutely everyone who ever experienced massive heart pain that can only be solved by revenge, a savior complex so big he ends up helping the most dangerous of people, while putting himself in danger and therefore also keeping his family as far away as possible from him so he doesn't get swayed into going back on his words.

A Percival's villainy arc would never be like Aglovale's because Percival never let go of his desire to see good in people, and he wouldn't keep his family away like Lamorak.

Like i said i do think it's a bit hard to see a path to villainy Percival can take when his brothers went to both different extreme to start with. I think what makes Percival's arc strong is that he's not tempted by snapping, and that he is holding strong despite the fact he sees how his brothers are torn apart by the same trauma they all share.

I personally love the fact Percival doesn't seem to be in any situation to snap, but i like thinking about what if he did actually go apeshit. What if he got tired of fixing his brothers' shit. He's constantly having to clean up after them because they mishandled their trauma while he is trying so hard to make it something productive.

And it's not like Percival doesn't have a mean edge. Remember when he insulted Lancelot when they found him in a cell after he's been tortured, because Lancelot "only had himself to blame" for turning a blind eye to the wrongs of the King? and that it essentially came from how he's been hurt that Lancelot abandonned him during the Siegfried's debacle and the fact Lancelot blindly supporting people in position of power rather than getting to the bottom of something was something Percival found reprehensible. (i have many thoughts about this).

That's why i think two componants to break Percival is if the weight of his brothers' sins get lifted off his back, so he's less alert to his own shortcomings as he's no longer in this state of survival about holding his family together, and losing MC, which would set him in a situation of thinking "despite everything i do i still lose the people i care about." (especially, once again, because MC is the only person who never disappointed Percival, which is why Percival always was so unconditional in his way to be attached to MC, in ways even the Dragon Knights nor his Brothers can live up to.)

It's like "you can do everything right and still lose", in comparaison to his brothers who just did things wrong.

how do you deal? how do you cope? this grief was supposed to stay in the past, yet whatever you do it still comes back to catch up on you.

there's a potential there that is completely unlike what Aglovale and Lamorak went through in their own villain arcs, and it's what i'd personally explore if we give Percival an evil arc.

It'd be hot! especially if it's about MC which i have totally neutral reasons to want personally obviously.

But as it is i just really like the idea of him being the only one to keep things together while the familial trauma is destroying the rest of his family. Feels nice feels organic and i'm just genuinely invested in this storyline, is all!

[oraclemoontarot]

what would a romantic relationship with your favourite/chosen celebrity be like? - PAC ★

pick a chococat !! ᯓᡣ𐭩

from left to right, top to bottom - pile 1, pile 2, pile 3, pile 4 disclaimer - i used the love story tarot deck, meaning interpretations of certain cards may be different to standard tarot! this is also a new deck, so please let me know if it resonated or not ♡

paid readings

pile 1 ୨୧

cards pulled: ten of wands, nine of swords, star, high priestess, eight of swords, five of pentacles, sun, seven of pentacles, nine of wands, two of cups, five of cups, two of wands, six of swords + chariot

the relationship between you and your celebrity would be one that may take time and effort to grow/get close to one another. a lot of effort and secrecy may be needed for it to develop into something long-term and meaningful, and there may be times where you may worry and have to sneak out in the middle of the night to meet them, or they may have moments where they'd need to explain things to you and apologise, which may add weight to such worries.

however, this would be a relationship you hold a lot of optimism towards and have longed for, and one where the two of you would simply understand each other on a more intuitive level. you would be understanding of their obligations and their career and be open to working around that, they may also have moments where they miss you, especially if secrecy or distance is involved, as well as concerns on how a relationship with secrecy and sneaking away may affect you - due to them being a celebrity.

but this would be a relationship that would bring the both of you a lot of happiness despite the initial challenges, there would be a sense of hope and dreaminess involved. they would easily make you flustered, even with simple acts or comments, and the two of you would think of each other while working etc., where you would look forward to the next time the two of you would meet. with the two of cups, it would be a relationship with a lot of love and depth, and paired with the six of swords, you would enjoy each others company and conversations and never get bored of each other.

with the chariot, despite the slow burn at the beginning, the relationship would end up being fast moving once the two of you get over any hurdles/challenges presented to you. it could very well be a relationship that could last long-term.

pile 2 ୨୧

cards pulled: high priestess, two of pentacles, page of cups, ten of pentacles, nine of cups, seven of swords, queen of cups, devil, temperance, ten of swords, two of cups, justice, sun + three of pentacles

similarly to pile 1, you and your celebrity would be connected intuitively, you would understand each other on a deeper level, however, the two of you may be different yet similar. there is an air of maturity and depth to you, you are the queen of cups, someone who is emotionally mature and open, you have a warm heart and take care of those you care about. your celebrity is the page of cups, they are idealists, possibly romantic dreamers and can sometimes express their feelings in innocent yet charming ways.

within this relationship, this celebrity would bring out the best in you, you would take care of yourself especially well, including your appearance, and they would spoil you mainly in material items or gifts - their love language may be gift giving. the two of you would get along really well with each others side of the family, and it may be a relationship which lasts at least for a few years.

it would be a balanced relationship, and the two of you would have a deep love for one another, although there may be times where there is distance or coldness between the both of you, this could stem from disagreements - relating to difference in maturity levels or the ways in which you express your affection. the relationship as a whole, with the nine of cups, would be incredibly successful though, and paired with the seven of swords, if your celebrity is successful in terms of their career, they would definitely share their earnings with you, especially as they would love to shower you with gifts.

With the devil card, there would be a lot of passion within the relationship, as well as a strong physical attraction towards one another.

Overall, with the justice, sun and three of pentacles, this relationship would be fair, balanced, full of happiness and positivity, as well as one where you not only have a love for each other, but a friendship - this may have been a relationship that first started off as friends.

pile 3 ୨୧

cards pulled: six of pentacles, nine of swords, seven of cups, star, ten of wands, three of wands, page of cups, justice, knight of pentacles, emperor, six of swords, queen of wands, four of wands + two of cups

y'all I'm getting serious puppy and lover boy energy from this celebrity, like jake from enhypen - golden retriever energy. they would be so loving, possibly even wearing their heart on their sleeves. they would melt at the sight of you, spoil you with affection, and likely be the ones to pursue you - they would be shy yet determined in a way.

there would of course be worries mainly on your end, and you may miss them when they aren't around - like looking at their photos or watching their content. it would be a relationship you longed for, like a wish come true. it would take a while for the relationship to develop, but there is so much hope and potential for it and the two of you would be imagining and planning for what the future has to offer.

it would be such a balanced and loving relationship, but the two of you would also be the IT couple - and you guys would fit together like puzzle pieces. they would bring out the queen of wands in you - someone who is confident, passionate, enthusiastic, and alluring. you would shine so bright in this relationship, it's like you bring out the best in each other.

your celebrity would be the emperor in this relationship - where they may express their love and affection outwardly like the page of cups, idealistic, romantic, with a sense of innocence and charm, the emperor is more stable and grounded, a family-oriented person who makes sure everything is going well, that you're doing alright. they're like husband/wife material, and they bring you a sense of calm and security, like there's nothing to worry about.

overall, with the six of swords and two of cups, there would be so much love, affection, and meaningful conversation. you would love being in each others company and thrive together. they would definitely be obsessed with you in a cute way, serious puppy energy. this is honestly the sweetest pile.

pile 4 ୨୧

cards pulled: two of cups, two of swords, lovers, ace of pentacles, nine of wands, six of wands, judgement, three of swords, hierophant, five of cups, three of pentacles, world, page of wands + strength

not gonna lie, i was worried at first until more cards fell out. this relationship would be so lovely, but with its own set of challenges, mainly surrounding jealousy and misunderstandings.

there would be so much love for one another, the two of cups AND the lovers?? (which explains the jealousy) your celebrity would also be the biggest flirt and would get you flustered almost instantly and at random moments which would catch you completely off guard. but, because they are such flirts, you may feel heartbroken at times due to misunderstandings and doubting whether their intentions towards you are genuine. because of this, the two of you may spend some time apart putting your thoughts together, maybe even seeking advice from friends - on both sides.

it's funny because the cards i pulled had a woman with two friends, and another card of a man with his two friends, so the both of you would be trying to get to the bottom of this and working on better understanding how to approach this situation and where you see your relationship heading, as well as hearing out other perspectives from trusted people.

with the page of wands, your celebrity is incredibly charming, almost irresistible and they may be quite smug at times. they're confident once they know what they're doing and what they want, even if they were initially worried or uncertain. and, with the strength card, none of you would give up, even more so them. they would put all their eggs in one basket to be with you, especially as they have such strong feelings, so they would keep working at it, and opening communication between you two so that misunderstandings don't arise again.

overall, with the ace of pentacles and the world, you may buy a home together and eventually get married - or at least be a long-term and meaningful relationship despite misunderstandings and jealousy that may have arisen in the beginning. there would be a need for communication and having to work through such issues to get there.

[theresattrpgforthat]

Mint Plays Games: Changelings, Trauma & Gaming

Over the course of October and November, I returned to one of my favourite ttrpgs of all time with @thydungeongal and my girlfriend: Changeling the Lost. About once or twice a year, I get the itch to run the 1st edition of this lovely, lore-heavy game, and every year I come away from it thinking about its potential. This is meant to be a quick break-down of my latest Changeling session, as well as a reflection on the parts of Changeling that really touch my heart.

The Game.

This game happened over three sessions, involving a character creation session, and two sessions of play. We had one character who was a Darkling Gravewright - folks who dealt with the dead in their time in Faerie (and can also see ghosts), and another who was a Fairest Flamesiren, whose entire deal is about burning bright, but also burning out quickly.

I decided to give these girls a murder mystery, with a mortal body found just outside a gate to a Goblin Market, and a missing changeling to track down. We’d talked about themes of grief and addiction prior to my planning stage, so I figured dealing with both a death and a place that offers your wildest dreams (for a price) might be a good place to start.

I don’t like planning out specific plot beats in my games, so instead I tried designing the Market like an adventure location, with various vendors to tempt the players with their wares, while dotting the landscape with NPCs in various states of distress. I figured the Changelings would pick something that resonated with them, and we could go from there. This process also generated a few different villainous characters who could be responsible for the murder, which I’m glad I did, because as usual, what the players decide to do always falls outside the bounds of what the GM plans for.

The story ended up being about saving a kidnapped changeling from a hungry Fae, and bluffing through a group of Privateers (read: mercenaries) and bringing the victim to safety. However, they didn't escape completely unscathed - coming face to face with a True Fae caused a cascade of terrible memories coming back to visit one of our characters right after she thought she'd made it to safety.

Our session was an introduction to the world and lore of Changeling, and I feel like I did a pretty good job on that front. On the other hand, I felt like it was just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the things I think Changeling can be about.

The Potential

When it comes to the World of Darkness in general, I think Changeling: the Lost has a relatively sleek amount of lore regarding the various Courts, Seemings, and faerie characters. Each Changeling’s durance can be typified, but ultimately what they went through can be up to the player who designs them, and the Hedge is limitless in its weird and strange creatures, which gives the GM license to create all kinds of goblins and monsters to fit what they want their game to be about - and the players aren’t really expected to know what’s going on in there anyways. Most Freehold history exists in rumour, because talking too openly about it feels like you’re inviting the Fae to your front doorstep, and in the same way, the true nature of the Fae is left up to rumour and superstition, allowing your group to decide what they really are, or leave their nature forever a mystery.

That being said, the toys that you can play with are still more numerous than anything that you can fit into any one campaign, even if you’re playing that campaign for 4+ years. You can very easily play Changeling as a magical urban fantasy game (and I’ve done this fairly regularly with my group), but C:tL also has a lot of poignant themes that can delve into themes about trauma, addiction, and mental health.

Disclaimer: CtL is not always graceful in the way it represents mental health. There are antagonists presented in the books that come across as “madmen”, some pretty gross Merits you can take that can feel bad to play at most tables, and characters that have lost what makes them human, becoming threats to the players. However, I think that the Clarity system does have some interesting ideas in it that, if treated with care, can still provide some interesting depth to the game.

Clarity

Clarity is meant to be a measure of how well your character can tell truth from Fiction - a high enough Clarity score, and you can sniff out a Fae even if they’re trying to hide themselves; a low enough Clarity Score, and you have a hard time differentiating colour and smell, and might even start seeing an overlay of your Durance infiltrating your weekly grocery trip.

Your Changeling moves up in Clarity if they’re able to keep a stable life with elements that help you ground yourself and give you a sense of identity - and mechanically, once you spend Experience points. Your Changeling moves down in Clarity when they suffer “sins” - moments that disrupt that hard-won stability. This sins could be something we’d consider morally fraught, such as stealing, assaulting someone, or murder - but they could also be significant life changes, like losing your job, buying a house, losing a friend or getting married. You also always suffer a Clarity sin when you come in contact with a reminder of your durance - particularly a True Fae.

The higher your Clarity score is, the harder it is to keep yourself there. Smaller and smaller things can trigger a Breaking point, like going a day without human contact, starting a new college course, or using a Faerie token. Furthermore, the lower your Clarity score, the more difficult it is for you to tell truth from fiction - think of the scenes in Mockingjay where Peeta has to ask Katniss “real or not real” and try to trust her answers.

It doesn’t help that so many pieces of the Changeling experience after getting out of the Hedge seems designed to Fuck You Up - like the doppelgänger that’s been living your life ever since you left, or the fact that mortals can’t seem to notice the ways that Faerie has changed you: you can feel the horns on your head, but all they touch is a well-coiffed hairstyle. In many ways it feels like your whole experience with Faerie is invisible - and you’re fairly certain that even if you told a mortal the truth, they’d never believe you. If they did believe you, they would never treat you the same again.

I like this system because it doesn't really measure how "good" or "bad" your character is - instead it's a representation of how your lived experiences can often trigger symptoms even if others get lucky enough to survive those events with their mental health intact. I'm not a bit fan of derangements - but I think dropping in Clarity is an excellent time to ask characters about pieces of their time in Faerie that haunt them, and perhaps saddle them with Frailties instead - what personal rules do you have to follow in order to navigate the world when you have a hard time telling friend from foe?

Other Themes & Metaphors

The Fae themselves are also exquisite boogeymen, mercurial abusers without the familiar human emotions that we might feel more equipped to understand. They act on their whims and follow their appetites - and while real-life abusers often have very human reasons for being that way, we need not feel such compunctions from the Fae.

We might have to feel some compunctions about their right-hand Loyalists however, changelings who have agreed to work for their Fae Masters in exchange for some semblance of freedom. These are enablers: giving the Fae a step into the mortal realm and throwing mortals and other Lost under the bus, just so the True Fae won't turn their abuses back onto them.

Much of the ethos of the seasonal courts in the first edition has to do with different strategies for preventing a day where you find yourself back under your abuser’s control. Do you pretend that everything is fine, because they won’t recognize their victims if they’re happy? Make yourself physically stronger so you can tell yourself that you’ll win next time? Amass magic rituals in the hopes that learning just the right order of steps will keep you safe? Or do you make yourself as un-interesting as possible in the hopes that they give up on you for other prey? (Yes, I think the Winter Court could totally be all about grey-rocking).

On top of that, the Changelings that your characters embody (and interact with) are far from perfect. They have vices, fears and trauma responses that pull and push them into a dance of backstabbing, power-grabbing politics, full of seeking the upper hand and possibly even selling out their fellows in a gambit meant to keep the Fae focused on someone other than them. (A political game or LARP with these themes in mind feels so juicy to me.)

Next is the metaphors of power and/or addiction. The higher your Wyrd is, the more Glamour you can hold, and the more powerful your magic is. At the same time, the more Glamour you can hold, the more you need to hold it: what starts as a fun magical resource can grow into an addiction, if you lean into it hard enough. Sure, your Contracts become easier to activate and you can Incite Bedlam if you get powerful enough, but are you willing to chance withdrawal if you can’t get your daily fix of goblin fruit? How much are you willing to play with human emotions in order to get that sweet sweet taste of anger or grief?

Then there’s the seeming-specific traumas. Beasts struggle with wondering whether they can be human after giving in to animal instinct; Darklings fell into Faerie because they crossed an invisible or moral line and have had to make morally questionable decisions in order to survive. Elementals are used to being treated as part of the scenery, moulded to fit the whims of their captors; Fairest are constantly pressured to be the prettiest or the best with the threat of terrible terrible things should they fail. Ogres have undergone terrible physical hardships, including physical mistreatment and deprivation, while Wizened have been told time and time again that they are only worth something if they are useful. Stepping out of Faerie doesn’t magically “fix” any of these complexes, and as a result each Seeming has to wrestle with stereotypes even amongst their own: if you need someone murdered, go to a Darkling, If you need something made, go to a Wizened. If you need a hot piece of ass, a Fairest is sure to oblige - right?

Lastly, there's the Fetch: a copy of yourself that was made to replace you when the Fae took you away. This other-you is often so much better or so much worse than the person they used to be - they can act as a foil to your character, haunting you or making your life difficult, reminding you of who you used to be, or never letting others forget how badly you may have screwed up. In Changeling society, killing your Fetch is at the very least a regrettably convenient way of tying up loose ends, and at the most, a rite of passage. But it's also a surefire way to risk losing Clarity. Kind of a catch-22 situation, isn't it?

My Experience So Far

Past Changeling sessions I’ve run have included NPCs getting kidnapped by misguided friends, stumbling across characters who were at an all-time Clarity low, trying to save other Changelings from their Faerie kidnappers, cannibals, Fetches, and antagonists who are set out to betray one or more factions of the Freehold that is supposed to protect them. It’s always bits and pieces of what feels like a bigger picture.

On the one hand, I think that's to be expected. There's so much in this game, and I doubt that any campaign can really dig in to all of its systems and complexities. On the other hand, I’m not sure if I’ve been able to really dig into the themes of Changeling: the Lost in the way that I’d really love to be able to do.

The subject matter can be so close to real struggles, that I’m nervous about making those struggles too bare-faced at my local table. Gas-lighting, torture, hallucinations, drug abuse and cannibalism are so very easy to drop into a Changeling game, but are also so very easy to hit uncomfortable moments for someone who's unprepared.

At the same time, I think that playing a game like Changeling with a high-trust table that uses robust safety features has so many interesting stories that can give power to players, even if the setting is technically a horror one. I’ve been having conversations with @psychhound about a lot of the themes that folks try to explore in ttrpgs, especially in response to this post he commented on back in April. To summarize that conversation: TTRPGs are a great way for folks to tackle personal struggles and traumas from a safe place, in ways that can give them a cathartic experience or that can give them a fresh sense of identity. Changeling has been a significant part of those discussions.

I came to Changeling: the Lost as a fairly new GM the first time I picked it up, and the more I learn about Safety Tools and a culture of care, the closer I feel to getting to that game that lives in my head that lured me into TTRPGS in the first place. Every time I come back to It, I think I'm closer to pulling together a Changeling game that sinks its teeth into the themes I’m interested in and hit some of the grime beneath all that glitter. So every time I come back to it, I’m going to create funky little goblins and design weird Fae bars and take the characters’ memories and ask them why they hurt - figuring out how I can twist the knife just enough to peel back the glamour, without opening any wounds that we’re trying to keep closed.

[darkcircles4lyfe]

I've given it some thought--

Now, if you've read any of my posts and you've read 430, you know there are a lot of ways it falls short of what I wanted. On the other hand, I can respect an open ending, one where we are allowed and encouraged to dream. All things considered, I'm not satisfied or disappointed, but a secret third thing... bear with me.

For a lot of storylines, I can fill in the blanks how I want.

I'm heartbroken over Himiko's fate, but there's no denying that the lack of camera footage leaves open the possibility of her simply disappearing. Perhaps she is waiting in hiding for the world to change, just like Lady Nagant.

Dr. Yoshida is described as someone who can cure the incurable. That may be referring to Katsuki, but the doctor himself said it's a complete mystery how he survived, all Katsuki's own doing. Maybe he cured someone else in those 8 years... someone like Touya?

Honestly I got nothing on Tenko but who knows. Who knows! Something something OFA connection. Izuku having vestige visions. Idk.

As for the manner in which society is changing, I'm drawn to Shouji's speech: "I'm dedicating the honor to those who joined the uprising eight years ago. All I've done is stand atop the resolve that they demonstrated to the world, nothing more." That at least tells me his earlier judgment of the other heteromorphs "setting them back" was a narrow point of view Shouji was supposed to grow out of, rather than a way of Horikoshi trying to criticize revolutionaries. In general, just because a character says something doesn't mean we're supposed to take it as gospel. That's lit crit 101, people.

Then there's Izuku. Once again I am feeling this pretty close to home. I keep coming back to the fact that the class is 24/25 now and I'm 25, man. On top of that, anyone else who was 14/15 ten years ago when the manga started gets to feel like we've all grown up together. I wanted catharsis for Izuku's trauma so badly. I wanted words. But I can't deny that the way Izuku is shown attempting to make the best of things and be content with a humbler life resonates with me, as painful as it is, as much as I know deep down he's kidding himself. It doesn't surprise me that he kept his walls up all this time and continued to shun his "selfishness."

I almost feel like there's an all-encompassing narrative theme being expressed here, in the fact that Izuku was trying to push past his pain and focus on the next generation, but surprise, his story's not over yet. I think the implied message there is that more can be done in the here and now, and maybe other stories that seem to be over, aren't.

With these things in mind, I can take the ending in stride, even if this is all the more we get from Horikoshi. However. There's one thing that is jolting me out of my peace every time I start to get comfortable here. It's actually related to the storyline that got the most closure.

I've seen a lot of fellow bkdk enjoyers calling their conclusion the best part of the ending, and I agree with that. They got a truly full circle moment, and a way of communicating to the reader that they're together, they have their forever, in a way that is personal to them. It's not "canon" in the way a kiss or a confession is, but I've said it before--this makes sense for them. And Horikoshi also did something legitimately interesting and groundbreaking by not making Ochako confess, not showing her future being tied to the main character as a love interest.

No, the thing that's bugging me is a seemingly small detail: why does Izuku and Katsuki holding hands at the end, of all things, have to be implied? Lots of things about 430 make sense in the context of the interview Horikoshi recently gave where he expressed being content with what he has drawn, and what he has left to the imagination. But not this. You can't convince me he didn't want to draw this. It's a motherfucking story about hands. This is the one thing I was 110% certain would happen. It's been teased for forever. Katsuki clearly wanted it so bad. So many other characters got to hold Izuku's hand in-frame. What the hell. Why.

Idk. I will be thinking about it for the foreseeable future.

[alieinthemorning]

Deepest, Darkest, Purest Love [Sylus] 

Content: World Underneath: Sealed in Dust Spoilers, Sylus Story Speculation, Angst, Soft Sylus, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert

Pronouns: None

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

Sylus…was an enigma to you. After the Nest, the forced resonating, and being told that he wanted to achieve his goal, he needed you to like him in some capacity. Now, you’ve ended up here in one of his many safe houses, wrapped in his arms on the couch while some movie played. Domestic bliss as its finest, but how did you end up here? You knew that it wasn’t just him playing with your feelings while you hopelessly fell for it. No…you knew that his feelings for you were real. His actions and words, although not always obvious, were always clear in the intentions. 

“You know very well that I adore you. There is no love purer than mine.”

Despite how you acted toward him, or tried to deceive yourself. You knew you loved him. You loved this man something fierce. And honestly? 

It scared you—terrified you.

You understood that you and Sylus shared a past. One of your many pasts, over your many deaths. Unfortunately, you couldn’t remember much (not that you think you ever could). Since EVER had gotten their hands on you and the Aether Core, memories come up spotty and painful. You want to remember, you really do, but it doesn’t seem like you have an actual say in the matter. But from what you can remember…you’ve both died…many, many times. Pitted against each other for some reason or other, then forced to become close—fall in love, just to do it all over again—Oh.

Oh.

“You know very well that I adore you. There is no love purer than mine.”

You were pitted against each other for the Aether core. That’s what wants to devour him—this damned Aether Core. 

“Sweetie?” His thumb brushed against your under eye, catching the wetness there. “Why are you crying?” 

“I’m sorry!” You wail into his chest. “I’m so sorry for hurting you!”

“I’ve told you before that it was my fault for pushing you—” He grunted as you shoved away from him, shaking your head violently. 

“I’m talking about before! Way back when—I still don’t remember it all, but I know that I hurt you, so—” You looked up at him, tears caressing your waterline. “How can you love me so deeply?” 

“I’ve told you this once, and I’ll tell you as many times as you need.” He smiled, and you break. 

“You know very well that I adore you. There is no love purer than mine.”

You know, and you hate yourself for selfishly enveloping yourself in that love. 

A love you do not deserve. 

I was trying to do Soft Sylus, which! for the two lines that he speaks, he is in fact soft, so I'm counting it! But it ended up as angst regardless lol.

Now, let's get into what might be his Myth or one of his many pasts with you. I think that the two of you were pitted against each other for the Aether Core. Whoever the hell had y'all fighting wanted to make one of you stronger, and having one kill the other for the core seemed a lot more fun than just choosing one. But! I don't think it worked, y'all got tired of fighting and choose not to take arms when it was time, which not the best idea because you'd be punished, but hey, it did eventually get the message through to them. However, they took another approach, which was getting the two of you closer, so when they did pit you two against each other again, one of you would have to throw your life down for the other, and in this case…it was Sylus.

At least! That's what I'm thinking lol. Just a little theory!

I'm on Bluesky btw~

Ko-Fi | Masterlist

[littleroaes]

To any lovers left alive ( 恋人たち ‘The Lovers’ ), l.jy

inspired by weathering with you ( 2019 )

a failed love goddess saves herself by fleeing to earth and an ordinary hopeless romantic boy ( with his self claimed younger brother ), together they start a fail-proof service that can make the love of your life fall for you too. as he teaches her human relationships, they eventually come to adore each other too. though, as the universe's not in their favor, only left is to hope.

PAIRING lee juyeon x fem!reader, high schooler!eric

GENRE FLUFF, pretty angsty, slight fantasy, little smut ( MDI 18+ ), greek mythology!au ( eros & psyche ), hanahaki disease!au ( no one dies <;3 ), teaching love!au, forbidden rules aren’t in their favor love , little crime!au, amnesia!au, they run a love service, it rains a lot, human!juyeon, eros!reader, strangers to friends to ( nearly ) lovers, mutual pining ( but juyeon does it harder ), cute flirty needy juyeon, hopeless romantic and lovesick!juyeon, y/n likes to tease juyeon, adopted little brother!eric, high schooler!eric, makoto shinkai type of love like your name ( 2015 ), weathering with you ( 2019 )

WARNINGS call reader angel once, say fuck about 5 times, knife used as a metaphor of anger ( once ), juyeon finds and fires a gun, petty crime, ANGST — > bittersweet ending, fictional disease ( not conventionally used! ), amnesia, descriptions of coughing and breathlessness, mentions of violence ( physical ), SMUT — > kissing, making out, oral ( f receiving ), palming, dry humping, soft begging, p in v, unprotected ( don’t try at home ), juyeon’s touched starved af, both are kind of switch, very fluffy smut

WORD COUNT 33.6 k

PLAYLIST

a/n : this is one of my favorite pieces ive written so I hope you like it! don’t try to translate the japanese on the banner😭, it’s literally just bs to make the banner look like the movie posters😭 I don’t usually write smut, but I thought it added to the story. but don’t worry! it’s very soft and not hardcore at all ( very fluffy ). it’s a bit angstier than my other works, not by much, it’s predominantly fluff. it’s very melancholic!

like and reblog are highly encouraged!

"A RECENT SPIKE IN NEW USERS FOR DATING APPS HAS CAUSED DEVELOPERS TO BE ASTOUNDED.

At the same time, hashtags like love is dead are trending number one on social media platforms like Twitter. Young people all over the internet are sharing their recent heartbreak, leaving us to question the mega romance struggle of the youth generation.”

When the glass door to the inner room falls close behind her, the voice from the TV in the left upper corner becomes merely a vague presence in the night. It ceases between the synthetic material of her raincoat in the harsh weather as she stands on the deck, a meter from the center. A wind from far away collides with the fragment of her face beneath the hood. How the rain, cold, impacts her skin before they descend down the curvature. 

But between the loose strands in nonexistent patterns before her eyes, shines the city in total divine. Each lightsource, limited in a single square, stacked on top of the other, reflects in the water as they approach port. 

The boat collides with the stone lining surrounding the city port. It echoes over the raging sea and Y/n forces her hands deeper down the fabric of her pockets. While the people in neon green vests let the metal reach over to land, the dock, she for a single second stood alone on, is slowly filling over with people from indoors. 

The vague heat across the passengers clothes as they pass her by. She stands still to let them cross the arch above water without reflection. Y/n walks out the metal bridge with the last five passengers. When her body reaches fast land, she hears resonant voices from the workers behind, together with the metal being thrown up against the dock. 

At the very edge of the city, she looks up towards the highest lights, where the towering buildings fade into the rain clouds. To then look down, where the crowd of passengers enters between litten up corners. The backpack on her shoulders feels immensely light as she looks at the nearest street where signs emit neon blue and starlight yellow. 

But as the celestial behind the clouded sphere continues to move when she stands underneath it, Y/n forces the straps higher and walks between the entrance of neon delight. 

The storm from the first day she laid her eyes on the city, still lingers over the high buildings. Though, the heavy rain that plummets against the architectural dimensions, can’t reach her in between all these walls. In a hostel room, cramped between six–five enclosures, until the very outer edge of the building meets weather, she sits cramped up against the computer desk. 

Teared tour guides of the metropolitan city, stacked on top of each other, and the white screen in complete view of her vision, showcases link after link of potential jobs. Every blue sentence turns purple as she passes down the page. But each leads to a paragraph with a solid brick wall. From the first word down to the next five, Y/n doesn’t have to read more to realize she isn’t qualified. 

At last, at the tail end of the first page, she finds an application for a job at a hostess bar. Three clicks among the main streets on google maps, she finds the neon sign in an alley. Half of its radiance, covered by alternate indorses. The street view won’t let her in to see the entrance, compressed between shadows. 

Y/n falls back into the chair. The rectangular screen ventures from sight field as her mind receives the blue illuminated walls and brown wood of the desk. One can barely see the floor in this precarious space, therefore, she leans further back, embraces her legs and watches the ceiling. The walls impend on her figure, but somehow she feels guarded. Between all layers, she stays hidden from the eyes of the storm or silhouettes remote from street lights. 

The complete silence of this space, bane in a second, being her stomach. A kind of sound that only comes by hunger, and a sort that pains at the very inside of the body. Y/n looks down from the walls, lets one arm off her legs and gently wraps it around her stomach. 

Her eyes wander the table. Between the small titles of books, keyboard and paper scribbles, lies three bills in vertical order. A single shadow beneath the gaping parts where paper bends, causes of the light from the screen. Y/n stares at it as if it will change. But the only thing in motion is the light from the computer, when she hasn’t moved the cursor and the white fades to a darker shade. 

Her shift will be tomorrow night, and the money beside the computer will be needed for the morning, in the badly lit register, where a man sits behind a scratched plastic veil. The same sound from before lingers between the room and Y/n gently stands up. The chair creaks as she pushes it under the table and turns against the artificial light, to get the plastic raincoat, dripping of water from the weather thundering outside. 

“I apologize, I’m-” 

“Out! You’re fired!” 

The last words leaving her mouth echoes over the blue-red litten street. As his face is only a centimeters from the back door, she takes the handle and forces it close. The sharp edge of the black metal tears the space in between them. His eyelids fall shut, chin down towards his chest as his right foot trips over the elevation in asphalt. In the limited back door space, where he stands secluded from rain, are two plastic bins. His feet touch the ground where water has endured along concrete and created a static puddle. The opposite loses grip and his shoulder lands on the brown bin, at the edge of the cubicle.

How in an instant, the fall of rain against concrete existed only auditorily, but to now soak his white shirt. The brown bin, together with his own silhouette, falls down the asphalt, creating waves in the thin build up of water. All its insides are dispersed across the alley, beside his knee, to the cigarette ashtray down the other wall. 

He lets hands coat himself in midnight rain as he forces to stand. Assemble the pieces in neon light as he desperately wonders where to take himself next. Wherever his thoughts seem to take him, his mind always runs back to his brother. 

When the bin stands upright, at the place it first belonged, he sees a brown paper bag below it. Sealed in tape across the opening. To reach down and see dark spots form, where his fingers touch the paper. His eyes curiously brightened by the red neon sign above. The paper bag, tightly shut, seamlessly goes into his pocket. Even as he comes out the back alley of restaurants and out the high end street where people without faces covered in raincoats brush against him, he thinks about the slight weight change in his right pocket. 

-

At the glass door into a fast food chain where a doorstep separates the water and white clear floor, he steps in. When it locks to the frame, the weather becomes simply a vague background shatter against the windows. Instead, static rhythms come from the TV in the higher corner. 

He finally takes a seat. Black tray decorated in a thin piece of paper with his order placed on top. The grease of the burger seeps through the wrapping. As he sits on the extended piece of table up against the window, he sees fragments of a color spectrum in the dark as people pass him by. He takes off his marine blue raincoat, water courses through the folds and down the hem, before it assembles and falls to the floor. To let it continue pour beneath the chair as he places it on the back rest. He sits down again, sees his reflection in the window. Though supposed to be a transparent barrier to another scene, in the dark, even windows become mirrors. He sees a vague outline of his metal plate on his uniform. “Juyeon”, outlined in two languages fully black. Before opening his meal, he unclips the brooch and lays it beside the tray. 

While half way through his burger, the paper bag in the right pocket off his raincoat crosses his mind. Still with the burger in one of his hands, the other reaches to the end of his raincoat, where the hem line dances upon the floor. It whispers of paper and he has it only a centimeter or two below the table. Juyeon’s chin leans forward and the strands of his fringe fall with it. 

He turns it upside down and inspect the crinkled sides. Finally lets his food down the tray to use both hands to gently loosen the tape from the fibers. The fold at the very top of the brown bag opens and Juyeon cautiously reaches his finger in between. 

He can’t completely ascertain why he took it. Maybe because there’s no firm reasoning to argue, since it was only pure curiosity. One doesn’t throw a sealed package in the bin, he thinks. 

Strands of his fringe seem to fall faster when his eyes reach for the black complexion hiding beneath the paper. The skin of his fingers feels cold hard material, and when his hand returns, revealing half of the object in matt black, his eyes go from curious to wide of racing heart. 

He only sees the object for a second, but nonetheless, Juyeon brings it to his stomach and leans over the table. The bag is in full shadow beneath his body and eyes coated in a thin layer of horrid adrenaline, watching the surrounding tables. When the weighting pressure against his chest has started to loosen and the avid line of light in his eyes has run out, Juyeon leans up a little. Let the radiance from the spotlight ceiling find its way in and make sense of the object again. 

As he sat and wished it was a dream, beneath him, in his own lap, lies a gun. Sharp lines of its corners contrast violently against the color palette of the restaurant. Juyeon takes his hand down towards it, feels the weight. Sounds of dark pitch when tapping his nail against it. There is no frame in his mind whether the object in his lap is a real gun. Closest being a toy gun from the local kids shop in younger days. It could not be real, he thinks, as it turns to the other hand. 

Either way, when Juyeon once again looks up, the scenery is as serene as the first time. At the highest corner above the toilets is a screen. TV that, instead of music distracts from the overbearing silence of a strange place, plays the news. The woman in the suit talks about the spike in dating apps. With the first mention of romance, Juyeon looks away. Cage the voice, to simply return to background noise, without a purpose of being understood. 

For the last time his eyes recoil to the gun. Juyeon takes up the paper bag again, folding it gently around the gun before reaching to his jean pocket. If it’s real, he needs to keep it hidden and preferably leave it inside another dark alley along the city streets. And if it is just simply plastic, it bears no consequences. 

Where paint starts to fade, cloth seen behind the window and electric cables rather than leaves. Y/n stands on her toes to inspect the details of glass into private lives. An apartment complex compressed between five others, stairs where the rain varies in flow, down each step to the closest drain and three windows in lack of light. 

In contrast to the constant pedestrian crossings further away, places like these may hold people with forgetful minds about their doors, or just the framework itself that is supposed to protect them, won’t. 

At the third floor of the complex in gray shade, is a dark window with broken lining placed a meter from the stairway. Y/n has gone into the alleyways where lush plants of the forever rain covers any spots where street lamps would shine between the high buildings. It's cramped, shoulders brush between edges of green plantation and feet nearly trip over pots. There are metal fences in blue pigment that creak every time she opens or closes them. But at last, she stands at the end of the stairs, beside a plant, suffocated in water. 

To reach out the window with red hands as an effect of cold, onto the ice metal lining. It hurts in those fingers but nonetheless, Y/n continues to pull on loose pieces and hit the frame. As another wind rises, a star dies and one room in the neighborhood darkens. The square design loosens from the complex and creaks amidst the rain shatter. 

It’s simple to take one step onto the sill and force one’s body up the elevation, to then fall to the opposite floor. Though, as Y/n then stands up to observe the secret world of someone else’s, she feels just a little guilty as eyes return to the floor. How her shoes holding rain frees it, and causes thin puddles to collect beneath. Y/n turn her head, two beds beside her, and way in, a kitchen. She walks up to the counter where a few plates are stacked and the window above the sink opens for light over the otherwise shadowed details.

Immediately, there’s a neatly organized box of ramen packages close to the sink. Placed in color order, Y/n’s hand, just a little hesitant to actually reach out and ruin it. Three red’s that she gently puts in her raincoat, because it was most of that color. Now her eyes adverts from the counter up to the shelves. Hidden furthest where the sharp lines and walls cut off any highlights, she sees a plastic bag. Y/n stands on her toes to force her hand in, it echoes of plastic throughout the apartment. When reading the label, it’s melon bread. 

A sudden sound goes through the walls, a click from the hallway behind her. Y/n looks over her shoulder to see a streak of yellow light, painting the floor before it disappears when the door closes once again. Fabrics and keys, chaotic in that part of the complexion and Y/n stares at the wall before the new presence. All thoughts that race through her mind, become none when they all collide into each other. A fragment of an idea does make itself out of the blur. But there is no use in hiding beneath the sink or running towards the window, because when her eyes drift for an escape, the person reveals himself and stares eye to eye with her. 

As if body, absent like two curtains drifting apart, her soul left before him. She hasn’t realized the anonymity in the real world until the eyes of someone else, truly authenticate her existence. How much of humanity is just to fill up old space and pass each other in it. 

As neither of them say anything, a second silhouette appears from the hall. 

“What’s wrong-” He, a distance in height from the former and in navy school uniform with a backpack, halts his words when closing in on the taller, and then follows the line of stare to her figure. The taller’s eyes turn sharp in casted light from outside. He takes a step back to the one in school uniform, so his body hides from her sight, aside from the glimpse of hair and eyes above the shoulder. 

“Who are you?” 

Y/n lift her hands up to head length, the plastic of red vibrant packages crinkles with it, “I’m not here to hurt anyone.” She purses her lips in, tears her eyes away from theirs as she watches the city framed in the window. To let her hands down again, Y/n stacks the three red packages on top of each other and the bread neatly beside. 

“I’ll leave.” Her shoes stain the floor and cold air forge divides them as she passes down the hallway. The one protected by a taller shoulder, watches her take the door handle and turns when he feels the presence of the one before him alter. 

“You didn’t take anything else?” The taller one asks while looking at her. The line of his shoulders aren’t as tense, the shine in his eyes from the awake city at night, reflects like a single star rather than the red light at the tops of soaring buildings. Y/n holds her hand still on the metal, shakes her head. Soon after, he frees his back from the shorter, continuing up the counter. Eyes of the one in uniform follows him and lingers in the direction plastic can be heard. Then, in a slightly faster haste than daily walk, he comes up to her with the three ramen and bread. 

Her eyes remain in wonder over his two hands with mere distance to her own. And as another second passes, she sees a fruit bar of sorts on top of the ramen. Y/n takes her eyes off the food in an uncertain manner, towards the window. The student who still glances in her direction, stays at that line of floor. 

The plastic sounds again as he motions it towards her. His fringe follows that action, “You needed the food.” He says gently and this time, fully extends his arms to let the vibrant material fold gently against her stomach. 

Y/n finally lets her hands around it, rain on her coat, now spreading across the synthetic. The shoes on her, find themselves in an awkward position and vision wanders between two points. Therefore, the boy gently nods and purses his lips in. 

Her hand finally weighs down on the handle and a light, much stronger than the moon, opens from that point. It casts itself over him and the one further into the apartment. She for the first time realizes the complexity in human features as the highlights contrast with its shadows.

“Thank you…I’m sorry.” Y/n says quietly before closing the door. 

There’s an empty seat to his right at the back of the bus. Sunshine behind the cloud layers has passed, and during evening, the rain remains, and shatters against the windows with an ever changing view. Juyeon watches each droplet race across the glass before it implodes against the edge. The sequence as if taken out of a memory, he stares for a bit longer. 

A monotone voice lingers along the bus as it comes to a stop. The rain enhances when the doors separate. A woman in the middle of the bus walks out and at the front steps a boy in. By only a faint glimpse of his profile, even in between the masses of crowds, Juyeon would make out the features and smile as he does now. Eric waves goodbye to two girls standing beneath the door before turning his head, locking eyes with Juyeon at the very back. 

Eric takes the right seat next to the older. Let the backpack off his shoulders and lie it in his lap. Juyeon observes each action and synthetic fold of the material til the door closes and the cityscape moves forward. The younger one suddenly looks up at Juyeon who still smiles, so much that his eyes start to crease. 

“Player.” Juyeon pats his shoulder against Eric’s. Meanwhile the one in sudden accusation takes up the umbrella, where it has compiled a small puddle. It spills rain on their pants as he waves it towards Juyeon, and he lets out a laugh and covers his face behind his hands. Before Eric has gotten the entire backseat rain covered, Juyeon takes his wrists and forces it down. 

“I’m not.” Eric switches to a more comfortable position, “You’re just hopeless.” 

Juyeon scoffs, “I’m not.” 

Eric does the same, leaning his body over Juyeon’s, and hand, reaching for his pocket. Eric is back in his own seat before Juyeon’s expression converts. While Juyeon furrows his eyebrows and asks him what he’s doing, Eric has his lockscreen on perfect display, HD in all dimensions, perfectly framed in the rectangular screen. The younger one turns the phone up against his nose. 

Juyeon would scold him, but his lips fall shut as the smile from dreams enters his sight once again. The picture is from a day in which the weather was warmer and the sun stood in complete limelight, cloud curtains out of view. A month has gone by, but somehow it feels as if glimpsing into a past life as he makes eye contact with the captured past. 

Juyeon takes the phone back, holds it in two hands. Eric sits quietly to observe Juyeon, and quickly sighs when the older doesn’t turn off the screen. Juyeon looks up, visible pout on his lips and fallen eyes, he consciously holds the phone while Eric falls back in his seat. 

“You still have her as your lockscreen?” 

He doesn’t answer. 

Eric sighs again, “Hopeless.” He widens his eyes, “Hopeless!”

Juyeon too leans back, letting the younger’s words drown him like the downpour. The screen close to his face again. Somehow, the longer he stares at it, he feels as if she will stand there again before him, like the spring they first met. But each night he longingly waits, but rain season never ends. 

-

At the last stop, where there’s only vague lights and dark roads. They walk under their own umbrellas. The shatter over the bus seems to haunt them wherever they go. From where cars and buses flashes beside each scenery, building walls close in on them. Each meter reaches beyond the next alley, how it feels as if the edge of the umbrella will make marks in the walls. 

It is quiet between them, Juyeon looks at Eric and observes the delicate details over his face. He smiles where the umbrella covers it. Some days, on the same street, Eric’s voice can echo past the last wall and reach further out to the sides where the signs extend. And other days, his imaginative world stays where it was born. Juyeon guesses it must have been a tiring day. 

An abrupt sound from a left alley draws a crack in the ambiance evening. Eyes of the two turn towards that vague litten path. Their sneakers cease to form circular patterns in puddles as their vision tries to reach in between the signs. At last, they finally see the figure of a girl moving backwards, away from someone on the other side as her hands extend against the wall. A shout echoes again and a man comes from the opposite side, charges against her and she pulls herself even higher up the wall. 

The two of them stand like nature in mid winter, frozen and left to watch the world. Eric’s eyes become wider when the man pulls off her raincoat hood, tauntingly gestures his hand to her face and takes a grip on her hair. The frown on Juyeon’s face reads. Though, none of them steps another foot into the alley. 

“Juy-” Eric whispers but his voice disappears when Juyeon walks forward. Each step on the stones becomes slower as he falls in line with the center. 

There’s a second presence underneath nightlife entrance. He catches sight of Juyeon first, shine of fine metal as he sharpens his eyes. Juyeon’s dispute in cautious surveillance as the man and girl shift towards him. As they lock eyes, Juyeon recognizes her features. It’s of manmade light, though, familiar as ever. 

“What do you want?” The one with turned back asks. 

Juyeon deliberately closes his hands around the umbrella, “Please, let go of her.”

The man scoffs, “It’s none of your business, Boy.” 

“I’m telling you to take a step away from her.” 

“As I said,” The man takes his hands off the wall, reiterating those words as he comes closer.

“It’s none of your business!”

The man forces his heavy arms on Juyeon’s shoulders. Lean his weight onto his palm until Juyeon falls backwards. His left foot comes behind the other, and his hand nearly loses the umbrella. Before he comes upon the asphalt, a hand on his collar obliges the rain to violently graze his face. 

At the same time, the girl walks off the wall. Contempt she takes her hand out to grip the man’s blazer. Though, before her fingers touch the black fabric, the second man comes behind her. The weight of his arm comes over her shoulders, coercing her knees to fall.

Juyeon, through the cruel grip in high angle, sees her struggle. He verges on violence, taking the loose end of his blazer and pulls him closer. But when the man loses balance, both his hands come over his shoulder. Weighed down on opposite sides, causing Juyeon to groan. Over him, he constraints Juyeon, forcing ground to pierce his back.

How the cold rain seeps through the clothing, soaks his skin until red and itches. As he tries to force his legs up, the man pushes his weight onto him harder, hands against his throat. Barely breathing, it’s enough to convert rain to stars, being buried six feet under. Each tear from the sky falls in his eyes and Juyeon irregularly closes them so as to make eye contact with the one above. 

“What will you do about it, Boy?” He taunts. 

Shirt scratches against the ground once more, a raindrop falls onto a middle point of his eyes. Juyeon trails his right hand onto the asphalt. Each sharp edge of the black stone seizes his skin and draws white patterns. He reaches for his pocket, desperately lifts on his body to make room for just a centimeter as water leaks into his clothing. Before his thighs weighs down his own, Juyeon gets the gun out. Takes his opposite from the ground, has the two of them on the trigger. With fully extended arms, he directs it towards his face, the hole as a third eye beneath him. 

He scoffs from above, “Like you will kill me either way?” 

Raincoats folding against each other to the left, as the other man holds Y/n down. His strong complexion covers Eric down the alley and Juyeon secures his eyes on the man. Pressure sores from the grinding teeth as his point finger shakes over the extinguisher. The rain falls down the matt material of the gun and down his skin. He curses the damn gun for being plastic as the man’s aggravation fuels constraint. A last taunt leaves his lips, rage when sunken to hell, crosses his chest as if by a knife, Juyeon pulls the trigger. 

Juyeon closes his eyes the moment the trigger transcend the boundary, and an ear piercing sound shocks between the high walls. Loss of vision, it feels as if the entire platform adheres to that wave. Once he opens his eyes, the shockwave has consumed all provoke. To trail the dust, it ascended and broke a street lamp, devastating the lucent. 

He distances himself, wide eyed, etched in terror, Juyeon lies still, seeing his pretense have grown ugly from the sudden shatter as the man takes two steps back. Juyeon finally sits up, rests his hand against the asphalt while still in condemnation. He tears it in a second to turn left. The girl holds the same posture as the two others, he realizes there’s no hands on her shoulders. Juyeon forces himself up, grabs her arm and collides shoulders with the man. He sees Eric standing at the same position as he left him and breathes til it hurts.  

“Run!” Juyeon shouts. 

-

He sees those windows he walks by everyday, and Eric accelerates his feet to fall in line with Juyeon. The younger takes him by the upper arm jacket and forces him to stop. 

“Where the fuck you get the gun?” Eric spits. 

Juyeon tears his arm away and looks at the streetlights in row. No stranger is present under the yellow light, so Juyeon looks back towards Eric and forces the gun lower in his pocket. 

“I found it in a paper bag, I didn’t know it was real.” He sighs, “I’ll get rid of it tomorrow, okay?”

Eric doesn’t argue further, instead takes a step back from the circle of light surrounding them. Eric stands with his back against him, head advancing in parallel to the ground as his wet shoes touch the dead grass in between the wall and asphalt. 

“Why did you do that?” 

Juyeon turns around, a thin layer of startle lies over the pupil and his chest still falls heavily from lack of air. He blinks a few times as the girl’s shoulders fall with her chin. Only a finite part of her features is visible in streetlight and the two boys wait for her in silence as she turns in her place and watches the obscure details of the wall. 

“I needed that job.” She says finally and looks up. The rain at her scalp runs down each strand until it forms a droplet at the edge. Until it lands on the skin beneath her eye.

Juyeon watches her cold written figure in fabricated light with mouth slightly agape, as if wanting to say something but no words are to use. The older feels a sudden push against his upper arm. To slip one dimension out of trance, he looks down where the wall becomes background and Eric waits impatiently. Eric’s left side leans continually towards her direction in haste, as his eyes widens. Juyeon stares at the action for a second, until returning, with the same expression as before but with a burden from the shorter. 

“I���m sorry…” Juyeon starts. She too face him, chin still a centimeter down and pupils drained of rain, or maybe worry. 

“...I thought you were in danger.” He focuses on the point where the worn down wall meets the asphalt and green complexion grows amidst. How his cold hand runs up to his neck where even his hair hasn’t been saved from downpour. There’s a sort of diversion in the way he looks down, seeming to stare at a point far away. As if it were a clear night sky with four constellations, he speaks again. 

“I shouldn't have assumed, I’m sorry.” 

Eric gives no part in sound, but still, nods his head gently. The girl at the other side of the faint circle, illuminated by the lamp, presses a faint smile. 

“You’re forgiven.” 

Juyeon looks up fully and as if another star convulsed, their expression shifts and her features are now in full view. How the moon in her veil has finally revealed the hidden side and the girl smiles fully. She shakes her head to make room for the skin concealed in strands. A filter in blue green light, enchanted by city night, conceal the space they stand in and she feels two leaves opening up its sides to reveal itself. 

“I’m Y/n.” she takes out her hand, cold as the other two’s. 

“I’m Juyeon.” He shakes her hand, “This is Eric.” And motions it to the younger. 

“Hello.” Eric says with a pressed smile. 

Y/n tilts her head, a visible change in angle as she looks at Juyeon then Eric. 

“Are you brothers or?” 

“Yes.” Eric says. Juyeon laughs awkwardly. 

“Not biologically, Eric’s my adopted brother and my mother passed away recently.” 

“Oh, sorry for your mother.” 

Juyeon shakes his head gently, “She had been sick for sometime, we take care of each other well, right Eric?” He touches his shoulder with his elbow which causes Eric to look up. 

“Mm!” He nods. 

Eric is eventually the one to ask Y/n to come in with them as the rain starts once again. Her raincoat is as wet as theirs and during the interval of their conversation, even puddles form beneath their coats. Y/n is the last one left in the bathroom. She stands with her hair above the tub, draining remaining water from her hair. Juyeon edges on the doorframe to the bathroom, looks at her with vast eyes before walking to his bed. He lends her a muted green set of clothing that he can’t remember from where. 

“You’re not from here, are you?” 

Y/n shakes her head in the bedroom. 

“I took the boat here.” 

“Where do you come from?” Juyeon asks, seated at the edge of the bed. His hands gathered at the front of his lap. Y/n looks down her own, takes the hem between two fingers before speaking. 

Her tone is gentle, birds sing in the arch of her, “I don’t think you’ll believe me.” 

"Why?" You can tell us.” He tilts his head. 

She wonder over the ceiling. Underneath this roof, it feels as if none can hurt her, “I’m not human.” 

Juyeon’s quiet, smiles cautiously to mirror her, “I-” 

His first thought is to reach out his hand and tell her she’s obviously wrong, but, there’s a certain rudeness in telling a mere stranger they have an incorrect idea about themselves. 

Y/n laughs, “Do you believe in gods, Juyeon and Eric?” She looks at the two beds. 

“No.” Eric answers immediately. 

“Then, I have to break it to you.” She looks at Eric, “I am the love Goddess.” 

“Yeah, and I’m a Unicorn.” Eric laughs. 

“Eric?!” Juyeon panics, in which Y/n laughs again. 

“Don’t worry about it, you don’t have to believe it.” 

Surrounded in conversations for a bit longer as her coat drips of rain still. The two of them come in on work, when Juyeon asks her. Y/n scratches her head as she tells him it was her only chance at a job. That nearly everything is gone after the city journey. Juyeon bites his lip and shifts weight in the bed as that hidden guilt echoes within.

“Can’t you start a service?” His sudden voice lingers over the hard floor. Y/n has her head in his direction, with eyes casted by the little lamp beside the mattress. Juyeon takes his hand on the edge of the bed and Eric watches from the opposite side how he settles onto his knees, further than a meter distance, but close enough for her to feel the wooden floor trail his motions in the contrasting sereness of Earth

“I mean,” Juyeon takes one hand on the floor and leans onto it.

“Say, you promise to people to put in their name and someone they like, that they’ll fall in love, in exchange you get money?” 

To deflect from the thin bridge created between them, Y/n returns to the hemline. Where the washed out fabric turns sparse, and because of the warm light from, the outline of her legs filters through the fabrication. The spot beside him becomes desolate as he takes his hand back to his own warmth, to rest with the other in the curve of his lap. 

“Maybe…” She answers without looking. 

Juyeon shifts his legs, he falls into a criss-cross position, “I mean, magic is profitable, people seem to like it.” He looks behind himself to point at Eric on the other bed, but stutters as his silhouette has fallen between the blue patterns, only his feet visible at the edge. 

“I-I see high school students with magic stones all the time.” 

Y/n smiles again. To bring her legs up from the floor and embrace them with her arms as she leans into the gap created by colliding knees. 

“It is one of the first rules as a god to not interfere with human life for personal gain.” She pauses, “I probably shouldn’t.” 

It turns silent once again, or, silence aside from the snoring coming from the bed in the corner. Then of course, a city is never fully asleep. He scratches his nape and diverts his vision to the dishwasher in the kitchen, “I’m sorry, I just feel really bad for the job thing.” His back falls towards the floor gently, but despite delicate, he hits it. As it lingers amid the inner four walls and trails to her end, she smiles and laughs. 

“It’s okay,” Y/n nods, “I’ll think about it.” 

“Is it true?” One of the girls, in high ponytail, wrapped in red silk band asks. 

Y/n nods, pushes the pink box one step closer over the table. She takes up the black marker, holds it out to them. With an encouraging motion of her hand and the calm line of her lips. Before the girl at the center touches hands with Cupid, Eric comes forward.

“You can get a free trial.” 

The peaceful features on her face, reminiscent of a spring morning, disappears like it has  run one season back. Her head shifts towards him in a second, eyes wide and begs him as to why he just uttered those words. Eric sees them, but looks away, just as calmly as he said that sentence. 

“Try for free and if it works, tell the others around the school.” He holds out his hand, “Deal?” 

The girl in center alternates intent with the two beside her. The gaze bridging between them must have sent some obsolete signals, Y/n think, cause after, she who has the pen reaches out her hand. Y/n, desperate, tells herself not to tremble when the girl takes a pink note. How the synthetic tip scratches against the dry paper surface, and after a few seconds, the girl lets the note fall into the liminal space seeping light into the box. 

Y/n watches in silence as they disappear out the door and follow their back silhouette as far as the windows down the hall let her. Y/n looks at him once again. Eric lifts his eyebrows as her eyes are intensely edged and while her left cheek seems to pout out a bit further than the right. 

“It’s business.” He says, “After you actually make them fall in love, the whole school will come rushing in here.” 

Y/n tilts her head back. Impatience bound through her veins when she feels as if the sun hasn’t risen another centimeter. Her arms across her chest as she thinks about dirty hostels and forbidden rules.  

Eric sighs and one of the backpack straps falls down his shoulder, “Trust me, rumors spread fast in here.” 

She nods, accepting the fact that the human beside her knows more than she does. 

- 

Only one more student came by that morning. They had allegedly built curiosity when a pink flier at the bottom of the stairs, written in bold letters with about four thousand hearts, crinkled when they opened the main entrance. Y/n was rather skeptical of the poster Eric gifted her. The A4 was the cleanest shade of white she had ever laid her eyes on, either way, when he asked why, she didn’t want to admit it was the rough edges of his lettering. Also, that her own wasn’t worth a duck feather pen in fine ink either. 

Eric said he needed to go to his next class. Y/n had taken a seat down one of the chairs beside a desk. She shifted her head where the sun struck his face, the warm filter over his complexion, reminded her of gold. He told her to lay low, even go to the cafe two buildings away if teachers control the flier pointing at room 233   . 

When she watched his silhouette fade from yellow tones and into shadows of the cold litten building. His back draped in navy fabric disappears behind the same wall as all four other people. As only the ventilation lingers between the dust and even the clock over the door stands frozen in time at 14:17, Y/n sighs and turns her head to the window. Staring worriedly at a point beyond the sky only she can see.

-

How the end of each shoe shatters against the floor as students pass by the windows of each classroom down the corridor. As the teacher neither sits on her own desk or stands before the chalkboard, all fabrics, bags and voices come in clusters, lined up against each corner and wall. 

A voice from the right side of the classroom, beside the window, draws his vision to them. At that corner of the room stands a group of four other boys. Eric waves before walking between the desks down the spot underneath the sunlight. 

“You’re late.” One indicates. 

“I’m always.” Eric laughs and lets the backpack fall off his shoulder. 

“But I saw you on the way here, you were with some girl?” The other in the group starts making noises and hitting his shoulder. Eric instead rolls his eyes. 

“She needed help, she’s my brother’s age either way.” 

The book in his bag comes up in height with Eric’s head, before he swings it against the one beside him. It lands on his chest and the other boys laugh loudly. Though, fades in a second when inpatient footsteps run down the hall and crash though the classroom frame. The entirety of the classroom has turned their heads to the one at the center of the chalkboard. It’s the football captain of the team. His hair stands shiverled, the one collar of his blazer is folded inside. At the same time, while all eyes are on him, he scans the panorama and stops when he sees the group furthest down to the left. 

His eyes light up in a way only described in fairytales. The curve of his lips and the breath of relief that go through them as he runs up to the group. The people surrounding that desk make room for him as he comes closer. On one of the chairs sits the girl who put her name in the pink box. Eric can only see the boy’s back but clearly each and every change in her facial features. It feels as if she hasn’t closed her eyes since he came before the desk. They sparkle reflection of his own and he finally speaks. 

“I walked past a flower shop yesterday, and I saw this, it reminded me of you so I ran and bought it.” He takes up a silk wrapped bouquet that takes up the entirety of his backpack. A gasp goes through the room, and the girl too, lacks air in her lungs as she hesitantly takes the flowers. She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. 

“I love you, Lynn.” 

Whispers of excitement fill the four walls and dares to break through the window. Faintly beside him, Eric makes out that the four behind him start whispering too and laughs.He thinks of the paper down the stairwell and Y/n on the floor above. How he has maybe found God, placed in his mundane daily life. 

-

In the tear of afternoon Eric lets his bag levitate over the floor as he waits for the teacher to set the ending breath of her sentence. And the moment she does, Eric takes full step across the sharp edges of each desk and nearly falls over one. Out in the hallway, Eric runs, his figure covers the orange shade seeping through each window as he comes up the stairs, making the poster almost lose touch with frail plastic tape. 

At the second floor, he searches each frame that lets him glimpse through the transparency and into the room behind walls. And at the very end, where he left her before the class, her back stands against the bygone rectangle in sun bleached composition. Y/n turns from the school scenery and looks back at him. It could be the novel perspective he has gained that makes him biased, but he wonders if she knew his presence up the stairs before even this dimension let her hear it. 

Her features are peacefully drawn against her skin, not a single rule of tension as she questions his presence with vast eyes. 

“How did you do it?” Eric walks up closer to her. Y/n smiles and leans further against the window to watch the vague silhouettes and their shadow drawn across the concrete. 

“I told you, I’m not human.” She looks at him.

As voices from the entangled hallways underneath their feet reach their ears, Eric wonders if a change in perception will happen, if he lets the minute visor move one step further. Even Y/n’s expression alters. The younger one leans in a bit closer, his pupils seem to search for a fragment of something else, to make sense of her place in home he thought he knew. Y/n herself tense and with immense eyes, takes up her hands. 

Like a child taking its first step to explore the vast Earth, Eric reaches his finger out to touch her nose, then her cheek. Later the eyelid, force to close and open it which eventually makes Y/n take a step back and blink about three times in span of one. Y/n laughs slightly as Eric still observes her essence without blinking. 

A sharp sound, contrasting to the muted creaks of desks and old walls veiled in delicate old linen. Behind her back, an arrow that balances between the points of two fingers. She looks towards his face, not a single filter thrown over a feature of his astonished expression. Sun reflects onto it as it weighs in her hand, and she closes the space in between them as the arrow comes underneath his chin.

“So you believe me now?” Y/n asks, still smiling. 

How his eyes, comparable with the sun as they delights in curiosity. His fingers reach for the arrow, but hesitantly closes in on his chest before he looks up towards her again. Y/n nods gently and takes her hand closer and his fingers finally feel the thin line of the arrow. He takes it gently in two hands. Doesn’t quite force his fingers around it, as if a touch, merely a frequent stronger would tear it. 

“Yeah!” He breathes out, “Yeah, I do!” 

Y/n opens her mouth to speak once again, but a knock against the frame from the opposite side takes their attention away. Where the sunshine cast itself the clearest, stands another girl and a friend slightly behind. The girl’s hand on the lining, she looks behind her shoulder before back at Y/n. 

“I saw your poster, I heard you can make people fall in love.” The girl takes her shoulder bag to her font and reaches for the pocket. Between folding of materials and crinkles of keys, the girl extends her arm with a bill. 

“We want to try.” 

As the limited day hours come on its last ones in winter, Eric and Y/n look at each other. The younger enthusiastically nods when her eyebrows fall into a state of trouble. Hesitantly, Y/n nods towards him and takes the place behind the desk and slides two pink notes across the surface. 

“Of course!” 

Winter reeks off the flooring and spreads up her skin. She holds her legs tighter against her body as each bill and silver coin touches the cold floor. With the last gray metal circle in place, she extends her back and scans the paper in thousand folds. Y/n bites her lip with her face down towards her lap, and her back still as a first impression when someone comes through the door. 

Thin plastic bindings whisper in the hall. Juyeon takes off his shoes at the door frame, chin directed against Y/n’s back underneath the counter. His fingers don’t find the laces and he takes his eyes off for a second. Eric lies in bed, with his phone and Juyeon sighs quietly before letting the plastic bag up on the square table. 

“Eric, you need to do your homework.” Juyeon tilts his head to get even a vague coloration. 

“I’ll do it soon.” Eric answers. 

To fold down the white synthetic filter, Juyeon looks down at Y/n again. 

“Is something wrong?” He asks. 

Y/n looks up with vast eyes that fall in usual size once again. She presses a smile between her lips and trails the line between the wood. 

“I’m a little worried.” She says, though she quickly breathes again as his hands come off the bag. 

“It’s not a lot though, the hostel is just getting more expensive. The money isn’t quite enough yet.” Y/n turns back to the three bills and two coins. 

“You can stay here.” Eric’s voice comes from the other end. The two of them look at him, now fully extended over the covers. The sheets drape over his shoulders and legs while the blue light from the screen illuminates his face. She returns in direction and sees Juyeon looking at her with the identical vast eyes as her own. Y/n looks away, she realizes Eric’s complexion isn’t as daunting. 

“Can’t she?”

“It’s okay I don’t-” Y/n answers, but Juyeon intervenes.

“No, you can stay.” 

Y/n turns to him fully without words, stares at him as he looks away and scratches his neck. It’s still quiet when he remembers the plastic bag left on the table and starts to empty it. 

“Are you sure?” Y/n hesitates. At first thought, she doesn’t want to intrude on the line she already feels like bordering. Contrary, she thinks going around the streets would be ruthless. Juyeon nods and she looks over towards Eric. 

“You too?” 

“Of course, Juyeon’s starting to get on my nerves either way.” He sighs and falls back onto the pillow. The tone itself was nearly bounding on a desire to become three in the house rather than specifically having her settle in. 

“Hey?” Juyeon’s hands tangle themselves in the thin synthetic while he tries to get them out. His head leans dramatically to one side while Eric has let the pillows impose around him again.

“I understand that.” Y/n crosses her legs and leans back on her arms, “Don’t worry, Eric, I’ll keep you entertained.” 

Juyeon holds a sort of offended expression as she laughs and Eric comes up the fabrics again. 

“You’re a high schooler, you just hangout with friends either way.” Juyeon sulks. 

“Doesn’t matter, Y/n’s cooler than you.” 

“How?” He walks over to Eric’s bed, letting his arms hang low as he stands above the younger and his fringe fall upon. 

“She’s literally a god, and you don’t even have a girlfriend.” He moves his hand. 

Eric sees from beneath his figure how it forms a gap between Juyeon’s lip, but quickly disappears. As the older has learnt there is no pride left in fighting with the teenager, Juyeon shifts in direction and with the help of his socks, slide defeated against the floor, back to the plastic bag. 

-

All three of them folded out two lonesome blankets scattered in the apartment. It lay on the carpet in the center of the two bed’s. Y/n sat down on the blankets to touch the pillow, but Juyeon insisted on her sleeping in his bed. It took some persuasion, but he smiles so sincerely and talks tenderly that no God could replicate. She accepted and sat on the bed edge. Eric gave her a worn down pajama set from years ago. 

Juyeon’s eyes follow her figure, walking away as he stands with his hands awkwardly to the sides. 

“The shirt is buttoned wrong.” Her vision from the bedroom, back to the kitchen. He stands still, takes one hand to his neck, scratches it gently before letting it fall down to his own shirt. His fingers draw outlines of details of her own and she looks down to see the overlap in fabric, each button forcing the other side higher. 

“Oh.” Y/n frees the first button from the fabric, but it stays in between her fingertips as there is no place to secure it. Juyeon takes a cautious step forward. Where his feet land it makes no creaks and the fall off a button is the loudest thing in the room. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Y/n instantly comes to the floor and takes up the missing piece from Eric’s shirt. She looks up to him apologetically with the plastic piece hidden in her palm as she reaches her arm towards him. 

“It’s okay.” He takes the button, then walks over to the kitchen counter. Y/n watches how he opens one of the pantries and takes out a transparent pouch with orange highlights. 

“I’ll help you.” He smiles, identical as the sunset shine in winter. It casts cold over skin where there’s no button to cohere fabric. Y/n nods and they walk to his bed, sit by the edge. Y/n’s closest to the pillow end and watches how he opens the zipper to take up a thin needle and a roll of white thread. Juyeon sees her attentive eyes on his hands between the motions. The white thread comes through the metal end and he cuts it off with scissors. Juyeon holds his hands in between them, hesitantly reaching for the open fabric. He locks eyes with her again. 

“Is it okay that I?” With no more than a timid hand motion, he asks. But Y/n understands. She smiles and straightens her posture, separating the front and hair with her hands. Juyeon smiles awkwardly with his lips pressed against each other and the opposite ends curl upwards. He takes the folded edge of the fabric delicately between two fingers and leans closer to her chest. When the sharp end filters the backside, his hand brushes against her skin. Juyeon holds his eyes on that spot on the shirt, but really, her warm breath drapes his head in summer mist. 

After the button falls in a vertical line with the others, Juyeon lies the needle down. He looks at the two sides of the shirt, shriveled and folded in different heights. Y/n herself, once again looks down her front and follows the line, how the fabric separates from the other side. Halfway through, she buttons again, but Juyeon sees instantly how she’s one level too high. 

“I…” His body still in the same place, to attentively listen to the folds in the sheets as to remind himself not to come closer. Juyeon takes his hands onto the end fabric. He coerces together to seal the shadows casted by moonlight onto her skin, their hands brush against each other. The distance between them is incredibly insignificant, in a way that lets her scent intertwine with his own and he hides his face by looking at the hemline. 

His head right underneath her chin, his hair smells delicate, of morning in blooming spring. The top of his head reflects the moon and his faint breath damp on her skin. 

“And it’s done-” 

A sound in greater volume than anything else in the apartment erupts from the other side. Y/n stands up as Eric comes out from the bathroom, his silhouette darker from the warm light coming behind him. Juyeon’s hand diverts back to his own sides. His head slightly tilted up to continue to watch her face and make out the expression above. 

Eric walks through the frame, it creaks slightly as he falls down the covers. Y/n looks again where Juyeon observes her with eyes, reminiscent of the cityscape playing outside. It shines across and paints the brown pupil in a cold color. She smiles slightly and takes another step. 

“Thank you.” She says gently. 

-

When shoes scratch against the hallmat and two voices he has recorded in a secluded part of his brain intertwines, Juyeon leans forward on toes to let a glimpse of their figures reach from the thin wall. He takes a step before the dividing part of the rooms and stares in silence over the rain consumed. Their hair lies slick against their heads and the thin surface of a droplet holds itself like tears underneath their eyes. Soon gathers a darker blemish by the hemline. 

Juyeon immediately runs up to them and feels the water spread from the floor up to his socks. To let his hands immerse in cold rain across the coat arms as he forces them to the bathroom. Though, Y/n insists to wait until Eric’s done as the four walls impend onto them as they stand all three before the bathtub with the sink piercing against their backs. 

Eric sees his reflection in the bathroom mirror, starts violently shake his hair to let off the residing water running down his head. The two others shouts, arms covering their faces to ensure any warmth left on their skins in the bathroom. Y/n let her vision through the passage created by the coat arms when Eric’s laugh parallel between the high ceiling. She feels his arms collide onto her own as he points at Juyeon. The water divided into pairs runs down his forehead, to after his lips. Fringe has fallen flat onto his eyes as the water weighs heavy and all collects at the neck of his shirt as a dark stain. Y/n too, starts to smile before falling into laughter together with Eric. Juyeon stands as if anchored to the bathroom mat pressing his lips in. 

As some minutes in the room pass, they stand three in row with the last person out the hall. Y/n on the floor at the borderline where the bathroom goes to hall, she sits crisscrossed while Eric stands on knees behind her. The coarse fabric of the towel onto her head as Eric treats it like laundry. And at the top of the three stories stands Juyeon, still drenched, more than the others maybe, drying off the excess in Eric’s hair. 

All has dried and the used towels together with the raincoats decorate the bathtub wall. Eric walks to the kitchen as Juyeon tells him there’s soup and Y/n even out the flooded ends of the clothing. Turn around to face the mirror and walk out the door, she stands with her feet in touch with Juyeon’s and the separation between their faces, so trivial that one might condense in another's arm. 

At once, when her essence affects his own, he takes a step back and lifts his arms. There is no distance left and in an instant the cold sink hits his back and Juyeon lets out an ache. Y/n laughs silently and Juyeon turns from the floor up to her face that reeks of lucent perfection. 

“You look like a wet cat.” She laughs gently before reaching down the tub wall. Beside her calf rests an additional towel which she takes and casts over Juyeon’s head. 

Like the fringe of his, it ends just above his eyes and the pupils, infinite golden, look through the opening onto her. Juyeon slightly bends his head down and takes his shoulder closer to his own essence. He tries to hold his eyes open, onto her face that is so close for the first time in his life, but as she follows the wet trails, he closes his eyelids and convulses when she touches his skin down the neck. His head falls back and he whines slightly in which Y/n laughs. 

“Stop being sensitive, Juyeon.” She teases and her arms come above his shoulder and around his head to reach the hair furthest down. Her upper body closes in on his and where the cold water has fallen and fabrics cling onto his skin, he feels warmth. 

“Sorry…” Juyeon says weakly. The spotlights in the ceiling highlight the fragments of rose red around his cheeks. Her existence is so close to his own that he thinks they might merge. Somehow, he curiously opens his eyes to see her still damp hair, reminiscent of early spring. But has to close his eyes over and over. 

Three days outside the window have been in constant motion and the three of them are still in that apartment. Though, for each day Y/n has walked with Eric to school, more students turn attention in the early morning as she walks up the stairs to the second floor. As the pink notes come down to the table surface faster and faster, she has this sensation in her stomach. It grows during silence and when Eric’s at class. It turns into vague whispers and overpowers the ventilation in the right upper corner. It has her out the window and searching for the sun, but at the same time, there’s something so fascinating in watching how the students hold onto their friends as they disappear down the stairs. 

How lovely it is to come in so close contact with love, she thinks. Each sight has her desperately wishing for another and when she hits the arrows bow in two hearts, she runs to the other side to stand at the window front and watch how the world stops for only a second as they make eye contact for the first time. 

Though, as Eric told her. Whispers between the hallways and notes passed between seats. A single motion that sets the butterfly wings in action, spreads winds around the school and she thinks there is only a lone push before someone other than a student comes up the stairs and sees her. 

Y/n sits on the carpet in their apartment during friday afternoon. The warm lamp spreads its familiar light. She counts her bills and coins, and surely has started to build a small tower that goes beyond two centimeters over the flooring. Her palms lean to each side and impend above the paper and silver.  She coerces it all to a pile where the bended edges are in opposite directions. As all the flat slides lie together in her hand and she takes the paper bag, she feels a weight on her own shoulder. A warmth only created by another existence in this season. 

Y/n takes her sight up, onto the only enhanced in the lingering exhaustion of another turn around the world’s axis. At first impression of the scene beside her, she can only see his legs, like delicate lace in the orange light, but as chin touches his silk hair and the scent touches her face. Y/n sees the facial features from upon, the bridge of his nose in between the hair strands. 

Juyeon suddenly perk up. To meet eyes from different directions and see the faint shine in the inner corner from opposite perspectives. Y/n doesn’t speak, but her eyes search his own deeply and when nothing in them seems to gift her question, they follow the shadowed lines down his face to his lips. 

“I feel cold, Y/n.” The weight of his head becomes heavier. 

“I’m not that warm either.” She says gently, still with her hands on the pile. 

Whispers of the apartment and breathing from the alive city, details around them become louder. He finally sighs.

“I don’t know what to do…” His voice mirrors the weak body across her side. Juyeon’s eyes follow the dim corners where lamps can’t reach. Behind the table, against the paper thin wall to divide the bedroom, there is no outline of floor patterns or discolorations. The world sort of fades into that corner. Like the rest of the universe on a certain crossing, falls out of our sight.

Onto his empty chest where he thought nothing could ever reach again, a light pressure of palms to fingers, graze by the shirt before the whole palm encapsulates his sole heart. Juyeon slowly lets his eyes off the horizon at the end of the room and leans his head where her shoulder and neck ends. He watches how she scours his chest from above and feels her hand blur into the chest. 

“Heartbreak.” She hums softly and lets her hand cease over his heart. 

Juyeon still looks up, “You can feel it?” 

Y/n nods and turns to his eyes. The paper between her left hand, she lets them down onto the floor and pushes the rest of them to the side. Her free hand takes his head delicately and his weight off her shoulder. Juyeon complies with her tenderness until his head settle between her lap. His heart, moon touched, and slowly her fingers come in between his hair and in gentle motions brushes. 

To carefully not let his entire body weight on her physical bindings. Though, with that thought he still closes his eyes and feels the hemline of her midnight shirt brush against his cheek. The lids over his eyes open once again and he, in a careful state of trance, watches the slight knit between her eyebrows. His eyes, immense and illuminated, picks apart the features and tilts his head slightly, making the shirt come up her thigh. 

“Is something wrong?” He asks suddenly. Y/n locks eyes with him. Strands fall like rosen vines beside his head. 

Y/n turns back to his chest and stares in wonder over that spot underneath her hand. 

“It’s still very painful…it’s recent?” 

Juyeon lets the night echo along for a moment longer. Her hand in touch with the temperate fabric of his shirt, reaching for the deepest part of his own existence. It stays to be the most audible thing in the room. But somehow, there’s imminent, much greater weight bound between the ceiling and floor. He takes his eyes off her hand and falls back into the crater which her legs create. 

“It was a month ago.” He speaks in a same volume as the detailed city spreading from all directions and encompasses them. 

“She broke up with me, we had a lot of arguments. But we finally stood outside this apartment, and she told me that I don’t make her happy anymore.” Juyeon breathes in, “That there's no love left to give, its run dried.” His head falls to its side and her calf brushes against his cheek. 

How even the pictures from June, where the stone plates hidden in shadow wished to feel like winter as they ran past the piercing sunlight between the green leaves, aches his heart. All the Earth layers pass through him until he ends up at the very last. 

“Your heart hurts a lot, Juyeon.” She watches with knitted eyebrows, the invincible piercing feeling beneath her hand, spreads across her palm. She turns her eyes to him. The tension binding her features disappears slowly, cause; of his delicate expression, painted in care. Another passage of silence.

She whispers and tilts her head, “But you’ll be fine.” 

“I will?” He says with a low voice and immense eyes. 

Y/n closes her eyelids and opens them up again to take apart the faint layer of shine before the pupil. To lean in closer as to see the reflection grow clearer in the curvature.

“I can’t see why?” She tilts her head again before falling back into place, “But in the near future, your heart will heal.” 

He’s quiet for a second, “Are you sure?” 

Y/n nods and suddenly smiles. How the cold sensation of his sick heart falls into fragments when her fingers run through his strands. 

“I’m the love Goddess afterall.” 

The past days, the sun has done a heavy weather rotation around Earth in a perfect instant. Though, somewhere between night and day, the three of them realize it's time to evolve their business. Each dust accumulated over years in waiting has permanently varnished her clothes. The constant sequence of students that runs up the stairwell makes whispers in the hallways, rumors about the ‘woman in the abandoned classroom’ makes it out on student social media.

 Any moment, a post on one of the internet cafes will rise to the top, Eric told her one evening. Y/n uncomfortably took the sheets higher up her shoulders then, but he told her one could fear the inevitable curiosity towards her, or profit off it. His idea was to force the service out of the dusty school and that all three stand on a meeting point beside the city river. Eric sat beside her in the bed and threw off the covers to stand up. She watched how he took the loose pieces of his nightshirt and elongated them like what she assumed was wings. 

“And we’ll have costumes like real sellers do.” He said. 

“Will that really work?” She asked him with a skeptical expression, in which Eric jumped back into the bed. 

“Promise, back in first year of high school, we needed to sell cookies. My friend had a cookie monster costume on for two weeks straight while we told people to buy outside the mall.” 

Y/n’s quiet. 

“We sold the most of any in our class.” 

That night, Y/n didn’t really tell Eric that as long as the moon shines on Earth, there will be a constant light upon her, trailing her steps along the asphalt. That she has during this time, become a traitor of the heaven’s and time.

But because that night passed too, the three of them stand in the metropolitan mall. A city where everyone lives or wishes to. In the vertical path down to the opposite end of the white structure, they are. Glass windows with electric doors down every path and five floors that hound above them. Despite an seemingly endless amount of space, the marble floor is nearly invincible when shoes run like tidal waves above it. 

Y/n stands in trance with her head up to watch the banners come down on them from the highest floor. The golden light doesn’t cast itself like sunset as the artificial studio light leaves no corner hidden. But by a certain tilt of one's head, the heart of the light bulb, a shimmer closer to a star during night, reaches the pupil. 

“I know a good store.” Eric says and takes one step forward, “It’s not expensive there either-” 

Though Juyeon forces him to reverse as he reaches out his hand. Juyeon turns to see Y/n beside him, gaping at the high ceiling and he gently intertwines his other hand with hers. 

“You have your phone on, Eric?”

“No.” 

“Why?” 

“My ringtone gives me panic attacks, should we go or not?” 

“I-” 

“We don’t have all day!” Eric takes the lead by stepping into the crowd. Juyeon comes quickly after and naturally forces Y/n to stop staring at mall decorations. Two different entrances later and a desire to desperately rip off every last layer of clothing, the three of them stand in the store cluster which Eric pointed at. The youngest insists deeply on a store with massive red signs across the windows, indicating an illegally low price, meanwhile Juyeon argues back that it’s smarter to get actual costumes from the party-hell-store next door. 

Democracy isn’t on Eric’s side since Y/n stands with wide eyes, still with Juyeon’s hand in hers. Clearly she didn’t have much of an opinion as her answer when Eric tried to get her on his side was what the hell is a costume supposed to be? As Eric’s store windows had white tees and colored jeans, Juyeon pointed at a mannequin in hot dog costume. 

“They just have stupid stuff there.” Eric complains as they walk into the party store.

“You don’t have to choose the hot dog costume.” Juyeon answers. 

They reiterate the plan and pass the paper plates and party hats down the clothing aisle. Immediately, Juyeon walks to the corner and Y/n watches as Eric stops before her. 

“I want to be a devil.” Eric takes up the rectangular plastic bag. Y/n leans over and sees the model in an awkwardly cut suit, pants with way too tight seams that ends above the ankles, and, the cherry on top, a dejecting pair of plastic vibrant red devil horns.

“No one goes to the devil for love advice.” Y/n complains and continues down the aisle. At the furthest end of the costume section, Juyeon stands between the plastic bags. He holds two different ones, the right one he lifts up so that the spotlight in the ceiling shines atrociously on it. 

For every step she expects to see the awareness in his face as he looks to her side. But instead, he stands with a slight pout while still holding the plastic bag in front of his face. Y/n smiles as she’s a little less than a meter away. To lean on her toes to reach over, catch a glimpse of the front model. 

“Is this how I’m supposed to look?” Y/n tilts her head as she looks at the woman on the front wrapping of the fabrics. Synthetic wings falling off the back with an even cheaper shine over the arrow and bow. The little white dress is dull, though short as the hem ends mid thigh. 

“No, you’re prettier." His answer comes close at the end of her own sentence. His eyes aren’t on hers when he says it, he too looks at the model picture of the packaging. Y/n turns to look at him when his face is still in usual saturation and pout visible.

“Really?” Y/n tilts her head and can’t help but break into a smile. Juyeon looks up and views intertwine. That rose blush stains his skin once again and he scratches the back of his hair profusely. He takes a step back, laying his hands on her shoulders from behind. To turn her head to still watch him, he disappears from her sight and instead, feels a warm weight on her back. The waves of his voice perceive that spot beneath her hair when he speaks. 

“Go and try it on.” His voice is in faint volume as he starts pushing her shoulders gently. 

Y/n laughs, “Okay.” 

At the left direction he prod her, reside three high rectangles in row. Y/n opens the one closest to her and walks in. After she forces the curtain to divide, she hears Juyeon’s voice outside, ensued by a familiar whine. Y/n smiles for herself when the metal rings at the edge hit against the railing as Juyeon tries to force Eric in. 

At last, the velvet closes, and soon, the adjacent walls uncover. Juyeon stands a meter away, watches how Y/n lifts the fabric over her head and the hem takes some of her hair with it. Her feet stay serene, looking down her front while her fingers compress the chemical fibers. 

“I think it’s too big.” She looks up at him. Arms fall to its sides together with the flat line dress. Juyeon’s lips form to speak, but precisely, it intersects with Eric who extracts the curtain and walks out. The shirt reaches down his wrists and radiates an agonizing white shade, the pants, in same shade, drape over his legs. Lastly, the tiny wings and plastic bow in his hand. The halo in his hair sits tilted, folded at the center, beaming in the store light over his displeasure. 

Juyeon and Y/n are silent at the closing seconds of his entrance. But the visor alternate another minute and the two burst out laughing at the same time. Their silhouettes bend to the floor and cover their laughter with right hands. And if the knit between Eric’s eyebrows couldn’t get tighter, even his lips press harder. 

“But you look really cute, Eric.” Y/n coos and walks to him. The side of her palm perceives the veil over his shoulder. He looks down towards her, causes the halo to shake and Y/n laughs again. 

“I’m serious!” She takes the other hand, where she too has a bow, on his opposite shoulder. Eric lets the thin line on his lips loosen a little as Y/n assures him. Though he hears a giggle a meter away, shift to see Juyeon’s phone in their direction. 

“Hey!” The younger runs over to Juyeon who lifts the phone to the ceiling. The little plastic halo above his head flutters as he stands on tip toes while reaching for the screen. 

“No, it’s so good!” Juyeon still laughs and takes the phone behind his back. Eric is left with that same complexion of oddenment on his features as the two laughs. 

“I think it looks good.” Juyeon says after. He points at the ill fitting dress on Y/n but acknowledges Eric got the right size. He says they should go to Eric’s store and get a better white dress. 

“Aren’t you gonna dress up?” Eric throws at Juyeon. 

“You should too.” Y/n complains and points at him with the bow, “We look like idiots, you need to look like one too.” 

Juyeon glance the room and takes a step back, “But I didn't find any in my size.” He affirms with high arms.

“Bullshit, just be an ancient myth man.” Eric, deadpans. 

“There’s no myth man costume.” Juyeon says confused. 

“Then we make one.” 

-

“Isn’t this one lovely?” 

Juyeon looks up and sees Y/n between two racks of aisles. In her hands, a white baby blue dress that she puts against her front as if wearing it. The lace excess attached to the skirt and half length sleeves imitate her own twirls. 

The coloration with his hands falls to the sides as she looks up towards him. Her eyes fixated on him after her question. Juyeon opens his mouth, but takes a breath and his free hands come up the back of his neck. Scratching lightly as he looks towards another aisle with transparent bags. Groups of young girls run past them and he shakes his head, therefore, the fringe comes before his eyes, making his pupils hide in between shadows of his strands. 

“It’s really pretty.” He says shyly and smiles, takes a step closer and forces his chin up a bit higher, “You’re really pretty in it.” 

Y/n takes her palm towards the stomach of the dress and looks down, “You’re honest?” She laughs. 

The hand quickly falls off his skin and top the side of his thigh. The pink coloration saturated into his cheeks are still in full view, but his lips turn pressed and downward. Just as his eyes grow wider and he eagerly nods his head. The strands of his hair follow those precisions and he continues to speak while it falls further. 

“You are.” He repeats in a clear tone which makes her laugh again. 

“Okay, then, I believe you.” 

-

Once the afternoon stood on its last hours, all three had found their costumes. Y/n in a white dress that accumulates at the writs where it tights into a ribbon before the remaining fabric folds out like a flower. It sat under the paper poster for the early spring collection. Juyeon got a shirt in a similar edition. The details on both sort of seamlessly intertwine. When taking a quick look in the passing window stores, the two seem to share sensibility. And then of course, Eric as a baby cupid. 

Juyeon’s hair was in need of a change since the shirt alone couldn’t disclose the intentions behind. He suggested a lovely braid to form around his head, though, neither of the three knew how to braid. Because of that, they sat forty five additional minutes at the mall beside different baby strollers. Juyeon had searched up a braid tutorial, held it before his face, Beside him sat Y/n on her knees and constantly switched from looking at his hair and screen. The result was of partial essence from the original, and with a yellow bouquet they bought before walking, Juyeon looks rather like a flower boy at a wedding than fantastical character. 

At the center of a meeting platform before the river, they stand in line. The yellow flowers together with the synthetic wings on their backs are taken by the wind. Youth in close knitted groups and couples walking hand in hand pass by the metal railing and the bridge connecting to the opposite side. All three have a box of their own and with a breath or two, they separate from the mit and walk over the frozen concrete paving in late afternoon. 

As the unknown always has people afraid, not many notes land in the bottom of their boxes. But as the sun comes down the sky and closes in on the rooftops, people their age become intrigued by the enchantment and put their name together with a bill. As such, pictures of plastic wings spread around corners of the internet with rumors about the magic. 

- 

As the person before her walks to the left, Y/n waves gently as their figure becomes another someone in the crowd. With no close frame in sight, the sun that edges on the horizon, spreads its pink coloration above her vision. Her hand holds the box as a wind comes from the right direction of the city and intertwines itself into her hair. The white fabric of the sheer skirt touches against her skin and the plastic wings lean towards the bridge. And as if the wind became gifted, to affect the significance, a clear pathway towards the edge of the river opens up. 

How both the start and end of a bridge captures in a total frame. The dividing sides of the city in opposite parts of her rectangular vision. Y/n takes a breath and lets the setting sun in final clear sky complete the hues on her face.

When her eyes arrange the disposition and total focus settles onto a silhouette. Y/n’s grip around the box falters and the incoming wind might take the rest of her essence with it this time. The cheap chiffon fabrics wrapped around his body shines of white, just as his close orbit. Though the pigment, only parts of his features stand in highlight as the rest in shadow from the rosy hue above. 

Y/n moves her head suddenly, forcing the loose strands before her eyes to fall towards the side profile. Slowly she takes a step down the clear path, follows the lines in between frozen cracks to where he leans over the railing. Juyeon has his eyes set on a vague point on the horizon. When she, too, stands beside him, she follows the imaginative line of his pupil and fails to make out the disoriented city lines. 

Y/n turns to him, “I haven’t asked you yet.” 

Juyeon turns to her with vast eyes. 

“If you want to write a name.” She holds the pink cardboard box out for him. Her hand shortens distance, but there is still a void to be completed. He stands silent. Let each passing conversation fill that space up until it becomes vague from another direction. The motions in the river, it comes up against the stone they stand on before changing tide. Juyeon looks at Y/n and smiles like he always does as he shakes his head gently. 

She tilts her head. Curiously wander to the pupil of his eye and search for entrance into his mind, but there’s nothing to open. With his aching heart underneath his throat, Y/n expected a certain answer from him, an answer most humans would give. She smiles as wonder entrances her mind when thinking about his own. 

“Okay.” Y/n answers in her usual tone. Take the box back to her own side and like Juyeon, let a part of her weight lean against the metal railing. 

A couple walks them by, hand in hand towards the other bridge in far sight. Juyeon follows them until the color of their shirts fades in between the others. His eyes fall back on Y/n’s frame. Her profile towards the reflection in the water and he contemplates in silence before asking. 

“What happens to all the names people write down?”

Y/n faces him as the question spreads into all directions over the river surface, and when it maybe reaches the opposite end, Y/n stops to tilt her head. 

“They fall in love…or what do you mean?” She knits her eyebrows. 

Juyeon shakes his head and smiles. Watch the scenery behind him where the buildings soar above the open platform and lovers walk hand in hand. Eric sits on a bench, further away, with a stranger probably his own age by the parallel complexion. 

“Do they just fall in love forever or…” to attentively consider details of expressions and body language, his own skin brushes against the cold railing.

“No, they don’t” Y/n shakes her head. 

“Most will probably fall out of love in a week or so…” The curves of her lips have become amicable, he remarks, when Y/n looks at him.

“Maybe one or two couples go on for some months.” 

Juyeon tilts his head, arm over the railing and the weight of his body advances onto it. The flicker between the colors of his eyes reaches for another one, just like it. But at the edge of finding it, she turns her chin down where waves return from the stone, and another wind pulls fabrication before their sight. 

“Why?” He asks curiously. 

Y/n purses her lips in. Her essence stands on physical space but the fragments of thoughts, collecting her being, solely wanders somewhere else. 

“I don’t know why.” The tone is disheartening, “I wish I knew too.” 

“You don’t?” he says surprised, “You’re the love God.” 

“Yeah,” She smiles, “but I’m not good at being one.” 

“Is that’s why you’re here?” He asks gently after silence. 

Y/n’s quiet and completely still for a moment before nodding without giving him a glance. 

“People are getting heartbroken all the time and aren’t finding love, and I can’t figure out why.” She pauses, “Mother’s angry at me.” Y/n lets her chin fall onto the railing and she leans over the cold metal and watches the sun go behind the horizon. 

“I don’t want to live like that, especially since I can’t even do the only thing I was created for.” 

Another silent passage in time, she speaks again. 

“And your breakup last month was probably also because of me.” She looks at him with a smile but eyes of starshine, on the edge of its own death, “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s not your fault.” 

“It is.” 

“There’s eight billion people, that’s a lot to put on one person.” 

She looks at him, still leaning on the railing.

“I mean, one being.” He corrects. 

Y/n smiles again in which he too does. 

“You know, for humans you’re never perfect at first try.” He looks out over the river, “For all the professionals, more than talent, they train over and over again.” She looks at him and he stutters while scratching his neck. 

“What I’m trying to say is,” He squints, “Practice makes perfect, you’ve never experienced human life until now, of course it’s confusing.” He pauses and takes a step closer. The view of him comes higher up.

“If you want, I can help you.” Another wind passes, while the same rose color against the sky transmits over to his cheeks.

“Teach you what human love is like,” When she still isn’t speaking he takes a irregular breath, “I’ve had two girlfriends before, a lot of dates, I’m very experienced so you don’t have to-” 

“Okay, I want you to teach me.” Y/n laughs. He closes his mouth once he realizes the diffuse pace of wording. Though, smiles as her clothes strive free with the next breeze. Juyeon’s relieved as Y/n has visibly fallen interested in a shape at the other end. Only in need of his voice to affirm the color, not his red stained warm cheeks.

To a change of a digit by the “Sunday '' written on the phone. Y/n opens her eyes to see morning filtrate through the curtains. Her hands come behind her posture to force herself off the layers of cloth. At Eric’s bed at the other end of the same corner, he lies spread out in total absence. His face is buried within the pillow and his right leg has fallen off the bed and touches the floor. 

Without any sort of considerable intentions, Y/n looks down beside the bed. The thin mattress is still out with an imprint among the creases of the sheet. Despite being devoid of any life, a trail of essence aviates above it. The disarray of plates stacking comes from the open kitchen. Y/n looks towards the window and sees Juyeon roaming through the shelves. 

She herself lets the covers come off her body and accumulate beneath the pillows. With each one of her steps, a creak course through the flooring. With the ceasing distance in intervention, Juyeon feels the faint change on the spot he stands on when her presence comes closer. He looks away from the shelf and sees Y/n, her right hand is up before her eye and he smiles like he always does to her. 

“Good morning, Y/n.” 

“Good morning,” She answers in a quiet tone. 

“Did you sleep well, Angel?” He asks while he lets his head fall down to the counter as he groups in spoons and chopsticks. Y/n blinks a few times and stares at his side profile as he opens the cabinet beneath. 

“Angel?” She tilts her head and Juyeon looks back at her. 

“Yeah, Angel?”“I always used Love, but I think you fit Angel better.” 

“Oh, okay.” She tilts her head still and squints her eyes at his frame. He seems to detail that there’s something still left to be said, so he looks back at her again. 

“Am I supposed to call you something too or?”

She asks him with genuine perplexity and he remembers again, that she’s not human. He smiles. How magical, he thinks, that someone that bears on enchantment and bliss to change his state of life in seconds, stands before him. Juyeon has never really believed in gods, even now he isn’t particularly drawn to religion, but Y/n in her otherworldly enchantment but relatable demeanor seems to come beyond any sort of devotion. 

“Only if you want. It’s called pet names, it's common between couples.” 

Her eyes widen, “People see each other as pets? Like those dogs they’re out walking?” Y/n gestures with her hand onto the floor. The new information is rather unsettling, how much of the human love she didn’t understand, she thinks. 

Juyeon laughs and comes closer to her, “No.” He takes his hands onto her shoulders while her eyes are still appalled. 

“Or some couple out there probably. "But not most.” 

“Why pet names?” 

He thinks, “I don’t know, it’s cute? Pets are cute, so you’re cute.” 

“Okay.” Y/n seem to only half accept his explanation. 

“Can I still just call you Juyeon?” She asks. 

“You can,” He pouts, “Though, no one has ever given me a pet name.” 

She smiles, “No one?” 

“I always ask them to give me one, but they don’t.” He sulks. 

“I like your name, it’s pretty. I think it fits you.” 

The picture before her, as she’s still in his hands. The sprout from which his hair blossoms, faces her, but in the ending sequence of her sentence, his face comes up in height with hers. The sulk, seized by the floor. He smiles again in which she tilts her head. 

“You’re really simple, Juyeon.” She laughs and takes a step back. By the nature of the motion, his hands fall off her shoulders. Juyeon stands in vertical posture once again and concentrates on the ends of his lips, so as to not pout again. 

“I’m not.” He says quietly. Before he turns his head back to the counter, though, Y/n catches the remote sulk formed underneath his nose. 

Sometimes through the hits against the counter surface and pans, they hear Eric turn sideways and wrap his body in another round of fabrics. She looks from the cutting board to the beds and Juyeon notices. He tells her that there is no use in low volume, that the entire building could start shaking and his consciousness would not move an inch closer to its physical state. 

As he stands beside her and goes between the stove and cutting board to show her how to cut the vegetables. The broth in the pot simmers, damp heat comes up in his face and spreads onto the metal spoon as he brings it down. Juyeon tastes the broth first before taking it down a second time. He holds his free hand underneath the spoon and turns to Y/n’s. Her hair has fallen before that side of her face. Only when those strands come to the back of her ear, she looks away from the white plastic and towards Juyeon. 

Being conditioned to fall back, Y/n leans away from his close hands. Sees a single steam grow like rosen stems during spring, Juyeon comes closer to the spoon and blows on it. Y/n’s eyes are small when they intertwine with his own. 

“Try it.” He says in his sweet voice. 

“Can’t I just…” The free hand on her other side hesitantly reaches for the spoon. 

“I’ll feed you.” 

Her face turns to the left as if to gesture him a no, but when he looks at her with those pearl glance eyes. Y/n sighs and leans forward. His hand comes under her chin and he helps her by tilting the spoon a little. Y/n’s own hand comes up to Juyeon’s who holds it before she returns to her own place. 

“It’s good.” 

-

Eric left the cramped apartment soon after eating. The sun’s out the entirety of the weekend and his friends had sent messages all night to meet on Sunday. Y/n went to bed again after eating, lying on the outer side and with the sheets at the very end of the bed. She stares up at the ceiling, watches hidden shadows in patterns. Though, steps on the floor cross onto the carpet and soon after, she feels the weight on the mattress shift. Y/n turns to look at the change, and when her cheek falls into the pillow, Juyeon’s eyes are there to meet. 

Y/n sits up and takes one of her legs off the height, but Juyeon takes her arm. 

“Where are you going?” 

“I thought you wanted to lie here?” 

“No, I wanted to be here because you were.” 

“Why?” 

“It’s comfortable.” He smiles, “Couples do it all the time.” 

“Are you serious, or are you just using that as an excuse because I let you teach me about human romance?” She squints his eyes at him, in which Juyeon forces his head from the mattress and reaches his hand out for her upper arm. He shakes his head while laughing quietly, reiterating that he speaks truth. Y/n can’t keep the stale expression when he smiles so deeply and the pillow pushes his hair closer to his face. Eventually she lets his arm pull her down fully again. 

“Do people just lie like this?” Her hands rests over her stomach where the ruffles of the shirt accumulate. A tilt of her head in a direction closer to his existence, but nowhere in full sight does she get a glimpse of even a hair strand, just the ceiling in sunlight from the curtains. 

“Sometimes.” Juyeon answers. He turns his head fully and so does Y/n. Their chin rests on the light blue stripes, folded where the weight are. 

“Sometimes it’s very comforting doing nothing with the one you love.” 

“Why?” 

Juyeon takes his hands in between the pillow and his chin, “Love needs no words.” His voice is gentle, passing her ears like the faint brush of the new washed sheets against her upper calf. A vague nod comes from her side as they still look at each other.

Juyeon suddenly breathes a little stronger, “But other times we do this.” 

Y/n doesn’t get to high her eyebrows or part her lips. The hands underneath his chin forces his weight off the pillow and Y/n feels him lean towards her side. He sits up fully and in the same duration from her eyelid closing and opening, Juyeon has taken his hands down her arms and neck, fervently tickling her. 

The expression of confusion painted by her features turns to a desperate smile as she tries to escape his attack. To kick her leg onto the sheets beneath her and shout Juyeon’s name as his laugh becomes louder for every centimeter the fabric falls down the bed. To not let her escape, Juyeon unconsciously sets his knee on the other side of her body. Her figure stays in between his own frame as she falls deeper down the pillow. 

“Juyeon, stop, I’m serious!” Y/n laughs in panic. 

Eventually his hands come to rest beside her upper arms and the laughter turns to heavy breathing. Juyeon faces from above, still smiling, as Y/n lies with the side of her face against the pillow. That until she stares at him, while fully hidden between his own complexion. Each of her breaths comes to him like the green leaves during spring. Just as the incident, the rose color of flowers in small sprouts bloom on the side of his face. Y/n looks down from his eyes, just one centimeter in distance to see the saturation. She smiles again. 

“You’re always so red, Juyeon.” 

Juyeon takes his head further against his chest to hide it, but there is no use. She laughs lightly as his hair falls before his eyes and he is forced to shake his head when he comes back up. They look in silence at each other's features. Mere sunlight comes in between the thin curtains and cats itself over the shadows. Dust from the sheets cease between the space and Juyeon leans in a bit closer. The shine in her pupil comes all the higher in her coloration as his lips are above hers. 

“I’m sorry.” He speaks gently. 

Y/n laughs again and shakes her head. Seconds cruelly pass them where they lay enchanted in white-blue sheets. The sounds of folding fabric beside her ears, without visual frame she imagines a butterfly at the breaking of dusk, to spread its wings before full sun. But truly, it’s purely, without decorations, Juyeon’s hands beside her body that flutter at the closing distance between them. 

He who always leaves a space in between, Juyeon lets his head fall closer to hers. The pace is incredibly cruel, but so sympathetical, as he stops where they can see each other’s flaws and their breath dampens the other's lips. Time stands so pianfully still when he waits for Y/n to say or do anything. He looks into her eyes, searches for something, but she tries to use the parted distance between her lips but nothing comes out. 

There’s a sort of apprehension somewhere between all of her physical essence. But it dies with every second. In the dilemma playing faintly before her eyes, in the background she sees Juyeon’s eyes come further away from hers. The sensation of guilt and fear were on the verge of death, and fall flat line in an instant. As to desperately not make him disappear, Y/n takes her hands up from her sides. Juyeon gasps quietly when gently holding his face. 

And at last, when she takes him back to her, Juyeon lets his weight on his hands shift to his right knee as their lips collide. Y/n falls a centimeter further into the stripes of the pillow case. It creases at the edges. The pattern changes in structure when Juyeon brings his knee up a bit further. In a boundless room devoid of sounds, the kiss lingers between the four walls. 

As Juyeon gently takes his tongue out for hers, Y/n trace the lines of his features up to his hair. Their mouths are just a little open when she intertwines her hand through his strands. The tips of his fingers scratch against the surface. Through the slight space in between their lips, Juyeon whines. It trails through her clothing and hearten her hand to force the strands tighter around her skin to hear him again. 

And as they encourage the other to fall in closer, the room that had been detached from space and time comes back. The door echoes through the apartment and folds of clothing come after. Before any footsteps close into the kitchen, Y/n’s hands fall back to the mattress and Juyeon throws himself off his arms and lands on his previous place. When Eric comes into the kitchen and lets his eyes span over the details he sees everyday, he stops at their bed. Arms completely down their sides and face up against the ceiling. Eric knits his eyebrows. 

“Are you trying to teach Y/n magic tricks?” Eric asks. 

Juyeon lifts his head from the pillow to look at him. 

“Don’t even try, she’s literally immortal.” Eric goes to the sink and takes a cup. 

“I didn’t even-” Juyeon defends. 

“I’m not immortal?” Y/n cuts Juyeon off by lifting up her head in the same manner to look at Eric. He’s already on his second glass of water. 

“You know what I mean, mythical creature and the unfunniest person alive.” Eric smiles. 

“I think I’m funny.” Juyeon defends and turns his head to look at Y/n. 

“I’m funny?” 

Y/n laughs a little as he looks at her with vast eyes, “When you try not to; yes.” 

He pouts and turns the other way, in which Y/n laughs fully. To turn her own silhouette and let her free hand reach out for his shoulder. 

- 

Y/n takes her legs off the mattress. It creaks when she stands fully on the carpet and it faintly lingers when she walks out the kitchen and further down the hallway. Juyeon, who lies beside her, compels to feet and without any obligatory commands, starts walking after. Y/n looks behind her once to see him trail the invincible steps along her. She takes the bathroom handle and looks at him again. He stands close to the opposite wall, right eye wearied. And the scene, in static vision for another passage, until Y/n tilts her head and asks him;

“Are you coming with me in or?” 

Even with a question fully spoken in between the takes, Juyeon looks at her with the expression he always has. But like February into March in reversion, his eyes widen and he takes a step back. Juyeon says something Y/n can’t decide if it were comprehensible words. When in no trance, he disappears from the hall, out the kitchen and back onto the bed. She knits her eyebrows while staring at the serene flooring before she closes the bathroom door. 

Eric sits in his bed with his phone, but tears his eyes off the screen when Juyeon comes back after only a minute. The older pays no intention of looking to the side and Eric sees him shaking his head before falling onto the mattress. The short video clip on his phone rewinds again as he smiles for himself. 

“I never knew you would be such an attention seeker when your girlfriend left.” Eric looks towards Juyeon. He has his arms crossed over his chest while in his own corner of the world. 

“I’m not.” Juyeon protests. 

Eric snorts which makes Juyeon look at him, “Yeah, and I’m Jacob Elordi.” 

The younger scrolls to the next short clip before talking again, “Come on, you can’t even be two meters away from her. I see how your arm twitches of starvation from her just being in the bathroom.” 

Juyeon takes his hands from his chest, letting them spread out before the background, “They’re not at all.” 

He takes the phone in his other hand, rises so that the sheets fall off his upper body. Eric lifts the pillow higher before he falls down to feathers again and watches the blue light radiate off his screen. 

“Either way, I support your future marriage with Y/n, I could even be the flower boy.” 

“We’re-I-” He stutters and looks at Eric who snickers at the screen, “I just think she’s nice.” 

Eric refrains from throwing more comments across the room. Instead continues to mindlessly consume the massive subtitles on screen. Soon after when the bathroom door opens, the audio from Eric’s phone has rewinded across twenty times and Juyeon walks up to his edge. Eric lies with eyes closed and lips slightly apart while his hand with the device hangs off the bed. Juyeon pushes the turn off button and it becomes quiet in the apartment. 

As Y/n walks across the kitchen area, Juyeon straightens his posture. A sudden burn comes between his throat as he looks down. The fingers of his right hand touch the spot that grows with itch. The sensation makes him want to further reach his hand through the skin and scratch what bothers. He coughs when Y/n comes to the line crossing the kitchen and bedroom. 

“You’re okay, Juyeon?” 

Juyeon turns from the corner where Eric lies and sees Y/n with her head tilted. He coughs again before facing her fully. 

“Yeah, I must catched a cold or something.” He reassures. 

That afternoon, evening boundary, pink encloses orange in softly curved patterns. How the sunset at the very peak of its livelihood, soon will bleach from the celestial and leave nothing but those stars holding hands in constellations to remind us that it was there. And as it shines over the edge of the river, hangs lowly over the open square, Y/n walks over to Eric sitting alone on one of the seats at the center of the open space. A passing wind intertwines like ribbons through their hair, braid them in irregular patterns before letting go. Eric feels the essence of another identity under the collapsing sun enter his field. 

He looks beside his left shoulder and sees Y/n smiling, though, it might just be the sunset, but there’s a whimsical bearing to her expression in plastic wings. 

“I realized you haven’t written a name.” He turns focus from her eyes down to the pink box as she holds it close to him. 

“You don’t have anyone you like?” She asks. 

Eric’s quiet for a second, but ultimately shakes his head. Her silhouette stands in contrast to the setting sun. Each shine streak runs into the river and reflects like a horizontal mirror. The outline of her shoulders divides the flicker, causing him to squint. Y/n herself let the box fall onto her thighs. When another wind comes, a short lived reflection on his hair passes by. Cupid tilts her head and observes his features. A visible lack of emotion and eyes on a dead tree. Another group of people walk down the river and Y/n smiles again. 

“Seems like it.” She says. 

Eric suddenly asks, “Can you write down someone else’s name? Two people you want to be together?”

She looks at the box then back at him, “Usually no, but I’ve already interfered in enough lives.” Y/n takes up the pen and pink paper, “Try.” 

Eric takes the pastel note and presses the synthetic end on his palm. When he gifts it to her, he sees her smile grow wider as she reads it. Eric’s lips too, like a wildflower during the incoming flourish season, grow as she laughs a little. On the piece of paper stands two names, Y/n and Lee Juyeon. She let it descend down the thin opening of the box. While still looking down at the space created by cardboard, she speaks. 

“That won’t work, though.” Y/n speaks gently. 

Eric tilts his head suddenly, keeping his hands at the edge of the bench. 

“Why?” 

“I’m not human, right?” She still smiles, but Eric’s has withered. 

“I don’t understand, gods and humans can’t be together?” 

Y/n shakes her head, “No” She shifts in her place, “It’s just, the rules don't work as they normally do, it might end up bad.” 

“Like what?” 

“Just bad, not fun…it’s not important.” Y/n takes her hand before her face, standing up and locks eyes. 

“Juyeon will be fine.” 

For days closest to present, that itch at the very bottom of his throat has become stronger. Each night he touches the spot where it hurts the most, and his fingers trails higher for every night. The other day Juyeon surrendered and went to the pharmacy. He took coughing medicine, but at last he stands before the hand sink, throwing lilac flower petals. The first time, he stood perplexed and backed away until his calf hit the tub. 

At the same time, he thinks about what Eric said to him, that day of the kiss. While the hours pass them by he always finds himself having music on or cleaning dishes, searching for job applications. Cause, when neither of them are with him, and there is little to no sound to surround him, those scenes play before him. 

It was night and he turned to the other side of the floor. He searched coughing flower petals. In immediate blue links, informative paragraphs describe the cases of physical effects of a yearning heart. The pictures showed strangers with flowers in shades scattered over white sinks. His heart picked up pace before he shut off his phone and forced his eyes closed. He has the love goddess beside him to lead him, but it only aches to think that he stands alone at the edge of the bridge, longing for the other end when it doesn’t reciprocate. At midnight, he’s forced to accept his heart's admiration for Y/n. He refuses to let the knife remove the love out of his body, instead, begs in moonlight for fate to spare them. 

- 

There’s a gentle touch over his head. It reverses before it comes back. A sharp point between his hair strands and further down where his neck starts. As his eyes are still closed and mind in a different dimension, he doesn’t register how he slowly starts to lean towards the touch every time it disappears. Eventually, the moonlight cast at the other wall becomes apparent and he sees Eric’s silhouette beneath it. It shines of city lights in the furthest window above the kitchen. 

Behind him, he hears soft creases of fabric lines. It comes from the material in his own bed, but his arms are at the front side. There’s a faint opening between his eyelids and he feels the touch linger down his cheek until it trails to his chin. It tickles when it gently outlines his nose. Once Juyeon opens his eyes fully, he tries to look up. On that side of him, a startled motion comes between the soft folds and the warmth on his face stills. 

All shadows leisurely adjust and he makes out the room. But in that space, left of his mattress and frame of carpet sits Y/n. He recognizes her features in turned axis shimmer and traces her upper arm down to her hand on his face. She still caresses his cheek when they look at each other. When Juyeon takes his hands to either side and forces himself up, the fabric sounds violent as a shadow covers the cast on the wall. He watches how she quickly makes her way out the kitchen. 

He can’t describe why, when his mind is half asleep and his body cold of the thin fabrics. Though, he does fully take off from the mattress and follows her. He sees her figure disappear through the bathroom door and when she stands to see her reflection in the mirror, Juyeon leans his hand on the edge of the door. Y/n looks at him when he walks in. There’s a meter in between them, and she tries to keep the same distance as he closes the door gently and walks forward. 

At some point, her back hits the cold wall and Juyeon, with some space still separating them, reaches for her left hand off her side. Y/n’s quiet when he brings it to the blossom of his head. He leans down so that she subtly makes out the shadows beneath his fringe. Juyeon gently ushers her hand to mirror those motions from a minute ago. Where the whole cityscape stands in silence, the clearest thing spoken through the barrier is the sigh of relief Juyeon does when her hand reaches his neck. 

He lets his knee rest where the divide forms between her own. How his soft breaths affect her own person. Cause eventually Juyeon separates his hand from hers as she on her own starts to touch his hair. For each caress along the silk, her palm continues deeper onto his neck. At last, her fingers reach where the collar of his shirt starts. To be touched even faintly in a place unaffected for so long, he whines. His head that faces the floor lands underneath her chin. The cheap shampoo reaches her nose and his breath dampens the spot above her collar. 

The ends of his hair scratches against her skin and, by consequence, her other hand comes to the center where his shoulder and neck meet. 

With the door closed, there’s no light source from any of the quiet corners. But for each breath they both take, he becomes all clearer. His face is buried underneath her while his body leans as close. The contrast of the painfully cold wall and the heat spreading from his essence. It’s so deeply attractive in her eyes, how he folds when she reaches her fingers a step further down his shirt. The quiet whimpers get muted in her neck. She desperately wants to hear it again, the hand from his shoulder and outlines his neck up to his chin where she lets her thumb caress the skin before coming back down to the shoulder. 

“Y/n, fuck.” He moans cruelly onto her skin. It creates some free room between her hand and his shoulder when he falls down to his knees. The warmth that has accumulated above her chest, turns instant cold when there is no barrier before the grading temperature. 

Her eyes naturally follow his own which are locked on the edge of her sleeping wear. Where the muted pattern convulse into each other and a harsh line before her own skin. Juyeon timidly takes his fingers onto that edge. All warmth in his body rushes to the inner parts, there is nothing but cold on his fingertips when they for a moment touch beneath her stomach. Juyeon looks up, the color in his eyes comes through the fringe and his hand flexes when holding onto her sleeping wear. 

“I want to-can I?” He stutters profusely while looking into her eyes. It’s not enough light for the pigment on his upper face to reflect back into Y/n’s own vision. He looks away and faces the wall of the bathtub. 

Y/n’s own chest has started to pick up pace while a limited gap between her lips forms to afford it. The lid on her eyes closes and opens profusely as he refuses to state the expression on his face. The inpatient motions with the urge to not look at her, she desperately wants him to say it when her mind runs to try to comprehend it. 

“Sorry, Juyeon, I really don’t understand.” 

Her hand still in laces with his own essence starts to gently advance across the back of his head again. He sighs when she reaches a sensitive spot down his neck and brings his head back. It affects her mind deeply so that her own physical state falls on the wall behind her and shifts her right leg. 

“Please, I want to make you feel good.” He holds his head high to maintain the contact. The fabric of her shorts comes tighter around her waist when he pulls it again. 

“I want to lick your…” He whispers to her, in a volume equal to the sounds coming from her hands in his hair. Y/n nearly reaches down to mute his words, but the desire to shift her leg again blinds those thoughts and she nods. 

“I want you too, Juyeon.” 

Her words seem to have freed the chain off him and gently lets the two layers of fabric touch her thighs down to her calves. Juyeon takes his own hand up her waist and the other around her left leg. To carefully, as if made out of velvet he forces her up onto his shoulder. Y/n tears her eyes away from him and falls head against the cold hard wall when goes in between her thighs. The soft changes in direction from his tongue and the careful advances as he watches her reactions from below. 

The hand on his hair becomes tighter when the sensation goes inside her two walls for even a second. There’s constant shame as she lets him completely mend the soar spots with a part of his existence. She can’t tell if Juyeon feels it too, but to never let her eyes be open for more than a second, because when her head falls onto the wall and her eyes stare up the ceiling. An invisible but cruel rain falls onto her from above, a circle of faces from her youth watches how one of their own crumbles before a human. 

“Juyeon.” 

She strokes his head once again and Juyeon closes his own eyes. Y/n has been forcing her lips shut of fear to hear her own sounds echo in between the walls. But at last, when he grips onto her calf a bit stronger and the end of his hair brushes up against her thighs, a cry of pure bliss comes between her lips while her hips move forward. Juyeon continues with his lips to let the sensation gently fade. 

Y/n breathes heavily while still leaning onto the wall. Juyeon comes up from the floor and lies one hand on her shoulder. With eyes closed, reminiscent of weekend morning when her own self is far from the body, lovely gathered in his worn down sheets. How Juyeon solely comes closer to make the pixels of her features clearer and discover the secret appearance, one who is only this close can make out. 

Y/n finally opens her eyes and there is barely a distance between them. Juyeon has let go of the space and has his entire front against her own. There’s a firmer impression in contrast to the rest of his body. It pushes onto her lower stomach in timid motions. Her arms embrace herself as she smiles and laughs suddenly. 

Juyeon lets out an embarrassed laugh and forces his head under her chin again. A faint ‘no’ escapes, barely audible, which causes her own eyes to look over the line in which his hair grows. And she forces him from her chest just a little. His sight is still in lock with the floor and Y/n laughs again. 

“I’ll do it now.” 

As she takes his hand, directs to the bathtub and pushes him gently down the cold material. Whatever’s left of the world becomes merely a singular. When the last lights of the cityscape passes through the visual horizon at the end of the universe, Y/n lets herself on top of him fully and takes her hands onto his face while staring in deep adoration with no sense of responsibility. 

Truly she feels her heart pick up a pace she never thought was possible when creating friction onto them both with easy advances of her hips, and the back of his head falls against the edge. With no other light visible, a single star burns off in the upper left corner when he opens his right eye to look at her. 

Juyeon feels the fabric enclose him painfully underneath her and he moans desperately. To force himself up from the edge, he holds his hands on the sides of the tub and comes precisely under her own lips. Y/n continues to fall back in motion while Juyeon tilts his head up to take her lips. Tension tears off like two desperate sides of a rubber band and Juyeon takes his hands on her hips. To take his knee up higher to force her chest closer to his own. 

Behind the door, there's nowhere to go, he wishes for them to continue being in this place, this emotion. 

Juyeon trails hands up to her waist. To get on his knees and gently make her come in contact with the white tub. Her hair spreads out the sides of the curvature and his mouth comes agape when he watches her eyes, in what he hopes is at least brief adoration. 

Once again he puts his hips into her own. Timidly pushes against her through all the layers of fabric and breathes out. Y/n lifts her own leg up to make room for the climbing friction between them. Juyeon sighs and lets his head fall down, in which Y/n takes her hands through his hair and moans. 

She can see his expression, and he looks as divine as he sounds. She soothes the side of his head and tilts her head before whispering. 

“Juyeon?” 

He moans again and pushes his hips harder into hers. 

“My name sounds lovely when you say it.” He pauses to breathe again, “Please say my name again?” 

Y/n swallows and the pupil of her eye comes in between him, the friction soon the wall behind them. So quietly but still enough so he can hear how she calls his name again. 

“Juyeon…” 

A pleasure hits him through his spine and he moans again while holding onto nothing with his other arm. The constant humping makes her not glide down the bathtub and when he carelessly starts pushing his hips against her, at a pace faster than before. Y/n takes her hand from her side and forces it into the small space between them. He throws his head back when the layers of fabric come tightly against him. In nearly instant, Juyeon fucks his hips into the cloth in her palm. 

Y/n doesn’t take her eyes off as she’s determined to see him fall down and rests on her chest. 

“Y/n…” 

She answers in melody. 

“I need to see you come, all undone for me.” 

As the shorts and underwear lie serene on the carpet beside them, her head falls to the edge. Her hand comes to his face and he takes the hem of his pants off as he misses her. Though it aches with impatience, Juyeon’s eyes shimmer in hands, cupped by Y/n. Every motion he does in pleasure, as if handcrafted. It sores from watching him wither above. Y/n nods again, whispers to please see him wilt in cause of her. 

He fills her completely when they come as close as possible. The first thrusts are painfully slow as he edges on relief but desperately wants to feel her warmth. Y/n urges him to fasten the pace as she falls down the wall. He holds his eyes on Y/n like she will save him as he thrusts harder. 

“Please, Y/n, you look so beautiful.” His legs twitch, “I need to see you…” 

His words falter as she cries out for a second time. He slows down in pace, staying amidst the warmth as the high washes over her. On precise edge, Y/n takes her hand onto the material and forces herself off him. Though the pleasure still affects her, she reaches her hand out where it hurts the most. She strokes him just merely. Juyeon’s eyes are closed and he cries from pleasure and wet stains her skin. The sight of him desperately saying her name and convulse in pure bliss might live on for an eternity. He continues with slow motions in her hand, moving the stains up the rest of her hand before the wave falters. 

Juyeon gently descends his head beside hers. The right arm out of the pushing under his weight and he lies it underneath her head. The two of them close their eyes while listening to their breath echo throughout the bathroom. 

Though, as the world comes back into place and Y/n opens her eyes to see the ceiling, she thinks about the windows outside. It goes chills through her essence when she looks at a the ventilator. Juyeon’s breathe are soft on the side of her face and she still console his hair. She desperately wants to lie beside him for as long as time lets them. Turn her face to see his blissful features look back at her own. 

But for every second, reality moves closer. How her escape from above might put him once again in pain. The scene from when Eric put their names on his note comes back to her in a form of a distant but cold wave. 

Fate doesn’t have them, she thinks before sitting up. The change in atmosphere comes suddenly to Juyeon who lifts his upper body when she climbs out the tub, takes on her cloth and goes to the door. 

“Where are you going?” She obscene herself before turning. He sits like she left him and the withered shine in his eyes that yearns for her burns the side of her heart. Y/n puts her other hand on the handle and looks down without a clear expression. 

“I’m really tired.” Her voice is low, putting a further distance. 

“Oh, okay.” Juyeon looks down.

Of course he’s so perfect, she thinks and opens the door wider. To set her feet out before she returns and see his sunken posture, watching the patterns at the bottom of the tub. Y/n bites her lips. 

“Don’t sleep in the bathtub tonight.” She says and Juyeon looks up, giving her a smile reminiscent of the one he always gives her. 

“Don’t worry about me.” 

Y/n nods and takes a step out again and shuts the door, not fully closed.

“Thank you.” She says, before at last leaving. 

When the divide amid the handle and frame becomes non-existent and each step of her bare feet recites from the floor back to her, she sees the rising moon in the corner of the window, fade from view as dark clouds pass by. There’s no liquid moonlight cast on the kitchen counter, and the metal in the sink emits no starfall reflection. 

She takes the hand that holds the only visual significance of the scene in the bathroom, and her other hand on the tap. The white stains run off her hand and weave together with the water. She watches the colors of morning gloom after rain, before it all eventually disappears down the drain. Y/n closes the tap, when her hand is left on the metal and she watches the lone drops of water that's left. It feels as if a part of her essence might have gone down with it, leaving her left at the edge of the world. 

Y/n hasn’t stayed in one place since she came down from Olympus for more than a few days. The date of the calendar has passed three days longer than planned, but why does she find this city so astonishingly more beautiful than any other place? She closes her eyes and maybe the ache in her heart will flow down the metal pipes like how she saw. But at last, her hand falls off the tap. 

Maybe hope will win, she thinks. The only thing left to believe in, the only thing that will save the three of them. If she goes to sleep in this state of heart, she hopes for their good life that Juyeon sits in the bathtub yearning for the woman he did a few days ago. She hopes no stems grow through his skin and to, as the love goddess and not Y/n, not see him fall to the floor as the power she rules consumes him from within. 

-

“You’re awake?”

To turn to the opening between two walls and see the table in the middle of it. The sun is already up. Juyeon takes his hand from his back to above his eyes, in the cause of  blinding gray light. 

“Yeah, I-” Juyeon sits up and starts walking out the kitchen. Eric and Y/n sit on either side and he stands beside them and looks down the plates. 

“You cooked?" Did you burn anything?” He asks Eric in which he shakes his head and points at Y/n while his mouth is full. 

“No, Y/n did.” 

As she sits on the opposite end from where he’s looking, Juyeon shifts his vision. The golden brown of the bread leaves trails of grease on the tips of her fingers and when she too looks up at him, scenes from last night pass through his peripheral vision like they tell you at the edge of death. Juyeon looks away before any visual traces will be sighted on his face. And as he scratches his neck, Y/n comes up from the chair and goes to the counter. When he feels the faint touch of her free hand on his back, Juyeon looks over his shoulder and sees the plate in her hand. 

“I did one for you too.” Her hand leans the plate out for him and Juyeon hesitantly takes it, “I tried to remember what you have on it, hopefully I got it right.” Y/n smiles and gets down to her seat once again. 

The vast eyes of his observes her eating before turning down to look at his own plate. How each of the green and red vegetable layers follows the same patterns as he usually does. 

Though, in truth, as he takes a bit of the sandwich, a sort of warmth trails down the sore spot. In one way he just thinks the sleepiness is coming off, but in between all the superficial, in the hidden part of his heart, he wants to fall to his knees and shout that Y/n hasn’t abandoned him. That there is hope left for them. 

“Eric?” Juyeon has hands on his knees. Eyes turn away from the speckles of color running across the concrete. And when they land on the younger sitting beside him, Eric has his towel in his hands, throws it above his shoulder. 

Eric hums and looks at Juyeon. 

He plays football in a building further away when school’s over. Sometimes memories return from that unchanged landscape. The sun wore bleachers and the synthetic grass field that spares its color no matter season. At some point, Juyeon didn’t need to follow him and wait on the bleachers. 

Juyeon came here as the clock reached noon. He took one stop earlier off the bus and walked to the entrance of the building in light blue paint. And Eric sat like he always has done, on the same place four rows above the grass. 

“What’s a good gift to a girl?.” He asks finally. The inner corner of Eric’s eyebrows closes in together as he doesn’t say anything. Simply stares at the one, a row under before his lips curl at its sides and Juyeon throws his face in his palms. 

“Ohhhhh!” 

Eric’s shoulder veiled in damp shirt material comes closer to his own before the younger takes the towel. He turns it in the air so that cold wind comes down on Juyeon. The one with a towel over his head starts swinging it closer and Juyeon doesn’t get to protest before the damp fabric runs across his face. 

“When did you become like this?!” Eric’s eyes, immense as his back falls into a curve to reach down where Juyeon hides. 

“Why am I proud?" Eric asks himself as he puts an arm around the older and lets his head high to once again see the bleachers in the lower end become steeper and the artificially green grass spread from one end to the other. 

“You didn’t answer.” Juyeon scratches the back of his hair, still with his own features a little nearer empty space down the bleachers. 

“What should I give her…a girl?” Juyeon corrects himself. At the end line where the side of the field ends and two planes of the bleachers start, he sees Eric’s feet come into frame and turns towards that direction. The shoelaces have blemishes of black hues and the neon color itself has run with rain water down the drains. Four depressing shades of fabrics in the same motion of how he kicks his feet back and forth, reminiscent of the end leaves of a dying plant. 

“I know it’s Y/n so we can start from there.” Eric answers and leans forward, “So what should you give Y/n?” 

Juyeon sighs again and lets his face in between his hands while falling forward. 

“I don’t know, that’s why I came here.” 

Eric continues to look down on his shoelaces, “I mean, you know her well, you can’t figure out at least one thing?” 

Juyeon shakes his head. 

“No wonder she broke up with you.” He says to himself and the older takes his face up from his hands and stares at him with deadpan. 

“Okay, too soon.” Eric takes up his hands above his head. 

“I don’t know, chocolate, that’s classic. A movie ticket to a romance movie? She’s the god of love – or new clothing, she doesn’t have much clothes.” Eric starts to look up at the high ceiling but jumps one step away on the bleachers as Juyeon stands up and gasps. 

“I know, I– thank you, see you!” 

Eric holds his arm closer to his own body, all while Juyeon jumps down the four rows and disappears along the white edge of the green field. The heavy metal door at the side of the building echoes throughout the empty walls. 

His eyes linger on the cold metal doors. There’s butterflies in his stomach, and not for himself, but for his brother. The slight change in atmosphere in their limited apartment, and the expressions of Juyeon’s face seemed to have cleared with the sky. Truly, Eric thinks, Y/n being a goddess or not, she cast a spell on their life and made him look at the sunset in an angle never perceived before. If she could stay with them, with Juyeon, a little longer, he might actually believe he gets to see flowers bloom in spring. 

Though, ever since he wrote their names on the note and she told him it’s not possible. He looks at his brother, when he melts to his knees and reaches out to touch her. The severe words she uttered that evening. In her otherworldly complexion, there’s a shadow she desperately tried to hide from him that day. Eric knows more than anyone, even more than Juyeon himself, that their  love is inevitable. But a part of him hopes still, that the thing she fears so deeply, is merely a projection, and that if he doesn’t tell Juyeon, the three of them might get what is closest to “forever”. 

As Y/n came to them in the last weeks of December, she noticed the decorations of warm light scattered across every avenue. Eric told her on the bus once that they celebrate the passage of a new turn around the sun. That whole ride until the final glass cubicle, she told questions in which Eric eagerly answered. Juyeon and Eric, promised Y/n to take her to the center city when the sky’s shimmer. 

They’ve walked all three down the street alleys. There’s a light from every restaurant and in the few open balconies and windows, music blasts through the street. She’d never seen so many shoes on the same platform. How it causes ripples in puddles, forces the mall entrance doors to stand open eternally and the constant, city conversations integrate. 

None of them took much down to the festival, Juyeon told her to dress up but there’s not much in her limited closet that would pass as festive attire. While she herself went with the shirt she always wears, it itched in Juyeon’s fingers to give her paper blue bag beside the bed. When down the street she pointed towards it, asked him why he’s carrying a bag. Juyeon took the excuse of wanting an extra scarf and umbrellas with him if it starts raining. 

To chase warmth while running through the open streets. And when the entrance door to the mall directs like curtains, people have gathered for the final scene of the night., Juyeon touches them both lightly. 

“I’ll get us something to eat, we haven’t eaten since lunch.” Juyeon points at a nearby van down one of the streets. It reeks of steam from the window while the person in front fervently switches conversations with the new person next in line. The two nod and Juyeon looks at Y/n while turning half away. 

“Look after Eric, okay!?” 

In the midst of all the burning colors, Y/n takes her eyes off the sky to see the reflection of each spark in people’s eyes. As passionate red fills the sky and scatters a wither of faint glow, Y/n think truly, that she has never felt as alive as now. The upper quarter of the crowd starts to move, she looks in that direction where a concise distance opens up between two jackets. 

That divide of the mass has loosened and the wall of the closest building works as a background to the people passing by that glimpse. Another firework goes off, echoes over the crowded platform. Eric looks up when her hand on his own becomes tighter and the direction of her head is not the sky but the front wall of the mall. He too leans forward to see between the arms of the ones before them, but as he opens his mouth to ask her what’s wrong, Y/n takes an even stronger grasp around his hand. Her own skin forces white spots to appear onto Eric’s and he nearly falls in a man’s chest as she turns. 

“What?!-” Eric shouts as people pull their shoulders closer to their warmth when they run past them. Y/n doesn’t look back, but exchanges attention from the barely patterns of the platforms and Eric’s hand secured in her own. 

“Run Eric!” Y/n tries to overpower the next color that fires off above them.

To escape the borderline of tight bound space and now free view over the imminent skyscrapers and alleys from the center. Y/n’s chest falls desperately, an impending sensation that hurts at the mit of her heart and seeps through the back. As each breath might cut her throat inside and a dye of red stronger than the one above, she takes another step and starts running. 

“What are we running from?!” Eric asks again, but Y/n doesn’t answer. The younger sometimes, when he looks at her face, sees a glimpse of her features when her hair comes behind the side profile. Vast eyes that none of the massive street lights can catch the attention of, and once or twice closes her eyes like it hurts. The strange fright running after them has him desperately coil his fingers with hers, run towards wherever she takes him. As the city flashes them by like a sped up film, they pass a familiar face without even noticing. He calls their names but only Eric looks back. 

“Y/n! It’s Juyeon!” Eric shouts and looks at her. 

“I need to go Eric, I need to go!” She breathlessly answers him. The signs start to fade, only streetlight patterns with distance lines the alley, the rest hidden. Fireworks from the curved celestial become all fainter and she can clearly hear his voice now. 

 “Y/n! Y/n stop!” Her name bears through the street. There’s a few restaurants with closed doors and warm lighting down the high walls. The people inside might see the silhouettes disappearing in an instant before the outer window. 

Juyeon shouts again and runs. The paper bag hits his thigh. Cause of petals in his throat, each shout becomes weaker and soon no air seems to pass them. The lungs inside his chest reach for air but like a cement divide, it seems impossible. Juyeon coughs as he still runs, and hears Eric shouting her name too. At the end of the road where three others meet, Juyeon gets his hands on her shoulder and forces her back towards him. They stop in an instant, and his other hand comes to her shoulder. 

“Y/n!” All three breathe heavily as they stand in a crossing. When the sky burns of color, it might even melt. 

“What happened?” He takes another breath and Y/n takes a step back, but Juyeon forces her feet to return to that place. Her head looks the other direction  so her side profile comes into full view, but his hands go to carry her face. 

“Y/n?” 

“I need to go.” She swallows. Eric takes a step from the two of them, watches how tears edges off her eyes. 

“I need to go, Juyeon.” Her own hand comes to his upper arms as she tries to push him away, but his own only comes closer, embracing her shoulder and back. The white fabric folds against his arms. To never let his sight of hers. 

“Why? Why do you need to go?” He asks gently. 

“It’s my mother, I saw my mother.” Y/n breathe and try to look behind Juyeon’s back before returning, “I’ve stayed for too long, I shouldn't have used my powers.” 

Finally all the water that has accumulated under her eyelashes overflows and a single drop runs down the curve of her cheek. As the tears itself saturate the space beneath her eyes and drown the lashes, all thoughts that would continue to pile up on her mind, reach the high ceiling. Where the last piece of stress bends at the top and eventually the whole tower falls. Tension releases in a second and Y/n feel her body become heavy. 

“I need to go.” She says again in a voice barely above a whisper. To face the rain covered asphalt, the strands of her hair fall before her face. Juyeon holds his arms still in that place they are in. But eventually, he let them fall to her upper arms. When her body is fully in his embrace, Juyeon pulls her closer so her head lands on his shoulder and body against his own. 

“I’ll help you get away.” Juyeon says gently. Though the fragments scratching his throat tightens at the sentence, he takes another breath through the flourished broken part. Let the sharp edges of vines pierce the insides. 

“And Eric will too.” He adds, looks towards the younger. Y/n shifts, then, a meter away stands Eric in a tense position, though, it slowly loosens as she looks at him. The yellow sign behind him, shines from his head like a halo and he gives her that boyish smile like he always does. At that, she gifts one back. 

“But you have to sleep.” She looks back at Juyeon, “We’ll help you out of here in the morning, but you can’t leave tonight.” 

She’s quiet. 

“I promise, your mom won’t find you.” He says sincerely as he looks at her in the eyes. Y/n can’t say anything, instead nods. 

- 

Y/n didn’t sleep. Even when she lied in bed with vision parallel to the turned off lamps above, Juyeon with great delicacy took the spot beside her. She refused to visually trace his face, still when his arm came under her neck and voice fluttered against her ears as he drew her closer. Forced light to divide from her eyes, maybe nothingness would mend the sore. Though, for every change on the minute digit and next firework. Naivety only pushes it bitterly, to grow in the hidden parts of her essence. 

Even at 5 in the morning, when their side of Earth still longs the sun, Juyeon’s hand is placed over her like before. Though, feather-like when he sleeps. His other arm is placed across her chest and at the end of his hand, he holds her upper arm. She turns from the ceiling, down to the side where his face is closest. Only in intimate moments have he been this near, but for the first time she can admire his natural red blemishes and the patterns on lips without Juyeon withdrawing. 

Time may stop for merely a second when she sees him like this, but there's trouble deep within her heart. It consumes butterflies left in her stomach and she reaches out closer to him, kisses him at the ending scene. It’s gentle and fast, contrasting to the cruelly slow ones they shared before. Y/n loosens his arm and climbs out the bed. When she packs all the belongings that can count on two hands, she sits on the floor and looks over towards Eric. The view is incredibly familiar as his arms depend on the bed edge and feet free from the fabrics. 

Y/n smiles before the pocket in the bag closes and she walks towards that side of the room. Her head is on its tilt when she tries to look at his face from the right angle. His mouth is slightly agape when he breathes and carefully Y/n takes her hand to brush his fringe. The covers are halfway over his stomach and Y/n bring it over his chest. As the edge of the stripes ends before his neck, Y/n takes a step back. To look at the room in its grandest form, she feels like bursting into tears. 

At last, she walks out the kitchen floor like an ending scene and comes out the hallway, just like the credit scene. When she reaches down for her shoes, a piercing knock on the door comes through the walls. Y/n stumbles backwards and catches her weight with her arm. She stands completely still while looking up the impending door. Another knock echoes throughout the apartment and this time, Y/n straightens up from the floor and takes the handle. Let the backpack fall to the side. 

When the door opens and the bright light from the stairs burns the dim apartment, her eyes squint. Though, a tall figure in dark clothes creates a shadow. She follows the lines of his clothing and sees his face. An older man with barely no hair, same with his smile. 

“Is this Lee Juyeon’s apartment?” He asks in a monotone voice. 

Y/n’s quiet for a second before nodding, “Yeah, he lives here.” 

“Is he here?” 

Y/n falls quiet again. To stare at his face without words, she looks down and sees the mark on the uniform chest. The reflexes on the navy shade and all the layers underneath. Y/n swallows before looking up again. 

“No he’s not.” Y/n says without doubt. The man looks behind her, into the kitchen area for a second. 

“Where is he then?” 

She answers quickly as adrenaline starts rising, “He visited a friend last night after the fireworks, a friend from school.” 

“Do you know where this friend lives?” He asks and Y/n bites her lip. 

“Not completely, he took the bus.” 

“Do you remember the number?” 

“Maybe eight.” She lies. 

The man takes up his phone and types something quick. She still holds the door when he puts it back down in his pocket. 

“Are you aware of the investigation regarding Lee Juyeon?” 

Y/n furrows her eyebrows. 

“No.” 

“He may be in possession of illegal firearms and has used them.” He pauses, “We are also in search of Eric Sohn?””Social services have been called to take him in since he's a minor with a guardian under crime investigation.” 

Y/n stands with her mouth agape. In desperate need to answer him as he looks at her, but words refuse to come out. 

“I understand it’s confusing,” he takes up a notepad and a pen, “But we’re gonna have to ask for your name since you seem to be close with Lee Juyeon and Eric Sohn.” 

Y/n does write her name, incredibly unstable for the age she appears. She looks up at him when she has just written her name, he doesn’t say anything but reads between the glances that a second name in after space should be there too. Y/n quickly adds a surname and gives the note and pen back to the officer. 

“Thank you.” He says, “Is Eric Sohn with Lee juyeon?”

“Yeah.” Y/n nods, “They took the bus together last night.” 

After a few more questions, the officer does finally leave her at the door. She doesn’t close it until his silhouette disappears fully down the stairs. When it finally does and she has stood there long enough for the automatic lights in the ceiling to shut, she does pull the handle close and lean her forehead towards the frame. Y/n closes the lids against the bottom as if it’ll erase the world from her. But when she opens them, the world is still cruelly real and she turns to the kitchen. 

Y/n shakes Eric first, let the covers she adjusted fall down his stomach once again. He lets out a confused sound with eyes still closed. Y/n continues to bother him while speaking. 

“Eric, you need to wake up.” 

Eventually she walks over to Juyeon, grabs arm and shakes his upper body. She repeats his name in usual volume and slowly his eyes come open and his head turns to her. 

“Y/n?” 

“The police were here.” She shakes him still, “You’re under criminal investigation, Juyeon. They’ll take Eric…you’re a criminal, Juyeon.” 

Y/n herself seem to have not fully comprehended the words the officer spoke outside. And as she voices what he told her, it dawns on her chest and her breath becomes heavy. She looks at him weakly when he sits up. The tiredness that lingers after slumber has disappeared and he looks at her with vast eyes and she repeats it to him. 

“Social services will take Eric, you’re under investigation for illegal firearm use.”

Juyeon stares at her for a second before taking the phone off the desk. She takes a step back once the blue light illuminates his face. He clicks into the news sights and at first article at the very start of the site, a video recording from the alley when he fired off the gun. He hits the lamp above them and it ends shortly after the man stands up. He reads the title of the article, “Young man wanted after shooting”. 

She sees the video rewind on his phone as his face turns to Eric on the other side who shifts position. Despite the weight coming down on them in one moment, none of them even stands up or walks out. From today's news, their tomorrow plays out in front of their visions. Like a gloomy movie Juyeon watches how they take Eric, ship him off to somewhere, long outside this city while he himself is stuck in between the same four walls for months on end. 

Y/n herself knows she must take herself out of the city. Sky’s been watching, nothing’s here will save her. But she can’t take her feet to the hallway, bend her arms down to her bag and leave them behind.

“I’m so sorry, Juyeon.” She doesn’t know why she apologizes. After all, it’s not her in a layered uniform who will come between the closed door at dawn and separate the two. But the way his eyes lingers on Eric’s silhouette while the grip on the phone tightens. 

Juyeon suddenly looks up towards Y/n, he stands up and takes her shoulder, “Don’t apologize, Y/n.” 

He walks away to the kitchen, opens the shelves and takes out red packages. Snacks in vibrant colors and then down to the refrigerator where he grabs the plastic bottle of juice. She stays in one place, unable to relocate her essence when the world progresses at a fast pace. Juyeon places the food on the table before he goes to the hallway to take out a backpack. Y/n takes her first step closer to follow his silhouette where she once stood to leave. 

“What are you doing?” She asks when he comes back to the table and lies the cheap plastic in the backpack. 

“We’ll have to move too.” 

She’s quiet for a second, stands with hands against her sides when he goes to the shelfs. 

“Where?” She looks at him. 

“I don’t know, probably where you’re going.” 

His answer causes a wind to force the side edge of the mirror to reflect back onto herself. Her double vision becomes unclear when the thing she focuses on is rather a gloom layer at the far end of the world. Probably Y/n will disappear in the masses of people down the main road complexions before even that fades as she comes all the further from the center metropolitan. When buildings start to lose color and texts graze the sides of parks, she’ll take the bus and let the vehicle take her as far as it can. Where she’ll stand in the vast world when the sun falls down the horizon once again, is like always, a mystery. 

“I’m not leaving Eric.” Juyeon comes back to the table before turning to her. 

“And not you either.”  

-

Before the sun breaks up on the horizon, they were out of the apartment. The sky’s collapsing above them as it rains, reminiscent of melancholy in hearts. Y/n walks beside Juyeon in between high end stores and dares to look up the gray coloration in thick layers. It all reminds her of the first day she saw this city for the first time.

They come to a meeting point where the city's buses pass in rush hour. The weather has worsened, wind from the shoreline comes through the building divides and forces the rain to stand on diagonal. They force their heads down and in need of perception, they peek through the strands. With all the other lights and reflections, they see neon green stripes of guards around the platform. The central station has just a few white stripes on the asphalt before them. 

To let one of the glass structures hold the rain above, Eric and Y/n take their hoods off and let the water that has accumulated run down their backs. Y/n looks to the left to see a woman in the inner corner of the booth. She shifts her feet as it reeks and scatters of cigarettes. 

“You didn’t have another jacket?” Eric looks at Juyeon who hesitantly takes his hand up the edge of his hood. 

“It’s the only one that is waterproof.” 

Eric sighs, “If they come up to us, it’s your fault.” He points at the officers the other booth away. 

“I’m sure those two, specifically, don't look for us.”  Juyeon emphasis. 

Y/n lean over to hold her finger before her lips. They look at her with immense eyes and eyebrows knitted together. In response, she tilts her head in constant pattern, back towards the woman behind, she’s on her own phone, but both Juyeon and Eric get the hint. Eric turns to the open rectangle staring out into the rain that has started to take on forms of snow. 

As another bus pass them and it’s only seven minutes until theirs come, the officers has come out the booth and started patrolling this line. Their uniforms in neon details shines clearly through the snow. And as they come closer, each of them become stale in their soaked clothing, feeling each water drop plummet against the ground. 

“Just be natural.” Juyeon says in low volume while hitting them gently with his elbow. 

The two officers come before the transparency. The three of them hold their heads in other directions, only daring a look in between time through side eyeing. The two have stopped talking, topics seem to have run dry and they come closer to the death of afternoon. The officer closest to them passes his eyes over the glass. Juyeon holds his breath tightly and looks up at the screen in orange outlines showing another minute. At last, none of them cease dividing puddles as they continue down the platform. 

The three of them fall with their backs onto the glass. Y/n turns to see the silhouette linger. But as she prepares to look away, Y/n tears her eyes off immediately, as they glimpse through the thick rain and stained glass. When a half minute has gone by, she dares to seek that side again, the two officers are static on that spot. 

Y/n budge Juyeon with her elbow, but he only faces the back side of her head. He follows where he thinks her sight lines and sees the two officers turn to look at their booth. The two of them look away and Juyeon brings Eric closer to his side. 

Eventually the two officers walked back to them, letting the glass divide two sides. The woman beside them looks towards the opening to see the police seek inside, but she quickly turns back to her screen. 

“Waiting for the bus?” The one to the right asks. 

“Yeah.” Juyeon nods.

“Did it work paying for tickets? We’ve been getting complaints all day that the machine is struggling.” 

“Yeah, we used the app.” He answers quickly. 

There’s silence. 

The police breathe in, “We’ve gotten a report of suspicion against you three.”“There’s a case of a young man potentially on the run, he has a younger brother of sorts and a female friend.” He pauses, “It’s a serious errand, I would want to ask for your names.” 

Eric looks up at Juyeon, then down into the ground, Y/n herself side eyes him too. 

“Kim Joonwoo.” Juyeon says after a passage of silence. 

They look down at Eric. 

“Max Sohn.” 

Y/n too lies. 

The two officers look skeptical at the three of them. Then their eyes lock with each other and one of them tilts their head further out the rain before disappearing. 

“We want you guys to wait for a minute, we’ll just have to check in.” 

The other stands in the rain with their back against them. His hand comes out the pocket as he holds a phone to his ear. 

Juyeon bites his lip. The one standing against the booth frame has taken out his phone and stares at the screen. Juyeon looks towards Y/n and budges her arm with his own. Y/n dares to look at him and they lock eyes. He doesn’t say anything, but points his head towards teh space where the last officer stood. She knits her eyebrows at first, leans harder against the glass pane when he eagerly opens his eyes and points with his head in that direction. Finally he looks over the two officers and sees none of them at concentration, he takes his lips closer to her hair. 

“When I take your hand, we’ll run, okay?” Juyeon falls back. The little space created heats of whispers in cold rain. Y/n nods as Juyeon turns to Eric and whispers the same words. 

Her heart races behind the synthetic fibers of the coat. Out in the rain, the officer guides his hand away and let the phone come before his face. At that moment, before he hangs up on the caller, a cold grip on her own soaked fingers runs through her. She already had her heel on the glass divide and push from it in a second. Eric accidentally falls against the other police when he runs out their back silhouettes dim out the rain, directed towards the street up the city. 

One officer shouts at them which takes the attention of the other and in a span of less than seven seconds all five are aiming at that street. Juyeon holds their hand desperately in his own as the asphalt end seem to decline in streetlights, in compassion to the escape.

- 

“I’m hungry.” Eric sits on the edge of the bed. How the perfect surface of the silk white sheets forms lines in which he sits. There’s only one bed, or two thinner, long sides against each other. Y/n lets her bag onto the floor two meters after the hotel door. There is no scent in the room, if she concentrates and lifts her chin higher, maybe there’s a hint of chlorine. 

“We all ate before going.” Juyeon throws himself onto the other side. 

“Yeah, but I’m still growing.” Eric complains and falls in parallel to Juyeon. 

“You don’t.” Juyeon smiles while looking at the ceiling before his head falls to the side in which the both of them share. Eric too lets his eyes wither from the spotlight shine and turn to the subject in which he falls onto. 

“Ha, really funny.” Eric deadpans, takes the pillow that’s half a meter from his head. When he holds the pillow in the air, gravity takes it down to the mattress in which Eric aims towards Juyeon. The older one takes his own elbow as a protective hold before his eyes. Sounds of laughter erupt from that side of the room as Eric goes onto knees to hit Juyeon fervently. 

Y/n stands in parallel to the mirror before the bathroom. For the first time she smiles in what feels like years. The sheet edges loosens from the mattress when Juyeon only vaguely tries to protect his body from the hits. Even then, his elbow comes back down to its side. Only closes his eyelids when the pillow comes close and the smile, only Eric gifts to see, never falters. 

A surreal wind goes through the walls, fills the hotel room. It struck her again, in her heart. Human time slows down and despite having a window right before her, that world disappears at the edge of the observable horizon. As the pillow in Eric’s hand falter and comes to lie in his lap, Y/n goes to Juyeon’s bag, opens the zipper and takes out a plastic packaging of a white cream bread. To come up to the bed herself and cross her legs at the end of Juyeon’s feet and diagonally towards Eric, she gives him the bread. 

“Oh, thank you, Y/n.” Eric takes it and opens the sealed edge. 

“You’re seriously giving him?” Juyeon takes only his head up from the mattress which forces his voice to come out strained. 

“Yeah?” Y/n smiles and looks at him. 

“He should only get a reward if he has done something good.” Juyeon falls back. 

“He has.” She insists. 

“Like what?” 

“Shut you up.” 

Eric laughs and hits the surface of the bed with his free hand. Y/n too smiles at her own comment and the two of them bring their hands to a high five. While the laughs lingers in between the divide of the bed Juyeon shifts onto his stomach and falls flat with his head against the fabric.

When they arrived with the bus at the outer corner of the city, it was already dark. They ran until street signs were rare and seeked for their conservation behind a karaoke bar down the crowded street. At the backside of the building with all bins of alcohol cans and empty plastic bags, they sat between the black synthetics. It rained still, they balanced on their feet even when they had sat there for 20 minutes. At last, Juyeon spoke for the first time since the shout to run behind the corner. After, they took the bus on a lonely waiting platform with no screen on the bus times, just a worn down time table underneath the name. 

No one else beside them and a man, two seats before, sat on the bus. And even the man walked off two stops before them as they sat on those demishined seats for as long as the ride let them. When the last stop got called through the speakers, they walked off back into the rain and the sun had fallen. Only those usual lights on row down the street were there to guide. At last when their feet were sore from escaping and minds had become numb from all the oversaturation they came to a hotel in gloom. 

They couldn’t tell if it was because of the dark or the hotel building simply hadn’t been renovated since it first came to fruition on this street. Either way, three of the eight letters before the entrance didn’t work. 

After barely an hour after closing the door to their small room in which Juyeon used his extra money for, they took on other clothes and went to lie in bed. Eric’s closest to the window, Y/n in the divide where the two beds leave a limited gap and Juyeon thereafter. She feels slightly stale when in between the two of them, but it loosens off quickly when Eric starts talking about stories from when he was younger and what he and his friends did the month ago. The two older listens as his words become incomprehensible in sleep.

Suddenly it's just the two of them again. Y/n’s quiet when Juyeon starts coughing a little, he takes his arm up to his mouth and she turns their shared side to see him caress the underside of his throat. When they were running from the officers and jumped behind the back alley, Juyeon too reached deeply for air and desperately seemed to mute his coughs while waiting. She blinks a few times while still staring at him, before speaking. 

“You’re okay, Juyeon?” Only a mere part of all the worries and guilt in her heart.

“Yeah.” He coughs once more before guiding his arm underneath his head, “Just a little sick I think.” He smiles and scratches his hair, “The rain was really cold.” 

His voice only reaches the span of the closest two pillows when he takes his hands underneath his chin and turns to the side, “I think I need a hug.” 

Y/n squints her eyes and looks at his smile before whispering, “Really? "Right now?” 

Juyeon’s request when in a strange bed while his face circulates rounds on the internet, it feels rather inappropriate in her book. Though, she laughs as the fringe falls diagonally over his vast eyes. There’s a point in pearl essence when he looks at her in which she has no choice but to reach for his face. The same echoing words in the back of her mind as the night they spent together in each other's arms comes back. It taunts her to divide space in between them. But even when not only this Earth, but the universe, chases them, she still finds her soul melting of tenderness when he looks at her. 

“You are a bit cold.” She smiles and caresses his head. 

Juyeon hums and closes his eyes, shifts his head on the pillow before bringing himself closer. His head comes underneath her chin as her arms closer around him and his breath comes against her chest. 

For every touch of her hand against his essence, and each time her warmth pulsates out of her veins and spreads across his own, he can feel the ways in his throat become choked. Ribbons with sharp edges tightens around his heart. He closes his eyes painfully, forces his head closer to her chest, as if to merge with her, the pain will cease. All the world’s seems to desperately stand in his way, he thinks in this rain drowned night. He can’t look forward to the morning. When any road can take him there, he closes his eyes and wishes to remember this moment, her arms, her presence, even in death. The green plantations in between the frozen cracks might grow from this weather, and so do the lilac petals in his heart. 

- 

There’s a sharp edge of yellow light. It cuts through the dark room in a single divide and traces up the floor to her face where it climbs up the wall. Y/n opens her eyes just so that a liminal shade of the outer world can be conceived. The light comes from the open bathroom door diagonally from her. As hands spread across the pillow behind her to let the weight off the mattress, Y/n hears violent dry coughing coming from the gap. 

She looks to the left where the side of the window stands, Eric still sleeps. Juyeon’s pillow has creases left of him and the sheet is folded from where he left. Another severe cough occurs from that room and Y/n folds the fabric once more as the warmth accumulated underneath, lowers in degrees while free. Gently while rubbing her eyes with her left hand, Y/n takes the other on the frame while adjusting her eyes to the light. 

“Juyeon?” 

He depends on the sink with his hands. Upper body leaned forward over the crater while his back replicates the harsh sounds coming from his throat. Y/n tilts her head to see his face, but neither standard vision or mirror angle contravene her fear. The cough brutally tears on the insides of his throat, it too causes delusive discomfort in her own body. 

His back straightens suddenly and Juyeon turns his head over. She stays in continued silence as he looks at her with eyes of liquid layers and redness underneath. He takes his arm up to his mouth to cough again before he takes a step closer and directs his body to come in between the bounded space of frame and body. 

“I’m okay.” He says hastily without making eye contact. 

Y/n follows the sight of his back silhouette returning into the hotel room. She lets go of the door frame, takes a single step to the sink. A dead garden with only traces left, deep lilac petals. It decorates the sink by erratic trails from the mit where water comes down. The air in her own chest twined amidst two ways. In contrast to the exhausted motions from the bathroom, she forces the door up even wider until it hits the other wall. Juyeon with arms against the mirror at the bed end, and she rushes towards him. 

“Juyeon!” With her hands on his shoulders, she pulls him closer to turn him in a direction to let his front face hers. But he stubbornly leans heavier against the mirror and only his left shoulder comes two centimeters closer before returning back. 

“Juyeon!” Her voice is loud in a room compressed beside ten others at the end of the city. She refuses to close her eyes when he coughs again and eventually, they plummet to the ground when he can’t bear the flowers rotting his body. Juyeon's face hides before the carpet. 

Y/n sinks to her knees, takes one hand under his chin and the other at the back of his head. To force his face up from the floor and see lilac vibrancy in gloom consume his features. A single petal falls from the end of his lips down to her thigh. Now when it traces her essence, she feels so cruel for being optimistic. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” The hand on his hair comes to his cheek where she touches the red coloration with her thumb. Let the gentle pressure create white patterns before it returns to that color. 

“I- '' Juyeon coughs again and Y/n takes her other arm on his shoulder when he comes down to her lap. His hair scattered across her legs and the ceiling above him withers in view. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Y/n repeats in which he looks remorsefully up at her from her embrace. 

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” 

Tears threaten at the borderline under her eyes. Y/n shakes her head and reaches for the backpack behind her. This entire life, she wished to still be holy, but she realizes she might never be, when one grip the arrow. She holds it in her right hand, above his fragile heart. Juyeon’s eyes widen as the sharp knife aims at his vulnerable. He takes her wrist from below and speaks through the petals. 

“What are you doing?” He coughs. 

“I need to save you, Juyeon!” Y/n holds against him with her own strength. 

Her voice becomes softer, “It won’t hurt, Juyeon, I would never hurt you.” The single tear comes off her eye and falls onto his cheek. He pity her so deeply. But he wishes to be destroyed, eradicated by fate, if only he follows her for an eternity. 

“I-I don’t want to.” His voice is sore when he speaks and she shakes her head. 

“You’re gonna die, Juyeon.” She weighs down the arrow even harder, “I can’t let you die.” 

Shift of fabrics comes from the bed above them. Juyeon closes his eyes. Even in no visual presence he feels her raging strength extraordinarily work against him. A single glimpse into the future and his heart aches, maybe even more than the tearing in his throat. He doesn’t know where the second arrow will land after she strikes him, but he might as well be buried six feet under if it’s because of her. 

“I love you, Y/n.” He breathes heavily while his eyes lie underneath their lids. Y/n takes his shoulder with her other hand, shakes him fervently, 

“Juyeon!” 

“I just want to hear you…” He whispers and Y/n forces her eyes close when the tears run down her skin. The grip on the arrow becomes weak from both directions as she leans her face on his chest. Y/n shakes her head because fate betrayed her, gruesome and vengefully again. 

There’s faintly rain shatter. The dark gray clouds can be seen from this angle but one can only insinuate the existence of a cityscape at the end of the frame. Each of the droplets running down against the glass becomes further precise. He traces the outline of one of them, like his youth, following its tail to the very end where it shatters into pieces. 

“He’s awake!” 

A voice that echoes in the strange room, it shares the same stardust as his. He turns from the window and the yellow shine from spotlight sources blinds him. Juyeon squints his eyes as his head comes flat against the hard pillow and a silhouette covers the light in the ceiling. 

“Juyeon?” His voice is delicate, softer than in his memories. He knits his eyebrows and answers the one above him. 

“Yeah?” 

It’s only a word, pronounced sore and lost, but either way, it creates a smile on the boy above. As if too fragile to touch, he reaches his hand down to his shoulder and shakes him gently. 

“It’s Eric!” He smiles still. 

Juyeon still squints his eyes, “Yeah, I know.” 

“Juyeon?” 

The door from the other end of the room opens. There’s a wall before, in which two hands hold it while someone peaks through. A doctor comes before her, stands a meter behind Eric while the girl who spoke his name closes in. 

Another second passes before he speaks her name. His hand comes down to his chest and he rises from the bed just a little. The girl walks from the spot at the very end of his feet to the opposite side of Eric. She holds both her hands before her front and leans down to him. He feels cold off her body as if been in the rain he just chased. She holds his shoulders while her head rests beside his. Juyeon closes his eyes and embraces her too. 

“I was so worried.” She speaks quietly, so that each breath reaches his ear. 

“I’m okay, don’t worry anymore.” He answers whilst hugging her tighter. 

-

On the day Juyeon woke up at the hospital, she had ran to the bus platform in harsh rain after she got the hurried call from Eric that he was in sleep. Y/n only gave him a few hours to accept how she had altered fate, stand beside them in the yellow room whilst the past became forgotten. Juyeon, after waking up, went to the police station, he was on probation for a month, because of illegal firearm use but they did acknowledge self defense and past of no criminal records. Eric lived with Juyeon’s girlfriend at that time. 

When visiting him while on probation nearly everyday after school, Eric told him the weeks leading up to the blackout. All while his brother returned to true state, Eric felt inexpressibly alone after walking home. How he lives in the ruins where no one goes. 

Since that day, at the hotel where he nearly saw Juyeon die, Eric apologizes a lot for not being present. He wants to tell them that he lives in dreams, and put himself there because her name will never be forgotten. Instead he’s forced to tell the people that there was no Y/n, no love service, no magic, just an accident as Juyeon had gotten a gun curiously, used it to defend himself when a stranger was attacked in an alley. The rest of the story after new years stays, but without Y/n. He doesn’t know how she did it, but even the name of the friend the police got that morning after new years is not hers, but a friend of Juyeon’s. 

Now when it’s the end of spring and the edge of summer, he lives with Juyeon again. They meet up with his girlfriend often after Juyeon’s work. In two days, he’ll pass the school entrance for the last time, and think back, on a summer day in the near future. But as he lies in bed at night, he can’t help mourn the loss of that endless winter. Y/n told him that those moments will wither, not feel as intensely as they once did. But he’s still there. 

Eric comes home the next day after being out with his friends after school. Juyeon should be home, he thinks, as he’s nowhere to be seen when in the hallway. To see the sofa in the living room but sounds of struggle comes from a half open door opposite the balcony. There’s no sounds from Eric when walks with only his socks into his bedroom. Eric tilts head to see Juyeon’s back in his closet. 

“Why are you in my room?” Eric asks and Juyeon looks up from the floor. 

“Your closet door is a bit loose.” He pushes the black slide, “It’s soon done.” Juyeon smiles. 

Eric nods but doesn’t take away his vision from that corner as a black box sits beside Juyeon. The lid’s off the edge by a centimeter. Eric comes in and lays the bag at the frame before weighing down on the bed edge. Juyeon has laid down the working material and looks at the black box. Eric straightens his posture when he takes it in his hands. 

“I’m just curious, I didn’t mean to be nosy, but why do you have this dress?” Juyeon takes off the lid and angles the rectangular frame to showcase its inside. The dress in light blue color, detailed with white lace, is delicately folded so that the square neckline lies in center of the box. Eric bites his lip, hands on his thighs and touches them up and down the cotton fabric. There’s silence for a moment and Juyeon observes the younger’s expression when no words come out. 

“Eric?” He let the box down to his lap. 

“It’s yours.” He says and finally looks at him. 

Juyeon tilts his head.

“Mine?” 

Eric nods, “You bought it as a gift, you were supposed to give it to her on New Years.” 

Juyeon asks if he means his girlfriend and Eric shakes his head, looks down again. The fingers of his right hand start scratching against the left. A thin layer of skin loosens from the nail binding. He bites his lip again and thinks of all the lone mind echoes. 

Eric hasn’t seen Y/n since the day at the hospital. When Juyeon and his girlfriend started talking down in the room, Eric silently escaped and walked around the different floors with stairs in between. There was a door on the highest floor to an outside platform. Eric stood there, feeling a great sense of compassion for the Earth-like-tears. When it felt like everything might have been a dream, Y/n called his name. 

To come into her embrace and affirm she’s real. Though, Y/n told him before leaving that her existence is now not a valid part of Juyeon’s world. That there’s just the two. That she promises he’ll not be left at the threshold of two worlds, that this moment in each other's arms isn’t the last. But winter will soon end, and he must accept how the flowers will forget about snow once it is replaced. 

Eric breathes, “It’s Y/n.” He finally admits, still looking down. 

Juyeon knit his eyebrows, “Y/n?” 

Eric nods and a faint smile comes on his lips, “The one you saved, with the gun was Y/n. She lived with us at the end of December and you told me you loved her. You wanted to ask her out at New Years but you never got the time, because then the police searched for you.” 

Juyeon listens quietly, opens his mouth but none come to flourish. Instead he shakes his head. 

“I wasn’t told that.” He says hurt. 

“She told me not to tell you.” 

“But the police, the doctors…” He names the people who have affirmed fiction. 

Eric starts swinging his feet and smiles again, “It sounds stupid, but Y/n’s not a human.” 

Juyeon raises one eyebrow. 

“She’s a goddess, you fell in love with the love goddess, and she, in you.” 

-

Juyeon didn’t believe Eric. The younger stubbornly chased after him when Juyeon simply told him, “That’s ridiculous”. To run around every corner of the apartment, even into Juyeon’s room where Eric lied down beside him and reiterated. When Juyeon still persisted, Eric sighed and went up from the bed and out of Juyeon’s room. Went to his own, before coming back with his phone.

“Look, here she is.” 

Juyeon turns to Eric’s screen and sees a selfie, presumably he himself has taken of Eric, himself and a girl at the very end. Juyeon’s own phone falls to his stomach and he leans closer to see the picture. 

“When’s this?” He asks. 

“This winter, in our old apartment.” 

Eric scrolls to the next photo which is taken at the store, when they tried out angel outfits. The photo is clearly centered on Eric in his small wings, but Y/n can be seen to the right laughing in her own costume. 

“This one’s good.” Eric laughs and scrolls to the next photo in which Y/n holds the pink box on the platform with Juyeon beside her. He throws an awkward peace sign up with half his hair in his face. 

“I don’t remember this.” Juyeon tilts with a half smile and takes the phone from Eric’s hand. The younger one comes down fully on the shared pillow as they go through the pictures from that winter. 

“She’s the one you wanted to give the dress to.” Eric says eventually. 

“Have you met her since?” Juyeon asks at the last picture of them at new year’s. 

Eric shakes his head, “No,” He sighs, “She told me that her mother had found her and that she was only allowed a quick visit to meet me.” 

Juyeon nods. As if looking at another life when reversing the pictures. But her face, always in the captured stills from the past, insists a dime of all his sensibilities to tell him he cares. Even as the day passes, her face lives like cathedral windows before him. 

-

The moon, lifeless, in shine hanging above the sleeping Earth. It’s been dark for a couple of hours. The sun stays above the city line a second longer for each day that passes. 

When no one’s there to verify one's existence, the glass door to the balcony opens. No heavy wind passes through the city streets during this weather, but nonetheless she closes the door back to its frame before taking silent steps against the floor. The shoe material at the tip of her toes makes a pitched sound. Those steps come closer to the left door of two at one wall. 

To bring her hand out to the handle without any weight. She lets the shine melt into her own essence before gently forcing it down. Between that space is his room, she stands there for a second to finally see it in all three dimensions. At last, when her eyes trail down the wall details and reach him beneath the soft fabrics. His mere existence is extremely poetic. 

He reminds her of the present fragile complexity. How human he makes her feel, she thinks. She brings her hand up to her chest, above the spot of her clothing where underneath all the layers, one can sense the quick pulses. Eventually, she takes a step over the borderline, his features in pale moonlight become all clearer. When he’s so close to her, she hesitantly takes out her hand. 

His delicate skin is underneath her fingertips, slowly she pulls them back to her own side. Instead, sits down on the left space beside his hip. The bed sheets crinkles when her weight changes the patterns of the creases. She tilts her head. As if there’s a field drawing them towards each other, she leans over his chest and her face comes as close as it can. 

At this mere distance, each of his breath lingers. She had been dying to hear his voice and see his face, but truly her heart aches in bliss when his scent touches her face. It forces her to open closed off memories, may be sun bleached and dust, but it warms her human heart, as a part of him she had forgotten, returns to her. Her hand comes to the side of his pillow as she leans forward. He shifts his head and the beautiful hair scatters in new patterns. That peaceful sensation lasts, until the motions of his head spreads to his eyes and they slowly open. 

She immediately backs away, the hand returns to her lap and the sudden motion causes an effect on the rest of the bed. There’s a new emotion in her heart as he forces himself off the mattress and rubs his eye. She is still there, at the edge of his bed, when he looks at her with tired eyes. She wishes for him to fall right back onto the pillow, but he doesn’t, instead he continues to stare at her while the exhaustion from sleep disappears. 

She finally stands up from the bed. He looks up at her and trails after when she rushes out of the room. Juyeon is left with his hands on the mattress, blinking a few times, agape his lips. 

The person on the bed was a visit from a past life. He nearly wonders if the pictures on Eric’s phone he's been thinking about, might have started haunting him. But there’s a pattern left on the spot where she sat, a real world consequence of her existence. 

Juyeon takes the sheets off his body and walks up to the door. The silhouette stands at the outer edge. The glass is against the other wall and her lower body is covered by patterns of metal as she stands with her back against the free fall. A night wind from the moon comes through the open door and touches his warm body. It filtrates the thin fabric of his sleepwear and he takes another step forward. As her right feet disappear beneath the balcony floor, Juyeon speaks. 

“Wait!” 

The moonlight shines behind her when she turns her eyes from beneath. 

He opens mouth and walks closer, “You’re Y/n, right?” 

Juyeon takes his right leg higher to pass the doorstep elevation before the cold hard floor of the balcony. She’s leaning with both her hands on the railing which causes her to come in greater height than Juyeon. With still a meter between them, Juyeon looks up to her and asks again. 

“You’re Y/n?” 

The scene is rather overwhelming for her. Only in imagination has she continued seeing those moon made eyes and voice that causes spring to reach the very isolated, cold corners of her heart. None of the human vocabularies she has learned feels acceptable to answer him with, none withstand the level of adoration her heart feels. So at last, to open up to conversation with him one more time, Y/n nods her head. 

As she blinks, the nods become faster, “Yeah, it’s me.” 

For the first time, after a season, she sees him smile again, “Hi, Y/n.”

She breathes out and smiles too, “Hi, Juyeon.” Though, she tilts her head and observes the highlights caused from the moon on his face. 

“How do you know my name?”

A wind passes them, “Eric told me.” He breathes, “He told me you were a goddess, that you saved my life that day when the police came.” 

Y/n looks down for a second, still smiling, “Eric couldn’t keep it in, right?” 

“He’s pretty indiscreet. Though I guess you already know that?” 

Y/n nods.

There’s a passage of silence while a car drives down the street below them. Juyeon hasn’t taken his eyes off her for even a second, trying to place where in his heart she occupied space and if, when they stand together again, the doors will open again for her. 

“Where were you?” He asks which makes Y/n look at him again, “All of spring?” 

“With my mother.” She nods slowly, “I’m receiving my punishment…” Y/n looks down before smiling. Yet, she looks as if forced to improvise, he thinks“...I’m allowed to visit Earth more often though, I have an apartment here now.” She pauses, “So I’m at least free from that place.” 

Juyeon tilts his head, “Punishment?” 

“I escaped Olympus, I interfered a lot with human relationships…” She nods with ocean-heavy-eyes, “My mother was pretty angry.” 

Juyeon listens attentively when Y/n trails her eyes away and picks at her fingers. 

“You don’t remember, but I did fall in love with you back then. Changed your fate from the disease which I shouldn't have.” She looks down, the smile has slowly vanished with the wind, “So I am forever destined to love you unrequited.” She says as if turning home. 

The last sentence falling from her lips, causes a permanent block in whatever way was left in his heart. Like winter comes back in a second, deep frost structures his cathedral heart. 

“Unrequited?” He repeats. 

Y/n nods, “I will never be able to love anyone else. And you, will never love me.” 

Juyeon blinks, “Don’t you have powers?”

Y/n smiles again, laughs a little as she takes an arrow from behind her back. For the first time since he saw her eyes, something else falls in center. The sharp edge shines off the left side from the silver light. He realizes as he looks at it, that it is the same edge that must have struck him. 

“I’ll die if I use it and the same on you.” Y/n takes the sharp end against his arm. Juyeon brings it closer to his chest as the edge makes a white mark on his skin before it springs back in color. Y/n lowers her head and the arrow disappears behind her back, as mysteriously as it came. 

Juyeon looks at his arm. There’s nothing equivalent in words to describe the slow paced swan song that runs through his veins. But somehow he sees the dejection at the tips of her lips and it shares like grief in his heart. He doesn’t know why, but at last he speaks those words that die to come out in the silence. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Y/n tilts her head, laughs softly before speaking, “Why are you apologizing?” 

“I don’t know.” Juyeon scratches the back of his head, “I wish I didn’t have to leave you to love alone.” 

Y/n shakes her head, “Even if you didn’t forget me and everything else, my love would have outlived you by a hundred years.” She pauses and looks at him, like described out of a mythology, “Our love was never destined to be forever.” 

Despite standing before each other once again, there’s an undeniable distance. Y/n ‘s heart that desperately longs for Juyeon’s, but there is no lost place. There’s no use in trying. The universe has created an eternal absence, pulling them miles apart even when they’re here, at the same time in the same place. How tragically, he thinks. 

“But…I wasn’t punished?” Juyeon knits his eyebrows. 

“I mean, kind of.” Y/n says gently, “Though, not in the way I am.” 

“But I don’t understand, what was my punishment?” 

“Guilt.”

Juyeon tilts his head, “Guilt?” 

She smiles weakly, “Cause you’re a good person, Juyeon.” And it slowly fades, “Only good people die with guilt.” 

He looks down onto the cold floor of the balcony. There’s tragedy in marrow, cruelly hurts  when she thinks of the eternity waiting for her. How the adoration for him will simply not mature. How her heart will search for him, far and wide, even when he’s no longer here. 

Y/n swallows, “Anyways,” She shakes her head to let a strand fall beside her face. Her voice tears Juyeon’s eyes up from the floor, “You told me before I saved you…” She pauses to let another wind pass them by. 

“...that you loved me. But I never said it back.” 

Y/n looks down from the railing, locks eyes again. She reaches deep within, to find maybe even a fragment of him that will remember those words. 

“So I want to tell you that I love you too, Juyeon. Not because I’m punished to, but because you loved in a way no one else has done.” She breathes out, “I didn’t quite understand love back then, I couldn’t understand humans,” She smiles weakly, “even when I wanted to save you and you said no, I couldn’t grip my head around why you didn’t want to be saved.” He looks at the goddess with vast eyes when the moonlight is at its brightest behind her. 

“But now, when I’m forever punished loving you, I still think that I wouldn’t want it any other way.” She says, “I want to love sincerely even when you don’t love me.” 

The lips of his mouth form a faint gape. The reflection of the moon in the left center pupil fades and returns like it's pulsing. He waits for a spark, a falling star or even a firework, but the night stands as still as it always does. Though, with the sincere words she gives him, he wishes there’s a part in his heart that receives it, that can fully comprehend the words she so gently tells him. 

Another car passes by and Y/n looks down the detailed street in lights. Her hand comes up before making a sound on the metal railing. 

“Well, I think that was all.” The smile she gives him comes as if perfectly out of the photo on Eric’s phone, “Thank you, Juyeon. I’ll protect you and Eric from the bad things, you've been through enough.” She once again takes a foot down the balcony.

“Wait-” 

Y/n looks up as he pushes the glass door open again and disappears into the room. Still halfway down, Y/n tries to perceive his shadow behind the frame. Only struggles of doors and paper can be heard from her distance, but at last, Juyeon comes out again. He holds a black paper box with his two hands. 

“I don’t remember, but Eric told me I wanted to give this to you on New Year’s, but I never got the chance to.” 

Y/n comes up again, reaches her hands out but hesitantly takes them back a centimeter. Juyeon smiles delicately and pushes the box closer to her. To open the lid, he sees her  expression fade into brilliance. As if sunrise has come above the horizon, he tilts his head and smiles too. The distance destined between them refuses to let him fully comprehend the gift, but truthfully when she lifts it up, a pure bliss rushes through him. 

“You brought it?” Y/n holds the top part of the dress as those burnt memories return.

“Apparently,” He smiles. 

As she pulls the fabric a bit higher, a piece of paper reveals itself underneath. Y/n takes her other hand and folds open the letter. 

Happy New Year’s, Y/n! 

You looked really pretty in that dress so I wanted to give it to you. If I ask you out now, I hope you will wear it. 

Love, Juyeon

She reads it over and over until it means visually nothing and ocean edges on her eyes. The choir of lovers that sing in her lone marrow, how each word tears at her strings deeply, “Thank you, Juyeon, thank you.” They shine as she looks back up. 

She puts the letter into the box again and closes the lid. 

“I’ll treasure it forever, I promise. “ 

He smiles because she now knows it wasn’t always unrequited. That the mourn and loss wasn’t all for nothing. Though, still in melancholy cause he can’t help her like she saved him. Amidst everything in silence, Juyeon’s eyes widen. 

“Oh, I nearly forgot. Eric’s graduation is tomorrow,""do you want to come?” 

“Are you sure?” Y/n hesitates. 

“Of course.” He smiles, “I think he missed you.” 

At those words, she finally nods, embraces the box a bit closer, “Then, I’ll come!” 

“Great, meet me on this street at ten tomorrow morning, okay?” 

Y/n nods and takes a step down. 

“I think you should use the stairs.” Juyeon leans over the railing. 

“Oh, right.” 

“Eric!” 

He turns when his name, pronounced deja vu inducing extreme, trails the high ceiling. The friends in circle stops talking and almost instantly, he recognizes her silhouette, that can overthrow the world, in the crowd. 

“Y/n!” The paper in his hands withers off when he meets her halfway there. She closes her eyes when he’s under her arms again. The black suit he has on scratches against her arms. Y/n tells him he’s the most handsome she has ever seen him. She ruffles his head when they let go. Eric would have sulked but couldn't when he had missed her so deeply. 

Juyeon came up too and soon after his girlfriend walked through the entrance. Y/n, though, struck her heart that night after Juyeon, didn’t have a chance to see her. As she stood real before her, she smiled fondly and introduced herself. Her tender heart, molten because of the lovers. Though as the two turn to walk down the entrance, and their traces leave Eric Y/n, her cursed soul starts to mourn. 

She thinks; if I told you my world stopped when I saw you. You wouldn’t have believed me. You should have known by then that the heaven’s lies in my palms and when you said my name, angels heard it echo. 

They say nothing truly disappears, that it just changes. Then, she hopes that if she shouts his name into the black void, it’ll come back to him as an echo. That if she believes in love, help people over the street, pet cats and water her plants, that all that love will reach him someday, in some form. 

She hopes, if she lives on, worshiped in history, that if her name gets spoken in the far future, his will too. When we believe there’s nothing left to be made holy, she sincerely begs to tell this tale, to any lovers, that’s left alive. 

© littleroaes, written and all

a/n : that self conscious part of me thinks no one will make it down here, but if you did, thank you!

tagging : @from-izzy

[scificrows]

i like to make fun of murderbot for being all "i hate everyone, i don't care about anything or anyone, fuck off" while simultaneously caring very much about the people around it and the situations it finds itself in. i love how it "accidentally" ends up caring quite a lot about the friends it makes along the way. but i think something that i tend to forget is that murderbot actively decides to care - at least at some point in its story.

idk, as a person that struggles with depression, this paragraph from artificial condition really resonates with me. prior to all systems red, murderbot had contracts. it had routine and it had protocols. it knew what it had to do to just get by, how to perform so no one would notice it had disabled its governor module. it was deeply depressed, yes, but it was functioning (for lack of a better word). in artificial condition, murderbot's routine is gone. it cannot go on in that state of numbly going-from-contract-to-contract, putting in as little effort as possible, consuming media to cope. that option is gone because it escaped (and note that escaping the company was not an active choice, it kinda happened to it). murderbot has two options now: it can either gather all its energy; actively do something new and difficult and distressing; change something in its life and try. or it can let the numbness and the emptiness take over and stop trying. if murderbot wants to survive as a rogue secunit, it has to try. no matter how difficult that is. the wording in that paragraph really hits home for me. the way the non-caring sees an opportunity to slip in and to take over. does murderbot even care? does anything really matter? is anything really worth the hassle? wouldn't it be so much easier to just let your mind slip away a little, to go numb, to be passive, to watch media and wait for things to happen to you? wouldn't it be nice to stop thinking and struggling and feeling complicated things? to stop making an effort? you've been dealing with a lot lately and maybe it's time to just shut down. maybe you'll just take a little break. just slip deeper into this chair and start the show. time flies when you're not paying attention. trying is exhausting. who cares if you don't do the things you wanted to do, you were supposed to do. it'll be fine. let's just ignore those things for now. just let the non-caring take over. just stop thinking. you can deal with the aftermath later. just watch your shows. who cares. but murderbot cares. it decides to care. it decides to fight with all it has and i think that is so brave. and i think in the later books caring is less of an active decision for murderbot. once you start caring, it's easier to keep going than to stop; and murderbot, for all its "i'm a grumpy rogue secunit, leave me alone" behavior, knows just how important caring is. so it's not that it doesn't know what's happening; rather, it lets itself care. tl;dr: caring is not the default for murderbot, it's just the more difficult of two options. and it decides not to take the soft option. it decides to struggle. it decides to care. and so it does.

[occasional-drabbles]

“The worst thing is, that even after all of that, I’m still in love with you.” + “I don't know how to exist in a world without you.” with luke and/or kieran? whoever you feel comfier with hehe <33

Thank you so much for the ask!! This was a lot of fun to do! And as a little treat, I did both twins, each with one of the quotes! Same starting prompt, but each one goes a little differently.

Prompts found here!

Warnings: These ended up kind of angsty, with mentions of some stuff that happens in the latest chapters of the main story, but no major spoilers? Let me know if there's anything that needs to be tagged!

Length: About 1k for each of them, including the starter

~

You knew that this was going to happen. You knew. Yet you still weren’t prepared for the consequences. You didn’t expect for it to hit you so suddenly. 

Sylus was doing everything he could think of to earn your favor. Lavish gifts that cost more than any house in Linkon, beautiful clothing tailored exactly to your style and form, for you and you alone. He did his best to give you his full attention, to prioritize you without jeopardizing either of your goals. He tried, and you had to give him credit for that. But knowing that it was all with the end goal of you being able to resonate with him, to convince you not to hate him… None of it had the full effect. You couldn’t even find yourself completely grateful for the effort, since you still vividly remember the anger in his eyes when the researcher had told him that it was because you were so disgusted with him that you had a mental block keeping you from resonating with him. 

And even as you learned to appreciate him more, as you realized he wasn’t completely awful, you still knew that his efforts to win your heart would be in vain. Someone else already had it. 

LUKE

“Well that’s quite the sad face.” A voice spoke, startling you out of your thoughts. Once you registered who the voice belonged to, your shoulders sagged slightly in relief. 

“Hey, Luke.” You greeted quietly, looking over to him from where you were sitting. Sylus was busy with something or other, you don’t really remember what he said, and you were taking the opportunity to do a little bit of thinking while he was gone. So you’d settled yourself in a chair by one of the windows, looking out over the N109 Zone. Sylus didn’t really like having you near windows so much, especially without him there as a precaution, but he’s not here to stop you and you like the view. It made you feel a little less trapped. 

Luke hummed as he leaned against the wall in front of you, noticing the glittering necklace you were wearing. Beautiful rubies in the perfect setting to show off their brilliance, dainty enough to be elegant but sturdy enough that it wouldn’t be easily damaged. Clearly his master’s taste. 

He didn’t even have to verbalize his thoughts before you were speaking again. “Sylus’s latest gift… It really is beautiful.” 

“But you don’t seem satisfied.” He pointed out, moving to come closer to you, sitting on the arm of the chair. There was still a little bit of space between you two, and oh how you hated it. 

You let him reach out to touch the necklace, leaning closer to examine it. If it weren’t for where your thoughts have been, the guilt knotting up your stomach, you’d be inclined to kiss the beak of his mask to tease him. Just the thought made you turn away from Luke, catching his attention. So he reached up, gently cupping your cheek and turning your head towards him. You reached up to take hold of his hand, relishing in the familiar warmth of it. You opened your mouth to try and answer, to explain, but found your voice stuck in your throat. 

Luke hummed a bit, tilting his head slightly. “Is it an issue with the style?” He asked, earning a small shake of your head. “The gemstone, then?” He tried, earning another head shake. 

You took a slow breath to try and collect yourself, finally finding your voice again. “It’s a beautiful necklace…” you started, reaching up to touch the necklace yourself. “But… I feel bad.” 

Luke waited patiently for you to explain, though you could feel the curiosity radiating off of him, even with his mask blocking his expression. “He’s doing all of this, going so far out of his way, spending so much money, trying to get on my good side… Trying to make me fall for him… But I know it’s just so that I can Resonate with him… So it’s not going to work” You swallow hard, trying not to panic at the thought of what might happen when he loses patience with you. “Plus..” You started, then hesitating again. 

“Plus…?” He encouraged gently, his thumb rubbing against your cheek soothingly. It was the most he dared to offer for the moment. 

“The worst part of all of this, with all of the gits and the attention and the care,” you started, your free hand gesturing vaguely to the room to indicate this entire deal with Sylus, “I’m still in love with you.” 

Luke’s thumb paused, and you couldn’t tell what emotion it was from. Did you fluster him too much? Was he mad? Scared? You both knew that this was dangerous, for both of you. Sylus could kill either of you, or even both of you, for this seeming betrayal. You’d never forgive yourself if you got Luke hurt because of your own selfishness. 

It was only when your eyes started to water that Luke moved again, shifting his hand up to gently wipe under your eye, ready to catch the unshed tear. 

He moved closer, setting his chin on top of your head. The best comfort he can offer without risking stabbing you with his mask. “It’ll be okay.” He reassured, his voice quiet, but the way his chest rumbled your entire body helped your muscles relax ever so slightly. “We’ll figure it out… and I won’t let him hurt you. I promise.” 

You shifted to put your arms around him and hold him closer, no matter how awkward the position was. “I’m more worried about you.” 

Luke chuckled as he wrapped his arms around you in turn, giving you a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be fiiiine.” He teased, his tone more playful now. “You know better than anyone just how slippery I am~.” He added, and you could hear the grin i his voice and oh how you needed this. 

You laughed and moved away just enough to smack his arm, a few tears finally falling that you were quick to wipe away. “Luke!” You scolded, even though there wasn’t the slightest heat to your tone. 

Luke still seemed proud of himself, reluctantly letting you go so he could sit up on the arm of the chair more properly. There it is, that beautiful laugh he loved so much. The laugh that makes whatever punishments may come worth it. 

KIERAN

You’d found your way to one of the rooftops in the N109 zone, high up and out of reach of most people. Yet you’re still not surprised when you can feel someone watching you from nearby. You were sitting carefully on the edge with your legs dangling, kicking them ever so slightly. Tilting your head back to look towards your company, you offered a small smile when seeing Kieran. “I knew you’d find me eventually.” 

“I’d find you wherever you go.” He commented, walking closer now that he knows he won’t risk spooking you. “You know that.” 

“I do.” You answered, lifting your head properly again to resume staring out over the skyline. Honestly, that was part of what’s been going through your head. How, in Sylus’s efforts to ensure your safety, you had to give up your freedom. 

Sure, you could leave and go about, do pretty much whatever you wanted… but you were always watched. Monitored. No real moment to yourself. 

Though… sometimes, you don’t mind it. Because it means more time with Kieran, when he’s the one tasked with watching you. 

Kieran sat down beside you, within easy reach, but still giving you some space. He didn’t say anything, but you didn’t need him to. You scooted over to him, hesitating for a moment. “Where’s Luke?”

“Boss sent him to follow up on something.” Kieran answered quietly. 

You didn’t waste a moment before leaning against him, your head against his shoulder. 

Kieran waited just a moment before wrapping an arm around your shoulders, holding you close to him. “What are you thinking about?” 

You chewed your lip anxiously, trying to think about how to verbalize it. “Sylus. And you.” 

Kieran hummed to show he heard, but didn’t press for clarification. It was up to you if he needed to know. Oh how you loved that about him. How he accepted what he was given, especially when it came to you. You were both aware of the risks, of how bad of an idea this all was. How every little affection, every locking of your pinkies when you stood near each other, every passing glance, all of it just dug you two deeper into a hole you weren’t sure you could climb out of. 

“He’s trying so hard to convince me to Resonate with him… So much harder than I think I deserve, but… I also know it’s not going to work.” You admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “And I don’t know how to handle it… I don’t want to make him mad by telling him, but I don’t know how long I can put up with all of this either.” 

Your voice cracked, and Kieran pulled you closer against him, his head tilted down slightly towards you. He was careful not to risk poking you with his mask, no matter how badly he wants to nuzzle into you and smother you with affection, to try and dispel your sorrows. 

“I didn’t want to deal with all of this…” You mumbled, your eyes watering. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough for this….” 

Kieran hummed softly, resting his chin on top of yours and scooting away from the edge of the building to pull you into his lap. 

“I know that it’s a lot, especially when you didn’t ask for any of this…” He admitted quietly, “But… I’m glad that you’re here, all the same. I don’t want to know how to exist in a world without you.” 

You looked up at him, surprised by such outright affection. While it wasn’t as though he wasn’t capable of verbal reassurance, he tended to prefer actions over words. Perhaps he could tell that you really needed to hear it right now. Just that thought alone had your emotions spilling over, pulling yourself against him more as you tried to keep from having a complete breakdown on this rooftop. 

Kieran kept you close, gently pressing your head into his chest. “No one can see you, up here.” 

You gripped onto his shirt, trying to thank him, but instead what came out was a small sob. So there you sat with him, finally safe enough to let out some of the emotions you’ve kept bottled up for far too long. 

As much as he hated to see you cry, Kieran can’t help but be glad that you trust him enough to let your walls down with him. He wishes that you didn’t have to be so distressed thanks to your feelings for each other, that you didn’t have to have such a heavy weight on your shoulders. At least he can still be here for you… 

When you had finally managed to stop crying and lifted your head, Kieran gently ran his fingers through your hair. “Better?” 

You nodded, rubbing at your eyes to try and get rid of any lingering tears. “I’m sorry about that…”

“Don’t apologize.” He ‘scolded’, his tone gentle with no heat to it whatsoever. “You needed it. I’m glad I could be here to take care of you.” 

You offered Kieran a small smile, still lacking your usual energy but grateful all the same. “You always take such good care of me…” 

“Of course,” he hummed softly, “I’m always here for you.” 

[pinknipszz]

avatar headcanons | his favorite human holiday

⋆✮↪ jake, tsu’tey, ao’nung, rotxo, neteyam, and lo’ak

jake

independence day. what a shocker. honestly, he wouldn’t be as caught up with human things since becoming a na’vi, but they do become interesting stories for your children. you know for a fact that he used to be an overwhelmingly patriotic american before everything went down to shit. he probably used to spearhead the barbecue at family functions and set off illegal fireworks. it only got worse on independence day. he’s just the type of guy to get lost in the feeling without caring about the history behind it.

tsu’tey

day of the dead. tsu’tey is a very honorable na’vi to both the living and the dead. you thought otherwise, but he quickly proved you wrong once you realized how spiritual he is. he regularly visits the tree of souls to pay respect to his fallen warriors, his comrades in arms, his family. no one puts as much effort as him. tsu’tey is also adamant about remembering the names of every single one of them. when you told him that humans dedicated a day to honor the dead, safe to say that it’s the only good thing they got going for them.

ao’nung 

april fool’s day. at first, he thought you were making fun of him. a holiday where you can pull pranks on people without any serious consequences? it sounded too good to be true. after overcoming his initial suspicions, though, ao’nung was determined to dedicate a day to pranks as well. he even tried to get the sully children in on it. sadly, no one (except maybe rotxo and lo’ak) wanted to partake in his makeshift “april fool’s day.” it was obviously an excuse to justify his actions anyway.

rotxo

midsummer. rotxo has a strong sense of spirit and community. when you first told him about a day dedicated to singing, dancing, drinking, and collecting flowers, he got hooked. it also changed his opinion on humans. just a little. he still recognizes the destruction they leave behind, but something about midsummer makes them seem less like monsters and more like na'vi . it also feels so bittersweet to him, but that's what he likes. emotional complexity.

neteyam

christmas. in general, neteyam is a very generous person who does a lot for you and his family. he was actually shocked to find out that humans were capable of feeling such a way as well. when you first explained the concept of christmas though, neteyam thought it was a bit silly. putting gifts under a tree? giving rocks to terrible children? it almost sounded like an overly complicated game his little sister made. however, over time, he began to grow fond of the purpose behind the gifts and “rocks.”

lo’ak

new year’s day. something about celebrating a new year resonates with lo’ak on a level you never expected. you just told him about the holiday as a joke really, but he ended up recognizing the sentiment more than most people on earth. moments like that are where lo’ak takes after his mother. you’d think that he’d enjoy the explosive aspect of new year’s like his dad (he does, don't get him wrong), but he likes how the coming year was associated with new beginnings.

(masterlist)

[cryptids-and-muses]

Post canon homestuck crew play Dungeons and Dragons

Karkat and terezi

Co dms

Unstoppable when actually working together

Terezi will get sidetracked messing with karkat

Karkat trying to write a deep and well fleshed out campaign that’s thematically resonant vs terezi’s desire for chaos and traps and trying to “trick” her players FIGHT

Terezi believes in karma and will make the world bend to this

Karkat is trying to set up romance arcs and argues about how it adds to the theming

Dave draws them fanart of their characters. Terezi loves it while karkat argues about accuracy before admitting yes he also appreciates it

Calliope also does fanart and karkat praises her skill and accuracy unlike some people

John

Arcane trickster rogue

Forest gnome

Just a goofy little guy!

Mostly just playing to have fun, starts off with a fun but simple character who develops over time

Ends up SUPER invested and taking this so so seriously

Karkat worked a dramatic reveal into the, in his words, “bare ass bones two paragraphs that a fucking wiggler could have written backstory” and John did not see it coming and loved it

Goes head to head with terezi a lot on her various traps she designs for them. She is getting more and more absurd with it. Karkat had to talk to her about breaking the world building with things she’s introducing. He is the only rogue. Send help.

Rose

Drow warlock

Tries to justify picking drow as anything other than she just thought it was cool

Nearly went old ones for patron but settled on archfey for story reasons

Has a 10 page lore document detailing her tragic past and her toxic relationship with her patron

It became 15 pages after going back and forth with karkat for a bit and adding even more

Only her and one other person are taking the romance arcs seriously and they become karkat’s favorite players

Tries playing morally ambiguous but terezi can be annoying about that and claims it’s just “the consequences of her actions”

Her and karkat both get very very into the scenes between her and her patron, the drama! The acting! Dave is uncomfortable and karkat brushes it off, it’s not like him role playing as his sister’s abusive girlfriend is weird. It’s in fact very important to the plot Dave

Has written fanfic of the campaign

Jade

Dragonborn barbarian

Path of the beast

Don’t ask me I just know

Her GLEE when she says “I’m gonna rage :D”

ANIMAL COMPANION! She nearly went ranger just for that but knew she wouldn’t have as much fun. Found a way to get one anyway.

It was harder naming her animal companion than her character

Having fun and likes the problem solving side of things, but likes breaking things with her massive strength just as much

Terezi likes to throw stuff at her, both traps and encounters, and finds it funny if she can just wreck her way through

“See John that’s how you deal with a pressure plate trap”

Takes the rp side of things very seriously

Once argued with Karkat over if her favorite npc would do that and cursed him out

Has read roses fanfic of the campaign

Dave

Plays a teifling with grey skin and orange horns

“What are you talking about karkat this is just my dude, don’t you like him?”

Hellus Jeffus

He’s a valor bard, eventually multiclasses paladin

Starts out just trying to mess with people but like John starts getting into it, though he tries to down play it

Have hellus more of himself than he realized and it’s making him face things about himself

Eventually hellus self sacrifices to save the party in this deeply intense moment. There were tears, Dave was wrecked, they went on a whole quest to revive him. It was touching and karkat is smug

Dave might have worked through some things

Jane

Halfling cleric

Her and John are small buddies!!!

Started out life but wasn’t having a lot of fun with it so with terezi’s permission switched to war or tempest with later s few levels in fighter

Her John and Jade are the biggest front liners, John’s character ends up really close with both of them as it’s easier for the rogue to bond with the person giving them sneak attack

Jade and jane’s character have an in game arm wrestling match

Took a bit to get into the rp side of things but eventually got the hang of it

Roxy

Tabaxi, easily, it’s so obvious

After much deliberation settles on glamour bard (though wizard and rogue were tempting for the joke, she wanted to branch out)

So many horny bard jokes but very little actual follow through, karkat gets frustrated by this as she’s all this talk but isn’t pursuing any of the romance options he’s giving her

She has SECRETS! She is HIDING THINGS!! Her cheery persona is a FASADE!!!

Cue complaining to karkat about how hard it is to wait to tell the others about her secrets and him threatening violence if she tells anyone before the in game reveal

She tells jake

Lots of egging on Dave and helping him with his fucking around

The BOND between her and Dave!!! They are the duo to end all duos. Team rocket type shit. There is nothing stronger than the bond between the bards of the party. My theory is it has to do with trading bardic inspiration.

Dirk

Half elf Druid circle of spores

Wildfire seemed fun to him but wasn’t as good

Wasn’t originally planning on being a Druid but after going over all the classes he liked all the customization and decisions that go into Druid like prepared spells and such

Didn’t really think about his backstory much, just improved something. He keeps improving new additions and it’s getting more and more elaborate and complicated. He has multiple hidden and long lost siblings by this point. Still doesn’t write any of this down. If he messes a detail up he justified it with more improv.

Yes his character has spiked up red hair and sunglasses. Don’t question how the Druid got sunglasses karkat.

Really likes the tactics side of things, he’s even pitched a few things to terezi she updated and later worked in

Sometimes works on plans and strategies out of game or making a million back up characters that play off the others in interesting mechanical ways

Is considering becoming a dm some time

Jake

Needed some help making his character, he just didn’t know where to start

Eventually after much discussion settles on a teifling bladesong wizard

Wanting to get away from his usual adventurer style Roxy helped with the backstory and they came up with this evil scientist raised in a cult who’s good hearted but was never taught right and wrong

He gets very into playing him and his moral struggle but can lean a little too good for his backstory, karkat points this out and Jake swears to get better at it

Dave pitched a lot of names for them and it was eventually settled on “Bernard Gunn” even though he has a sword. Jake just likes how it sounds

“Why is he blue jake?” “…..uhhh” “why is he blue?”

Calliope

SHE LOVES THIS SO MUCH

Teifling Druid with a focus on healing

Circle of shepards

Not a troll color pallet like Dave though, honestly it might get a bit trickster

Beautiful backstory that she coordinated with one of the others to make joint. The most obvious choice is Roxy but I think it was actually jade, Jane or John.

She gets so into it you guys, like so into it

Gives at least one dramatic speech completely on the fly

The other character who takes karkat’s romance arcs seriously and his other favorite player

Has also argued with terezi about world building and consistency. This may put her above rose in karkat’s eyes

Was also allowed to read rose’s fanfiction and offered full on reviews

Also considering going into doing but for the opposite reasons to Dirk

Vriska

Fairy artillerist artificer with a dip in war magic wizard

Min maxxed to hell and back

(Technically there was a better race, but fairy has its own advantages and she couldn’t resist)

An elaborate backstory too with some secrets of her own, I’m thinking full on lost princess

Yes she is That Player, you know the one

Has nearly been kicked multiple times and now won’t leave on principle

Not the best at sticking with the party and not just doing whatever she wants, but suprisingly Dirk has been able to talk her into it with his talk of tactics and playing smart

Second most effective is John who just looks at her like “vriska you’re not making this very fun :(“

Kanaya

Fire genasi ranger

Really tried to get into it but this just isn’t her thing so eventually decided to leave the group

Karkat came up with a fun story reason for her to leave and eventually brought her character back as an Npc

Did help rose make a cosplay of her character, after which John, Calliope, and Roxy wanted to make ones too

Vriska eventually tried to “manipulate” into helping her make one for her character

[freakenomenon]

since you’ve already talked extensively about ted and ellens psychodramas + how they were displayed in the game, what do you think about other characters psychodramas like gorrister and benny?

sits back.

both of their psychodramas are confusing to me, but i prefer bennys over gorristers so ill talk about that first,,

i have like an EXTREME dislike for how they completely took away his entire character in the short story, especially with the erasure of his sexuality. but even beyond that. i just. Don't understand his character??? he was big and strong and handsome and hated the weak and. then what.

id understand if there was some kind of character motive beyond being perfect and not giving a damn point blank period. like if he was trying to prove something. to strive for perfection to the point of killing others because of SOMETHING. but they don't. i don't understand the point of completely reworking this characters already established and VERY WELL IMPLEMENTED backstory for anything other than censorship.

he refused to be weak in any way, but WHY.

it's not like with ellen ( sorry i cant resist ) where she grew up in a bad neighborhood where she was treated like nothing, so she decided to MAKE herself something.

which made it hard to cope with the fact she couldn't just rise above EVERYTHING.

or like with ted where he was forced to work for his family because of their poor financial situation, but then was pulled out of that by someone who was taking advantage of him.

which caused a giant rift in his identity.

benny has just. always been a cool big strong powerful man who didnt care about others!!@ and then when AM took him down he's not anymore boo hoo.

it's watering down what made bennys transformation from man to monkey so god damn horrifying. especially with the lack of compassion. yes sure he cares about nobody but himself BUT FUCKING. WHY? THEY DONT EVEN ELABORATE ON THIS IN THE MANUAL. FUCKING WHYYYYYY.

i like toto though, very fun little guy. very interesting character. he was like the only part of the psychodrama i could really,,, resonate? with.

now. gorristers psychodrama is.

what the hell is even going on

the only thing i could really gather from it is that instead of being an activist and a cautious "looker-aheader", gorrister was a truck driving alcoholic who had a bad marriage and an abusive mother in law who blamed him for driving his wife batshit crazy because he beat her. but. other than that i don't.

understand half of it. what do you mean edna killed gorrister. what do you mean Harry cut his heart out. jesse, what the fuck are you talking about.

i don't fully understand WHY we are supposed to sympathize with gorrister when he is. SOMEWHAT responsible for the mental descent of glynis. obviously edna and harry played a huge part in this, im not ignoring that at all. but the end of the psychodrama implying that gorrister should just forgive himself and bury the past because he wasn't FULLY at fault for punting wife into the looneybin. What.

once again, i don't understand the need for a complete flip of this characters original premis unless it's for CENSORSHIP purposes. alongside that at least the puzzles and the dialogue within bennys psychodrama make SENSE. gorristers just.

DONT?

it's not that the puzzles don't have ANY logic like a good one or two of ellens. THEY JUST. ARENT SOMETHING THAT A NORMAL PERSON WOULD DO OR BE ABLE TO FIGURE OUT WITHOUT JUST CLICKING SHIT ON RANDOM TO SEE WHAT HAPPENS. wait. Wait.

Okay. i know this is supposed to be a rant about their characters but. I just wanna say that a lot of the puzzles. Are things that RELATE to the characters and their stories and backgrounds. which adds to the enjoyment. WHEN YOU REMOVE THE ENJOYMENT OF THE PUZZLES. IT KIND OF MAKES ME. NOT LIKE GORRISTER SO MUCH.

if i kept going id just end up totally rewriting the characters as a whole and that's something for another tumblr rant to soothe my ever expanding rage.

im gonna go get a cheese stick

[holidayslinger]

this started as me just working out some tommy headcanons/thoughts/whatever i'm having and sort of ended up being first time i love yous/tommy finding his family fic idk im on a role im obnoxious and im a terrible writer who is not proofreading or going back over anything i'm spewing from my fingers tonight so please just.....scrolls

the thing about tommy that hits so hard is just how much he longs for a family like you have to wonder if that's why he joined the army - he's my age, probably graduated right after 9/11 in the peak of patriotism and brotherhood and blah blah blah, after growing up with a father who clearly didn't show him love at best and was actually abusive at worst and we don't know anything about his mom but we can assume he just didn't have that family he needed but the army just brought him into a situation of war and homophobia and violence that he probably didn't expect because it's not the pretty lie that was sold and then he got of the arm and probably joined the academy - a lot like eddie, maybe he longed for the team-feeling that the army had or at least sold and maybe there was a part of him that felt like he would be able to finally settle into himself.

except he landed under vincent gerrard and every single defense mechanism in him just reverted - reverted back to the person he became under his dad, the person the military forced him to be under dont ask don't tell, because it was just easier (and boy he regrets it - he regrets it so much because that's not who it is and he wants to think it's not who he was but it doesn't matter does it because it's the person he showed himself to be and he's lucky hen or chim will even speak to him now). and then he slowly started to find a bit of a place under bobby but then that never quiet felt right either, did it? so he left there too and kept trying to find his place. hen was queer and chim was accepting and bobby wasn't homophobic, but he still never quite felt like they were his family - never really belonged.

and he thought he could maybe find that at harbor. lucy is great and they get along and they go out sometimes, like he did with the 118, and eventually he just stops hiding. he comes out and he thinks maybe this is when it happens, especially since it was a non-thing to the people at his house. he never shouted that he was gay from the rooftops or anything but he just stopped pretending and it was freeing but he still didn't find his family.

and the thing is, what this whole post started with, is that that's such a queer story isn't it? there's a reason so many queer people are drawn to found families. because a lot of times we find our people outside of our blood relationships. even when we have decent relationships with our families but especially when we don't. it resonates with us. and tommy is still looking for that even once he lands at harbor. they're friends and they're co-workers, but it's still nothing like the 118 has built.

and then he meets buck.

and, well, maybe he's starting to find a family in evan, but he's not quite sure how or where or if he fits because evan has this whole family with group chats and inside jokes and sure he gets along with eddie and that's such a huge step, to be let into the whole buckley-diaz family dynamic, but he still feels like he's on the outside, like he's looking for his own family and his own place. and he still isn't sure how much the 118 wants him around, even though he's kept up with chim through the years, and even maddie and chim have had him and evan over to dinner together. and it feels like it could be something, but he still doubts because how can he feel like he deserves something he's never been allowed to touch.

so one night when they get back to the loft and they're getting ready for bed his phone goes off at the same time as evan's and he quirks an eyebrow before looking to see that he's been added to a big group chat for the 118 and they're partners he just looks at evan questioningly.

"what?"

"did you do this?" he shows evan his phone.

"obviously not. did you see me do that?" Evan laughs and slips into bed. "It must have been Maddie or Chim. I keep telling you everyone likes you. Now plug in your phone and come to bed."

"it's just - "

"I know," Evan says, rolling to his side, reaching out to pull Tommy onto the bed. "You're so so jealous of this family or whatever. You realize you're part of it, right?"

"Not really. I'm just - "

"My boyfriend?" Evan slips his arm around Tommy's middle, sliding his hand inside Tommy's shirt. His fingers are cold, but Tommy can't bring himself to care. "My partner."

"Yeah."

"Yeah, exactly. You're my family, Tommy, so you're there's. Get used to it. They can be kind of annoying."

But Tommy doesn't think that's true because he's never had a family. He can't imagine being annoyed by it.

"Oh."

Evan laughs and it's almost a beautiful enough sound that he forgets what they were even talking about.

"Oh, he says." Evan presses close. "You are so lucky I fell in love with you a long time ago - " And that's another first that Tommy isn't sure he's ready to wrap his head around.

"You - "

"Yeah, yeah. Don't make a big deal of it, Kinard." Evan reaches up to turn the light off. Evan settles next to him and Tommy almost thinks he's asleep. He's not even sure if there's a point in saying it but -

"I love you too, Evan."

Evan hums a quiet sound, and Tommy knows that means he's heard, but he also thinks it might spook Tommy if he says anything else.

So, yeah, Tommy finds his family.

[snek-panini]

Happy Halloween! Have a book:

This is Siren's Song by @kedreeva (Hi! I asked to bind your fic months ago, sorry it took so long XD). It's an incredible Good Omens siren AU, which needs no introduction from me but it gets one anyway. It's one of the most in-character fics I've ever read, tackles a lot of the most resonant themes of the original (love in the context of aromanticism and asexuality, human labels in the context of non-human perspective), and has incredible world-building. Later parts of the fic always make me cry but they're good tears. You'll see. When I first learned that fanbinding was a thing and started looking into how to do it, this was one of the first fics I thought of. It just took me a while to learn the skills I needed before I could do it.

More pics and process talk under the cut!

So the cover up there is black faux leather and momi paper that I bought...about two years ago? And just kept on hand till I was ready to do this project. This is the first time I've worked with it and it was fairly nice, though harder to get a nice crease into than lokta or chiyogami. It felt very fragile when I was handling it but I didn't have any issues with tearing or glue bleed-through like I thought I might. It did bleed some color when I got it damp with the glue, and it took way longer to dry than normal, but once that was done it's been fine. Which is nice because I have a lot left over, so it'll probably be making many future appearances in my binds.

Look! It's rounded! I got a backing setup recently and this is my first time using it. It was Very Hard and I am not very good at it yet. But I think it looks pretty good for a first attempt, and there was really no other way to mitigate the spine swell on this one. I used a thick paper so I've got a thick book. I also tried something new with the case, though it isn't visible. Usually I make the text block and the case separately and then attach them as the last step, but for this one I actually built the case around the text. Like, boards attached to mull/tapes (sandwiched between thinner boards, with grooves cut for them so there are no bulges), then covered with momi, then leather corners and spine, then paste down the endpaper. It's got an oxford hollow, too! The tapes and mull actually wrap around the outside of the boards instead of the inside like I've done before. Endpapers are my favorite feather chiyogami. Combined with the marbled momi they make for a very opulent look, and I had just barely enough to do this. Like, down to the millimeter. I had to trim the edges and then glue the endpapers after to be sure they were right. I'm glad they were, because I didn't have a backup plan. Handmade endbands, colors picked to match the cover. Also, last note, I got the corner bits right for the first time. Measured properly, with no weird pointy bits that come out at funny angles. Very proud.

Title page and bookmark/interior shot. Did you know that some basic fonts in MS Word look different when you use a huge font size? Because I didn't until I made this title page. That's Parchment for the title, and it only gets those swirly bits around the capital letters if you take it to 26pt or higher (I used 72 here). Now I wonder if any of the other fonts have easter eggs in them like that. The ribbon is very fancy, to go along with the rich endpaper/cover combo. I think it's pretty appropriate for a mythological golden age of piracy story, as are the text ornaments:

Chapter header image, chapter end image, and section break image. It was a very image-heavy typeset. I was originally planning to only have a header and a section break, but I couldn't decide whether I liked the ships or the book/shell/feather better, and they both suited the story so well that I just went with both. Again, opulent, but I think it fits. All the images came from rawpixel, all I did was resize them.

There was a small error in the trimming process. Comes of having to calculate so closely the exact amount you can trim off, that you have to trim off so your slightly-too-small endpapers fit. I think something got misaligned when I poked the sewing holes because only the first signature is like this. The rest of the book has a more appropriately-sized margin between the page number and the edge. I got very lucky here, and I know it, and I'm never cutting it this close (lol) again. Next time we just order another sheet of chiyogami.

And that's it! I have one author's copy and one new bind in progress right now (that's taking a while because I'm learning more new stuff for it), and then I have two Christmas gift books to do, so it might be a bit before I have another book to share.

[seth-shitposts]

Kanan & Dimal

CW// descriptions of dissociation, reference to the grand inquisitor’s suicide attempt, reference to order 66 & everything that followed. Portrayals of slight dermatillomania [i think that’s all the relevant pieces]

UNEDITED AND UNFORMATTED BECAUSE MY INTERNET IS A BITCH

——

Backstory+Context:

What I’m adding in is that he had become a temple guard almost immediately after his knighting, that he and the council had thought and agreed it to be a good idea. His connection to the force is atypical, much different from most Jedi. He doesn’t connect in the same way, and it’s far easier for him to be detached. The line of thought for putting him as a temple guard was that it would be highlighting his strength, since a key element of a guard is choosing to forego all attachment and dedicate to the title.

There was a single oversight on all sides, one that would lead to his obsession and therefore his fall. He hadn’t built a strong sense of self. [It’s one thing to have had a sense of self and then choose to let it go in favor of committing to something higher than yourself. It’s another thing entirely to have not had that foundation before hand.] Because he didn’t go through building that in a secure way, it left him liable for insecurities down the line. There’s a lot he didn’t know about himself and he didn’t know how to figure out, or even be aware of it. One of the major things having been why the force had chosen him, because he didn’t have the same innate empathy that Jedi have. It started as a curiosity to learn more about the force and how it works, to go deeper than the base line of understanding. The answer had to be somewhere. He attempted several times over the course of a few years to learn more about the sith as well, but he was declined from those deep dives.

Through his search, he found a series of journals written by one of the founders of the Jedi Order, but only random volumes. He really resonated with this author; they had written a description of their connection to the force that matched his own, and *that* is something he’s never found before. He thought that maybe this author would have written more not just about their struggles, but how they preserved through them, because he had access to the final volume, which painted an ending where they had worked through their struggles, and now would help build the future that their friends are envisioning to help everyone across the galaxy (thus, beginning what becomes The Jedi Order). All of the other volumes were restricted. The harder he tried to gain access, the more obsessed over it he became, which only led to a more firm decline, resulting in him beginning to have doubts.

(Long story short, Palpatine had planted thoughts similarly to as he had with Anakin and swayed his unsureness of himself to a full betrayal of the order)

———

+[Following the events of s1 finale]+

It draws him back to consciousness at a slow pull before thrusting him back in all at once- the sound of life that surrounds him. A breeze that ruffles through leaves and rustles grass, chirps and clicks of different species of insects, hums and songs of avians as their wings flap in time with a heart beat, constant trickling of water.

It’s all soft… no, it’s separated. Far away. Like his head is trapped in a bubble, but the moment the bubble pops, as does the separated gentleness.

And then it’s all so deafening to his sensitive ears, it reminds him not to allow himself to be so vulnerable and ill informed of unknown surroundings in such a vastly open space.

Alarmed and with lightning shooting through his veins, he rushes to sit up, trying to gather his bearings.

Surrounding him are thick forestry. A quick twist to peek behind him gives him two different pieces of information. One being the sight of some ruin, something older than his knowledge as the only thing that still stands is a stone arch of sorts with scribbled writings. The second vital detail is the fire that shoots halfway up his back.

Fire…

Wincing, he tries to shift his lower back away from the blazing pain. As he does, he realizes he’s moving farther into some pool of water his legs are soaking in. The water is the home of some type of strange colored algae that glows with unique flowering floating on it. It takes him a moment to look to his legs through the clearness of the water. Burns that… look like they had rapidly healed.

He withdraws his limbs from the water to inspect them, and the moment he does, the algae no longer glows.

Picking at the healed scarring gently, he tries to piece together…

The last thing I remember… Speaking to Kanan Jarrus, right before I…

Curling his lip, he glares at the flesh on his bones. I threw myself into an exploding… How in the entirely blasted galaxy did I survive that? How did I wind up on… this…

The last person he had seen before his vision was over taken by flames trying to swallow him whole, forcing him to succumb to the burning inferno of pain enveloping him.

Kanan Jarrus.

He shakes his head in disgust. Fucking nobility of a Jedi, their need to save and spare everyone. No matter the monster.

It had been the last choice that would have been my own. And now…

He can’t very well just return to the inquisitorius, not after the string of failures he’s just weaved for himself. That last one being just a beautiful ribbon to wrap it up. And not going back isn’t going to grant him any safety from what will begin to hunt him. He’s still blood in the water. He can’t wait for the sharks to find him.

It’s pathetic, having run to death with open arms and failing even a task as simple as that. Simple in comparison to what the alternative was. And now… And now there has to be another escape. There’s always…

Dragging his nails across his scalp, he rattles his recollection, but every thought is so, so far away.

Distance…

Separation.

Can’t be tracked with no trail to follow. He doesn’t like it, but it will buy him time until there’s something better; an opportunity.

Until then, a decision has been made. Throw distance between himself and the force.

——

+[Soon after Kallus agrees to help]+

Kallus holds out an indie commlink, “I’ll gather equipment and resources, and once I’m available to meet up with you, I will contact you through this. If you ever have an emergency, contact me. Just to be safe, don’t use-“

The spy halts suddenly, staring up at him, seemingly trying to think.

He can feels his brow twitch from being stared at. “What?”

“Forgive me, I just realized I have never learned your name.”

Growling, he snatches the commlink from Kallus’s open hand. “You don’t need it.”

He can hear that Kallus has some kind of bite back on the tip of his tongue, but thinks better of it, and swallows the bitter words with a second thought. If he’s being honest, he would rather Kallus bite back at him than…

Straightening his shoulders, he places the commlink in one of his most secure pockets, tucking it close to his chest.

——

+[One of the first sessions; probably the first session, ngl.]+

“So,” Smirking, he levels with Kallus, about to enjoy when the moment when realization strikes this blond that he is in way over his head. “Tell me about how exactly you plan on helping me become a Jedi Knight again, Agent Kallus.”

Rolling his eyes, Kallus organizes stolen imperial equipment. “We’ll start with you telling me about the Jedi.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you were a Jedi Knight yourself, so wouldn’t you know the basic principles best?”

Tearing his gaze away from the rebel spy, he crosses his arms over his chest, suddenly finding the wall much more interesting.

“Look, I’m going to need you to be the least bit cooperative if I’m going to be of ay substan-“

“I don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember?” Kallus stops what he’s doing entirely. “What exactly?”

“The principles. Anything, really.” He masks his frustration with an amused smile, turning back to Kallus, hoping to irritate him, with the reality of the situation.

“How do you not remember? What do you mean? What, did you just eviscerate your understanding of your enemy when you decided to leave your station in the empire?”

He isn’t getting he satisfaction he thought he would from this, and he can’t tell if that’s more or less frustrating than the truth he’s having to swallow and now spill. “No,” the syllable is released through gritted teeth. “It’s not that I chose not to remember. It’s that I can’t remember.” Just another blaring fact of his own short comings.

“Elaborate.” Kallus is withholding his own frustration. Withholding it, but still choosing to patiently listen.

“Best I can explain is that after choosing to close myself off from the force, I also shut myself out from the dark side of it. It was shell shocking. For the first time I could breathe properly without having realized before that…” He takes in a sharp breath. “Long story short, my memories are a ‘mess’. Some are twisted versions of the truth and I have no way of figuring it out on my own. I have more gaps than I do recollection.”

He watches as Kallus turns away from him, slowly dragging his fingers through his hair as he tries to process this unexpected challenge. Still feeling bitter at his admission, he waits to see this man who had once not been able to apply the definition ‘quit’ throw in the towel. He had missed it the first go round. He wants to see it for himself.

“Change in steps,” Kallus swiftly strides back to the speeder, “we’re starting from scratch.”

Eyes narrowing as they follow the ex-imperial, he tries to grapple the words just given to him as if it’s a silly little errand. “What?”

“We are going to outline a series of expeditions to find the pieces we need to start with.” Grabbing the most tattered and slapped-together datapad to exist, Kallus begins to break through firewalls to cross reference imperial databanks with ones that existed before the empire itself, to find any trace of a location that may have been overlooked where they could find more information about the Jedi.

Trying to wrap his head around Kallus’s words, he’s reeling as irritation claws its way up his spine. “Would be great, but one of the first orders I had been given as grand inquisitor was to carry out and oversee the destruction of anything relating to the Jedi. There’s nothing-“

“There’s always something. There’s always ones that got away. Ones never found to begin with.” Kallus skims over the lines rapidly. “Don’t be so eager to give up. If you want to turn me in so bad, know that I won’t go down without a fight, but same applies here.” He pulls out an empty datapad and scribbles some locations on it. “I said I would help. Just because you chose to hide some details doesn’t mean I’m done here.”

He can’t tell if he’s more annoyed or further intrigued. Sliding a couple fingers across his jawline, he considers his options.

While he, personally, would see the value in handing over someone like Kallus, nestled so deep in the empire, he’s well aware that the spy wouldn’t get him nearly as far as he would need him to. Going back is still wildly out of the question. The middle ground action, leaving altogether, would just leave him back at where he had been. Aimless, unable to focus. Some could settle for that, and maybe he could too, but…

Maybe entertaining the notion a bit longer will be worth the effort. As the one who had been in charge of overseeing the destruction of the Jedi’s existence, he can remember that he hadn’t entirely agreed with the decision. He had thought the command was purely out of a place of emotion rather than reason. Even if the Jedi had been wrong and mislead, from a scholar standpoint, it would have been smarter to keep their archives, to teach why they thought how they did and show how it would have been misinformed.

But at the time… Had it been another moment where he was thinking through that false clarity? The lense of the dark, had it led him to choosing anger over reason? Or did that come later? Why had he gone through something he didn’t agree with? Or did he actually believe it to be a good idea at the time?

The face of the man who gave him the orders still escapes his memory. Why can’t he remember the face that he followed at the cost of everything? What was he looking to gain? What did he lose?

“Hey,” Kallus’s voice is soft, gentle. “You won’t have to go looking through these places by yourself. I’ll slip away when I have the chance. I’ll also try getting in touch with my informant again. They may have intel that could help.”

He blinks down at the human whose harsh features and guarded demeanor has momentarily shifted to make room for assurance.

“Seeing as how no other option is appealing, you’re still the most interesting choice.” He smirks teasingly, “Regardless of how annoying you get.”

Returning to his usual rigid posture, Kallus rolls his eyes, “I get that frequently, thank you.”

“You really don’t give up, do you? Is chasing ghosts something you’ve just always done?”

“Seems so. We’ll leave for the nearest location in half an hour.”

———

+[After much training and progression and work put into slowly dedicating to this task.]+

+Context for this next part:

Through [redacted], an informant, Kallus is told he has to make the decision to either continue missions with the former grand inquisitor on their own, attempting to gather an understanding of the Jedi that is doomed to be lacking and incomplete, or make contact with Kanan Jarrus and gain his trust when Kallus has yet to have much experience or credibility as fulcrum, having only been given the mantle shortly ago.

Initially, Kanan (rightfully) believes that they have lured him out as a trap and that they are both still loyal to the empire. Only after a lot of convincing is it that Kanan is willing to even hear them out.

-I am still working the timeline out and locking it down, but this would take place not long after the season 2 finale, Kanan being more on edge and untrusting than ever.

Kallus had believed it wise to bring peace offerings a an attempt to be heard out. Kallus instructed the former inquisitor to retrieve and bring a Jedi artifact while Kallus brought intel.

The former inquisitor had still been undecided on whether he would want or even ask for help from the Jedi knight. It wasn’t until Kanan addressed him directly, asking what his intentions are to be. A bitter response sat on the tip of his tongue, but he caught a glance of Kallus, who’s eyes were still on the Jedi.

Thinking on how far Kallus has put himself out for him, how the spy time and time again met him where he was to figure things out with him, and now how Kallus has chosen to pursue the superior aid directly from the knight at the expense of his own plans and compromising his own position- all because he has faith in him.

He resists the urge to lash his tongue at Kanan and admits to wanting to understand the full picture, learn and preserve the truth.

Eventually, Kallus has to leave and it is just him and Kanan. Kanan is still untrusting. (Again, rightfully)

+++

“I have no reason to trust you. Either of you. Not after everything.”

Pulse still racing, Kanan keeps distance from him, facing harshly in his direction.

Curious. If he’s so against me surviving as a perceived threat, why would he have gone through the effort of keeping me alive? He decides to view this as a trial, a test. Prove himself. Show that he’s taking this seriously, that the sacrifices Kallus chose to make won’t be wasted, that he won’t be left back where he began.

“You’re right. You have no reason to take either of us at our word. Nothing I do or say will take back what has been done. It does not make what I’m pursuing any less true. It’s taken a lot for me to get where I am as I am here today.” He makes sure to keep the distance between them Kanan holds, hands clasped behind his back. “I will be honest, at first I had no intent on taking this seriously, but then Kallus took the time to show me that what I had previously thought to be true were only lies to get me to side my loyalty to the empire. I’m still unsure of many things. I desire nothing more than to stand by the truth. Kallus started me back on that devotion. The only thing I am asking of you is to remind me of who the Jedi were and what they stood for.”

“Why?” The tension in Kanan… shifts. Still present, but different. “You were there, weren’t you?”

Taking a deep breath, he tries to find the right words to string together. This doesn’t get easier for him to digest each time he explains it. He runs the tip of his tongue along his sharpened teeth before he speaks, the slight motion reminding him of his body. “My recollection of the Jedi, my perception of them, had become… twisted as I fell. Overtime, memories shredded until there were few left. As an inquisitor, as a servant of the dark side, I had been under a false belief that I had a clear mind. It wasn’t until I finally distanced myself from the force entirely that I realized that not to be true. And now most days I cannot differentiate between what memories are real, what’s true, or not.”

“Still, why should I help you?” It feels as though the Jedi knight is cutting his eyes at him, holding what is a more than reasonable grudge and distrust towards him.

“Because I am asking for it.” Despite trying to appear calm, he can feel his ire rising like a heat traveling up his spine, setting every cell of skin on fire on its way up. This would be simpler if he just out right says he does not wish to help me. Instead, we’re playing this game.

“What gives you the right to ask? After how many of our people fell at your hands? After the betrayal you committed?” Kanan’s voice slowly rises in volume, adding fuel to the flames in the former inquisitor’s body. “And you just forgot? You forgot?!”

“My inability to remember detail does not negate the damage I’ve done, do not confuse my desire to understand what happened and inability to remember as a cowardly attempt to evade accountability for everything I’ve done, Kanan Jarrus,” he meets Kanan’s spit of fire with the same level of heat. “If you were to be so against rising above and helping me understand where I went wrong and would rather I have died, then why in this blasted galaxy didn’t you let me?!” He can no longer smother the sneer on his lips, a growl almost becoming audible from his vocal cords.

“What in the hell are you talking about?”

“Don’t play ignorant with me! You know what I’m talking about! Back on that star destroyer, when you had bested me in a fight and I made my choice! My way out! When I succumbed to the flames, you and your crew dragged me off that ship and abandoned me on an uninhabited planet!” He glares, the scab of it being ripped open raw right when he had thought it was finally healed.

“I don’t know what you are imaging,” Kanan seethes, the words hissing out from gritting teeth, “I had other priorities than making a futile attempt to save someone who had very clearly made their choice!”

The words wash over his body as though he had been thrown into a lake of ice. His voice loses its rage, “What?” There is no lie, no deceit in the knight’s features. “Then… How did- that doesn’t make- That’s impossible, I shouldn’t have survived- Much less unharmed- healed even-“ Dragging his nail along the ridges on his skull, he can feel his back hit a wall. The walls spin and blur in the background. The foundation that he had scrapped together since waking up in that algae filled pool shatters beneath his very feet. Not because Kanan hadn’t chosen to save him, that what he would have expected- hell, it’s what he would have done himself; but its the fact that now, no he doesn’t have any iota of a clue.

As improbable as it was, Kanan being the one to have pulled him from the fire, it was the only answer that had been viably possible; so much so that he latched onto it. Believed it. Been convinced.

But now? His thoughts are spiraling every which way, wrecking his brain for anything, but there’s no feasible way he should have survived, especially nearly unscathed aside from scarring of the burns he had endured that should have been much more detrimental.

Boots step into his line of vision, dragging him out of his mind slowly. “You’re… serious. About all of this?”

Realizing not until now, he had slid to the ground against the wall.

It’s a fight, trying to get back into his body enough to meet the Jedi’s face. He has to force his eyes to focus on the other’s features. Guarded, but curious, almost open. Something distinctively empathetic. Despite who it is Kanan is talking to.

“Jarrus, I’m always serious.” He screws his eyes shut after pain washes over them from the force he had behind them to manually focus them. His vision blurs in and out when he opens them once more. “I need to see the full picture. I’m sick of only having pieces. I want the truth, nothing more. Nothing less. So I can make informed decisions about what is just.”

Through the blurred vision, he’s able to make out that Kanan offers out a hand.

He only stares at it for a long moment. Not sure if he’s waiting for it to come into focus, if it’s his turn to be distrustful, or if he just isn’t able to get his body to cooperate.

“If you’re willing to be receptive, then I might be willing to help.”

He finds his hand setting into Kanan’s offer. Not without immense effort from himself.

———

+[The second meetup between Kanan and Him?]+

+Contextual notes for this scene: Kanan and the former inquisitor are in a Jedi temple, thus far they have pulled against the grain and become lost in the temple. At this moment, they are in the middle of an argument.

“I may have said that I could help, but you still have yet to prove that you are trustworthy,” the Jedi Knight pushes the words out through gritted teeth, body tense and on edge.

It’s been taking everything in him not to inflame and agitate this man’s every blaring fault and flaw; physical and psychological.

Remember why you’re committing to this. Remember the balance. Let go of that which is fleeting. Return to the pursuit of unbiased truth. Let go of that whic-

“Hey! Don’t ignore me just because I can’t see you!”

Whatever happened to Kanan Jarrus has no just changed his physical abilities, but also his mentality. “You’re lashing out, I am trying to ground myself. It is not a easy process for me. Whatever happened to having nothing to fear? You are currently laying out all this fear in open and it’s the worst temptation.” Remember what Kallus taught you.

“That right there does not make me any more enthused to help you.”

“Then don’t. I will find my way out of this temple. And I’ll find my own way to the light.” His own words are just as guarded and defensive as Kanan’s.

“You’re well aware that’s not an option, you cannot leave on your own-“

A painfully wide grin cuts across his face with a breathless chuckle, “Actually, Kanan Jarrus, I don’t. I told you already, my memory is as about as reliable as your sight. And what’s better is when I cut myself off from the dark, it’s false sense of clarity is not the only thing that left me. My patience has warn thin. I always had an extraordinarily high amount of that, if I remember even that much. But you are cutting it shorter.” He pauses, breath halting in his lungs before he releases after a moment. “You have no reason to trust me, I do not belittle that nor whatever it is you are personally dealing with. I would give you my honesty, but you do not trust it.”

“I don’t know your intentions, I don’t know your allegiances, and I don’t know your values. And you expect me to be willing to trust you? After everything? That you suddenly grew a conscious?” Shaking his head, Kanan sneers. “I shouldn’t even be here.”

He brings his palms up, open hands, open mind, willing mind. “You’re right, I haven’t ‘suddenly grown’ what you would call a conscious. I never had one- even before my fall, and being honest with you, I probably never will.” He uses every bit of will power he can muster to relax the tension within him then turns to face Kanan.

“Figures,” Kanan scoffs, shaking his head as he turns away from him. “Why did I even-“

Taking the extra effort to humble his own tone, he tries to will out every bit of gentleness he’s capable of producing. “If I may continue. Please.” He keeps his voice calm and even.

The knight still looks displeased, but holds his tongue as he turns back to face him.

“I’m not sure why I never had that innate ability, the one to be empathetic, but that doesn’t mean I’m disqualified from the light. I can built skills. I can dedicate myself. More than anything, I want to pursue the truth. It’s been a rough pill for me to swallow that for too long I have confused my perception for it. My perception is but a limited lense of the full picture. What I believe to be truth may not be what is real or what is true. I think, I have been lied to and misled. But I have nothing else to compare to. It’s a battle just for me to stay grounded at all.” He sighs, cutting himself off. “I find that I don’t know…”

A darker hand slides on top of one of his pale palms. He blinks rapidly, trying to force his eyesight to focus back in. He can make out the notable details of Kanan’s face. He’s noticeably calmer.

“I make no promises, nor obligations. But as long as you are making progress, I’ll see what I can help with. You’re right, you’ve lost patience and you’re fighting for real clarity, but you’re willing to be open, to relearn. If you really are after the truth, I will give that to you.” Sighing, Kanan steps back. “I myself have… been more on edge. I’m more guarded than ever now.”

“It’s hard for you to tell if you’re being reasonably cautious or cynically guarded?” He studies Kanan.

“Yeah.”

He watches as the tension Kanan holds does not lessen. He tries to think of someway he could lessen that stress of distrust from the Jedi, maybe finally make some headway. It’s very appearing that the man worries that he is only using this exchange as a way to get the knight to lower his gaurd, get him closer to his crew before springing a trap.

“I have a deal to offer you, something to set your mind at ease?”

Scoffing, Kanan shakes his head, “What could you possibly-“

“You’ll have my word. No harm will befall you or your crew. As long as you tell not a soul about Kallus’s change in allegiance. You will pretend you know nothing.”

Kanan looks taken aback, almost skeptic. “Tell me why.”

He rolls his eyes, “You know full and well that you need to be very clear about your questions while i lack my proximity to the force, Jarrus.”

“Why should I trust that Kallus’s position as a rebel spy- whether he really is or not- holds any importance to you?”

“Because Kallus has risked much more than a shiny little status to help me, to reveal himself to you. I also don’t like owing people, regardless of whether I consider them a friend or not. And at this moment, everything I am working on, everything I’m cultivating to be is owed to him. If it’s a future I owe him, it’s a future I will secure for him.”

———

+[This either will take place at the end of them in the Jedi temple, or during a third or final meet.]+

+The two have just finished a session where the former inquisitor spoke of what events he thinks he can remember before becoming The Grand Inquisitor. It will be snippets from the first set of notes on this post.

+Kanan pieces together that he needs to carve out an identity for himself. That before he can commit himself, he has to at least know himself, or the cycle will only repeat.

“Figure out who I am?” He has been avoiding dwelling on that line of thoughts. It’s visceral, the reaction to not allow himself to. The very thought makes him sick to his stomach and threatens for the planet to swallow him whole. “How- I can’t-“

“You can, but you don’t have too all at once. One piece at a time.”

“Where would I even begin?”

“A name is a start.” Kanan smiles genuinely, almost as a light hearted tease.

“I can’t remember my-“

“It doesn’t have to be what your name once was. You can chose anything.” Kanan rubs his chin after a short pause, “To make it easier to narrow options down, is there anyone in your past that resonated with you? Or something that holds meaning to you?”

He pauses, pieces of the journal series floating in his thoughts. “Maybe, but I cannot remember their full name. Just a couple syllables.”

“That would be as good a start as any. It can be yours, unique to you, inn that light.”

He nods slow, chewing on his lower lip for a moment. He takes a deep breath, Kanan listening intently and patiently.

“My name will be Dimal.”

[colinmorgan-beautifulsmile]

Colin Morgan has an exclusive brand new in-depth interview with Radio Times

In brand new thriller Dead Shot – which arrived on Sky Cinema and NOW last week – former Merlin star Colin Morgan stars as Irish paramilitary Michael, who is on the verge of retirement when his pregnant wife is brutally murdered by a British army soldier.

Based on an original screenplay by Top Boy creator Ronan Bennett and directed by brothers Tom and Charles Guard, it's a harrowing film that takes place during the height of the Troubles in 1975, following Michael as he embarks on a revenge mission that sends him to the heart of IRA operations in London.

When Morgan first got his hands on the "page-turning" script, he was struck by a number of things, not least the contradictions inherent in his character, and he was especially won over by a certain ambiguity regarding who the audience should be rooting for.

"As a Northern Irish guy, you think I'd be biased to one side, but it's absolutely seeing both sides of this tale and this drama," he tells RadioTimes.com in an exclusive interview. "And so it says quite a lot that I was kind of on both camps, I think that's quite an achievement.

"Contradictions are the main thing I look for," he adds. "You see somebody in a cause that some men were drawn into in the late '60s and early '70s in Northern Ireland, particularly in the border counties. And I'm wondering, if I was born around that time would I have been any different? Might the times have dictated what I needed to do to survive as a man?

"Those are the things that are compelling to me... he wants to be a dad, he wants to survive his future. At the very beginning of the film it feels like he's just about to begin the rest of his life, he's left the cause behind, and it just gets taken away from him in a second."

In preparing for the film, it helped a great deal that Morgan himself grew up in Armagh, the same town that Michael is from. Despite growing up in a different era, the star was very much able to draw on his own personal experiences when it came to getting a handle on the character.

"One thing I said to the Guard brothers before I started was I'm gonna bring everything I bring to the character from my point of view, but also the stuff of just being someone who grew up in Armagh," he says.

"You get that for free, because that's the complication of living in a place like that, even though I grew up in the tail end of things – it is just part of your culture and in your blood. You see all those things growing up, and they're just in my own kind of memory bank. So while I didn't go through the times, I was certainly surrounded by adults who did."

Dead Shot isn't Morgan's first project in recent years to be set against the backdrop of the Troubles. In 2021, he had a key role in Sir Kenneth Branagh's Oscar-winning coming-of-age film Belfast, and the actor has clearly found it an immensely rewarding experience to see audiences drawn in by these stories. 

"Particularly with Belfast, there's something kind of amazing about seeing something that's such a part of you reach the world and resonate with people in a universal way," he says. "When you see your story, or you hear your accent, there's just something about you that connects with that.

"And then when you hear other people the world over do that as well, you can't help but feel a sense of pride that your identity is being recognised."

In addition to the knowledge of the conflict he had accumulated while growing up in Northern Ireland, Morgan did plenty of research into the Troubles to prepare for his role in Belfast. He says this came in handy once again for the new film, but stresses that Dead Shot itself is not necessarily "concerned about trying to educate people about the times in Northern Ireland".

"Not every film that deals with the Northern Irish issue has to go into all those details," he says. "That's what I thought was refreshing about this. But it's important as an actor just to be familiar with those things, whatever period that – it's always worth doing, and I always do it."

One of the most intriguing aspects of the film is the complexity regarding Michael's adversary Tempest, played by Aml Ameen. Although by no means portrayed in a straight-forwardly sympathetic light, the character is not presented as an out-and-out villain either – but rather a vulnerable person who has been thrown into a horrible circumstance by odious bosses. Meanwhile, the fact that Tempest is a Black man living in a time when racism was commonplace undoubtedly adds to this complexity.

"One of the things I said to the directors right from the start was that there was a lot more that bound these two guys than divided them," Morgan says of the relationship between Michael and Tempest. "They're both in London, which was a place at the time that had [signs saying], 'No dogs, no Blacks, no Irish'.

"So these are actually both very outsider characters who were treated differently – when an Irish man went to London in those times there was complete shunning of them as well. So they're guys who know what it is to be shunned, rejected, and treated as the other. And the fact that they find themselves caught in this tragedy against each other, it's a shame in a way.

"The sad thing about that particular time in Northern Ireland was that so much division between religions and nationality prevented so much integration," he adds. "And it's still unfortunately very present in Northern Ireland to this day – it's getting less so, but it's hard to think it'll ever go away.

"It's terrible to think that people connecting on a human level is prevented by something like a label or identity or nationality, whatever it is. Your best friend could have been the one that was serving in the army except you were just on the other end of the lines."

Although the film is set primarily in London, the shoot itself actually took place in Glasgow – with a number of London buses and other identifying features brought in to help transform the Scottish city into something resembling the UK capital. This was an interesting experience for Morgan, especially considering he has his own history with the city.

"I actually went to drama school in Glasgow, I went to the Royal Scottish [Conservatoire]," he says. "And the odd thing was that I hadn't really been there since I graduated and I found myself staying in an apartment that was right opposite the apartment I stayed in in my second year at drama school.

"It was this weird kind of full circle moment of suddenly there I was, like 15/20 years later. I could practically still see through the window of that apartment and see the 20-year-old me wondering, 'Oh, I wonder if this whole acting thing will ever work?'"

Of course, it wasn't long after graduating before Morgan's acting career very much did work. Following a number of early roles on stage and screen, including the Doctor Who episode Midnight, his big breakthrough came in 2008 when he was cast as the title character of BBC One's fantasy series Merlin – a show that went on to run for five highly successful seasons.

The series has retained a cult following since it ended in 2012, and some fans have long clamoured for some sort of reunion or reboot. But although Morgan thinks back fondly on his time on the show, returning to the role doesn't appear to be something he's considering any time soon.

"I think most actors are more about progression and moving forward and don't often look back," he explains. "Even on stage, sometimes plays I've done have wanted to remount and come back again, and I often found I don't take up those opportunities because I've wrung the towel dry and I've rinsed what I could out of it.

"That's certainly what I've tried to do with every project, it's like I invest every 110% into it so hopefully by the end of it, I feel like I've done all I could. And certainly on projects like Merlin, I felt like yeah, we definitely did that together as a team and it's certainly [something I] look back on and feel very proud of the work that I and everyone did."

On the subject of moving forward, Morgan has a number of other imminent projects in the pipeline. He has a key role alongside Jessica Lange, Ed Harris and Ben Foster in a new film adaptation of Eugene O'Neill's classic play Long Day’s Journey Into Night; he will star opposite Emma Appleton in the upcoming Paramount Plus legal thriller The Killing Kind; and he is currently filming a project which he can't yet disclose. The keys to the roles he's been looking for in recent times, he says, are variety and collaboration.

"I look for things I haven't done before, I look for challenges, I look for versatility, I look for passionate people," he explains. "I think more so than anything, what seems to be top of my list now is collaborators – people who have this kind of notion of bringing you into the fold and wanting to work with you not just to deliver the acting goods, but to know what you feel about the scripts and the story and have your input.

"And that's my background. My first jobs were all new writing in theatre and working with writers and developing and progressing and shaping things together. And that's what I thrive on more than anything in the world.

"That seems to be what people are wanting these days, I think the landscape has changed. People are really wanting multidisciplinary actors, and that's worth knowing for anybody wanting to come into the business: don't just be thinking about the acting, think about 360 degrees of everything."

[fkinavocado]

DADDY ISSUES ANNOUNCEMENT

ok guys. let's recap. i've been writing on this fic since august 2021. i was gearing up to wrap it up for its 2 year anniversary in august, but my mental health got in the way of writing in general, not just for this fic.

however, there has been another major block in my way.

many of you might remember this if you've been around long enough, but i got a lot of backlash at one point in the story. some felt it wasn't going in the direction they had hoped for (a typical happy ending, picket fence, kids, etc- the whole package).

and ever since, this has been bothering me- but not just because of the obvious reason (which is, that this is my fic and i should get to decide what the storyline is ultimately, and who doesn't resonate can just move on instead of sending me hate for something i share on here for free and for us all to enjoy- me writing it, and you, hopefully, reading it)

no, the real, or should i say, bigger reason is that i was upset with myself.

because, honestly... i wanted to end the fic where part 1 ended!

but... i gave into the pressure. so many ppl were pleading for more, and although the initial plan was to just write extras going forward, little check-ins mainly based on prompts, i felt like i owed it to you all to give you the happy ending everyone was rooting for... when, in reality, i'd meant for it to have an open ending all along.

yes, the check-ins would have had them be together etc, but no major plot developments such as... getting married, babies, etcetc. because i just didn't want to give them a typical story. i wanted this to be based on their dynamic, their relationship, them working on it, but not have it be the traditional story with a happily ever after.

(very many insisted a lot on the baby plotline, and maybe that's why i went with that twist in the story... because i didn't see it for them in the immediate future. and writing it in a linear timeframe without too many timejumps meant that i had to find a workaround... which only infuriated people more!)

so i'be been debating this for months now... should i go on and just wrap it up in a lame way that i didn't feel did the story justice (aka another timejump where they're finally settled, have a kid and another one on the way, and describe their happily ever after) orrrrrrrrrrrrrr backtrack to where i feel i deviated from my original plan, and take off part 2 and 3.

basically, go back to where they were on his front porch and part 1 ended:

Harry looked at you for a long moment, towering over you- you could barely see his facial features in the dark. 

But what you could make out clearly was the glistening in his eyes and the way his lips turned ever so slowly into a smile, his dimples on display. He was so handsome when he smiled, it hurt. 

You slowly smiled in return, your worried expression fading away, and you just stared at eachother like that, smiling after months of nothing but.

You didn’t need to say anything, your eyes had their own secret language. Once more, your bodies were doing the talking for you.

He held out the palm of his hand.

And… you knew.

this... this is how i wanted the main story to end. and then to just write extras, prompts you guys send in, whatever you wanted to see more of- but maybe not them having kids etc because fjdhfksd this is just not that kind of story to me! i just wanted this to be about them, the two of them rekindling their relationship after so much time apart and all they'd been through!

so... i finally took the decision, and as a result, you may have noticed that just the first 25 chapters are still listed in the masterlist (essentially, just part 1)

this was a hard decision, one i've been debating for ages, because, well... i hated having to just erase so many chapters. chapters i worked on, chapters i still see as genuine and true to their story but just... not what i wanted to write for them as a whole. i wanted to just focus on little moments. not have it be a chronological recount of their story, going further.

i had to let go of so many special moments that i loved writing! who knows... maybe i'll save some of them and integrate them into extras

that is, if any of you still want me to keep writing extras for them! i know many will still want to see snippets of them, but i am well aware most have probably given up on this fic and i honestly don't blame them. it's taken me forever to reach this decision, but honestly, i'm taking the advice of so many lovely people who came into my inbox along the years and encouraged me to stay true to what i'd envisioned for them in the first place

so this is me doing that ❤️i love their story, and all the love you guys have for it and it's just so so special to me. i couldn't bear giving it an ending that would just feel like i was wrapping it all up and putting a pretty bow on top when i have so much i wanted to explore with them, otherwise. thank you all for your patience and all your kindness. it means a lot, and i hope this news makes you happy because... it makes me happy knowing i stayed true to myself in the end.

now i can finally move on and write more for them. let's have some fun! if needed, go back and at least give chapter 25 a re-read so you know where things left off. i'm still not doing well mental health wise so please bear with me- i'm trying. i promise i am. i desperately wanna write, i love writing. writing extras is so much easier logistically- little fun check-ins that i don't have to overthink. i'm hopeful that this will prove to be the right decision going further ❤️