#but seriously i was in class today and i got the uncontrollable urge to do some writing

[thesmokinpossum]

Wait a goddamn minute, I'm starting to wonder if my newfound capacity to care about something (even something as silly and inconsequential as a 51 years old gangster movie) might have something to do with my prolonged break from weed....

[justaniche]

Hey! I’m dying for more Daxton. I seriously can’t wait for season 2. Can you write something about Nalini realizing Paxton is good for Devi? Like he takes care of her/protects her and helps her deal with her trauma

Thanks!!

Hi!

omg let me say first, anon, thank you for this ask. youre the first person to take me up on my offer to write stuff for you so thank you again.

A little bit about this writing piece before I actually show it to you, there was a point when I was writing it when I wasn’t sure if it was going to reach 1K words but there was a point where the words just start to flow and I can proudly say it is 2.1K and that is not a lot but based on what I thought it was going to end up being it has come along way. and this is one of my first-ish never have I ever work of writing. I think it’s the first I’ve written entirely off the top of my head. My other ones are either not posted or it’s my work inspired by the episodes and its just everything through Paxton‘s point of view so it’s a bit different.

this is getting sort of long so anyway, without further ado. here it is. I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think and if you like it please feel free to send me another!

Nalini had just about had it. The day’s raging dumpster fire began with traffic that resulted in her being late to work. If that wasn’t bad enough, a patient she saw a couple days ago came back complaining that her treatment caused a breakout. After a follow-up, she discovered the patient hadn’t changed any of their habits despite her advice! So was it really the treatment, or the fact that they don’t wash their face? All that suffices to say when Nalini got home she was already on a very short fuse. Kamala was out for school and let her family know she wouldn’t be home for dinner so it was known by both Devi and Nalini that they would be cooking without her today. Nalini gave Devi specific instructions so that, regardless of how late her day ran, they could have dinner at a reasonable time. Devi did not follow those instructions. Nalini came home to the door unlocked, closed but unlocked, the house a mess, and Devi’s part of dinner not made. No matter how many breaths she took, Nalini was mad. No, mad didn’t quite cover it. She silently walked up the stairs, hell-bent on seeing what caused this disaster, and if she didn’t like the reason she planned to riff for the rest of the night. But approaching Devi’s door she found it ajar. She peeked inside, and that's where she found them.

After winning his swim meet, Paxton was on top of the world. The school day had been what it tended to be, light. Filled with class and hanging with his friends in the hotpocket. But that was hours ago. It was early evening when he saw her, Devi Vishwakumar, they had sort of become friends over recent weeks but given the up and down nature of their relationship, Paxton was always very aware of her. Devi had a way of grabbing Paxton’s attention. He was always trying to figure her out. Of course she made a hell of a first impression, first couple of impressions actually. Devi was sorely different from anyone else in his circle and Paxton wasn’t yet sure how he felt about the sudden invasion. He pretended he didn’t but after unintentionally watching her Paxton began to notice Devi’s change in mood sometimes. Like right now, from where Paxton was he saw the set of her shoulders. The tension was apparent as Devi stalked across the school grounds. Confusion flooded Paxton’s mind and before another thought could register, he was jogging towards her.

“ Hey, Vishwakumar, wait up! ” He called towards her but she didn’t stop

Devi cast a look over her shoulder, her voice was muffled when she spoke, “Uh, Hi Paxton, I can’t talk.” her voice cracks, “I’m in a bit of a rush.”

Paxton slows down for a second as he takes in the situation, Devi speeds up.

“Are you okay?”

Devi breaks into a dead sprint and Paxton doesn’t think, he just follows.

Devi was doing okay. Today was harder than most for a reason she couldn’t name but Devi was making it through. That was until last period art class. The teacher gave a simple assignment, and that was to paint your happiest memory. Immediately when the words left his mouth, a memory came flooding into Devi's mind like a tidal wave.

Devi was 8 when her father convinced her mother that going to a Californian beach as a family would be an adventure. Devi barely remembers the build-up, it was a haze of packing sandwiches and equipment. Leaving the house, only to discover something had been forgotten. A car ride that seemed to stretch into forever. But the beach was magnificent. At least it was in Devi’s memory. It was a gloomy day, the threat of rain looming, so the beach’s visitors were far and few in between. Devi remembers that feeling of warm sand under her feet. She remembers those first fragile steps into the tide, only to rush back as the ocean crashed forward chasing her back to shore. She could see her mom, in the distance, setting up their makeshift camp for the day. She was more content watching her family than participating. The ocean was vast and blue and terrifying. Devi could not urge herself to take more than a few steps. Devi doesn’t know how her dad saw her distress but it was like he could read her mind. He grabbed her and lifted her high then settled Devi on his shoulders. He insisted that she was safe there, she was too high for the ocean to ever reach. He held her hand as he walked slowly but confidently further into the waves. He stopped just as the water kissed her mid-calf but it was enough. From way up here, with her father by her side, the ocean wasn’t anything to fear, it was something to marvel at.

Devi had a firm picture in her mind of her happiest memory and it was her family’s adventure at the beach. But Devi couldn’t make a move to make this image a reality. Sadness crept up on her and got a vice grip on her heart. Her vision blurred and she couldn’t breathe. How had she ever breathed before? Was it always this hard? The bell rang, signaling the end of the day but Devi was on autopilot. Eleanor and Fabiola felt miles away, whenever they’d focus in the daze of her mind, the grip on her heart tightened and dragged her back to darkness. Devi doesn’t know if she said goodbye to her best friends,

She blinked, band began

She inhaled, band was over

She stood, the sun was setting

She gazed, the stress stiffened her movements as she walked around campus. Where was she headed?

Devi was desperate for light, for clarity.

“ Hey, Vishwakumar, wait up! ” The sudden noise broke the muddle, if only for now, she was again aware of the devastation and loss weighing on her mind and on her heart.

She recognized that voice and it was getting closer, she glanced over her shoulder. Paxton, no no no, she didn’t want anyone to see this least of all her newest and most popular friend, “Uh, Hi Paxton, I can’t talk.” Why was her voice cracking? “I’m in a bit of a rush.”

Devi finally knew where she wanted to go as she increased her speed.

“Are you okay?” Paxton’s question was the final straw, she couldn’t stop her tears and they fell uncontrollably past her cheeks. Paxton was going to catch up, and Devi was crumbling by the second. So Devi did the only thing she could. She ran, ignoring the echo of the beating steps behind her.

Nalini could hardly comprehend the scene playing in front of her. Devi, her only child, her entire world, looked so small folded up on the floor in front of her bed. Devi was always so strong, with a personality larger than life. She always seemed bigger than her stature, always taking up more space. Nalini's anger from the day deflates, leaving no trace it was ever there to begin with. Nalini tears her eyes away from the form of her daughter to take in the room. It was dark but the other figure inhabiting the room was clear as day. Paxton sat before Devi, his body language soft. He had one hand on the arms Devi wrapped around herself as he spoke to her gently. Paxton’s volume was soft as a whisper, any louder would shatter the delicate atmosphere. Witnessing this scene felt like a secret and the longer Nalini stood there the guiltier she felt. Devi never expressed emotions this deeply to her. Everyday problems with her friends or tests or Ben Gross, yes. But Devi never shared this.

Nalini's mind was going a million miles an hour as he crept back down the steps and began cooking dinner. She knew Devi would refuse but she needed to have something ready, just in case. When everything was mostly done, she was quiet as she moved around the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the meal. Nalini knew he was trying to walk silently but she still caught Paxton as he descended the steps. Nalini kept her back to him as she called, giving Paxton an out if he needed.

“Paxton?”

“Um...yes, Hi Mrs. Vishwakumar” at the acknowledgment, Nalini felt comfortable enough to turn around.

Paxton was standing in the doorway, shuffling in obvious discomfort. What he expected her to say she didn’t know. Gods, neither did Nalini. Questions flew through her mind faster than she could catch them. She didn’t want to ask him about what happened, Nalini wanted Devi to share when, if, she was ready. Nalini realized, amongst these questions, that she didn’t know Paxton. Here was this kid, late in the evening comforting her daughter. She couldn’t even be upset that they were home alone when she recalled how broken Devi looked. All Nalini had done thus far was judge Paxton, he looked like a jock so she thought him dumb. She made these assumptions about him, that he’d peak in high school or that he was shallow or that he was a walking STI, but they were just that. Assumptions. This kid stayed with her daughter for she didn’t even know how long, she’d been cooking for close to an hour so it was at least that.

All these guesses and judgments were useless when she stood in front of him. Paxton had a rigid set to his limbs, Nalini thought it was probably from sitting in one position for so long, and he was still dressed in gym clothes. Paxton looked new in Nalini’s eyes and she regretted never wanting to know him before now. Nalini didn’t know where to begin, she wondered if he’d eaten.

“Would you like something to eat?” Nalini's silent prayer must’ve been heard because he accepted. She was being given another chance. She quickly worked around the familiar space, grabbing one of the good containers and piling more food than necessary, successfully straining the unyielding plastic. She was handing the meal over when she paused, they both had a hand on the object between them but Nalini couldn’t let go, not yet.

“Thank you, Paxton, really, I don’t know what happened and I won’t ask but I saw what you did for Devi.” Paxton had the decency to look a little shocked. He hadn’t heard anything. Paxton was too absorbed before. His mind was a broken record repeating only, Devi.

The moment shatters when the front door opened, “I’m home!” Kamala’s voice fills the silent home. With the trance broken, Nalini’s hold on the container falters and she drops her hand allowing Paxton to leave. Words were failing him so all Paxton could give was a tightlipped smile in response.

“Thanks for the dinner.” Paxton’s smile was looser now and that gave Nalini courage.

Kamala was unloaded the day around her but Nalini was focused on making this right, “You’re welcome to come by Paxton, anytime.” She could only hope Paxton knew just how much she meant those words. His smile was burdened but bright, he nodded strongly and then he was out the door.

Kamala was fixing the table for a very late dinner when she called for Devi to join, Nalini hoped she would. “Who was that? And why was he here so late?” Pure curiosity laced Kamala’s voice.

“Paxton is one of Devi’s friends. He’s a good kid.”

Those details were all she could provide before Devi came bouncing down the steps. Nalini couldn’t be sure if it was the fact of what she saw or reality but Devi’s movements looked heavier than they normally were.

“What’s up guys?” Devi’s voice feigned casualness, “Dang mom, isn’t it late for a thousand-course meal?” She questioned as she took in the lack of clear surfaces on the dinner table.

Nalini just brushed it off, indicating for everyone to take a seat. “So how was everyone’s day?”

Nalini wasn’t looking for Devi to share but this was her family. She would always want to hear how they were, plus it was tradition. As they consumed insane amounts of food they were bound to regret eating this late at night, everything felt so normal and easy. But something had shifted in Nalini today and even though it was new and she was scared to death of this person entering Devi’s life with the propensity to hurt her. Nalini can’t say she minded too much because it was Paxton. He had proven himself worthy of a chance, and Nalini wouldn’t soon forget it.

[ateezmakemeweep]

on one condition.

seonghwa x reader; a walk to remember au

word count: 19k

angst, fluff (tw: mentions of death and terminal illness)

park seonghwa had always been a troubled boy. 

and not in the cheesy, cliche 'bad boy' way, like he's parading around town with a motorcycle and worn leather jacket. 

in the 'he has absolutely no regard for himself or others' type of way. he doesn't care if he hurts himself in an attempt to prove he's the best nor does he care if he hurts anybody with his words or fists.

this all started fairly early in his life, showing questionable behaviors at the ripe age of eleven.

it started with skipping classes, asking to go to the bathroom and then meeting his friend's outside on the field; there had never been a child sent to the principal's office as many times as him that year.

by middle school, it had quickly escalated. 

vandalizing obscene objects and words onto the bathroom stall or spray painting on the back of the school. he was intelligent though, both naturally book and street smart, so he knew to wear black attire and a mask; he was only almost caught once.

his last few years of high school now consist of women and fighting.

because if he wasn't pounding into the newest girl of the week, telling her that that was fun but she knows where the door is, he was smacking some kid's head off the pavement for no other reason than that he could. 

that he had such uncontrollable rage in his body, probably from being stuck with and accustomed to the delinquent ways of his friends, that it was the only thing to make him feel better.

because he couldn't deny it, he didn't like who he was.

you had always been a good girl. 

and quite literally in the cheesy, cliche way: sweaters and a nonexistent dating life and your nose always in a book if you weren't at the church your dad preached at every sunday.

you didn't mind your simple, solitary life. 

you had gotten used to being alone and you didn't ever care when people made fun of you for it. because you liked your sweaters and reading and even spending your days after school tutoring younger kids.

it was a place you went every monday through friday, accustomed to the children and other helpers, mainly teachers, that were in the stuffy school library. 

you were surprised to see none other than park seonghwa walk through the doors one afternoon, looking around at the layout of bookshelves and tables like it's the first time he's ever seeing it.

you tried not to watch him float around the room, a blank expression on his face as he settled for standing in front of the main desk waiting for instruction. he was leaned against the wood with his arms folded and jaw set, a very obvious distaste and annoyance present on the boy.

you continued to work with the younger 7th grader who couldn't quite grasp the concept of solving for x, ignoring the way the head teacher pranced over and spoke hushly to the boy.

"and what exactly are you doing here, mr. park?"

seonghwa felt dread fill him immediately, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the teacher who kicked him out of class everyday back in tenth grade.

"tutoring," is all he says, surprised and ready to punch the older man in the mouth when he lets out a scoff.

because apparently after your third strike for starting a brawl in the cafeteria, the only options were suspension or helping out the very understaffed, depressing after-school programs along with an extra research project.

"how long?" the boy asked the principal who sat across from him, a large man with kind eyes despite the destruction the student in front of him has brought into the school since the day he started.

"the rest of the year, mr. park."

seonghwa's eyebrow raised as he truly considered suspension. 

because at least that would only be two weeks of sleeping in and dicking around, not eight months of excruciating 'volunteer' work with bratty preteens and mundane class work. 

that's why he got up and went towards the doorway, throwing a mock wink at the man.

"i think i'll take the suspension, sir."

but the chipper man laughed like he was told the funniest joke he's ever heard, rising from his throne and walking over to pat seonghwa's shoulder. 

"you'll start on monday in the library."

and now he sees he severely underestimated just how tragic today was gonna be, sitting across from a boy who's just as pissed off as him about being here.

"what do you need help with?" seonghwa finally asks after five minutes of silence, leaning back in his chair as he observes the scrawny boy.  

"i don't know, i don't even need this stupid help," the younger boy snaps, the words already getting under seonghwa's skin. "they forced me to be here."

"well, that makes two of us," he mumbles, his eyes moving to the test paper sticking out of the boy's backpack marker with red x's. "but it seems like you do need help, kid. a 42 is shitty."

your eyes widen hearing those words fall from his mouth, clearing your throat and throwing him a chastising look when he meets your gaze; he only rolls them and moves his stare into the kid's beady, brown eyes.

"now don't waste my time and i won't waste yours. open your book," seonghwa demands, the coldness in his tone visibly throwing off the boy.

you feel your heart grow heavy at the student's dejected, frustrated face, your chest burning with the need to yell at and scold seonghwa.

because that's the last way to approach a child already struggling and getting in trouble by his teachers and parents. 

he needs to be shown the problem in different ways until he finds out which one works for him and that's through someone's patience, kindness and genuine desire to help them - which is exactly what you tell seonghwa when 4:30 rolls around.

"thanks for the advice, y/n, but i think i'll be getting this shit over with my own way," he says, glaring at you before he attempts to leave.

you're quick to squeak out "wait," walking around until you're standing in front of him.

"look, i know you probably don't wanna be here," you tell him softly, gently, like the way you talk to kids who also don't wanna be doing work they don't understand. "but you can't take it out on them. you need to at least be nice and try to help him not only pass but also understand it. that's the whole-"

"I could give a shit if the kid passes or not," he snaps at you, pinched glare roaming over your face. "we're all not perfect little angels like you, y/n."

he's known you since elementary school, has watched you parade around with ugly sweaters and books and entertain the kids people avoid because they either spit on you when they talk or go on for hours about nonsense.

some people might find that commendable, that you give everyone a chance and seem to be completely pure and good, but he finds it incredibly irritating - he always had, watching you grow up through the years and feeling some sense of pity for you. 

because no one could genuinely be that kind and unbothered by the fact that they have no friends. that they smile in the faces of their bullies and give even the weirdest of kids the time of day.

"that's not why i'm saying it, seonghwa," you tell him softly. "i just want you to take this seriously. these kids need help."

"they need help when you're the one tutoring kids for fun," seonghwa scoffs, feeling himself grow more agitated and bitter as he talks down to you. "i don't know if you realize how sad that is."

but then in a strange twist of fate, it feels like you're the one talking down to him. because you can only find it in you to shake your head at him and meet his tense gaze.

"more sad than you needing to be forced to help anyone but yourself?"

whether he wants to admit it or not, your comment rings in his head for the rest of the day. he knows he's selfish and a bit of a dick but hearing it put so bluntly to his face causes his chest to churn uncomfortably.

"what does that bitch know anyway?" hongjoong coughs out after passing him a joint. "she's been a tight ass since birth."

"and it's only gotten worse with age," san says before he lets out a thoughtful hum. "but you know... she'd probably be hot if she wasn't such a prude."

the two boys in front throw him a disgusted look, seonghwa blowing smoke directly in the boy's face. 

"you're that desperate for a fuck, huh?"

san swats at the smoke around his face, rolling his eyes at his friends glassy, red eyes. 

"no! i'm just saying."

seonghwa can only picture you in his mind, sporting your ugly green sweater and worn sneakers, bare face looking at him with wide, innocent eyes and softly spoken words.

"don't see it," the boy grumbles out, hongjoong snorting next to him as he reaches out to grab the joint back.

"you know he could be on to something though," the driver says, placing the paper between his lips. "it's always the quiet ones who are freaks."

"ha, like you'd know pussy boy," san says, earning a loud smack on his mouth. 

seonghwa can only smirk at his two friends, knowing damn well you're the type of girl who's probably gonna die a virgin.

"so what do you know about acute triangles?" seonghwa asks the boy, clenching his fists under the table because how fucking hard is it to remember this?

he'd been working with him for almost two weeks now and he's been slowly making progress. 

some would say that the improvement in itself was a good sign but seonghwa was convinced if the boy had someone more cut out for this, he would've learned it by now.

he wouldn't be staring down at the blank paper with a questioning gaze on his face or religiously spend the first thirty minutes in a tense silence.

"there are....three angles," the boy says, uncertainty laced in his tone; seonghwa can only nod his head because wow, yeah, good job.

"okay. and what about them?"

the boy swallows nervously, eyes boring in to his like he's gonna help him out - he only stares back blankly, raising his eyebrow challengingly. 

and once the student sees that, remembers seonghwa's harshly spoken words reminding him to pay attention in class so they can both stop this bullshit, he blurts out "i don't know!"

seonghwa lets out a sigh, running a hand through his hair before shaking his head. the boy lets out a loud, frustrated groan, throwing his pencil across the room and springing up from his chair.

"fuck this! this is so stupid!"

you watch as seonghwa just stares at the boy with a raised eyebrow, his arms crossed over his chest and you just know he's trying not to roll his eyes or scream back. 

before the man can say anything 'comforting' back, the younger student stomps off and rips open the library door.

several other kids softly murmur to each other before they get back to work, your eyes moving to seonghwa who hasn't uncrossed his arms. you quietly tell the student you're working with to try the next problem by themselves, walking over to seonghwa and taking the previously occupied seat.

"he's just frustrated," you tell him softly, hoping to ease the obvious tension on seonghwa's face and body. 

you had trouble when you first started too, remember feeling dejected and upset that the kids would get mad, and thinking that you couldn't help them.

his eyes flicker to meet yours but he's quick to look away, seeing the soft compassion and care in them; it always makes him uncomfortable when someone doesn't look at him in disgust or annoyance.

"what do you want from me?"

he misses your face fall ever so slightly, a quiet sigh leaving your mouth as you shrug your shoulders. 

"i just wanna help you, seonghwa," you tell him softly, knowing it's important for both of them to get something out of this. "it might help teaching him in a different way. maybe something he can relate to more."

"and how do you recommend i do that, princess?" he snarls at you, shoving his seat back and stomping towards the exit. 

you notice the head teacher's about to say something when you catch his gaze and shake your head slowly; to your surprise, he lets the boy go with a simple roll of his eyes.

you continue working with your student until 4:30 rolls around, your eyes occasionally moving to the empty table and library door. neither seonghwa nor his student ever came back and it causes a sinking feeling in your stomach.

you wait around for five extra minutes, cleaning the tables and putting your books away before figuring both of the unmotivated boys just ditched. as you're walking out the door to your car, you hear the familiar sound of a basketball bouncing off the gym floor.

so, albeit nosily, you peek your head in and feel your lips quirk up when you see seonghwa's tall frame next to the boy. the two of them are standing a few feet away from the hoop, a rare hint of a smile on the man's face as the both of them move around the floor.

"so this would be a....?" you hear seonghwa ask, the boy immediately responding with "acute angle! and it's less than 90 degrees," who then proceeds to take the ball from him and shoot; in a tragic turn of events, he misses.

seonghwa lets out a playful scoff as he catches the ball with ease.

"used all your brain power for that you can't even get it in, huh?" he teases, throwing the ball with one hand and watching with a cocky smirk as it shoots through.

"you're a showoff," the boy mumbles and you bite your lip so you don't let out a giggle, watching as seonghwa dribbles the ball away from the boy who chases after him. 

you leave the gym as chuckles ring through the air, feeling your heart tug at the fact in all the years you've known seonghwa, you think that’s the first time you've heard him laugh.

you're surprised to see his good mood carries over into the next day. 

sure, he's not being overly happy or nice but he's genuinely helping the student with his work, a focused expression and strong voice as he explains the problems slowly. 

you try to contain your smile, thinking maybe your hope in him isn't misplaced until you decide to tell him he's doing a good job.

"what?"

"you're working well with him," you say softly, turning to wave at the boy when you hear him say goodbye to you both. "he really seems to be getting better."

"yeah," is all he says, tone clipped and short. 

you look over to see his jaw is tight, body defensive and on alert so it's probably in your best interest to not mention you seeing them in the gym yesterday.

"it's hard at first for everyone,” you continue encouragingly. “but then i think once you break that barrier, it's gonna get-"

"why are you talking to me, y/n?"

his short, harsh tone causes your face to fall and for a split second, he feels bad. 

he knows you're just doing what you always do, showing people unwavering decency and kindness, but those are things he, both, can't relate to and finds makes him uncomfortable. 

he doesn’t want you to think just because he helped one kid out that means he's a reformed pupil.

"i just wanted to-"

"well don't," he says, picking up his bag and throwing it over his shoulder. "it's bad enough i have to do this. i don't need you talking down to me also."

"i'm not talking down to you/ it's called encouragement, seonghwa."

"then don't encourage me. just ignore me the way i intend to ignore you." 

you're left alone in the library watching the door slam behind him.

and true to his word, he doesn't look your way or entertain conversation with you for the rest of the week. anytime your eyes meet, he'd quickly advert them and makes sure to be out the door the second the clock strikes 4:30.

and today, as you rush to your car in the pouring rain, you mull over in your head what you could have possibly done to the boy to make him so wary of you. 

time and time again, you've just tried to help him. give him advice and make the whole process easier for him but he just lashes out.

then again, you haven't done anything to the general population at school and they still make fun of you. and it's for the stupidest of things: your 'grandma sweaters' apparently the bane of their existence or the fact that you're studious and care about your schoolwork.

you don't allow their words to get to you, though, because you were taught to always be kind and respect others. that if people are mean to you, it's because they're unhappy about something within themselves.

even so, a part of you has always been intrigued by park seonghwa, whether it be because of his obvious good looks or some feeling deep within you that knows he's not as bad as he portrays himself to be. 

through the rain as you think, you see the drenched boy, hood up and head down, as he walks on the sidewalk.

you don’t even think twice about pulling up next to him, roll down your window and ignore the way he side-eyes you.

"do you want a ride?" you ask him quietly, surprised he's even heard you over the roar of the rain; but he's quick to shake his head silently and continue on his way. 

you let out a sigh before following behind him, asking him one more time because he really is drenched and it's starting to get dark and cold.

"you're gonna get sick," you say to him, causing the boy to stop in his tracks and stare you down.

"and what does that matter to you?"

you only raise your eyebrow at him, reaching over to open the door and smiling softly as an invitation. he rolls his eyes as he huffs, looking down at his drenched sneakers and feeling it seep into his socks.

some part deep within him feels ashamed to accept your kindness after the way he's treated you but he gets in and slams the door anyway. a real stand up guy he is.

"happy?" he grumbles. 

you only smirk as you hum softly, eyes peering down to the seatbelt buckle before going back to the road. you feel his gaze on you as you drive, a loud huff leaving him after you stop at the third stop sign.

"what?" you ask, looking both ways before taking your foot off the break.

"how the hell do you get anywhere," he grunts out in annoyance, feeling around in his pocket for a cigarette and agitated when he finds he doesn't have a pack on him.

"it appears i drive like a grandmother, too," you mumble, a snort leaving his nose as he shakes his head.

a few moments of silence pass before you stop at a red light. 

"i don't get you," he suddenly says, causing you to look over at him.

"what do you mean?"

"you really just... don't care about what other people think of you?"

you can't help but smile at the puzzled expression on his face, shrugging your shoulders as you look at him. 

"no."

his eyebrow raises, something about your soft, small smile causing him to squirm in his seat. 

"why not?"

"because why do they matter?" you ask quietly. "while i can, i'm gonna live the way i want."

a quiet hum leaves the boy's mouth, at the time not realizing how strange that sentence was coming from a teenage girl.

he just couldn't understand how a young person would want to live such a sad, quiet life between the covers of books and walls of church. how someone could go on smiling and being happy when they had no friends to make memories with.

"seems like a sad way to live," is all he finds himself saying, a smirk playing at your lips as your brain quips back with a sassy comment - but because you're you, your mouth doesn't open to respond. 

you simply shrug your shoulders again, looking back at the light just as it turns green.

the rest of the ride is silent as you make your way to seonghwa's, asking him a few times for directions until your car is sitting in front of his house.

"thanks, y/n."

"you're welcome, seonghwa."

he turns to you to see your gaze already on him, his eyes narrowing at you ever so slightly. you send him a small, innocent, almost unsure smile and he feels himself grow less guarded.

"i'll see you monday?" you ask, slightly uncomfortable by the silence as you two just look at each other with uncertainty. 

the boy next to you shakes himself out of his daze, stuttering out "y-yeah.”

he slams your door shut, not hearing your car pull away until he opens the door to his house.

after your tutoring session, you stayed behind at 4:30 to make a study guide for your student and expected to be the only one there - which is why you were surprised to hear footsteps coming your way and even more surprised when you met the familiar dark eyes of-

"seonghwa," you say as you put your pen down on the table. "what're you still doing here?"

"i could ask you the same thing," he says, peeking at the paper before taking the seat across from you.

that's when you knew he was about to ask for something, like a pardon from this 'stupid volunteer work' (as if you have the authority to do that) or to cover for him one day this week so he can go do whatever normal destruction he does on the weekdays.

because in all the years you've known park seonghwa, he has never initiated a conversation with you.

"i'm making a study guide for my student," you tell him. "she's still having a bit of trouble so i'm hoping this will help her."

he nods his head at you, resting his elbows on the table as he watches you write with concentration for a few silent minutes. 

"but i know you don't care about that," you say to him quietly before meeting his intense gaze. "so why are you here?"

he lets out a sigh, running his hand through his hair that seems to be out of nervousness - but in what kind of sick, confused world is a man like him nervous to talk to a girl like you?

"i need your help with something."

your eyebrow raises as you look at him, dropping your pen on the table and the noise echoes through the quiet, empty library.

"is... park seonghwa asking for my help?"

he rolls his eyes before blankly staring at you, the dead look in his eye causing you to giggle softly. 

"what do you need help with?"

your giggle and soft tone relax him ever so slightly, popping his neck to the side and you resist the urge to roll your eyes at his dramatics. 

"i'm- uh, i'm supposed to write a play for my class."

"okay..." you say as you nod your head. "and you need help...writing it? editing it? coming up with ideas?"

his mind starts to swarm with slight panic and uncertainty, completely out of his element and comfort zone. he doesn't know the first thing about writing fucking plays, you couldn't pay him enough money to even sit through one.

"uh...all of it," he says with a wince. "but i know you're like... a theater geek."

you can't help the snort that leaves you, shaking your head as you look at the boy in front of you. 

"a theater geek?"

"not like that," he says, tone desperate and unsure and you can hear how uncomfortable he is asking for help. "i just mean like you're probably...good at that stuff."

"ahh, because i'm a big fat nerd, right?"

his eyes close at the horrific turn this has taken; he can't even ask you for help without insulting you. 

"i didn't mean it like that, y/n."

you watch him for a few moments, hands in his hair as his leg starts to bounce and you decide to finally put him out of his misery. 

“i'm just kidding. i'll help you."

his head snaps up immediately, face once ridden by anxiety and panic full of surprise and relief. "really?!"

"really," you say with a smile. "but i'm only gonna assist you. you have to do most of it, okay?"

"yeah, right, of course," he grunts out, already bored and over this conversation.

"and you have to take it seriously. on the days we do it, you're gonna have to be focused, seonghwa."

"i wouldn't have put myself through this and asked you if i wasn't gonna take it seriously," he grumbles, watching you furrow your eyebrows at him and quickly realizing he's falling into his dick-ish ways before mumbling out an apology. 

"i mean, of course, yeah."

"thank yo-," he says before you cut him off.

"and on one more condition, seonghwa."

he raises his eyebrow at you, nodding his head as he looks at you awaitingly.  he knows it's probably gonna be something stupid like to try his very best or make it from the heart; but the last thing he expects to hear is:

"you have to promise you won't fall in love with me."

everything in him stills as he looks at you, trying to figure out if you're joking with him until he sees how seriously you're looking at him. he almost feels bad at the blatant laugh that bubbles out of him, his hand coming up to (fakely) wipe his mouth.

"uh...yeah, okay, that shouldn't be a problem," he says, humor and amusement heavy in his tone. it doesn't make you feel bad because you just nod your head and shrug your shoulders.

"okay!"

"okay," he says a few seconds later, a small grateful smile on his face. "thank you, y/n."

"you're welcome."

you can't help but smile back because it really seems as if he's trying to better himself now. 

apply himself more and show people that he's more than just some 'cool' guy who gets in trouble. he asked for help and that's the first step in anything required to get better and grow as person.

but sometimes people will ask for help, receive help, and it still won't be enough. 

because just the next day, you see him in the cafeteria with his group of friends. and perhaps it was ballsy of you in the first place to see him and hold his eye contact and greet him with a smile that only led him to divert his gaze.

that should've made it obvious that going over to him was not gonna be a good idea.

but you thought you were seeing a change in him, you were so excited to see him work with the students and take an initiative to do his project, so you walk over and say hi to him.

"hi, seonghwa," you say sweetly, waving at his friends who just look at you with a bewildered expression. "do you wanna start working on your play after tutoring today?"

the second him and his friends let out sarcastic laughs, you know he's about to disappoint you.

"i think you're lost, princess," he says, tone full of venom and spite. "we'd never do anything together."

"unless, of course, you're willing to show him what's under that sweater," his friend next to him says, his eyes roaming over your body and making you back up uncomfortably.

"hongjoong," the tallest one says warningly, like he's probably the only good one within this group.

"oh fuck off yunho, she needs a little fun."

your eyes never leave seonghwa's, the tight, hard look melting slightly since his bickering friends are now distracted. the change in them doesn't make you feel any better, instead nodding your head at him and quietly saying "okay, never mind then. sorry."

the fact that you apologize makes him feel like a piece of shit for the rest of the day, even caused him to lash out at hongjoong for saying that pervy comment to you and then get kicked out of his last class.

which is how he catches you right before tutoring starts at 3:15, grabbing you by the elbow and ushering you into the tiny computer lab against your softly-spoken protests. 

he closes the door behind him and turns to see you staring at him blankly.

"just hear me out, y/n."

"i don't think there's anything to hear out," you tell him softly. "you made it obvious you don't need my help anymore."

you're about to go around him when he grabs your arm again, your body stiffening immediately causing him to let go. 

"i'm sorry, i shouldn't...i shouldn't have done that."

it's like the fact that he knows it was wrong is making it worse. he knew it would hurt you and make him look bad but he did it anyway to prove a point to his friends.

"but you did," you say quietly. "and i know you don't care, seonghwa, but i really thought you were trying to be better."

he lets out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance; he really knows how to fuck things up.

"i was. i am. that's why i need your help. please y/n."

a group of kids come barreling through, the girl you're working with catching your eye as she takes a seat at the normal table. you meet seonghwa's gaze that's staring down at you, eyes regretful and tense.

you know it's only because now he's not getting something out of you, not because he genuinely cares about you being upset and disappointed.

"the drama teacher is really nice," you tell him softly, sending him a small smile as you tighten your bag around your shoulder. "you could probably sit in with her and get some pointers."

"but i wanted you to-"

he can't even finish his sentence when you move passed him and out the door, his body whirling around to see you wave at the curious younger girl. 

he watches you meet his gaze once more before they flicker back down to the table, your heart sinking every so slightly because you were stupid to think he was capable of changing.

seonghwa was shocked by how much it annoyed him that you were ignoring him. 

that anytime he tried to get your attention, you would just smile dismissively and busy yourself. that you no longer lingered at the end of the day or gave him words of praise and encouragement that used to piss him off so badly.

it, oddly enough, made the next few weeks drag on even longer, his afternoons now an even more dull and dreary experience.

that's why on friday, purely out of selfishness, he ended his session with the boy five minutes early and waited outside the library like some sort of creep; if this was the only way to talk to you, it appeared he was gonna do it.

you open the door to leave, fishing through your backpack for the keys buried at the bottom, and look up just in time so you don't smack right into seonghwa's large frame.

"hi."

you narrow your eyes at him, his body and face lacking its usual confidence and smugness.

"hi."

the two of you just look at one another, your eyes confused and awaiting while his hold a twinge of insecurity and nervousness.

you had been making it a point to steer clear of him these past weeks, dodging him in the hallways and cafeteria when you noticed him and completely avoiding his presence during tutoring.

"are you gonna make me beg?"

your eyebrows shoot up at his lowly spoken words, head turning to the side in confusion. 

"what?"

"i miss your stupid encouragement, okay," he blurts out suddenly. "and i miss talking to you. i want...i want you to help me with my play."

you let out a shaky exhale, crossing your arms over your chest and trying to gauge his mood. he could just be saying all of this to get what he wants and make his life easier.

"what's wrong with the drama teacher?" you ask him. "she's nice. i'll even ask her if you can-”

"she's not you."

you swallow the lump in your throat at his words, panicking slightly at how your heart and stomach just reacted; you should not be so effected by him after the way he's treated you.

"that's kind of the point," you tell him, voice strong despite the way you're shaking inside. "it seems as if that's what you wanted the other week."

he lets out an annoyed huff, taking a few steps closer to you and looking straight at you. 

"that was wrong and i'm sorry, y/n, i am," he says to you, watching your gaze soften as he all but begs you. "but i'm trying here. and i need your help."

you truly take the time to assess him, look him up and down to gauge if he really is trying -  you suppose you won't really be able to tell until you start working with him though. 

and you can't ignore the fact that, no matter how he's treated you or anyone else, he's here and genuine and asking for help again.

a sigh leaves your mouth as you shake your head at him, cursing the fact that's he's not only handsome but persuasive (or at least sly enough to pick the right victims that can't say no to helping people).

the silence that stretches between you two makes him ready to jump out of his skin, not knowing at all what to make of your flickering eyes and blank expression.

he nearly topples over when you mutter out “fine. but all the same conditions still apply, seonghwa. even if you're...embarrassed to be seen with me, we still have to do the work and-"

"i'm not embarrassed," he's quick to clarify, your eyebrow shooting up at his blatant lie. "i'm not," he repeats.

you shake your head at him before taking out your car keys and swirling them around your finger. 

"well, whatever, it doesn't even matter," you tell him quietly. "just get ready to start working next week, okay?"

the boy nods, thanking you one more time and feeling a twinge in his chest when you smile back and send him a little wave. 

he didn't expect to feel so much lighter after the conversation, no longer having a pit in his stomach or hearing that small voice in the back of his head scream at him.

but because he's not completely reformed, he distracts himself with one of the many girls interested in him or with his friends as they smoke and drive around their boring little town.

the boring little town that has an eerie little cemetery just a few blocks from his house.

most days when he walks home, he goes the opposite way because there's something very unsettling to him about death and dying and mourning. he hadn't dealt with any loss in his life properly, going off the rails when his dad left and then again with alcohol and drugs when his grandpa died.

he was actually buried right in that cemetery and for whatever reason that sunday night, something was telling him to pass by and visit.

he turns the corner and catches the sight of your hair, stopping in his tracks to watch as you open the old, iron gate and walk right in the dark cemetery alone.

"what are you doing," he mumbles curiously to himself, his interest fully peaked as he speeds up his footsteps to follow after you.

he watches you weave in and out of the headstones, backpack in one hand and blanket in the other as you stand in front of a tombstone and bow your head to pray.

if anything makes him more uncomfortable than death, it's religion. 

maybe because he's not sure himself what or who he believes in, fascinated by people who can fully put all of their faith in something that has no proof. 

regardless, he waits until you raise your head and lay out your blanket, placing a few books down next to you as you sit criss-cross style in front of the tombstone.

"so this is how you live on the edge huh? sneaking around a cemetery at night."

you jump at the teasing, deep voice, snapping your head to the side and smiling slightly at the sight of seonghwa. 

he's dressed in his usual all black, a sliver chain hanging from his neck and a beanie over his dark hair - devastatingly handsome, per usual.

"no sneaking," you tell him. "but that's you, apparently. i didn't even hear you come in."

he shrugs his shoulders as he sticks his hands in his pockets, eyes curiously taking in his surroundings. you watch him look around the cemetery with slight discomfort, his eyes focused on the back corner where a large oak tree stands.

"so were you actually following me?" you ask him, causing him to rip his gaze and look down at you. "or are you here to see someone?"

a few beats of silence pass before he answers.

"would it be weird to admit i followed you?"

a smile covers your face, teeth in your bottom lip as you try to contain a laugh. 

"not much weirder than me spending my sunday night in a cemetery, i suppose."

a short, deep chuckle leaves his mouth as he rocks on his feet, looking down at his boots so you don't see his own smile forming. 

"guess that's true,” he mutters lowly but you’re able to somehow catch it. he looks up when he hears your hand tapping on the blanket-covered ground. 

"you can sit, if you want."

for whatever reason, he accepts the invitation immediately. he keeps a good distance between the both of you, his butt just hanging off the edge as he can't help but stare at the headstone in front of him.

he wouldn't dare ask about it because how can he just so casually ask which dead relative of yours you're sitting in front of?

"my mom," you say quietly, because it's hard not to know what he's thinking. "she died giving birth to me."

his eyes widen at your confession, a low curse leaving his mouth. 

"shit."

you nod your head, placing your chin on your hand as you look at the death date. 

"yeah. it's always a little weird to see my birthday as the day she died."

seonghwa watches your face as you look at the tombstone, surprised not to see sadness or sorrow but the same look of compassion and pureness that always seems to be on your face. 

and now with the glow of the moon on you, he's realizing that you are kind of pretty. in a unique, natural way but pretty nonetheless.

if he thought he was surprised to be thinking these thoughts at a moment like this, he's even more surprised when he finds himself asking, "why do you come here then?"

the question holds no malice or judgement, just a genuine curiosity that you perhaps understand. while it's fairly common for people to visit their loved ones graves, it’s also something that some get uncomfortable with or don't understand.

"to talk to her, i guess. i think she'd wanna know what's going on in my life."

he mulls over your response in his head, nodding in understatement even though he doesn't really get it.

"what do you talk to her about?" and for the life of him, he can't understand why he's so interested in this. in you, all of the sudden.

you turn to look at him, slightly surprised that he's taking the lead in the conversation and showing an interest. you don’t want him to misconstrue your gaze on him so you quickly look back at the grave as you shrug your shoulders.

"anything really. i tell her about school or my dad's sermons or what i did during the weekend. sometimes i'll just read."

he nods his head again, looking over at the grave and wondering how much this piece of stone has heard about your life.

do you tell it how people treat you at school? how much you volunteer your time to help others and make them better? maybe even how you've been trying to help him but might see him as a lost cause.

he hears the sound of a paper rustling and turns his head to see you, pen in hand, scribbling down something on your book; even though it's nosy and intrusive, he peaks over out of curiosity.

"bucket list?" he asks aloud. 

a smirk pulls at your lips as you nod your head silently, scribbling down a #4 on the page.  "do you have one?" you ask him quietly, meeting his eyes that are boring into the side of your face.

"can't say i do," he hum, "although i definitely have a lot of stuff i wanna do."

"like what?" you ask, trying not to show just how interested you are in finally getting to know something about this elusive boy. it falls flat when you see him lower his head and shrug his shoulders, immediately closing himself back up.

"i don't know," he mumbles, suddenly feeling embarrassed and on the spot.

you let out a small giggle, turning the page and ripping out a piece of paper before handing it to him. he looks down in surprise before taking it from your hands, your fingertips brushing and he can't help but notice how cold your skin is.

"writing it down might help."

you place the pen in between you both, letting the book lie on your lap as you lean back on your hands; his eyes can't help but fall down to peak at the page.

"fall in love, get married, see the ocean," you hear his deep voice read before he sees ".....get a tattoo?!" he asks, voice raising slightly as he looks at you in surprise.

"is that so hard to believe?" you ask, a mock expression of hurt on your face. he chuckles trying to picture you with a sleeve of tattoos, your pastel pink sweater rolled up your arms and showcasing an array of colors.

"kind of, yeah," he laughs out, smiling when your own giggles rings through the cold night air.

"why do you even have one though?" he asks a few moments later, trying to distract himself from the way your giggle just made his heart swell. 

"don't only people who are like..." he cringes as he remembers you are both sitting surrounding by corpses. "don't you only make these when you're gonna die? get news that you have like a year left to live or something?"

and just like in the car that day, he doesn't think about how sadly cryptic your answer is. how odd the dreary words sound coming from the mouth of a high school girl whose only cares should be about prom or college acceptance letters.

"i could only have a year left to live," you tell him softly. "i could even only have a month left. you never really know, do you?"

he can only nod his head, furrowing his eyebrows because while your words ring true. 

"that's pretty fucking morbid, y/n."

a small chuckle leaves your mouth at his profanity, shrugging your shoulders as you turn around to look at him. 

"i guess but it's true though," you say, moving your hands side to side like you're showcasing a house and not a cemetery full of rotting bodies. "after all, look around."

a loud, surprised laugh leaves seonghwa's mouth as he looks at you, shaking his head half in amusement and half in astonishment - he’s never met anyone like you in his life.

"good point," he says, biting down on his lips desperate to quirk up into a large grin.

it's an odd place and time to spend the rest of the night sharing shy smiles and glances but it happens nonetheless.

by the end of the night, you're both convinced of something: you only further confirming your suspicions that this boy is so much more than the person he portrays himself to be and seonghwa thinking that maybe grandma sweaters and bucket lists aren't that bad after all.

the more you talked and spent time with seonghwa, the more you saw how great he was. 

you figured that night at the cemetery was a fluke, that if you ever dared mentioning it or tried to make it happen again he’d laugh in your face or feign confusion. 

so the surprise that ran through you when, at lunch, he plopped down in the seat across from you was truly overwhelming. you had looked side to side in confusion, thinking that maybe his friends all went out or that your budding friendship was all one big practical joke.

but his friends looked just as confused, eyebrows pinched together as they whispered and hit one another.

“your friend’s look confused,” you say quietly. “you should probably go back.” 

but without missing a beat, he just shrugs and takes out a tattered black notebook.

“fuck them.”

your eyes widen at his vulgarity, watching him with a curious, slightly cautious gaze before it softens as he meets your eyes. he holds out his book for you, a shy smile appearing on his face.

“i...wrote some of the beginning last night. do you wanna read it?”

the smile that lights up your face has that familiar twinge in his heart appearing, excitedly nodding as your fingertips brush when you take it. 

“the prologue,” you correct him gently as you read his opening lines. 

“the what?” he asks. 

a little giggle leaves your mouth as you continue to read, missing the way his eyes soften as he looks at you with admiration - but his friends don’t miss it. 

don’t miss the way he chooses to sit with you everyday for the next few weeks, the way your hands brush as you make edits on your paper and the way his eyes never leave you as you read over his corrections. 

“i’m gonna ask you straight up,” mingi asks when he’s over seonghwa’s one night. “what’s going on with you and church girl?”

the boy can only look up from his notebook, shaking out his aching hand as he raises his eyebrow at the boy. 

“what?” 

the taller boy can only roll his eyes, going over to the open window as he lights a cigarette. 

“you like her.”

“mingi...” seonghwa says warningly, not wanting to get into this right now; they’d been giving him shit every chance they got, poking fun at his newfound desire to succeed in school.

“i’m not giving you shit, i just wanna know,” the boy says, “because it seems pretty obvious.”

seonghwa rests his feet on his desk as he looks over at the boy, letting out a sigh when he sees how genuine and indifferent he looks. 

“i might,” he says because it’s a fact he’s been mulling over since that night at the cemetery. 

ever since then, he’s been overwhelmingly eager to see you and please you. 

he keeps wanting to show you time and time again that he’s capable of doing this work and tutoring the kids. keeps wanting to see that happy smile that lights up your face or your soft voice squealing about how good his play is coming along.

“you might,” mingi laughs out, blowing smoke out the window as he shakes his head. “you absolutely do.” 

“i’m gonna push you out that fucking window,” seonghwa grunts, a smirk crossing the boy’s face as he shakes his head.

“that’s not very holy of you,” his friend says, sarcasm and teasing in his tone. “what ever would y/n say if she found out you-” 

mingi’s words are quickly cut off by high-pitched yells as he watches a cup of pencils and pens go hurling towards him. 

and whether it be a twist of fate or just pleasant circumstances, tutoring sessions on one friday afternoon are cancelled for construction in the library. 

the both of you look at one another and somehow know it’s mutually decided that you’re gonna work elsewhere, even though it’s friday and there’s a party going on at his friend san’s house.

“we only have to work for an hour,” you tell him as you guys step outside the school. “i know there’s a party tonight.”

“do you wanna come with me?” he blurts out before he can even stop himself, shocking the both of you. 

the boy would laugh at the terrified, wide-eyed expression on your face if he wasn’t so thrown off by how quickly and impulsively he asked that. 

“i...uh...don’t think that’s a good idea,” you say quietly, eyes trained on the floor shyly. you nearly fall right down when you feel his hand on your jaw, lifting your face so your glossy, nervous eyes meet his.

“nobody would mess with you if i was there,” he says lowly, the protective, confident words causing you to swallow nervously. you only shake your head slightly, the feeling of his hand on your face so foreign and bare-minimum but sending your heart into overdrive. 

“it’s not that, i’m just... i wouldn’t do well there.”

i wouldn’t be allowed.

his eyes search yours for any hint of a lie, that maybe you actually wanna go but fear that stupid girls or guys would make fun of you for whatever idiotic reason they can think of tonight. 

your small smile assures him even further.

“i probably wouldn’t do well there tonight, either then,” he says, your eyebrows furrowing as you look at his eyes shining with certainty. you’re about to ask him to clarify when he removes his hold on your face, taking your smaller hand in his cautiously.

“what are you-”

“you drive here today?” he asks and you can only find it in you to shake your head. 

“we’ll walk to my house then?” 

you stare blankly at him before looking down at your intertwined hands, feeling a blush creep on your face as you’re successfully rendered speechless. 

you hadn’t really know what to expect or feel holding someone’s hand but it definitely wasn’t this feeling of closeness and warmth and excitement. 

when you look up and he sees the pinkness on your cheeks, he can’t help but smile. 

seonghwa looks down at you questioningly, raising his eyebrow and looking at you until you stutter out “ye-yeah that’s..good.” he intertwines your fingers and pulls you along the sidewalk, holding your hand and occasionally looking down at you the entire way to his house. 

he ends up missing the party that night in exchange for writing, editing and playfully rehearsing his lines with you. his chuckle fills the room when you dramatically read his lines, giggles leaving your mouth when he cringes at the fact he wrote some of this dialogue. 

he drove you home after the sun had set, your hands intertwined as they rest on the console. shy gazes and quiet giggles fill the car, your softly spoken “goodnight seonghwa,” ringing through his head for the rest of the night. 

and then much to his dismay, after three months of preparation and work with you, his play was due. 

you had worked together in the library one last time, your encouragement and assurance that he would absolutely get an a filling the boy with an unfamiliar feeling of pride and excitement. 

he had worked hard, you both had worked hard, and he’d never been so excited to hand in an assignment in his life; it all had paid off because he was able to showcase a big, 100% to you in red ink.

“seonghwa!” you squeal, clapping your hands in the empty library and throwing your arms around him without a second thought. “i told you you were gonna do amazing!”

he can’t even think about your words with your arms around him, the feeling of your body against him the final confirmation for him that he 100% absolutely likes you (as mingi so juvenilely put).

you feel his body stiffen and realize what you’ve done, quickly drawing your arms back and flushing as you quietly apologize. 

but just as the words leave, his arms are around you and your head rests on his chest. once you’ve recovered from the shock, you allow your own arms to slowly go back around him, the two of standing in the empty library wrapped in each other’s arms. 

it’s a strangely intimate hug for just a good grade on a paper, your arms tight and hearts pounding as you feeling a buzzing in the air changing everything you’ve worked to build over these past months. 

“do one more thing for me, y/n?” you hear him lowly ask in your ear. 

you meet his gaze nervously, biting your lip as you stare at him with a wide-eyed gaze. “what?” you squeak, your voice barely coming out. 

“let me take you on a date.”

convincing your father to allow you on a date was one thing but convincing your father to allow you on a date with park seonghwa was damn near impossible. 

“dad,” you whine for the twentieth time that day.

“y/n, i’m telling you, i’m not comfortable with this.”

“you’re not even giving him a chance, dad,” you tell him softly at the table, your eyes trained on the clock that reads 6:50. “he’s gonna be here in ten minutes.”

whether your dad approved or not, you were going on this date. 

you had gone your whole life without dating or boys or even having a crush and now you were overwhelming ready to try it out. despite your nervousness and despite the fact you have absolutely no experience, you’re excited.

seonghwa has brought out something in you that was suppressed for so long, that you only read about in books or watched in other couples - now with your shy smiles and intertwined hands under the table at lunch, you’re convinced that he’s your first love. 

“y/n, i’m uncomfortable with this for more than one reason,” he says, sadness and apprehension in his tone; it makes your heart sink a little bit. 

why does he have to bring this up now? why can’t he just let you have one night to be a normal teenager?

“why, dad?” you ask, voice far too even and calm even though you already know where this is headed. he can tell too, because he grabs your hand from across the table and squeezes it apologetically. 

“i’m not trying to upset you,” he says, “i just don’t know if you should start something when...”

“i’m fine though. i feel fine.” 

his face turns into one of shock and confusion, not once hearing you snap at him; that’s when he notices that you look...different. 

a short-sleeved dress over your figure with a hint of blush and mascara on your face. your eyes flickering to the clock and door before back to him and he feels his heart pull in his chest. 

“i know you do,” he says, pulling his hand back and running it through his thinning hair. “you didn’t tell him, did you?”

“of course not,” you quickly get out. “there’s no need to tell him.”

“no need to-” the words die in his throat so he doesn’t start a fight or upset you just minutes before your first date. 

he knows that if you actually accepted to go out with a boy, you have to like him and there has to be some sort of...connection between the two of you. 

“what if this gets more serious?”

a knock at the door causes you both to jump, your neck snapping over to see seonghwa’s handsome face through the window. 

“then we’ll deal with that when it comes,” you tell him, voice serious and hushed. “just... please be nice, okay? he’s important.”

and with that, your dad watches you open the door and greet seonghwa with a smile, ushering him in as you giggle when he says something lowly. you drag him over by the hand, seonghwa and your dad standing only a few inches away from one another a sight you’d truly thought you’d never see.

“hi sir,” seonghwa says, his voice deep but friendly as he outreaches his had. “it’s nice to meet you, i’m-”

“park seonghwa,” the older man finishes, taking the boy’s hand roughly and shaking it before dropping his hold. “i see your mother church every sunday but i can’t say the same for you.”

“dad,” you whisper, face flushing in embarrassment. 

“it’s okay, y/n,” seonghwa says quietly before he looks your dad in the face. “i...probably should go more but-”

“no need to explain yourself to me, i was just saying,” he tells him, watching the way seonghwa’s face falls slightly and you narrow your eyes at him. “where are you guys going tonight?”

“just dinner, like i told you,” you say, voice tight and arm grazing seonghwa in an attempt to bring him comfort; even if he doesn’t need comfort, you need his skin on yours to ground you. 

your dad meets his gaze, causing seonghwa to quickly confirm the plans.

“yeah, just dinner,” he says, comforted by your arm touching his. “i borrowed my mom’s car.”

a quiet hum leaves your dad’s mouth and seonghwa feels the nervous pit in his stomach growing, like he’s judging him for being a possible satanist who still borrows his mommy’s car.  

even if he was thinking that, he smiles warmly at the both of you before reminding him to have you home by ten. 

“will do, sir,” he says, already telling himself to have you home by 9:55 so if anything, he’s at least punctual. you all but drag seonghwa out of the house, waving to your dad and thanking the boy quietly when he opens the car door for you. 

he starts the car and there’s a few moments of silence before he lets out a frustrated sigh. 

“he hates me.”

you let out a soft giggle as you shake your head, tapping his arm playfully. 

“he doesn’t, he’s just...protective.” 

seonghwa only looks at you, completely unconvinced if the blank stare he’s giving you is any indication. 

“okay, maybe a little,” you agree softly, the boy rolling his eyes away from you despite the smile on his face. 

you watch him drive and admire his sharp features, wondering how and why on earth this boy asked you on a date in the first place. he turns to look at you when the light turns red, his eyebrow quirked up when he sees you’re staring at him. 

“what?”

“nothing,” you say, shaking your head before you shyly say. “i just can’t believe you asked me on a date.”

he bites his lip to hide his smile, taking his hand off the wheel and taking your hand in his. 

“you look pretty,” he says suddenly, causing you to sharply inhale and nearly choke on air. 

you never imagined someone other than a family member or elderly woman at church calling you pretty, completely thrown off and unsure how to respond. the pinkness creeping up on your cheeks is a dead give away that it’s effecting you, his eyes roaming over your face as his smile finally breaks through.

“really pretty.”

and so you don’t completely go mute and dumb, you tease “it’s just because i’m not in a grandma sweater.” 

he only rolls his eyes and taps you on the nose. “i’ve come to really like those grandma sweaters.”

a quiet giggle leaves your mouth and he can only smirk as he looks back at the road. 

the light turns green and your heart flutters ever so slightly when instead of disconnecting your hands, he brings it to his lips to press a soft, sweet kiss.

your hands don’t disconnect when he pulls up to the restaurant nor when you walk in and wait to be seated. 

you look around at the other couples in the area and that’s when it hits you that you’re one of them. that right now, you’re on your first date and have absolutely no idea what you’re doing. 

“what’re you looking at?” he quietly hums in your ear, watching you look around at the other young couples embraced in a handhold or back hug. 

“nothing,” you say quietly before looking up at him. “i just... i’ve never been on a date before.”

his lips press against your head and you hear him laugh against it, your eyebrows furrowing as you smack his stomach lightly. 

“stop laughing,” you whine.

“but you’re cute,” he hums lowly. 

he hears you let out a sigh and disconnects his lips from your head, taking your cheeks in his hands and ignoring the way your eyes widen at the contact.

“just take a breath for me, okay?” he says lowly, staring down at your wide-eyed gaze and feeling such an overwhelming desire to kiss you. “it’ll be fine. there’s nothing to worry about.”

“but i don’t kn-”

“seonghwa, table for two,” a female voice interrupts. his eyes widen teasingly as a quiet gasp leaves his mouth. “let’s go, baby.”

and, of course, he was right. 

it was fine. 

the second you sat down and looked over the menus, you fell into a natural and teasing conversation that carried on for the rest of the date. everything was always light-hearted and fun, never delving into serious topics or issues. 

he paid the bill after eyeing you the second you pulled out your wallet, a blush crossing your face as you quietly mumble out your gratitude. he took your hand in his, you shyly looking down and watching your fingers intertwine as he leads you through the parking lot.

“where are we going now?” 

you look up at him and see him watching you with a small smirk, probably from the permanent blush on your face, and relishing in the fact that he’s the one that put it there. 

"you’ll see.”

the two of you walk hand-in-hand across the street, tiny squeals leaving your mouth as seonghwa abandons the crosswalk signs and runs straight across. low chuckles leave his mouth as he tightens his hold on your hand, dragging you in front of him and shaking his head.

“you think i’m gonna let you get hit by a car?”

“i just don’t know why you couldn’t wait,” you say, amusement in your voice. “do you have to always prove you’re just such cool rule-breaker?” 

his eyes widen at your uncharacteristic snark, a smirk playing at his lips that only makes your small, smug smile grow wider. 

“rule-breaker, huh?” he hums. “is that what you really think of me? i got a 100 on my play, you know.”

a laugh bubbles out of your mouth as you roll your eyes playfully, your heart soaring because you just know how proud he actually is of that. something about it is so cute, that he now knows he’s capable of succeeding and doing well.

“oh right, i’m sorry,” you tease, looking up at him to admire his smiling face in the setting sun. you don’t know if it’s just because you hadn’t known him well or only saw him in bad situations but you never noticed just how sweet his smile is. 

you see the exact moment something in his eyes change, your gaze following his before you let out at tiny gasp.

to all the places this boy could’ve taken you, like some sort of underground ring or a crazy house party, you’re both standing in front of-

“a playground?” you squeal, trying to contain the childlike excitement building in you. 

“yeah, is that stupid?” he asks, an unsure smile on his face as he looks down to gauge your reaction. he watches your eyes traveling from the swings and slides, feet wiggling beneath you and feels his heart soften even more. 

your neck then snaps up to look at him, a shy smile on your face as you quickly shake your head. 

“not at all,” you say, tightening your hold on his hand. “i just wouldn’t expect that from you.”

“and why’s that?” he asks, dipping his head ever so slightly as his words fan over your ear. “it’s against the rules to go into a playground at sunset.”

your eyes widen when you look up at, a tiny scoff leaving your mouth. but before you can get the words out to chastise him, he pulls you towards the fence that is short and easy enough for you both to climb over.

“are you sure you’re okay?” seonghwa asks, bent down with his hands on your knees, watching you breathe heavily as you sit on the swing.

the two of you had run around the playground like children, racing down the slide and then chasing after each other when one of you lost. 

you squealed as he caught you around the waist, his hands digging into your hips and nearly making your heart explode. he was always quick to loosen his hold and take his hands off of you afterward, demanding a rematch as you watch him run up the steps. 

“yeah, i’m fine,” you say, leaning your head against the cold chain and flooding with relief. “just out of shape.”

a scoff leaves seonghwa’s mouth as he watches you carefully; you don’t look out of shape. 

“i’m fine, seonghwa,” you whine, feeling his gaze still on you. he only narrows his eyes, rubbing your exposed skin before standing up and plopping down on the swing next to you. 

the two of you swing in a comfortable silence for a few moments, admiring the dark sky and singing cicadas. head still on the chain, you turn yourself to look over at him and he must feel your gaze because he does the same, eyes roaming over you because he doesn’t like how lethargic you’ve become.

“thank you for asking me on this date,” your soft voice says suddenly. “i...i had a lot of fun.” 

he watches your cheeks warm with a smile, holding his hand out for you to grab again. 

you take it immediately, his eyebrows furrowing at how small and bony it feels in your hand - have you always been this small?

he pushes down the thoughts because he doesn’t wanna ruin this moment, be distracted from the soft smile on your lips and the pink on your cheeks.

“yeah?” he hums. “i felt some pressure, being that it was your first and all.”

a quiet giggle leaves your mouth as you shake your head. 

��well it was perfect so good job,” you say, “another 100.”

he snorts at your nerdy comment, turning his face away to hide his smile and look at the rest of the playground. 

he hadn’t come to this playground in years, remembering it so vividly from his childhood. how it seemed so big and scary, like some sort of deathtrap that he could only handle because he had someone next to him.

“i used to come here a lot, you know.”

“oh yeah?” you ask, voice happy and light as you picture a young, exuberant seonghwa. 

“mhm,” he hums, a lump suddenly in his throat as if it’s begging him not to say his next few words. some part of him wants to tell you, break down some unfamiliar, vulnerable side of him in an effort to show he really is trying for you. 

and what better way to do that than woefully spilling about his absent father? 

but then when he finally says, “i used to come here with my dad,” he wishes he hadn’t. it’s embarrassing and kind of humiliating to talk about these types of things with a person you’re starting to-

“that’s sweet,” you tell him softly, smiling over at him warmly. “he sounds like a good dad.”

“he left us a few years after.”

your body stills and veins run cold when those words leave his mouth, your heart tugging in your chest at the sad, short way he says it. 

“oh.”

an awkward chuckle leaves his mouth as your surprised response, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously in fear that he just ruined the vibe between you both. before he can try to backtrack, however the hell one could backtrack something like that, he feels your hand squeeze his. 

“i’m sorry.”

he looks over at your soft, sympathetic gaze and smiles sadly, feeling the overwhelmingly need to cup your cheek and brush over your soft skin.

“not your fault,” he says. 

you move further into his touch, swallowing at the way his eyes roam over your face.

“well, it’s not yours either,” you squeak out, unsure of what exactly to say to comfort him but wanting to so bad. 

because sometime within these months, you’ve discovered what a kind, sensitive person he actually is. how all of his troublesome behaviors and bullshit was just covering up for the fact he was sad and frustrated and maybe a little lonely.

he lets out a scoff, that overwhelming urge to kiss you coming back with a vengeance.

“where were you years ago,” he laughs out, thinking back to his middle school self creeping through the schoolyard and etching his rage onto the brick of the school. 

because for some reason, the boy had convinced himself it was all his fault.

that his dad had gotten tired of his bad grades and snarky backtalk and the fact that he never listened to him. it took him up until a few years ago, when the sadness turned to anger, that he knew his dad left purely due to the fact that he was just an asshole.

you smile sadly watching him stare blankly, knowing his mind is probably going to all sorts of sad places. to a time in his life where he blamed himself and didn't know how to properly cope. 

if you had known, you would've done what you did now. offer him your support and friendship and let him know someone will be there for him.

"i'm here now though," you remind him quietly, moving the swing back and forth, in sync with the way your thumb starts gently brushing over his hand. 

it's like he needed that touch to bring him back to reality, his blank eyes turning to look at you and wonder if you're even real.

the way he's looking at you causes you to nervously fidget, the intense softness of his gaze making your stomach and heart go into frenzy. so much so that you shyly look away, focusing on the way your hand always looks so small in his.

you feel him bring his swing closer to yours, holding himself right beside you and lifting your chin gently. his gaze immediately falls to your lips and you let out a shaky, nervous exhale, your eyes darting across his face because you've definitely read about this before.

the buzzing energy before a kiss, the way someone's eyes lower and tongues dart out to lick at their lips.

"i wanna kiss you," you hear him mumble, his eyes moving to yours and his heart dropping when he sees your wide-eyed gaze. he also sees a hint of curiosity though, a hint of the same desire and need in yours.

you swallow again, your own eyes falling to his lips before back up to him. 

"i... might be bad at it,” you whisper, voice caught in your throat.

if your statement didn't make his heart hurt in the best way possible, your eyes proved to be the bigger weakness. proved to make a smile spread across his face, a short chuckle leaving his mouth as he shakes his head at you.

"that's not possible," he hums, his gaze boring right into you, like he's waiting for any sort of permission. 

after you let out another shaky exhale and close your eyes, you feel his lips press lightly against yours.

and while it's a careful, slow kiss, it doesn't take away from the fact that it's perfect. 

that it makes your insides warm and flutter and brings an immediate blush to your face. that after a few moments, he pulls away and rests his forehead on yours and makes you feel like that was the nicest thing to ever happen to you.

you take a few calming breaths before opening your eyes, dropping them shyly when you see him looking right at you.

"see," he mumbles, placing a kiss on your cheek, and then the other, before a finishing one on the tip of your nose. "not possible."

a flustered, girlish giggle leaves your mouth that he can't help but also laugh at, rising from his spot on the swing before standing in front of you with his hand outreached.

"what?"

his lips turned into a frown before he kneels down in front of you again, placing his hands on your bony knees. 

"as much as i don't wanna leave you right now, i gotta get you home."

true to his word, he gets you home five minutes before ten, silently hoping your dad notices and logs in it the back of his mind where his lack of church attendance is also stored.

because even though he sleeps in on sundays and kissed his daughter two more times, he's really hoping he'll be okay when he comes to pick you for date number two next week.

date number two turned into date number six and then over the next few months, you both had started to lose count.

if you weren't together at your house, doing homework and midterm projects in the living room, you were at the cemetery or playground. 

leaned back against his chest on a blanket, his arms wrapped around your waist as he hums quietly against your head. his hands grazing the small of your back as he pushes you on the swing and watches you tip your head back in the air.

tonight's date, however, was a surprise. 

he had told you on monday to clear your schedule for saturday, silencing you with a peck of the lips any time you pressed him further. your constant questioning served to be of no use because even in the car on your way to the surprise, he wouldn't budge.

if anything, he made it worse by then whipping out a blindfold and securing it around your face at a red light.

"do you trust me?" he had asked, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. you only let out a sigh, lips turning into a pout because "of course i do." 

that right there sealed your fate for being completely blind for the next twenty minutes.

you feel the the car suddenly stop, the scent of salt hitting your nose through the open window and making your eyebrows furrow together; you had never smelt anything like this before.

"i'm gonna get out and open your door, okay?" he tells you, the sound of his door shutting quickly followed by yours opening. 

you reach out your hand for him to grab, a foreign softness under your sneakers when you step out. he guides you for a few minutes with your blindfold still on, letting out huffs and grumbles every now and then that were silenced by his laughter.

and then when you hear what sounds like crashing water and the loud chirp of a seagulls, you hear his voice from behind you tell you take it off. 

a gasp leaves your mouth that lights up his entire face.

"number three, see the-"

"ocean!" you squeal, turning around to throw your arms around him gratefully. his laugh is muffled against your head, lips pressing a kiss on top on your hair.

"thank you, seonghwa," you say, tightening your arms around him as you press your chin into chest, looking up at him with a bright, excited smile. he can only find it in himself to smile back, take your face in his hands and place another full kiss on your lips.

luckily, your kissing has gotten a lot better with practice. 

pressing up on the tips of your toes to deepen it, your mouths gliding and parting as a breeze from the ocean hits both of you. when you pull apart, his eyebrow raises mischievously, both at your new found boldness and the prospect of exploring the ocean, so he takes your hand in his.

"you're welcome, baby. now let's go."

he pulls you toward the water as your giggles ring through the salty air, squealing when you feel the freezing water on your bare feet and jumping in seonghwa's arms when a big wave splashes up and hits your leg.

he completely uses that to his advantage, tightening his hold on you and running further out into the ocean. he doesn't care that his pants get soaked and his feet go numb, because your loud laugh and squeals of his name have come to be his favorite sound.

you eventually jump down and deal with the consequences that are freezing bones and a wet dress, running away and splashing through the ocean before he catches you by the waist and twirls you around.

but then he notices that concerning, lethargic wave hit you when you grab onto his arm, something he’s been noticing more and more of these past few weeks together. 

he quickly ushers you out of the ocean, guiding you onto the towel that he laid out as he wraps his arm around your shoulder.

"what happened?" he asked, voice full of concern. "are you okay?"

you insist the you're fine. that the waves of the ocean were rough and that you're not used to it. 

you push him down when he asks again if you're okay, allowing your head to rest on his chest and watching the waves crash onto the shore as the sun sets below the horizon.

"i can't believe you took me to the see the ocean," you mumble against his chest, still in disbelief that this is the same seonghwa you've known your whole life. 

the same seonghwa who constantly wore a pissed off expression, punched anyone who looked at him funny and yelled at you during tutoring.

"i like to see you happy," he says, his words genuine, without a single hesitation which makes you burrow your head and smile into his wet shirt. "which is why i have another plan for us."

you perk up at this words, lifting your body and sitting cross-legged beside him. "another surprise?" you squeak excitedly, reminding him of a child on christmas day.

"yup, another surprise for my girl," he says teasingly, sitting up to peck your cheek. "and if you say yes, you'll be my tattooed girl."

he has to keep his poker face on but it proves to be a challenge with the way your face drops, eyes wide and skin paling as you stare at him blankly. "wh-what?"

"yeah, i figured we'd just cover number four too," he says sweetly, faking it just a little bit to sell his point. "so i looked up tattoo shops around here and-"

"what?!" you squeal out again, feeling panic start to creep in your veins. "seonghwa! i-i can't actually-"

"but why not, baby?" he asks, the smirk tugging at his lips uncontrollable. "it's on the bucket list."

"okay, yeah, but you don't have to do everything on it."

his eyes narrow at you, tapping you on the nose that you naturally scrunch. 

"i think you do when there's only four things on it." 

your eyes remain wide and panic-stricken, staring at him mouth agape like he's grown five heads.

"seonghwa," you manage to get out, "you have to be- you're joking, right? you have to be joking. i can't go home to my dad with a freakin'-"

your words halt when you watch him throw his head back in laughter, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he pulls you into him. 

"of course i'm joking, baby. do you really think i'd bring you home with a freakin' tattoo?"

heat rushes to your cheeks as you push him over, slapping his chest playfully and yelling at him for being so mean and scaring you. he's quick to push you onto your back, holding himself above you and peppering kisses over your face and cheeks as an apology.

"that's why i got these," he says after he pulls back, fishing in the back pocket of his jeans and pulling out five white cards. your eyebrows pull together in confusion, lifting yourself up and gasping when you see an array of temporary tattoos.

"these are perfect!" you squeal, taking them in your hand and examining each of them as if they're not gonna fall off by the time you get home; after careful consideration, you pick out a purple butterfly.

"i want this one. you pick now," you tell him with a smile, laughing when he goes with the identical butterfly in pink. the both of you run to the ocean, securing your tattoos in matching spots with cold salt water.

"this is so nice, imagine i really got one," you say, twisting your wrist as you hold your arm out in front of you. you look over to see him watching you softly, feeling a blush creep up on your face.

"what?" you say, shy embarrassment suddenly in your tone.

"nothing," he says causing you to shrug and look back at your tattoo.

his brain screams at him that he has to tell you, that this night can't end without him telling you and that it’s most definitely not nothing.

ten minutes later, with your head resting against his chest watching the steady ocean waves gain, he quietly says your name. 

you hum questioningly against his chest, feeling your eyes grow heavy at the tranquility of... everything. of his presence and the ocean and the way your life just seems so-

"i love you."

and just like that, all the tranquility is gone.

you rip your head away from his chest, eyes darting to his to see such raw vulnerability and love shining in his eyes. you can't control the way your own widen, the way your heart and stomach twist and turn into knots and make you feel even more nauseous than usual.

because he can't love you. he can't. 

something could happen at anytime and take you away from him and then what's gonna happen? you can't be responsible for hurting him and making him feel sad, even if you're-

"now would be a good time to say something," he says lowly, feeling his heart sink at the evident panic on your face.

but then he starts to panic when he sees your eyes fill with tears, backing away from him slightly as you shake your head at him.

“y/n?” he asks, holding his hands out as he walks closer to you, proving he’s not a threat to you.

"and on one more condition, seonghwa."

he raises his eyebrow at you, nodding his head as he looks at you awaitingly. because he knows it's probably gonna be something stupid like to try his very best or make it from the heart. but the last thing he expects to hear is:

"you have to promise you won't fall in love with me."

"uh...yeah, okay, that shouldn't be a problem."

"i.. i told you not to fall in love with me."

his heart sinks at the flashback, watching tears stream down your face and not being able to help the way he reaches out and takes you in his arms. he thinks you're probably just scared and vulnerable, not used to the feeling of loving someone and giving another person your entire self.

but neither is he.

and that's why, with his lips against your head, he tells you not to be scared.

 that he'll wait until you're ready to say it back and that you'll learn to do this together. 

he thinks it must calm you down a little because your arms wrap around his waist and you burrow your face in his damp shirt, muffling your cries and sobs against his shirt.

but your cries and sobs only continue later the night, putting on a strong front for the car ride home. 

seonghwa kept his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers and occasionally bringing them up to his mouth to kiss; every time he did it, you looked over and smiled at him and tried to show through your eyes how much you loved him back.

but then the second you got home and your dad saw your face, he knew.

"did he tell you?" he asked gently, his heart breaking at the sight of your red cheeks and teary eyes. 

he watched park seonghwa fall in love with his daughter before his very eyes, the more evident it came the more awful he felt in his gut about it.

you can't even talk without sounding broken so you only nod your head, nearly collapsing onto the couch and hiding your face in your hands.

"you knew this was gonna happen," your dad says, not wanting to say i told you so but knowing from the start how reckless and tragic this was gonna be. "you have to tell him. be fair to him, y/n."

but nothing's fair. 

nothing about any of this is fair and you should've known life was getting too good. that you should've been expecting what tragic events were about to come.

“let’s take our bets now,” san says from his table at lunch. “is he gonna sit with her today?”

“when was the last time he sat with us?” yeosang grumbles, looking around the boy’s faces that hold a mix of anger and hurt. “he’s definitely not.”

they hadn’t seen much of seonghwa at all, really. 

missing him by the time they all gathered in front of the school after the final bell or going to his house on the weekends just for his mom to inform them he’s already out. 

and while most of them didn’t care, the older boy with hard eyes and a ticking jaw has been taking the ‘betrayal’ the worst.

“who knew he’d become such a little bitch,” hongjoong snarls. “and for her, nonetheless.”

mingi and yunho share a look, the two of them kind of caught in the middle; they’re best friends with hongjoong, have been by his side since elementary school and don’t intend on breaking that alliance. 

but they’re also close with seonghwa and see how different he is now. 

how much happier he seems because you’re in his life. they had even met you briefly after school and while you were a bit shy, there was something genuine and warm about your smile that they instantly liked. 

“she’s good for him, i think,” yunho dares to say, hongjoong’s narrowed eyes snapping to him. 

“how could she be?” the boy snarls, embarrassed that anyone he associated with could be connected to the snobby, holier than tho type like you. “i bet she doesn’t even put out.”

“i bet it’s not about that,” mingi says quietly, stiffening ever so slightly when he notices both of you come through the door. 

and like seonghwa always does, he sends them a nod of his head before sitting down across from you. your bumping arms and loving smiles make it obvious to everyone what’s going on between you two. 

hongjoong can only watch for so long seonghwa be a ‘lovesick bitch’ towards you. rolling his eyes when he watches him fawn over you, getting your food and drinks and not allowing you to lift a finger. 

(he doesn’t know it’s because seonghwa’s getting more and more concerned about how fatigued you’re growing throughout the day, something in his gut telling him it’s way more than you forgetting to drink water or not getting enough sleep as your excuses say). 

when he watches his friend tuck your hand behind your ear lovingly, a move they both would’ve laughed at before seonghwa lost his balls, he decides it’s time to get his friend back.

“what’re you doing?” he hears his friends ask from behind him but he only waves them off, stomping towards the table and rolling his eyes when you meet his gaze first. 

“seonghwa,” hongjoong says, annoyance already in his tone. the boy looks up and he stiffens, immediately recognizing the look in his friend’s eye.

“hey,” he says, voice tight and cautious. 

do not fuck with her.

“are you done with this shit or what?” 

the anger bite in the boy’s words has your head dropping immediately, eyes focusing on your lap as you try to properly prepare yourself for the worst case scenario.

that’s exactly what happens the second seonghwa asks “what are you talking about?” because it’s like hongjoong goes off the rail, scoffing as he looks at his friend. 

“you’re kidding, right? you haven’t sat with us in months. we haven’t even hung out.”

“i’ve been busy...” seonghwa says but it sounds more like a question, completely thrown off by his friends odd behavior - what is even getting so mad about?

“with what? your girlfriend?” the last word twinged with disgust.

seonghwa’s eyes travel to you and the second he sees how uncomfortable you are, he stands up and towers over hongjoong.

“we can talk about this later.”

“no, i think we should talk about it now,” hongjoong says condescendingly, everything about his tone and stance making seonghwa’s fists clench. because he can tell it’s making you more and more uneasy. 

“what the fuck is your problem?” seonghwa asks lowly, pushing his friend back. 

“my fucking problem is you dropped all of us the second this bitch came along.”

the first time you brokenly get out “stop,” is when seonghwa’s immediate reaction is to grab hongjoong by the collar of his shirt, the low mumble of student’s voices when they see the first inkling of a fight. 

“don’t call her that.”

a sadistic smirk crosses hongjoong’s face as he stares into seonghwa’s dark, blazing eyes, seeing just how quickly he’s about to lose his control. the boy’s eyes then flicker to you, looking at them fearfully.

“let me tell you, y/n. your pussy must be something, i-”

seonghwa lands a punch on the boy’s face before hongjoong’s back is slammed against the wall, a hand around his throat as his eyes blaze down at him. 

"you better shut the fuck up.”

“why?” hongjoong laughs out despite the crushing weight on his windpipe. “you mean we’re not gonna share? i think we’re all very curi-

you hear yourself begging seonghwa to stop when he drops hongjoong to the ground, giving him a few forceful kicks in the stomach before the rest of the boys jump up. 

they grab the back of seonghwa’s shirt as you join them, trying to block out the way hongjoong and him are screaming and cursing back and forth despite the pounding in your head.

whether it be from the chaos of fighting or you’re already weakened, fatigued state, your vision blurs and your brain feels foggy before you whisper out seonghwa’s name. 

you feel an unfamiliar pair of strong arms around you before passing out and your world turns black. 

yunho carries you out to his car, mingi attempting to calm down seonghwa who hasn’t stopped calling your name frantically, cursing hongjoong and saying how this is all his fault. 

the two boys are quick to ground him, tell him that that’s not what’s important right now and instead deciding where to bring you. 

seonghwa rakes his fingers through your hair, your head lolled in his lap and he feels sick looking at how pale and sunken your face looks. 

“baby, what happened to you,” he mumbles out, his long finger coming out to trail over your cheek.

the second yunho pulls up to your house, seonghwa picks you up bridal style and rushes to your front door. your dad catches the sight through the window and nearly collapses in fear. 

“what the hell happened?” the older man asks frantically, terrified and haunted by how you look lifeless in the boy’s arms. 

“she passed out at school,” seonghwa grunts out, mingi and yunho awkwardly standing in the doorway watching him barrel through your house and rest you on the couch. 

he kneels down and runs his fingers through your hair again, the lump in his throat making it nearly impossible to speak. 

“i-i don’t know happened. she said she was feeling tired but-”

“you have to go.”

his head snaps up at your dad’s words, the man watching him with hard eyes and a pale face. seonghwa can only squint his eyes at him, shaking his head as you takes your hand in his.

“with all due respect, sir, there’s no way i’m-”

“you are,” he says, his voice hard and firm and such a contrast to the peaceful way he speaks in church. “you shouldn’t even be with her.”

the statement takes seonghwa back, his eyebrow raising as he squeezes your hand before standing up. 

“what?” the boy asks, making his way over to your dad. “why?”

“seonghwa, maybe we should just-”

“no,” seonghwa growls, his head snapping to the doorway before back at the older man. “why shouldn’t i be with her?”

the pain and worry in seonghwa’s eyes is overwhelmingly obvious, the love and care he has for you completely genuine and real, but right now that’s not your dad’s concern. 

if you were a normal, healthy teenager, he knows the boy in front of him would be perfect. 

but you’re not normal or heathy and adding another person into this mix of hurt and worry and pain is something he just can’t do, even with the fact in mind that you love him and he loves you. 

he knows it’s not his call to make and he’s being incredibly selfish but he does what he thinks is best at the time.

“because she’s too good for you. she deserves more and it’s selfish of you to think otherwise.”

the room, the house, the entire world seems dead silent after those words leave his mouth, seonghwa not only taken back and pained by the fact he said it but because it rings slightly true. 

he’s known since this started that you were too good for him and he didn’t deserve you. he’s been trying to prove himself worthy by treating you well, listening to all your dad’s rules and just being patient and loving you.

“i...even though that’s true-” seonghwa begins to say but the older man takes a step closer to him, his face full of anger and frustration as he tells him once more to leave. 

that’s when mingi comes in and grabs seonghwa by the arm, the boy fighting against his friend’s hold as his eyes move back to your unconscious body.

“mingi, fucking stop,” he screams, fighting against his friend’s hold and feeling himself grow more and more anxious the further he gets from your house. 

the hold on him doesn’t loosen until he’s put into the car, the two boys jumping in front and turning to see him bouncing his knee nervously. 

“how am i not supposed to be there,” seonghwa says as he looks at your house. “she’s gonna wake up and i’m not gonna be-”

“she’ll be fine,” yunho says gently, mingi nodding in agreement before adding on that your dad is there and everything will be fine. that you just need to rest and that you can talk tomorrow.

when seonghwa visits your house, both, saturday and sunday morning, your dad turns him away. 

tells him you’re too sick and can’t be around people right now. even when he pleas for just five minutes, just to talk to you and see with his own eyes that you’re okay, he still says no. 

it’s not until the man slams the door in seonghwa’s face that he lets his hard exterior down, his body deflating and eyes stinging because he hates that he has to do this. hates watching you sit on the couch not meeting his gaze.

“y/n, i’m doing this for-”

“don’t say it,” you snap. “i’m going to school tomorrow and i’m telling him.”

your dad lets out a sigh, sitting down next to you on the couch and running his hands over his face. “the doctor said...”

“one day isn’t gonna kill me,” you say, “i’m already dying.” 

your dad’s face falld before he quietly mumbles out his approval and goes into the kitchen, both of you crying separately, pretending like the both of you aren’t doing so, and wondering why this had to happen.

the tears just follow into monday, holding them back all day when seonghwa catches you before first period and takes you in his arms. 

“you scared me so much,” he mumbled against your head, his tight hold on you nearly crushing you but you don’t care; you both need this and you’ll only need it more later. 

later being when the library cleared out after tutoring. 

seonghwa noticed you purposely lingering by wiping down the tables and slowly putting your things away. he didn’t say anything, instead choosing to lean against the wall and admire you moving slowly around the room.

the room where you guys got to know each other. 

where you went from strangers to friends and watched each other grow. 

where he remembers being so defensive and wary of you because he couldn’t believe someone like you actually existed. 

you feel his eyes on you and smile at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“what?” 

but he only shakes his head, holding his arms out in front of him and causing you to roll your eyes; who would’ve guessed that the man with every full intention of ignoring you would grow to be the clingiest boyfriend known to man?

not that you’re complaining. 

you’re quick to make your way over and wrap your arms around him, your head resting against his chest and his hold on you tight and warm.

“are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, not being able to shake the feeling that something’s wrong with you. 

your stomach plummets when you realize the conversation is about to happen, that nothing is stopping it and now you’re here finally about to tell him.

“i’m okay,” you say, standing on your tippy toes to press a kiss to his cheek. his smile quickly falls, however, when you add on. “but there is something i need to tell you.”

his eyebrows furrow at the seriousness in your tone, taking one look in your already glossy eyes and seeing something is seriously wrong. as nervousness floods through him, he takes you by the hand and leads you over so you both can sit down.

“what?” 

his panic starts to increase more and more as the silence between you stretches, your tongue licking at your dry, chapped lips and your pale skin nearly translucent. 

every time you try to get the words out, he sees you close your mouth and eyes well with tears.

“you’re freaking me out, baby,” he says, squeezing your hand before taking the other. “please, just tell me.”

“i’m...i’m sick,” you eventually get out, swallowing the lump in your throat because you know that’s not good enough. you know that when his eyes narrow and he says he knows, that your dad told him yesterday, you just have to say it.

your first set of tears and sobs finally come, your face falling into your hands as you shake your head over and over. he thinks that scares him more than anything, watching how fast you break down and sob out apologies, barely able to acknowledge his arms around you.

“y/n, what? what is happening? please tell me.” 

you pull back and wipe the wetness off your face, lip trembling and voice shaky when you’re finally able to gather the strength. 

“i have leukemia.”

the words don’t sink in at first, his heart reacting but brain convincing him that, no, that’s not what you could’ve said. there’s no way you could have cancer. 

“no,” he says, shaking his head as a humorless laugh leaves his mouth. “you’re- you’re perfect, you can’t-”

“i was diagnosed two years and i’ve stopped responding to treatments.”

you watch through tears and a breaking heart as his head falls into his hands now, breathing in and out like he’s trying to prevent himself from having a complete panic attack. 

there’s no way you could have cancer. there’s no way you could have cancer and be dying when you’re a perfect high school student. there’s no way you would’ve kept something like this from him.

“and you... you’re just deciding to tell me this?” he asks, his head snapping up so you can finally see the tears in his eyes. “why the fu...why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“i didn’t want you to feel weird or be different around me,” you whisper out quietly, “i was just gonna try to go on with my life and be normal and then just... die quietly or-”

he shoots up from his seat, the clattering of the chair falling back causing you to jump. you watch him pace around the room like he’s unhinged, his hands pulling at his hair as he shakes his head.

“die quietly,” he snarls out, his jaw ticking and tight and he wants so badly to punch something. “die quietly. what the fuck does that even mean?” 

you can only cry quietly watching him pace and digest the news, your head hanging low as the salty tears seep onto your lips. he’s walks over to you and kneels down, his hands on your knees as he looks up at you with teary eyes. 

“please tell me this a joke,” he says, his voice wavering and wet and broken. “please tell me you’re not...”

you can’t tell him that, so you don’t say a word. 

and it’s like that’s all the confirmation he needs to know his girlfriend, the first person he’s learned to love and the first person to ever see something in him, is dying.

he completely falls apart in your lap after that, cries wracking his body as your hands run through his hair. it’s the first time in two years you’ve ever felt scared to die. 

your condition worsens over the next few days, landing you in the hospital and seonghwa in a depression. he doesn’t leave his couch or eat for three days, his mom softly cooing and begging to tell her what happened. 

but it’s like he’s lifeless, his eyes void of anything but sadness, and it’s a sight that his mom can’t stand to look at any longer. 

she had noticed the change in her son immediately, used to his usual teen angst but quickly realizing this was so much more than that. 

she called out of work and sat down next to him, not saying a word but just stroking his hair the way she did when he was a child. 

she didn’t press him about anything, didn’t ask if something had happened with the lovely girl he had brought home weeks ago or if he wanted to talk about anything.

after an hour of just sitting with him in silence, he finally had the strength to say it aloud.

“my girlfriend... she has leukemia and she’s dying, mom,” he said, so straight-forward and matter of facty, like he’s not able to grasp that he’s talking about you. 

the woman feels her heart break for a moment, her eyes swarming with tears as she wraps him in a hug. 

“i don’t know what i’m gonna do,” he says once he’s able to speak again. “i... what am i gonna do without her? i love her.”

“i know you do,” she says gently, her heart truly aching for the both of you right now. “but she’s still here, seonghwa.”

the boy can only look at his mom watching him with her soft gaze, knowing his own face is a red, tear-stained mess. 

“what?” is all he manages to cough out.

“you should be with her right now, while you still can,” she says, not wanting to upset her son further but knowing he needs to hear this. “enjoy the time you have and make what she has left worth it. you both need that, don’t you?”

that was just the kick he needed to get off his couch and charge over to the hospital. barreling into your room and feeling tears come to his eyes again at the sight of you in a hospital bed. 

“seonghwa,” you weakly say, your lips quirking up when you see the boy standing in the doorway. your heart lifts when he smiles back at you, cautiously making his way over to you and whispering out an apology. 

“it’s okay,” you mumble out, leaning into his touch when he places his hand on your cheek.

“it’s not baby. i was an asshole.”

the last thing he expects to hear you do is giggle, sunken eyes shining as you look at his confused expression. 

“what could you possible be laughing about right now?”

“just that it takes me dying for you to admit that you’re an asshole.” 

and perhaps it’s too soon for you to be making jokes like that because his face falls as he backs away from you.

“that was a joke,” you say quietly, pouting in hopes that it’ll get him to lighten up. his lips only form into a thin line, teary gaze shooting around the bare hospital room before back at you.

“it’s not funny.”

you hold your arms out to him, uttering a tiny “come here.” he falls into them immediately, his head burying in your neck and you feel tiny, tears hit your skin ever so often.

“i’m sorry,” you tell him, feeling your own sorrow hit you. 

you’re not only sorry for your comment but sorry that you waited so long to tell him. sorry that you’re now putting him through this and that he’s gonna have to watch you grow weaker and weaker.

“please don’t,” he mumbles against your head. “you have nothing to be sorry for.” 

he knows by the look you give him that you think it’s a complete and utter lie but you really don’t have anything to be sorry for. he understands why you didn’t tell him and why you wanted to remain going on like a normal person.

because if you did tell him, he would’ve never dragged you all around the state on date nights and weekend getaways. he would’ve been far too concerned and nervous, fawning over you and choosing instead to do the same old thing you always did.

so you guys just agree to disagree, his lips crashing down on yours and you smiling against them before a very flustered nurse comes in and apologies for interrupting. 

given how much seonghwa never leaves your side, how from the second he gets out of school until he leaves (at his bribed time of 11:00 pm), you end up apologizing to every member of the staff. 

on the days you have the energy, you’ll walk hand-in-hand through the garden and slow dance with the elderly couple you’ve met; you guys had seen them dancing and they noticed your looks, smiling softly before all but forcing you to join them.

on the days that you have more often than not, when you feel tired and drained, he sits at your bedside or even crawls in next to you. 

your dad had walked in one night to see you both asleep on the tiny bed, seonghwa’s arms around you protectively with your head on his chest, and forgets that he never properly apologized to the boy.

“this is why i did it,” the man says to him the next day. 

they had left to get you soup you’d been craving, pushing seonghwa by his back and sending him a thumbs up despite the terrified expression on his face. 

“what?” 

the man looks at seonghwa as his eyes gloss over. 

“i didn’t wanna involve someone else in this heartbreak. i was... i was trying to spare you.” 

and while the boy can empathize with his reasoning, even feels slightly grateful for it, he finds himself shaking his head. 

“i love her.”

“i know,” the man says, putting his arm around seonghwa’s shoulder and squeezing it gently. how could he not when he sees the way you both look at each other? “she loves you too.”

“i know,” seonghwa says, smiling happily before taking a deep breath. “and that’s why i wanted to ask you something.”

and so it was a random wednesday night, summer break now in session and successfully keeping seonghwa at the hospital all day and night, when you completed your bucket list. 

when you whined at him to kiss you and his eyes lit up, like he was waiting for you to say something of the sort. 

“on one condition,” he says teasingly, his eyebrows shooting up playfully as your lips are just a few inches apart, so close to giving you what you so desperately want. 

“what?” you whine, your lips turning into a pout.

“marry me.”

the wedding was held at the church your dad preached out, a small group of your friends and family gathered for the celebration. it had been the happiest day of your lives, not a hint of a sadness or heartbreak despite the circumstances.

you ate and danced and sang like you were any other young bride, dragging seonghwa out on the dance floor who’s hold on you never loosened. 

he stepped on your feet and you got the cake in his nose but it didn’t even matter. you were able to get married and fall in love with park seonghwa and he was responsible for some of the best days of your life. 

seven months later, seonghwa finds himself walking through that same cemetery he (admittedly) followed you into. 

it was the place where he first realized there was something about you he was gonna fall in love with. where he saw just how much you were gonna effect and change his life. 

he had not only finally learned how to love but how to grieve. 

learned that he didn’t have to be destructive or hide behind his fake persona. that he had people in his life who cared about him and would be there to listen to him.

it’s how he’s coping day by day, knowing that the pain in his heart will never go away but that he’ll learn to live with it. that memories and reminders aren’t supposed to make you sad but serve as a way to carry on someone’s life.

with the blanket he has under his arm, he lays it out and places it in front of the grave. he drops down the flowers he’s brought every month since that devastating day and just begins to talk. 

“why do you come here then?” 

the question holds no malice or judgement, just a genuine curiosity that you perhaps understand. because while it's fairly common for people to visit their loved ones graves, its also something that some get uncomfortable by or don't understand.

"to talk to her, i guess. i think she'd wanna know what's going on in my life."

he mulls over your response in his head, nodding in understatement even though he doesn't really get it.

"what do you talk to her about?" and for the life of him, he can't understand why he's so interested in this. in you, all of the sudden.

you turn to look at him, slightly surprised that he's taking the lead in the conversation and showing an interest. but before he can misconstrue your gaze on him, you shrug your shoulders.

"anything really. i tell her about school or my dad's sermons or what i did during the weekend. sometimes i'll read."

he talks about his upcoming semester of school and how excited he is about it.

“i wish you’d be able to see me,” he says quietly, the lump forming in his throat making it difficult to breathe. 

he stands up to run his hand along the cold stone, his long fingers trailing over it before he moves back and looks over the engraving; a few moments later, he feels arms around his waist and smiles softly at the feeling. 

“you okay?” the soft voice asks him quietly. 

“yeah,” he says lowly, feeling the presence behind him move. “just telling her about school.” 

a quiet, soft hum rings through the air. 

“she’d be proud of you, you know.”

his eyes look over the grave once more before turning around, his eyes and smile softening. “i know.” he stands there silently, looking down at the headstone before picking up his blankets and saying his final goodbyes.

“see you soon, mom.” 

he turns around and meets your teary gaze, taking you in his arms and placing a kiss on the top of your head. 

“no crying, pretty girl.”

the doctors had called your remission nothing short of a miracle, transporting you to a different hospital where new treatments were being held. 

you all had been convinced that it was gonna be a waste, almost denying the treatment all together and letting the spot go to someone who’s family hadn’t come to terms with their loved ones death.

but then seonghwa’s mom came in and softly encouraged you to take it, her hand holding tightly onto yours like she knew you guys were gonna need each other come the time.

“you say that every time,” you sniffle, pouting as he wipes at the tears on your face. 

“because you cry every time.”

your soft giggle rings through the cemetery, your hands intertwined as you walk out of the squeaky gate that always reminds you of the night you shared your bucket list. 

(the bucket list that now has way more than four things on it). 

[awkbo0b]

Two of a Kind:5

A/N Sorry this took a minute, I’m trying to build depth so there is more than just Mae and JJ. This chapter might seem a little slower than the last one but you get to know Mae a little more! plus a great story isnt going to just give you what you want right? I want the slow burn for you guys, I want the tension to grow. anyways there will be songs mentioned in this chapter and there will be links so you can listen to the song! Thank you for your patience, here you go!

warnings: underage drinking, swearing

Two of a Kind:1, Two of a Kind:2, Two of a Kind:3, Two of a Kind:4

~~

I open the door to Tony’s room. The door creaks as it swings open. 

“Oh god.” I hear Tony moan.

“Still that bad?” I question. I close the door behind me then make my way to Tony’s bed and sit on the end.

“I’m no longer sick, my head ache has gotten worse.”

“When was the last time you had some water?”

“Our parents have been gone all day so not since you left.

“Seriously?” I jump from the bed and run to Tony’s bathroom, instantly filling up a cup with water. “Sit up,” I say with a stern voice, not giving Tony any room to argue. She does as she is told and takes the water and starts to sip. “You are probably so dehydrated.” I shake my head, wondering how she is even still alive to be honest.

“Shh, stop nagging. It doesn’t help anything.” Tony finishes her cup and hands the glass back to me, “Looks like you got some sun today.” Tony says glancing at my face and shoulders. “Did you really just sit out all day and draw?”

“Actually no, I hung out with a local.” I cross a leg over the other and interlock my fingers to cup the knee on top, causing my shoulders to hunch inwards. I can’t help the goofy smile that grows on my face. “Maybe even a guy from the party last night.” I add.

Tony shoots up with a disbelief look on her face. “Who? Was it the guy you were slightly rude to when he said you didn’t look rich?” 

“What the fuck? Ew no, I would never try to hangout with him.” I pull both legs up to my chest, feeling disgusted even the thought of hanging out with that guy. “The one who I smoked with.” I say, Tony’s disbelief turns into confusion. “The one we ran into at the coolers? His name is JJ.” I can almost see the wheels turning in Tony’s head, then the light bulb goes off.

“No,” Tony’s tone takes me by surprise, it’s almost angry.

“What do you mean ‘no’?” I feel my defensive walls start to come up.

“Mae, he’s a pogue and-”

“What the fuck Tony? Who are you judging someone for their social class?” I cut her off, the air between us instantly thickens. Tony’s face turns red. “I know both of our parents have always taught us to be humble, and it has never been an issue in Chicago. What the hell has gotten into your head?” I don’t mean to be harsh, but this isn’t like her. Tony looks down at her hands then back up to me, I notice that tears have started to form.

“I’m sorry, you’re right. This isn’t me.” I tear escapes and Tony is quick to wipe it away. “I’ve been struggling to make friends here, you know this.” I nod remembering all the phone calls of Tony just wishing to come back to Chicago. “And I’ve just been starting to get close to some people, and they all look down on the pogues. So I guess,” Tony lets out a deep breath. I pull her into a hug.

“I get it.” I assure her. And I do, I know how rough these past two years have been on her. Moving at the beginning of your sophomore year has to be hard, everyone almost already has their friend groups for the rest of high school.I hear Tony sniffle, “You know that emotions are super gross right?” I ask trying to lighten the mood. Tony’s laughs and hugs me tighter. “But honestly you should be a little more grateful for the pogues. It was them who helped me get you home last night.” Tony pulls away quick.

“What?” 

“Yeah, Pope even had to carry you up the stairs.” I state. Tony’s face flushes with red again and throws herself onto her back.

“Fuck me.” Tony says under her breath, I begin laughing uncontrollably. 

~

A week has past since I hung out with JJ on the boat. I’ve had to fight the urge to text him, Tony has noticed and has been teasing me.

“If you’re into him just go for it.” Tony would always tell me when she would see me almost throw my phone down after looking at it. I kept telling her that I wasn’t and that she has the whole thing mistaken. I enjoyed his company, wasn’t into him. That’s what I kept telling myself and Tony anyways.

I was sitting on the porch swing with my notebook in my lap. My fire drawing was almost finished and ready for color to be added. I placed more details and shading around the arch trying to portray a glowing halo even though there are some flames that are higher than it. Although it wasn’t my intention, the taller flames are my favorite part of the picture. I hear the front door open, I look up to see my mom.

“Hey sweetie, how’s your work coming along?” Mom’s voice is always soft and comforting. A trick I think she learned to help me open up about my art to her. Mom makes herself comfortable on the swing next to me.

“Just need to finish the shading here,” I point to my arch, “Then it will be ready for some color.” I say then hand my mom the notebook. As my mom looks over it Tony comes out the front door.

“Hey, you left your phone in the kitchen and you got a text.” Tony says extending my phone to me. She then glances over my mom’s shoulder to see my notebook. I retrieve my phone as Tony’s eyes widen. “Mae is this what you’ve been working on?” I begin to feel overwhelmed with two people now looking at my art work. It’s not that I don’t trust Tony, she is one of the handful of people I would gladly show my work to, but I was only mentally prepared for one set of eyes.

“Um, yeah. It’s the one you started for me earlier this week.” I comment. Both my mom and Tony look up from the notebook to see my uncomfortable expression and Tony begins to step back. “Tony, its okay, I’m okay.” I assure. Tony smiles and then looks back down and the page.

“I love the details of the logs.” Tony compliments. I count to ten in my head reminding myself that this is my mom and Tony, they already know everything about me.

My mom hums in agreement, “I think the idea of the flames going above the halo gives it such a strong statement.” Mom says, I smile.

“It was a mistake at first  but I actually really liked how it came out.” My mom looks up with nothing but proud written all over her face. “It tells me that sometimes you have to break the rules to be better. Like how these flames are in a way breaking the rules by going above the halo and are much bigger than the others, but because they are bigger,” I scoot closer to my mom and point at the tallest flame that JJ actually inspired. “They have so much more detail and your eyes are drawn to it first.” After I finish i glance up to Tony. She is still looking at the page, taking in all the details.

“Thank you for sharing that with us, I hope to see it once the colors are added.” Mom’s tone is full of warmth. She closes the book and hands it back to me. “You’re parents and I are going out tonight to talk to our clients,” Mom addresses to Tony. she then looks to me, “Our tools just got here so your dad will be out back working all night and has asked to no be disturbed. I transferred you some money so you can go out to eat tonight.” Mom leans down to give me a hug then makes her way down the stairs of the porch.

Tony takes her spot on the swing, “I think your text was from Kie?” Tony mentions bringing my attention to my phone. I type in my passcode and open messages.

‘Hey long time no see, was wondering if you were wanting to hangout with the pogues again?’ the message was from Kie. I look over to Tony, she was reading something on her own phone.

‘i’d be down, do i have a plus one? would feel kinda bad ditching my cousin.’ I close out of messages and open up twitter for a second. Not too long afterwards Kie text back.

‘that would be prefect, Pope hasn’t stopped talking about her since the party! you guys want to meet at my dad’s restaurant?’ 

‘that would be perfect, just send the address’ I send the last message then look up to Tony.

“Hey I found a place I want to eat at” Tony’s eyes don’t pull away from the screen.

“Cool, where we are going?”

~

It took about 30 minutes to convince Tony to hangout with the pogues. She caved when I told her this would be a great time for her to thank Pope for helping her after the party.

Tony placed the car in park and looks over to me as I undo my seat belt.

“Okay so they don’t like hate me right?” Tony’s question takes me by surprise.

“Why the hell would they hate you, T?” I ask in disbelief. Tony shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

“Because I’m technically a kook.” Tony mutters as she starts to fidget with the ends of her hair.

“Look,” Tony looks back at me,”If they start being rude, I’ll cuss them out and then we won’t see them for the rest of the summer okay?” I grab her hand and give it a tight squeeze. “But these guys are chill, I got a long with them much better than the people you were introducing me to at the party.”

Tony nods, “Yeah, they guys were tools,” We both laugh. Once Tony’s nerves were under control we got out of the car and walked up to the restaurant. We open the door and immediately see the group of pogues. Kie notices us first and waves us over. Tony takes a seat next to John B who is sitting next to a Blonde who I assumes is Sarah, and I take the open seat next to Kie.

“Hey guys, This is Tony.” I say. Everyone then goes around to introduce themselves to Tony.

“I’m Kie.”

“John B.”

“Sarah, I don’t think we’ve met yet either. It’s Mae right?” I hear JJ begin to laugh but then cough to try and cover it.

“Yeah,” I reply trying to hold a neutral face, but letting out a giggle when I look at JJ, who is totally thinking about the loud sex we heard.

“JJ” manages to say without breaking down into complete laughter. John B smacks JJ on the back on the head and JJ flips John B off.

“And I’m Pope.” Pope says pulling the attention towards him.

“You were the one who helped me get home!” Tony exclaims.

“We all did, I just was the one who carried you.” Pope says. Tony places one of her hands over his on the table.

“Well thank you.” Tony’s tone is flirty, but Pope doesn’t seem to mind.

~

After eating John B and JJ suggested we got for a boat ride before it gets dark. We all agreed that it was too early to end the night. It was a tight squeeze for all seven of us plus a cooler, but Sarah agreed to sit on John B’s lap and Tony being flirty was all over Pope. JJ sat behind the wheel, and me and Kie agreed to sit on the floor of the boat.

“How long are you in town for?” Kie ask once JJ finds a good place to stop the boat. I watch JJ as he throws the anchor overboard.

“Um, just for the summer. I’ll be leaving the second Monday in August to be back in time for school in Chicago.” I say while still looking at JJ as he makes his way around the boat. As he bends down to get a beer out of the cooler he catches me.

“Take a picture, it will last longer sweet cheeks.” JJ boasted.

“Sorry, photography isn’t my media.” I give him a quick wink. JJ smirks as he pops open his beer. “Anyways,” I draw my attention back to Kie. “me and my parents are only here to work on a project with my Aunt Sadie and Uncle Porter.”

“Do you know what they are working on?” Kie asks in excitement, “Sorry, it's just,” Kie pauses, I can tell shes trying really hard not to fan girl, “My family and I are really big fans of your family’s work.”

“You know just as much as us.” I answer placing my hand on her shoulder.

“Ew, could you two get a room? You’re being more touchy than John B and Sarah.” JJ makes his way in between me and Kie, then hands us both our own beer. “Before you get annoyed, I brought a truce.” JJ says towards me clinking the tip of our bottles together. I smile at the fact he is quoting me from the party. 

“Let’s get some music up in here!” Sarah calls out as she pulls out her phone. Off She Goes by Bad Suns starts playing over a speaker and she hops to her feet, She pulls John B up and starts to dance in the little area that they have. Kie soon joins, encouraging Tony to let loose a little. Not long after does Pope begin dancing, but then takes Tony from Kie.

“Come on Mae, I need a partner now!” Kie calls out to me, I smile as I raise to my feet. Kie takes one of my hands to help assist me. JJ moves from the floor to the bench so there is more room for the people who are dancing. 

A few songs pass, JJ is still sitting on the bench, watching all of us dance. I take a seat next to him to take a break, “Are you not a dancer?” I ask him.

“No I am, and I dance better than all you combined. I’m just letting you guys have some fun before I embarrass you all.” JJ states with his famous smirk.

“I find it hard to believe that you dance better that Kie.” My eyes move from JJ’s to look over at Kie who is still dancing. 

“You want to bet?” JJ challenges.

“What’s the prize?” I ask intrigued, bumping shoulders with JJ.

“If I’m the better dancer then I have to tell you something about my family. If I am not, then you have to show me some of your art work.” JJ says leaning in closer so no one can hear, then leaves his hand out for a shake to close the deal.

“When?” I ask, hesitant on agreeing.

“How about over breakfast? Loser also has to buy.”

“I think Tony had something planned for us tomorrow.” 

“You really think Tony isn’t going to spend the night with Pope?” JJ does have a point, I look at Tony and Pope. They are dancing really close and have almost be joined at the hip since we have left the restaurant. JJ nudges my knee with his hand, still waiting for a shake. “Well?”

I take JJ’s hand in mine, trying to ignore how much I liked the contact. “Deal, now show me you’re moves.”

JJ stands up with confidence “Alright everyone, me and Kie need to have a dance off.” 

“Mae, what did he bet you on?” Pope groans. I shrug my shoulders, beginning to realize that I was set up. Everyone sits but Kie and JJ.

“Play a song, Sarah!” JJ announces. Sarah laughs as she rolls her eyes. Painkiller by Ruel starts to play. “You start Kie.” JJ commands.

Kie begins to move to the beat gracefully. Kie moves her hips just right, blowing us away when the beat drops. 

“JJ it’s you’re turn!” John B calls out. JJ act as if he is clearing the area, then places one hand on the back of his head and starts to do the sprinkler. I feel my jaw drop. Everyone around me breaks into a roar of laughter. This boy played me. JJ continues with his cheesy ass moves, moving to the lawn mower, the shopping cart, and then just attempting to twerk.  Once the song finally ends JJ falls on the floor next to my feet.

“Whew, that was a lot of work. Who do you think won?” JJ ask looking up at me out of breath. I shake my head at him.

“You asshole.” I joke then smacking his forehead.

“You’re the one who fell for it.” JJ shrugs.”Don’t worry, I wont break your wallet for the food. I know some nice cheap places.” JJ adds with a wink.

~~

A/N you guys have been amazing, sorry this took a minute to get up. I was at a writers block! I know how i want to end this and I knew how i was going to start it but adding all the in between so it didnt seem so cheesy and so you guys could fall in love with Mae is the hard part! But i think after this chapter I got it going in my head and im excite to present it to you guys! Thank you so much for all the love on part 4! I was blown away! 

Talk to you soon!

UPDATE: I HAVE MOVED THIS FANFIC TO WATTPAD, HERE IS THIS LINK! LOVE YOU ALL THANK YOU FOR THE NOTES!

[frustratedpoetwrites]

Heart Shaped Box

Also on AO3

This is a story I originally started for @petalsandfishes birthday, and it still is, but it has grown into something a little bit bigger than the one shot I had originally planned for.

Please drop me a message, tell me what you think.

Chapter One

For Lily Evans, Monday’s were like preparing for combat. Her perfectly applied makeup was her war paint, her carefully selected clothes a suit of armour. Her lesson planner, battle strategies. Her pens, her chosen weapons.

But it wasn’t her students who had her wound up tighter than a clockwork toy, it was her infuriating colleague, her rival, her nemesis.

James Potter had always been a distraction, a mild annoyance throughout high school, a loud and constant presence at college.

At every academic turn, he had been there, challenging her, driving her to do better, sometimes even beating her. Although more often than not she would be the one victorious.

When she graduated top of her class, he was only a few points behind. She loved beating him.

And now, not only did  they work in the same school, they worked in the same blasted department. She had the slightest feeling he only chose to teach sciences just to annoy her.

He was very good at annoying her.

The most difficult thing for her to swallow about the whole thing was he made it look effortless. He delighted in avoiding responsibility, he was popular with all his students, he acted so often like one of them you could forget sometimes he was the one teaching the class. He would stroll up into the staff room with scruffy trainers, his hair disheveled, his clothes effortless perfection, he could be a runway model the way clothes hung on him, even the tweed jacket with those elbow patches. How did he always manage to look so hot? She hated that.

She hated the way he gave her a wink and a smile every morning, so unprofessional. The rest of the faculty would just roll their eyes and pretend to ignore the usual drama between them, because there was always drama between them.

“You’re looking lovely this morning Evans” he said as he joined her in the staff room lounge. He always said her name that way. Not Lily, not Professor Evans, not even Ms. Just plain Evans. He put the extra mug of coffee down on the table, turning the handle to her. “You ready for the science fair?” He was oozing confidence this morning, even more than normal.

“Of course I’m ready.”

“So you won’t be trying to blow us up this year?” he stretched lazily swiping his glasses from his face as he did so yawning loudly. She resisted rolling her eyes at him.

“Why do you always say chemistry is about explosions? And what about you? Any worm farms, or mouldy bread?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see, won't you? My students are full of amazing ideas.” She yawned herself, catching his yawn from before.

“Late night?” he asked with an odd half smile.

“Nothing I want to talk about in polite company,” she replied primly, feeling the heat rise up her neck. He sighed as if he was expecting a different answer then got up to leave.

“Are you coming? Or is it beneath you to be seen with the lowly biology professor?”

“I’ll come.” she responded rising. “Don’t want anyone to think I don’t like you.”

“Oh we could never have that now could we?” His tone was long suffering sarcasm, “I think that ship has sailed Evans.”

∞

One week later they were both sitting in headmaster Dumbledore’s office, wondering what precisely they had done wrong. Well, Lily knew she hadn’t done anything, but as for her colleague, she had no idea what he got up to in his own classroom.

But he didn’t look at all worried. He just kept throwing her sideways glances as he lounged in his chair.

A short sleeved shirt today, his tanned forearms on display, the sun shining through the office window casting his skin in a warm glow, making the soft hairs of his arms look more blonde. She followed the path of his left hand as he slid his uncontrollable hair out of his eyes.

She ignored his knowing smirk when he caught her staring at him, feeling her pulse quicken a little, but she turned her gaze away as Professor Dumbledore walked in.

He smiled at both of them kindly and settled into his chair, adjusting his reading glasses, and then shuffling through the papers on his desk, apparently looking for something.

“As you are both already aware,” he began, “Professor Slughorn retired at the end of the last school year. Unfortunately I have been unable to find a suitable replacement outside the school, which has left a space available at the head of the department.” Lily sat up a little straighter, James was already leaning forward in his chair clearly interested. “And you two are the best, most qualified people I have for the position.” Dumbledore sighed wearily. “It is unfortunate I can only promote one of you. Due to your own personal history, giving the two of you a chance to compete against each other is not ideal, but competition does seem to bring out the best in people, and I want you two to work this out and find a way to work together professionally.”

Lily opened her mouth in protest, “Sir, do we really need to have a discussion about this? Clearly I am the most qualified, with the best record…”

“What?” Came James’ startled interruption. “I think you are missing a few pointers here. One, we have the same level of qualification…”

“But you’re just a biology teacher.” She saw his eyes widen and his nostrils flare slightly at her dismissive comment.

“I’m not just anything, Evans!” He folded his arms angrily, “you know what? I wasn’t that bothered about this position. I was prepared to hand this to you. You like doing extra work, admin, and things like this really matter to you, but because you have decided to insult me, and my chosen field, I will work as hard as I have ever worked for anything, to beat you to this. You think we were rivals before? You ain’t seen nothing yet sweetheart.” And with that he stood up and stormed out the room.

She looked to the headmaster expecting him to say or do something but all he did was return her gaze with a small smile.

“Good luck.”

∞

Lily didn’t think too much of James’ challenge as she went about her normal day. Her students were as hard working and focused as always, never causing her too much trouble, and  she in turn tried her best to have time for them both in and out of lessons. James had made comments before about how popular she was with boys at a certain age, but she ignored this.

He could hardly talk. There were always single moms, and not so single moms, coming to talk to him about their child’s progress in class, and if there were anything extra, they could do to help their child outside class.

He always seemed so oblivious to the flirting, the subtle way these women would stroke his arm and toss their hair about. He would smile and laugh politely at the parents evenings, run his hands through his hair, and talk about the syllabus. Either he didn’t notice their behaviour, or his focus was so driven towards the children that he forced the conversation to remain about only them.

James’ focus had always been impressive.

James’ words came back to haunt her when she went to submit the required forms for the science fair.

That was the moment she realised the need to take James’ threat more seriously.

She had made sure she had all the right paperwork for her students to perform their Chemistry experiments, took special care to request the best locations in the hall to set up, depending on the particular experiment. Also not too close to the refreshments, so people would actually pay attention and not get distracted by a swirl of buttercream, or the smell of coffee.  

She had a grin of smug satisfaction when she handed all the painstakingly filled out forms into reception. Tina, the schools administrator looked through it all briefly then paused at the page of  table reservations.

“I’m sorry, but Professor Potter has already taken those spaces.”

“What? Not all of them? Surely he only needs one or two, perhaps you can change the allocation?” Without uttering one word, Tina gave her a look that said, do I tell you how to do your fucking job? Lily understood that look perfectly. Tina continued in a very long suffering voice.

“If you want to discuss this, I suggest you take the matter up with him and leave me out of,” she paused, gesturing with her hand, “whatever this is.” Lily suppressed her growl of frustration and smiled sweetly instead. It would not do to upset the other members of staff. Especially when James had charmed the hell out of the entire faculty.

He was in the middle of a lesson when she found him. She stopped in front of his door, suppressing the urge to just march right in, but he must have seen her at the door as he waved for her to enter.

“Class, I’m sure you all know Professor Evans. Please carry on with your allotted tasks as I speak to my colleague who doesn’t appear to be too happy with me.” He said it like it was some kind of highly amusing joke, and she heard a soft rumble of laughter from the assembled class that cut off as if they had been muted when she turned her gaze to them.

“Can I have a word, Professor?” She was very proud of they way she could make Professor sound like an insult. She watched as he took her in. Watching his eyes as they drifted over the set of her jaw, her crossed arms, and perhaps following the curve of her pencil skirt downward, lingering at the hemline for a moment too long, but she was too mad to properly care. He nodded with a shrug and followed her into the corridor.

“What can I help you with?” He asked once they were out the room. She eyed the door to his classroom. He had pulled it to, but just barely so that there was enough of a gap showing and she knew every child in that class would be listening intently to their conversation. Wondering what he was playing at, but not giving him the satisfaction of mentioning it, she answered him.

“You know damn well what you can help me with?” she hissed quietly, “what do you think you were doing, taking all the tables for the science show?” He folded his arms and smiled.

“I didn’t take all of them, and I am sure we can come to some sort of understanding.” Lily really didn’t like the tone he used when he suggested that. She told him so with the dark look she sent him.

“What exactly did you have in mind?”

“Work two detentions for me and you can have the two best tables.”

“I need three tables?”

“Cover one of my on duty lunches as well then.” He leaned back against the wall of his room and crossed his legs at the ankle.

“What?”

“That’s the deal, Evans. Take it or lose your tables.” She scowled at him which only made his smile widen. “Next time get in earlier.” Feeling like she didn’t have much of a choice she huffed.

“FINE!” She snapped and stalked off back towards her classroom, if she had a tail it would be bristling and lashing right now.

“Nice talking to you Evans,” he called out to her retreating back, still leaning against the wall  and looking very pleased with himself. She stopped dead in her tracks, took a deep settling breath, and turned to walk back to him. Standing way too close, she poked a finger in his chest.

“This will not end well for you Potter!” She scolded, “You think you are the only one who can play by your childish rules? There are  many ,many ways I can make your life difficult. Do you really want to push me?” His confident smile wavered slightly, but he was never the type to back down. He pushed himself off the wall, and when he looked down at her, with those chocolate brown eyes she realized exactly how close she was to him and took a step back.

“Oh come on now, Evans, this is only the beginning. This could be fun, like high school again.”

“James,” she said slowly as though she were speaking to a child, “this is high school.”

“Your powers of observation are unsurpassed, but unfortunately, for me, it seems you are nothing like you were at our high school.” She didn’t bother to reply to his sulky tone, merely stalking back to her own room, and ignoring his laugh as she went.

∞

The incident with the science table allocation was nothing. Simply a warning shot fired across the bow. Wednesday’s staff meeting had been the first real skirmish. Something she had been determined to win.

She had been prepared, of course, for she was always prepared for these meetings, but for the first time she could remember, James had been equally so. She knew his attitude had changed, and it rattled her composure.

Lily knew her comment about him only being a biology teacher had probably been a step too far, but the fact that there was any question, any at all, of her higher suitability for the position had infuriated her.

She was tired of being undermined. Dumbledore knew she was better, so why on earth did he feel the need to make her prove it?

Competition could be good in many circumstances, but she and James always took it to another level. It probably wasn’t healthy. James had the same academic qualifications as she did, but he was not as equally qualified as her because he had done nothing more to further himself, or the department. He was lax with his paperwork, blasé about discipline, and he was too relaxed with his students.

She couldn’t deny he was a good teacher though. The exam results proved that if nothing else. He managed the balance of looking like he didn’t care while giving his students the encouragement and the occasional push they needed.

Lily liked to think she did the same with hers even though she knew she had a reputation for being a bit uptight, but the school was no place to show anyone her true self. It was bad enough when anyone did discover her wilder side while outside the school.

She didn’t know who had been more shocked when on a girls night out with Marlene, Mary, and Alice to celebrate the end of the school year, she had spotted one of her just graduated A-level students staring at her wide eyed, as she’d danced on a table with Alice. Her alcohol infused state had found it funny and she had winked in their direction, it was only the next morning she had regretted it, and had from that point on insisted on drinking well away from anywhere that was likely to happen again, or just not bother going out to drink.

Her boundaries were clear. Work life, home life, and they didn’t mix.

It helped that none of her friends were teachers. Well Remus was, but he taught graduate level and didn’t count, because on the rare occasions that they did go out drinking together, every rule changed.

She had been prepared for the staff meeting, but not prepared for the backlash. It was something that would be talked about in hushed whispers for days after. Lily had prayed for something else to happen quickly.

“Did you see? Where you there?”

Lily heard the voice and shoes of Bev, one of the geography teachers, as she hid in the staff room toilet, her ridiculous high heels clacking on the tile floor as she walked in. Her essex accent was instantly recognisable despite the fact she was trying to speak softly, for once. She wondered who she was speaking with until there was a squeak of a rubber sole and Lana, one of the history teachers, voice could be clearly recognised.

“Unfortunately, yes, I was. So uncomfortable to witness.” Lily had a horrible sinking feeling she knew exactly what they were about to discuss, and it was why she was hiding in the toilet avoiding everyone. The part of her that wasn’t a nosey cow wanted to flush the loo, make herself known before these two started discuss something she was feeling very ashamed about. But the rest of her was a nosey cow, and was dying to know what people were saying about her. As quietly as she could she stepped herself up on the toilet seat and sat on the cistern listening intently.

“So what happened?”

“Well everyone knows how those two get on you know?” There was a pause where Bev presumably nodded a response. “You could practicality feel the tension in the room.” Lana was not known to be a gossip but she seemed to be relishing the chance to share an eyewitness account. “Well, it seems Potter and Evans are both up for Sluggy’s old job, and both want it, badly. James Potter had this massive list of ideas for events and for some reason Lily…”

She realised as she sat there she didn’t want to hear someone else's version of what happened, or re live it herself. She had been in a foul mood and determined to make him look bad. She had tried to squash every idea,counter every point he made in that meeting, regardless of whether or not the ideas were any good. It had been her sole focus. She had forgotten her carefully thought out notes as soon as James Potter had opened his gorgeous mouth and began to speak. Give ideas so like the ones she had on her own page it had made her see red.

She had accused him of stealing her ideas, of not giving a damn before that day so why should they take him seriously. Her tirade had been so completely unreasonable she’d had to go see Mcgonagall and explain herself. And having to explain herself to the deputy head had made her see just how idiotic she was being.

The rest of the faculty in attendance had been stunned into silence at her tirade. The usually calm and collected Lily Evans, all full of anger and righteous indignation, because how dare he try to show her up. How dare he have good ideas.

Until James Potter had fired back. Fired back in the most effective way, one that only he could get away with. He had stood, straightened his jacket, and spoke to her in a voice so bereft of any emotion she knew he was barely holding on.

“It seems that Professor Evans, does not like the idea of being challenged. That she would rather accuse me of cheating than think I was capable of coming up with an original idea.” He had spoken to the room but his eyes had never left her flushed red face. “If there is nothing left to cover, and nothing left for her to say to me, I'll go and prepare for my next lesson.” As soon as the door clicked behind him all eyes had turned to her, and she knew she had fucked up.

“I'm telling you love,” Bev’s voice rang out strongly, resonating with the guilt inside herself. “James is so lovely, and so fit. Everyone loves him. I certainly wouldn’t kick him out of bed on cold night if you know what I mean?” Her dirty little chuckle made Lily’s hackles rise. “If he looked at me that way, with those melting eyes he has, I don’t think I could…”

The voices trailed off as they left the bathroom, leaving her alone with her swirling thoughts, wondering vaguely what it was Bev wouldn’t be able to stop herself from doing. She came out from the stall and checked her makeup. It was silly to feel bad, James had been deliberately goading her all week, and she had needed to assert herself with him. Put him firmly back in his place, underneath her.

She splashed some cool water on the back of her neck and strode purposefully out of the bathroom.

It wasn’t that bad. She had just decided to belittle a colleague in front of their peers instead of using reasoned arguments and showing off her own skills. It had been petty and childish, and she wasn’t going to do it again. She would still beat him, but she would just go about being a better teacher than him. She went to her classroom, and tried to put the whole staff room drama behind her.

∞

The science fair went off without a hitch. Dumbledore had been very impressed with all the entries. She had to admit they were all fantastic and no mouldy bread in sight, but there was a particularly fine exhibit of Algae, and another that showed the capillary action of plants. Lily was secretly very impressed. James was grinning like a Cheshire cat as he wandered around the room, asking questions, and looking every bit the way a future head of department should. Lily had been no slouch herself, taking great interest in every offering, and giving support to everyone.

As it happened, it was one of her Chemistry students who got the top prize with their homemade polymer. Lily was pleased for her student, but took no real joy in coming out being the more successful teacher.

Lily was still embarrassed about her outburst. She had been planning on avoiding James for the duration, but it seemed James had other ideas. She knew he had been angry and insulted, could tell by the way he no longer tried to banter with her in the staff room every morning. She was surprised how much she missed that.

She really couldn’t win.

James strode over to where she was standing cradling a teacup in both hands.

“Alright, Evans?” He asked cheerfully taking a spot at her side. “Successful day I would say.” It was the first words he had spoken to her all day and she was mildly surprised by how polite he was being. She looked around to see if he was trying to impress anyone. She spotted McGonagall staring at them from the other side of the room, and smiled sweetly back at James. If this was a new game he was playing she refused to be sucked into making a scene.

“Yes it has been,” she agreed. “I was very impressed with all the experiments.” Her tone was so overly polite it would sound to anyone else like she was talking to a complete stranger. Her guilt was bubbling up again, and before she could regret it she started to speak. “James I’m really sorry about the other day, it was uncalled for. It was never my intention to insult you I just got…”

“Don’t worry about it, Evans,” he interrupted, “It’s not the first time I’ve been at the receiving end of your sharp tongue.”

“I was out of line, unprofessional.” She continued, “I would understand completely if you want to place a complaint against me.” His soft chuckle surprised her.

“That wouldn’t do either of us any good now would it. McGonagall told me to build bridges, I told her I wasn’t an engineer, but I’m trying. Perhaps if you weren’t so damn stubborn you would see.”

“See what?” She asked but he shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter, forget I said anything.”

[talesofslytherinprincess]

Secret little rendez-vous

Prompt: Sneaking out at night to have some fun with Malfoy. It was wrong in so many levels, specially because the place you’d take him was introduced by no one else but your boyfriend, Cedric Diggory, the one you were cheating.

Genre: Smut.

Warnings: Daddy kink and cheating.

“Were are we?” “Shh, you’ll see.” Malfoy was curious while you walked him in the dark, empty hallway. Today’s date would take place in somewhere he’d probably never been: the prefect’s bathroom. Of course it was a courtesy from your boyfriend who you we’re dying to break up with, but he didn’t had to know, specially since he was Hogwarts’ favourite triwiwzard champion. “Seriously, were are we going? Because it seems we’re pretty much going nowhere.” “Shhh! Here we are here. ‘Pine fresh’.” Click. The door Draco couldn’t properly identify unlocked, revealing a secret passage. You took his hand and walked him in, and the marble place enlightened when stepped inside. “Wow. That’s wonderful!” “Get in before someone sees us.” Malfoy wouldn’t stop talking, so the only option you had was pulling him inside and lock the door behind him. This way, no one could see or hear you. “How did find this place?” “It was, huh... how can I explain...” “Diggory?” “Hm, yeah... He’s a prefect so...” “Whatever. When are you dumping him, anyway?” Definitely it was not the time to have this conversation, so you pushed the blonde haired boy against the wall attacked his mouth, your tongue invading it. He grabbed your bum under your skirt and squeezed it, but soon you split: it seems he was really interested in having this conversation right now, while kissing your neck. “Come on babe... when are you leaving him?” “Dray, not right now...” “I’m serious, what about us?” “Dray, I’ve told you a million times: I’ll do it when the championship ends.” “How about the Yule ball, huh? We’re supposed to go together...” Draco was really getting on your nerves with this conversation and definitely you weren’t in the mood for that now. It was a tough day, the classes were exhausting, Cedric annoyed you with all that sweetness and all you craved for now was some rough sex time with Malfoy. Was it too much to ask? So you took a deep breath and gave him the ultimatum: “Draco, listen: I’m definitely not in the mood for that right now, so I’ll ignore these previous minutes and pretend they didn’t happen, alright? Meanwhile, I am going to undress and wait for you in the bathtub. Hurry, because I don’t have all night.” Wow. That was... harsh. Indeed, Malfoy didn’t deserve that, he couldn’t be blamed for being desperately in love with you such as the entire school. The only difference you wanted to be with him, but you couldn’t due the current situation right now. So you walked away from him, next to the border of the bathtub that seemed more like a pool, and stripped, first removing the skirt to tease Draco with your bare bum in a lace thong. And it worked perfectly. “All right, we can have this conversation later, right after I’m done fucking you.” He approached by your back, a hard on poking your butt cheeks, and it made you smile just to know he was already hard for you. Instructions were not necessary: in the very second, you could feel his lips tracing your neck whilst he unbuttoned your skirt. Then you decided to face him, to admire those grey eyes that hypnotised you. “You’re fucking sexy, you know that, Malfoy?” “Yeah, I’ve been told that a couple times, so...” “Shut up and kiss me.” And again, your lips were on his while you undid his shirt to trace those abs that haunted your wet dreams. The urge was uncontrollable today: it seems the more time you spent with him, the more you craved for it, and nothing and no one could replace that. Although Malfoy was really strong for his age, and also very mature - thanks to the quidditch practices - so he could lift you easily in his arms and soon, you were pinned against a wall with your legs around his torso, the team seeker sucking bruises on your neck and ripping off moans from your lungs.

“Be careful to not leave marks.” He didn’t even bother to reply, his lips traced down your collar bones, heading to your breasts, to suck and lick them carefully. Meanwhile, you could just moan when he reached them, bewildered by the blonde boy thar sucked on your nipples. Malfoy, without a doubt, was a lustful angel. “Fuck, you’re such a tease.” “I haven’t even started.” He continued with his task while you rocked your hips to gain more friction against his hard on that lied still on his trousers. At least, you managed to remove his shirt. “Fuck, Dray, I want you.” “Why such a hurry?” And he placed your knickers aside and dig two fingers inside of you, mercilessly. But you were so wet it slid easily you could just squirm while he pumped his fingers and sucked your nipples, your very fingers dug on his blonde locks. The pleasure grew at every move of his, but you wanted more. “Malfoy, let me suck your dick.” “My pleasure.” He allowed you back on your feet and removed his fingers, so you could get on your knees for him. And when you did, he rushed, opening his trousers to set free his pale cock, swollen with desire. All that for you. And without hesitation, you slammed it down your throat, causing the blonde boy to lose it for a small second. “You’re hungry for cock today.” “I’m hungry for your cock.” It made that smirk to rise on his face, the one you loved, hated and also had powers over you. “Good girl... you’re the only who knows how to handle this dick.” A compliment from Malfoy wasn’t a compliment from anyone else, so it encouraged you to go deeper on him, licking the tip of his dick and playing with his balls. Draco was in heaven. “Fuck, babe, just like that, just like that...” He pushed your head deeper on him, so deep your tongue could reach his balls if you sticked it out. But it was busy twirling around his length, sending shivers down his spine, and if you didn’t stop soon, you wouldn’t enjoy as much as you expected. “Let me ride you.” And Malfoy was pushed down the mattress beside the bathtub, with you climbing on top of him, kissing your way up. “I get it, you want to be in charge tonight.” Malfoy murmured with a smirk, laid back. But as soon as you reached your destination, he flipped you over, pinning your arms on the mattress and kissing his way down, removing your knickers. “But unfortunately, things aren’t usually the way we want.” His hands on your thighs have you goosebumps, while he provoked your entrance with his hard cock, not actually penetrating you yet. Before, he’d tease you to your limit, and he started by running his fingers through your lips. “So tell me darling, are you going to be a good girl?” “Yes, daddy.” “You better be, or daddy will punish you.” And like this, his hand closed around your neck, choking you lightly. When he got you exactly in the way he wanted, his cock slammed inside, making you whimper. “Fuck!” You whined, low under his grip, but it felt so good you thought that’s maybe what heaven felt like. Draco increased the speed, gradually, while he delighted the view of your boobs bouncing in the same rhythm as him. “Who’s my little slut?” “I am, daddy!” Indeed. Malfoy was the only one who could get you like that, and honestly you couldn’t wait till you finally could be together. The marble room was filled with moans and you were glad no one was up at this time of the night. Draco kissed and touched your body like it belonged only to him, with such appreciation, enjoying every bit of your skin against his. “Dray, let me ride you.” “All right.” And places were switched, with you climbing on top of him to proceed with the task. He was such a dom, but something about seeing you bouncing on his cock turned him on in a way words can’t describe - only crave for more. And when his cock slid inside of you, the only thing he could do was tilt his head back and groan: “That’s it bunny, ride just like that.” Those massive hands landed on your hips to guide you on him, so he could go deeper. Even the winter was approaching, you were both kinda sweat and it made everything even hotter than it was. Draco admired your figure, shaking on top of him, then grabbing your boobs to suck on them “It feels so good!” “Don’t dare to come yet.” “But daddy!” “I said not yet.” And you felt a slap on your arse. Shit, if he wanted you not to come, he was just making things harder - and that’s always has been his point: teasing to your limit. Still he wanted more, and a smirk formed on his face. “Swipe. I want you on doggy.” He knew this position was so far the most sensitive for you, and this way you could feel him fully. There was no option but to obey, so you did, with you arse up and head down, resting in your arms crossed. But it didn’t last long until he pulled you by a ponytail, to face a mirror in front of you both. Kinky. “I want you to watch how you squrim for me when I fuck you.” His husky voice tingles against your skin, sending you goosebumps. Fuck, how could someone be so sexy? Certainly, it was an issue for the mystery department, because now the only thing you could focus was on that cock entering you. “Fuck!” You whined in pleasure, shaking on his length. Malfoy encourage you to continue by and slapped your bum, and you could see his smirk reflecting in the mirror. He thrusted and you rolled your hips, both in the ideal pace, watching you arse clap and your face in pleasure. “Look at you. Look at the filthy whore you are.” The dirty talking teased you to the edge, and when he slapped your arse one more time, you left a howl escape, announcing your climax. So your body collapsed on the mattress, and he crawled closer to your head so he could aim his dick in your mouth, ready to come. “Be a good girl and swallow it.” He commanded you, and you promptly opened your mouth to receive the shots of cum, licking around your mouth to clean it all when he finished. Malfoy seemed satisfied. “Good girl.” And he lied beside you, holding you in his arms. His heartbeat could be felt even without touching him, and with your head on his chest it sounded even louder and faster, filling the silence. Until those grey eyes turned to you, curious. “So, when are you leaving him?” “Soon, Dray. Soon.” And you stood like that for a couple minutes before showering, maybe you could do it again in the great bathtub.

[wiym]

MY BIRTH STORY

Trigger warning/s: Birth trauma and postnatal mood disorders

Less than a quarter of healthy, low risk, first time parents will have a normal birth in an Australian hospital. With the recent release of Birth Time: the documentary in Australia and New Zealand, I felt that revisiting my birth story was timely.

It’s a clichéd adage but it’s true: for me, the birth plan went well and truly out the window. In fact, it was never let into the building.

EST. READING TIME: 5 minutes

In my early twenties, I used to avoid making eye contact with the family planning section at the chemist. These days I have an emergency stash of tests in my bedside drawer. I’m not even late - my period tracker says it’s due today - but I have a nagging feeling that won’t go away.

I pee on the stick, and there’s only one line. Oh well. I shrug, insouciant, throw out the test and go about my day.

Until four in the afternoon, when I sit bolt upright on the couch and realise that I, generally a rule follower, hadn’t waited for that result. In fact, the box tells you to wait five minutes. So much for sitting on the couch with an egg timer.

 I dig through the bin and in my shaking hands is a positive pregnancy test (note: those trying to conceive affectionately refer to this as a BFP). I test again, and again. I can’t wait, I race in my car to Victoria Park where my boyfriend of two years is working, with three BFPs sitting in the cup holder.

And so begins the uncontrollable for the Type A control freak.

In a pandemic, there are already things I can’t control. I’m redeployed to a different unit at my work and can no longer take potential COVID patients.

I’m anxious, exhausted and most of all - experiencing morning sickness that will turn into hyperemesis. Then, I have to take extended time off work.

As I do with most things, I jump straight into the deep end of pregnancy world and obsessively research. I avoid the foods you’re meant to avoid, and I buy all of the pre-baby accoutrements. Birthing ball, new yoga mat (and maternity yoga pants to boot), and the books. Oh my god, the books.

I do the hypnobirthing classes and listen to birthing stories while hiking with my dogs.

Being pregnant is simultaneously my new persona and hobby. I honestly still wouldn’t change a thing now, in spite of what I know, because even through vomiting for 7, nearly 8, months; I love being pregnant with all my heart.

I neatly type up a birth plan, beautifully formatted and fonted. Natural, natural, natural. No episiotomy. No pain relief. Don’t even offer it to me - I’ll ask. No interventions unless necessary. Delayed cord clamping. Immediate skin to skin. Quiet, low lighting, music. To me, this was a covenant between myself and the computer. Absolute, resolute and set in stone.

By the third trimester my partner and I have the hospital bag meticulously packed, nursery ready, and the big waiting game to do. Eager for our little family to be complete.

At my 38 week appointment, our obstetrician informs us that baby isn’t showing any signs of coming any time soon. I take that as a challenge and research a litany of labour-inducing old wives’ tales.

PSA: none of these actually work. If you are healthy with no complications, your baby will come when ready. Don’t rush. Even when you feel as if you can’t possibly be pregnant for single millisecond more. Your baby isn’t term until 40 weeks.

But here’s the kicker; the impending threat of an induction and/or caesarean looms overhead. I’m told I am a small girl. He appears to be a big baby. His head isn’t engaged at all. And that the clock is ticking.

Now I wonder what might have happened had that idea never been put into my head. If I had been given the space to accept my birth as it would come. Real birth. Normalised.

The pitfalls don’t just lie with mainstream media. You are being sold something. The expensive classes will tell you that having a natural birth without medication is possible, if you buy our book. The private obstetrician will tell you that you need an induction, an epidural, a caesarean; pay us.

At 39 weeks, the Friday before Christmas, my baby is showing signs of coming. What follows is 9 days of latent, or prodromal, or pre, or (my least favourite term) false labour.

On the Monday we go into hospital. With contractions 3 minutes apart, we are told my cervix and uterus aren’t agreeing. Simply put: head isn’t engaging, cervix isn’t dilating. And that I’ll know it when I’m in real labour.

During the week that follows I try exercises from Spinning Babies to get some relief from the round the clock contractions, Jack gives me massages and on one night I even give a glass of red wine and a bubble bath a go.

Websites that want to sell me something tell me that it’s because I’m too stressed for the labour to progress. Try our tea. 

Why are we capitalising on something so sacred as birth?

 I walk with one foot on the curb and one foot on the path - and I do this for kilometres. Through King’s Park in 30-degree heat. Along the coast. Around the neighbourhood.

On Christmas Eve, I can’t sleep, speak or move through the contractions and we wait as long as possible. We camp on the fold out bed in the living room (those without air conditioning throughout improvise), the birthing playlist quietly crooning and candles burning. I do my breathing and mantras; relax, relax, relaaaaax. And the contractions stop as abruptly as they started, 20 hours later.

I cry. Low keening, animalistic sobbing. I don’t understand what is happening to me. I don’t feel confident in making the choice whether or not to go to the hospital anymore.

They tell you the hospital is the safest place to birth and in the same breath tell you to avoid the hospital unless you’re damn near crowning.

I’m new to this. It’s my first time. I feel scared, unsupported and alone. I’m in so much pain.

I just want to meet my baby.

 Barely two days later, I shake Jack awake. I’ve got a Miss Clavel feeling. Something is not right. Instinctively I know that after nine days of exhausting labour that doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, I will be too tired to push.

I call the hospital and ask if I can come in.

Have you just had enough? A voice asks on the other end.

So I don’t take the Panadol or the shower or the bath. We roll into the birthing unit and I’m put on the monitor. Like the High Striker at a fairground, I get the sense that the rolling peaks on the screen need to reach acceptable heights before I’m taken seriously.

The midwife is watching for decelerations, which don’t happen, but also doesn’t see any accelerations. My baby is tired, and I don’t blame him.

And then I am asked the question.

What do you want to get out of being in hospital today? Do you want to have your baby?

I nod, because yes. So comes the new plan. Break my waters and start the syntocin drip tomorrow. Temazepam and Panadeine Forte tonight. So quickly everything I imagined for my birth is going out the window, but I’m desperate.

The next morning we waddle into the birthing suites to start my induction bright and early. I feel robbed of the moment my waters break as it is cracked with something that looks like a crochet hook on a glove. With a gush and then a steady trickle, all the amniotic fluid keeping my baby safe and sound floods out. My obstetrician tells me it’s meconium stained, the paediatric RN in me fleetingly panics. But it is all systems go. I race from active labour to transition. I can only focus on the contractions.

I want my mum.

I’m offered the epidural I’d refused the day prior again but I shake my head. Not in the birth plan. Gas and air only, please. I end up screaming into the Entonox mouthpiece every 2 minutes and throw up all over myself before I allow myself the grace of an epidural. Which only works for about fifteen minutes before I’m once again writhing and screaming, one leg ice numb but the rest of me on fire. Intense pressure between my legs, the urge to push. But it’s only been a couple hours.

My mum arrives in the hospital. On the birth plan, she was meant to be waiting outside. She stands near me now, in the birthing suite.

I’m making noises I am not proud of and inform my midwife of my need to push. Oh, it’s too soon? Pardon me. Before the midwife’s assessment I steel myself to be told I am nowhere near, after a week of disappointment and being nowhere near.

Oh. You’re having a baby.

I ask if we need to wait for the doctor when she tells me she’s calling my obstetrician.

No, she laughs. You don’t have to wait.

With my knees to my chest, I’m told to stop pushing and so I stop. Afterwards, my partner tells me that our son was getting distressed despite my best efforts to get him out and the obstetrician was pulling back on the cord that was tight around his neck. And my poor tired baby’s heart rate drops dangerously. I’m given a deadline to push him out, but I can’t and I’m given the episiotomy I had expressly verboten on my birth plan. He is vacuum assisted out. He is safe.

I’m handed a small, beanlike baby covered in blood and vernix. I kiss him and end up with blood on my face. He doesn’t cry.

He’s taken off my chest and it feels like the longest pause before he lets out the best scream I’ve ever heard.

My mum looks at me. He’s beautiful, she mouths. Is he okay? He’s okay.

My partner cuts the cord. No delayed cord clamping, breathing is more important. Oliver is soon enough placed back onto my chest.

And he is beautiful.

What starts days later as the baby blues progresses into postnatal depression and anxiety. It took me a long time to accept what happened was birth trauma. That my birth story is ridiculously common, even amongst my group of friends, and that’s not due to our failure as the birthing parent. I can’t tell you how long I felt I only had myself to blame for having false expectations. And how much value I put into my ability to birth the “right” way as a direct translation of my ability to mother. How I felt that my son’s birth complications were my fault (it wasn’t). Too many Australian birthing parents are made to feel this way.

So I write this birth story once more, and I let go of what happened for my own sake. I didn’t fail. My son is beautiful, and worth every second of the agony it took to get him here.

A previous version of this post was published on my friend’s blog Mummy Neutral as ‘Type A and the Uncontrollable Pre-Labour’ in January 2021.

Please check her blog out as she posts some really raw and beautiful insights into pregnancy, birth and motherhood.

If you’re feeling distressed about anything discussed or about your own birth experience, please click the life ring symbol at the top of my blog for some helpful links. Call Lifeline on 13 11 14 if you need immediate assistance.

Birth Time: the documentary is showing in select cinemas now. You can visit the website to find out more and if you have birthed in Australia in the last 5 years, you can complete a survey about your experience.

[rubylocket]

008. Sororicide

title: Sororicide fandom: dangan ronpa v3 characters/pairings: korekiyo shinguuji + tenko chabashira warnings: major spoilers for v3 summary: when she marches out the door, he knows he must follow her. a/n: “stop writing pre-game angst” i can’t be stopped, i’m too powerful

also, to briefly address this, there are no mentions of incest here. i derived some of the inspiration for this fic from my own feelings as an older sibling.

[ AO3 Mirror ]

His father slides a rather thick photo album in front of him as they sit in the kotetsu on a wintry January night.

“Look what I found, Korekiyo!” he exclaims with (inexplicable) delight. “I thought I’d lost this when we moved a long time ago.”

“What is it?” he asks point-blank, sipping his tea and absentmindedly opening the front cover.

“This might surprise you, but when you and your sister were this — ” (he gestures to the top of the kotetsu) “ — high, we took a lot of pictures of you two. We put them all in here.”

He starts leafing through the album; it’s lovingly organized by year with small notes in hurried hiragana written underneath each photograph. His mother, he supposes, has never had much else to do as a sentimental housewife but embalm childhood memories.

“Is there a reason I should care about this?” Korekiyo asks flatly, eyes lingering on a picture of his sister beaming into the camera as she pinches his cheeks in his sleep. If the tab on the side is to be believed, they were five years old in this.

“Ah, you say that, but you’re smiling.”

Now that his father points it out, he does feel that familiar tension in his face.

“I suppose I’ve just forgotten all about these things.”

He turns the page and sees a photo of them standing in the doorway in their school uniforms — presumably the first day of school, given the date of April 3rd inscribed above the picture. They’re both holding hands and smiling — his sister, her signature radiant grin, and he, his reluctant upturn of the lips.

“Well, it’s good to remember.”

Tenko and Korekiyo Chabashira, age 6.

※

“Just ride on mine,” he says with a sigh.

“But I want to do it myself!”

Tenko mounts the bike once again, eyebrows knit in fierce determination. Her legs just barely reach the pedals and her sense of balance is not so refined as to let her go more than a few meters before wobbling around dangerously.

“It’s gonna get dark before we come back if we don’t leave soon, Tenko. I’ll teach you later!”

She pouts, but she sets her own bike against the side of the house and hops on the back of his seat, swinging her legs and wrapping her arms around him.

“Well, you wouldn’t get it! I’m almost eight and I can’t even ride a bike!”

“Just quit whining already.”

They speed down the sidewalk along a row of cherry blossom trees. The sun has just begun to set; the flowers look orange in the light, pink in the shadows.

“Wow,” she says in wonder. “It’s so pretty! Look, Korekiyo!”

“If I looked, we’d crash.”

She continues to remark on how beautiful it is all the way until they circle back around and ride the trail back home. They make it just before dark.

“We can practice more tomorrow,” he says with pronounced resignation as he sets his bike next to hers.

“No, I like riding with you better.”

She skips into their house, humming a song he’s never heard before.

※

“Morning!”

Tenko’s singsong voice reverberates throughout the house as her feet pound against the stairs on her way down.

“The neighbors could still be sleeping, you know,” he says without looking up from his book.

“Come on, we’re graduating today! Aren’t you excited?” she chastises.

“I’ve no reason to be.”

“People are gonna make fun of you for talking like that when we start school again,” Tenko sneers as she deftly works her hair into her signature pigtails.

“Tenko, please, you’ve got to look like a young woman today,” her mother urges. “Put your hair back down.”

“But Mom,” she whines, shuffling her feet impatiently. “Other girls are going to be wearing their hair however they want! It’s not as formal as you think!”

His mother’s shoulders droop and she shakes her head.

He could have told them both that this would happen before they even began arguing.

※

He isn’t sure why she wants him to read to her so badly when they’re both perfectly capable of reading. Really, they’re nine now. This doesn’t feel right.

Nevertheless, he concedes to her whim, without fail, every night.

“Can we read The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter tonight?” she asks, lying on her stomach and swinging her legs back against the wall.

“Again? That’s getting so tiresome,” he whines, but he reaches over the edge of the bed into her bookcase and plucks her tattered copy from its place between two light novels.

“You always use those big words just to sound smart.” She puffs her cheeks out but her eyes are twinkling with amusement.

“I don’t. I just read more than you.”

“Okay, okay.” She tucks herself under her sheets as he sits crosslegged on the foot of her bed. “You can start now.”

He clears his throat.

“Long, long ago, there lived an old bamboo-cutter among the bamboo shoots in the mountains. Every morning he went into the woods where the bamboo grew...”

He reads by the soft light of the desk lamp until her eyes flutter shut, her dark hair fanning across the pillow. His own eyes feel heavy, and her rhythmic breathing is making the task of staying awake all but impossible.

He reads until the very end anyway.

※

In sharing a class and a family name, Korekiyo and Tenko are seated next to one another, donned in the uniforms of the high school they’ll soon be attending.

He’s on the verge of falling asleep, but the quiet rattling of her chair as she kicks against it in excitement (unfortunately) keeps him awake until his name is called. He does what he must; he bows, he takes the diploma, and strides back to his seat without fanfare.

“Tenko Chabashira!”

She leaps to her feet and walks briskly toward the podium where their homeroom teacher is awarding the diplomas, hardly containing her joy. She bows quickly before taking her diploma and flashing a cheeky smile in front of the crowd before returning to her seat.

His heart skips a beat; he’s been here before.

※

Korekiyo is not a child equipped to participate in a sports festival.

After putting in a paltry effort in a game of tug-of-war, he retreats to his parents’ spot on the sidelines and clamors for a water bottle as they wait for Tenko’s event. After some shuffling around of the students, she bounds across the field and springs into view on the track.

The participants begin lining up in their appropriate places. Tenko positions herself at the starting line for the 100-meter dash, the pads of her fingers touching the track with her legs bent at an angle. Her expression screams that she’s not just going to win; she’s going to make everyone else lose. He would not want to be her competitor today.

The overseer for the event finally arrives and counts. As soon as the words leave their mouth, Tenko is off, almost too swift for his eyes to follow. He sees the flutter of her long braids behind her, but she’s almost on the other end of the track by the time his vision readjusts.

Naturally — oh so naturally — she comes out on top.

She jumps with uncontrollable exhilaration and flashes a toothy grin in their direction, bathing in the warm glow of victory.

Korekiyo blinks, and — as though someone roughly yanked an imaginary rug from underneath her feet — her eyes roll back into her skull as her legs fold and she collides with the ground.

That nauseating thud is louder than their mother’s screams and the onlookers’ gasps.

It echoes in his ears all the way to the hospital.

(It echoes for years to come.)

※

Korekiyo is tired of the ceremonies, but Tenko can’t get enough of them. There’s a spring in her step as they make their new morning commute. He only wishes he could stay the same.

As leave the train and begin to approach the school, her gait slows down until she stops entirely. He raises his eyebrows and stops beside her.

“What’s the matter?”

“Korekiyo,” she says seriously. He hasn’t heard this voice or seen this expression in a long, long time.

“I’m listening.”

“You know...” She trails off, wringing her hands and looking away uncertainly. “This year...Tenko wants you to let her take care of herself.”

She looks more mature now than she ever has. It leaves a bittersweet taste in his mouth.

“Okay,” he says simply.

She blinks, quirking an eyebrow in confusion. “That’s it?”

“Yes, that’s it. Although I’m sure you know that won’t stop me from worrying,” he adds.

She giggles. “Tenko knows that. You never stop worrying about anything.”

“Actually, I’ll amend that. If you do anything particularly stupid, I’ll have no choice but to step in.”

Her mirth is quickly replaced with a grimace.

“Fine,” she mumbles. “It’s a deal.”

※

She emerges from her coma two days later. The doctors ascertain that her faculties are largely intact aside from some confusion and dazedness, likely due to the expeditious resuscitation efforts of a nurse in the crowd during the sports festival. Still, they wait a full day to allow her to reorient herself to consciousness.

He has adopted the role of the wallflower, petrified of taking a single breath that might disturb her or anyone else in the room — let alone saying anything. So too is the case now as they explain Tenko’s condition to her and their parents. It’s a long phrase that means little to him despite being well-read.

“She should be able to live a mostly normal life,” one of them explains to their father — as though Tenko simply isn’t there, watching them with the wide eyes of an animal in captivity. “But changes will have to be made to accommodate her condition, and she’ll have to be consistently monitored as she grows older.”

Upon noticing their father’s glare, the doctors invite their parents to talk further in the hallway.

“Keep Tenko company, Korekiyo,” his mother whispers to him on the way out.

He doesn’t know what gave her the impression that he wouldn’t. After the adults have left the room, he hesitantly moves toward the side of her bed and takes a seat.

“What book did you bring?” she asks. Her voice is alarmingly raspy from disuse.

“I don’t think you’d like it. It’s just a bunch of poems.”

“It’s okay. Read it anyway,” Tenko beseeches with a weak smile.

“If you say so.” His hands are trembling as he opens his book to the page he left off on. “‘Rain, hail, snow and ice: all are different, but when they fall, they become the same water as the valley stream...’”

As he reads, his eyes flicker up to the hospital bed.

Her red-rimmed eyes are the color of sea glass as tears stream down her face.

※

They stop looking so similar as they stumble headfirst into the scourges of puberty. He grows nearly a full foot taller than her — his edges sharpen while hers soften. People begin asking how many years are between them.

(“We’re twins!” she always proclaims with her chest puffed out.)

His worry grows in tandem with their age.

She fits in seamlessly with their new environment and garners adoration from girls and boys alike. In a bid to capitalize on her new popularity, she joins the girls’ soccer club.

When she proudly tells them of her decision at dinner, their parents both open their mouths to say something, but he’s too fast for either of them.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

It comes out as a harsh demand, harsher than anything he’s said in a long while.

Tenko’s eyes dart towards their parents in a silent request for backup; when she receives none, she looks back to him.

“Tenko doesn’t understand. This is her decision. She’ll be careful.”

“Careful? Really?” Korekiyo suppresses the urge to laugh derisively. “Are you that selfish that you’d have us worry about you every day? Do you care about your life that little?”

“Tenko’s life isn’t anyone else’s to live!”

“Maybe someone else would use your life more responsibly —”

“That’s enough, Korekiyo!”

Their mother’s interjection, razor sharp, prompts them both to look towards her.

“That’s enough,” she repeats. She looks to Tenko. “I...I won’t say anything but this. Let him keep an eye on you, and don’t do anything rash.”

She then looks to him.

“And you — don’t say a word to her.”

Dinner proceeds in silence, as does the rest of the night.

※

Aside from an initial healing period characterized by anxiety and confusion, she largely returns to normal after her cardiac arrest. She has, however, picked up the curious habit of referring to herself in the third person — he vaguely wonders if she’s trying to remove herself from what happened to her.

Korekiyo finds himself endlessly frustrated at her lackadaisical attitude — does she not realize she practically looked death in the eye and shook hands with it?

When he makes the mistake of voicing his displeasure to his father, however, he does not receive the response he expected.

“Would you like it better if she were miserable and scared all the time?” his father reprimands. “She’s alive. Is it too much to ask to be grateful for that?”

He stands in silence, pressing his lips into a thin line. His father sighs.

“I know you’re scared, Korekiyo. So are we. But...her happiness comes first. And I know you know that even better than your mother and I,” he continues with a sad smile.

Yet, Korekiyo can’t stop himself from fretting, from growing livid when she deliberately puts herself in situations that could spell her end. He can’t stop her from doing what she wants — his father’s words are constantly emphasizing that at the back of his mind — but he can, at the least, keep an eye on her while she engages in her recklessness.

He himself does not rely on others; it doesn’t trouble him to eschew social interaction to hover nearby, reading a book or attending to schoolwork. His class silently grants him amnesty for abandoning the literature club and taking up a new position as his sister’s sentinel.

She’s playing with their school’s softball team today. The sun is unforgiving today, enveloping the entire campus in dry heat. Even he is sweating while situated under a tree in the shade.

(July 31st is only a few days away. They’ll be thirteen. Thirteen? That seems far too old, yet far too young, he thinks.)

Korekiyo looks up and sees her hand graze against her chest as her posture slackens ever so slightly — the signs are so subtle, it seems, that none of her peers can tell that there’s something wrong. His heart leaps into his throat.

“Tenko!” he shouts, scrambling to his feet and quickly making his way towards her. He grabs her hand and leads her to a spare bench. Her teammates are apparently startled, but they are, for all intents and purposes, a nonentity right now.

“Tenko will be okay,” she asserts cheerfully. Her frantic breathing and copious sweating attest to the contrary — perhaps most telling, however, is the way she wordlessly yielded to his direction. “She just needed to sit down for a minute.”

“Here. Let me at least do this.”

He produces a handkerchief from his bag with one hand and a water bottle with the other. She sits still and stares at the ground as he begins dabbing at her forehead and proffering the water bottle. Tenko takes the bottle and slowly unscrews the cap.

“Don’t do anything like that again,” he chides. “You know what the doctor said.”

“Yeah. Tenko knows,” she grumbles.

“Why don’t we go home?”

She looks at her teammates wistfully. “Tenko doesn’t want to...”

“I don’t want this to happen again.”

She frowns and looks down at him. Her eyes are large and sad, but the defeated note in her gaze tells him that he’s won this round.

She mutters an apology to her friends and lets him take her by the hand as they walk home together.

※

Ultimately, his parents do nothing to prevent her from participating in the high school soccer club. There is nothing they can do. They simply give him a knowing look before they leave for their morning commute.

Keep her safe.

They walk to the train station in silence — a jarring contrast from the days prior. Tenko sees a friend on the train and instantaneously gravitates toward her, leaving Korekiyo to stare out the window and mentally brace himself for the forthcoming day. They go their separate ways after disembarking — a trend that continues for the rest of the day until their final class. Korekiyo surreptitiously leaves homeroom and heads over to a bench near the walkway by the soccer field.

She’s there, clad in shorts and a loose t-shirt, slowly dribbling to a ball back and forth between her feet as she listens to the team captain. He’s too far away from the field itself to hear what the captain is saying, but judging from the way they get into formation, they’re about to scrimmage.

As a prodigy of the art of kinesis, she masters the movements quickly despite her inexperience in the sport. She appears to catch even some of the upperclassmen off guard with her agility and spur-of-the-moment decisions.

His palms are clammy.

After the game’s conclusion, she bends over, hands on her knees — but there’s still that undying grin on her face.

He knows what’s going to happen if this continues.

“Tenko,” Korekiyo calls out, approaching the sidelines as she looks up and jogs over to him. “It’s time to go home.”

“But Tenko wants to stay,” she says with an anxious smile. He suppresses the urge to wince at her frantic panting.

“Tenko,” he warns, eyebrows knitting together in austerity as he places a hand on her forearm. “That’s enough, and you know it.”

That simple touch breaks something inside her.

She jerks her arm away from him and staggers back, pupils constricting with anger.

“Tenko is staying!” she shouts before turning on her heel and running back toward the field. “You can just go!”

Bewildered, he stares at his hand. He ransacks his memory for times when she lashed out so acerbically at him; he can’t think of any.

He can see the remnants of rage in her even from a distance.

※

Korekiyo begrudgingly admits that she’s been managing her activities well. Perhaps she really is learning her limits. At times, he must remind himself that physical activity wasn’t ruled out in its entirety — rigorous exercise is what must be avoided.

(It would not be such a problem if “rigorous” weren’t an intrinsic part of Tenko’s modus operandi.)

On this dat, however, his muscles are wound into tight knots with the sickening anticipation of disaster as he watches her run (gracefully, he might add) and alternate her feet.

When the scrimmage is over, she sits on the bench and laughs, rubbing her arm — her eyelids hang heavy over her eyes, though, as though she’s about to fall asleep any moment.

Korekiyo is already on his feet when she slumps over on the bench.

One of her teammates shrieks. The captain shouts for someone to get the nurse. He recognizes that this is happening — it doesn’t mean anything to him.

He drops to his knees and clutches her face in his hands and yells her name before dragging her off the bench and onto the field, positioning his wrists over her chest.

“Wait!”

The nurse — a young woman with short hair — rushes over to them and kneels down beside him. He withdraws his hands (reluctantly) as she quickly places two fingers on Tenko’s neck with one hand and places her stethoscope on Tenko’s chest with the other.

The adrenaline begins to wear off and he can finally feel again. He can’t tell whether his face is wet from sweat, tears, or both.

The nurse withdraws and looks at him.

“It’s okay,” the nurse tells him gently. “It appears to just be heat exhaustion. Let’s get her under the shade.”

He hooks her legs around his waist and carries her underneath the tree by the field as the nurse follows. The nurse fans Tenko as she asks Korekiyo about her — he tells her about her condition. About how doing this at all was a mistake, yet she simply doesn’t listen.

The nurse looks sad.

He can only imagine how he must look.

※

“I’ve had enough,” he says quietly after they get home.

“Don’t say a single thing — ”

“What’s going on?”

Their mother emerges from the kitchen. Her eyes are already tired.

“Mom — ” Tenko begins, raising her hand to plea, but he won’t let her charm her way out of this one.

“She passed out today.”

“What?” his mother asks, though it’s more out of disbelief than a genuine inquiry.

“Mom, I swear, I just forgot to — ”

“No more.” His gaze flickers between Tenko and his mother. “It won’t be heat exhaustion next time. You know that.”

“But I — ”

“I’m not going to watch you anymore. Do what you want.”

He saunters up the steps and ignores her screams with everything he has.

※

He peers out of the living room when the door opens the next day — there she stands, face flushed and sweaty.

She never fails to find new ways to shock him. His frustrations have reached a fever pitch.

Korekiyo pointedly closes his book as she crosses the threshold into the house.

“So, my not coming didn’t deter you?”

“Shut up,” she snarls, throwing her bag against the wall to her side.

“It’s a wonder you’re not dead,” he counters coldly. If compassion couldn’t get through to her before, it certainly won’t now.

She advances on him in an evanescent moment and tackles and pins him to the ground.

“Tenko isn’t made of glass!” she screams in his face, as though she’s kept the words caged for years before they tore their prison apart. “You — You don’t even treat Tenko like a person!”

He attempts to shove her off, but — despite his stature — she’s stronger than him.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he mumbles. He feels a thin bead of cold sweat trickle down his neck. “That’s — ”

“Stop! Just stop! Do you even think of Tenko as your sister? As someone who can do what she wants? No, you don’t. You never tell Tenko anything, but you get mad at her when she keeps secrets. You hate when Tenko tells you to do something, but you’re always ordering Tenko around — here, at school, in front of her friends, everywhere!”

Her face is red, her hair askew, and her whole body is quivering with raw emotion. He’s never been able to study her so closely before; it’s terrifying.

“That’s only because I — ”

“It’s not because you care, Korekiyo! It just makes you feel better than Tenko! That’s right. You’re strong and smart, and Tenko is just weak and sick, isn’t she? You can’t wait for Tenko to die so you can tell everyone what a good brother you were.”

She climbs off of him, but not before stepping on his foot roughly for good measure.

He can’t rise to his feet right away. His throat feels impossibly dry. He wants her to realize the gravity of what she’s just said, but it’s lost on her — as always, she is at the center of her own universe.

“Tenko told you to let her take care of herself. You said ‘okay.’ You couldn’t even keep that one promise,” she says through clenched teeth.

Dizziness clouds him as he finally stands.

“Because you can’t take care of yourself,” he responds lowly, shakily. “Clearly.”

She starts crying uncontrollably, shoving her face in her hands and falling back against the doorframe.

He makes something out between her sobs —

“Why can’t I protect you for once? Why can’t I protect someone?”

He hasn’t heard her say “I” in years. It’s the nail in the coffin.

Korekiyo isn’t granted the opportunity to respond before she turns on her heel and moves toward the door.

“Tenko doesn’t need you. Tenko doesn’t need anyone. She’s already made her decision,” she spits venomously before gathering her things and slamming the door behind her.

He sits down. His knees don’t stop buckling for hours.

He wonders, then, after all these years, if his protection did not protect her at all.

※

It’s been two days and she still hasn’t come home.

He quells his parents fears by assuring them that she’s at a friend’s house and that luring her back home would do more harm than good. In turn, they feebly attempt to tell him that it’s not his fault.

(“We knew your sister would do something like this someday.”)

Despite his best efforts, he finds himself embroiled in searing anxiety, a perpetual sense of unease that this is precursor to something far more drastic. He sees her at school, so he knows she’s (physically) safe — it’s what is to come that he fears the most.

Against his better judgment, he trespasses into her room after school one day and searches for clues.

It’s been several years since he actually crossed the threshold into her room. It has evolved somewhat over the past two years; the color scheme has gradually shifted from pink to green, and she’s broken out of her habit of wantonly scattering her belongings throughout the vicinity.

Korekiyo tentatively moves towards her desk. Notebooks and textbooks neatly aligned, memos meticulously placed on a corkboard — very little is out of place. He wonders (somewhat wistfully) if she took a page from his book.

(His eyes dart over to her windowsill; he exhales in subconscious relief when her medicine bottles aren’t there anymore.)

He sees a small piece of glossy cardstock admixed with some of the loose pieces of paper on the desk and his stomach lurches. He gingerly plucks it from the pile as though it might poison him.

DanganRonpa.

※

He asks around the school discreetly. His intimidating stature ensures that his informants are sworn to secrecy.

He manages to isolate one of her closer friends after classes are over for the day.

“Tenko...” The girl purses her lips and tugs at the pleats on her skirt. “I haven’t talked to her in a couple days, but the last time we talked, she told me she was going to apply for that show. You know the one? DanganRonpa.”

The hairs on the back of his neck stand up in abject fear.

In a twisted way, he understands her decision. What better way to exercise agency over one’s life than to gamble it away? What better way to find independence than to construct a new self entirely?

It comes part and parcel with the knowledge that he’s the reason for all of this.

Her friend’s teeth are practically chattering with anxiety.

“D-Did I say the wrong thing? Please don’t get angry, Chabashira-kun!”

“No, no. You told me exactly what I wanted to know. Thank you,” he says, his frigidity sounding foreign to his own ears as he makes to turn away. “By the way, I would appreciate it if you kept mum about this.”

The girl nods vigorously and scurries away.

When Korekiyo gets home, he pilfers the piece of cardstock from Tenko’s room and dials the number.

※

He gives them a pseudonym: Korekiyo Shinguuji. “Chabashira” is rare enough as a family name that it would undoubtedly alert the production team — or, worse, Tenko herself — to the fact that he’s doing this, and he doesn’t need anyone finding out any earlier than necessary.

In fact, he gives them a fake iteration of everything but his first name. They don’t ask for official identification, curiously enough. Perhaps they don’t care to know for whatever reason.

Korekiyo comforts himself with the fact that this is an indisputable win-win situation. If Tenko is chosen, he can be there for her. If she isn’t and neither is he, they both get to go home and forget all about this. If only he is chosen, and he wins, he gets the money, which can only help her as her medical demands increase; should he lose, he’ll die and she’ll never feel tormented again. The only scenario he actively avoids imagining is if she is chosen and he isn’t — as such, after reviewing past seasons, he has carefully constructed an illustrious, attractive persona that will surely pique their interest.

He’s called into the audition room — a bright room with beige wooden floors. Sitting at a desk towards the back wall is a young woman with long blue hair. A camera is above her, pointing down at the empty chair in front of the desk. He assumes that’s where he’s to sit; with faux confidence, he strides over to the chair and sits.

“Good afternoon and welcome, Korekiyo Shinguuji,” says the kind woman behind the desk. “First of all, thank you for expressing interest in DanganRonpa. I would like to ask you a few questions to get to know you better.”

He nods in affirmation.

“Quiet?” she teases.

“I would say so, yes,” he responds slowly.

“How charming.” She shuffles some papers before looking back up at him. “What would you say is your motivation for auditioning for our show?”

“I’m doing this for someone,” he replies with measured neutrality, unenthused about where this is going.

“Can you tell us a little more about that?”

He doesn’t like how she says “us” when she’s the only one there.

“My sister.”

“Your sister,” the woman repeats warmly as she takes notes. “That’s very sweet. What’s her name?”

“I’d rather not say.”

“That’s fine.” The look in the woman’s eyes makes it very clear that this is not, indeed, fine.

Her interrogation continues. She asks him why he’d be successful on the show, what talent he would ideally have, what he’s enjoyed about past seasons — he answers them all flawlessly, and he is well aware of it when he sees the twinkle in her eye. She looks positively thrilled by the conclusion of the audition.

“We can’t make any decisions on the fly, as I’m sure you know,” the woman tells him. “However, your personality is...intriguing. I think our viewers would enjoy that. We’ll be in touch, Shinguuji-san.”

Korekiyo nods. He’s confident that he successfully concealed his discomfort at hearing his new name.

“By the way,” the woman says as she escorts him out, “give your sister my regards.”

He shoves his hands in his pockets and grips the lining tightly.

※

“I’m feeling a bit unwell,” he states that night at dinner. He sets his chopsticks down and rises from the table. His eyes linger on the empty spot beside him.

His parents exchange weary glances; they do him the courtesy of bottling up their sighs.

“She’ll come home soon, Korekiyo,” his mother assures.

He peers down at his frail, frightened parents. They shrink back — he wonders how he must look.

“I hope you’re right, Mother.”

He doesn’t sleep that night.

※

They call him.

He’s been chosen.

(Tenko hasn’t been home for nearly three weeks.)

※

He receives a package of preparatory materials one week prior to the initial air date.

Korekiyo takes extreme care to wake up just before dawn and retrieve it before anyone else in the house has the chance to do so.

His eyes glaze over everything but two pieces of paper — the first, with a number, letter, and time written on it, and the second, a name tag stating Korekiyo Shinguuji, Ultimate Anthropologist.

An interesting choice of talent, he thinks sourly.

He leaves for school in one hour.

The dawn of the final week.

※

The day comes. Korekiyo leaves a note on his neatly made bed:

I’m sorry.

He arrives at the location specified in the package. It looks like a small, unassuming research facility. He checks in with the tightlipped receptionist, who nods knowingly when they see his name tag, and is instructed to walk down the clinical white hallway, go through the black door, and go towards the last door to his right.

“Don’t go into any of the other rooms. The other contestants are in there, and the team would rather you not chat with them,” the receptionist tells him briskly.

As he makes his way down the hall, he looks down at the other piece of paper. it appears as though they’re being called back to the chamber in some kind of group by half-hour intervals, if 8f, 08:30 is any indication.

Korekiyo enters the room. It’s actually just a waiting room, much to his surprise. The walls are black, and there are exactly two white chairs situated against a wall. One of them is occupied.

He looks at his partner, and he’s treated to a sight that’s been with him since time immemorial.

She snaps out of her apparent reverie and averts her gaze toward him, face lighting up with excitement. “Hello! I’m — ”

The smirk dissipates; she freezes.

This is, in fact, what the rational part of him was hoping for, but his heart races at the possibility that the production team somehow knew.

“Korekiyo,” she whispers breathlessly. Her eyes are wide and watery with terror. “Why are you here?”

“Your friend told me you were trying to do this. I had to, too, because...” He trails off, attempting to gather his thoughts as he takes a seat beside her — a difficult task in the oppressive black atrium, with his fate lying beyond a solid grey door. “Even if you don’t need me, I don’t want you to be alone.”

(It’s not “I won’t let you be alone.”)

He closes his eyes, arms still firmly folded, and waits for the inevitable flamethrower of insults.

Instead, he hears gentle weeping. He opens his eyes and she’s rubbing at her face.

“Tenko,” he says mournfully — as though that will change anything.

She lays her head against his forearm. She doesn’t stop crying for several minutes, soaking his sleeve down to his skin.

“Korekiyo?”

“Yes?”

“Are you mad at Tenko?” she asks hesitantly. Her voice is still nasally from crying.

For a moment, he’s thrust back into their childhood when she still smiled for him.

“No, Tenko. I’m not mad.”

She looks down at the floor, her cheeks red and her breathing heavy. He grips his knees and attempts to silence the fraternal urge that rises to the surface.

“Korekiyo?”

“Yes?”

“You didn’t have to do this for Tenko.”

“I know.”

She plays with a braid, sighing shakily.

“Korekiyo?”

“Hm?”

She looks up at him. The fire in her green eyes has all but died down to a distant ember.

“It’s too late to go back, isn’t it?”

The air conditioning in the waiting room becomes cold and suffocating. Her bow flutters in the artificial breeze.

“Yes,” he murmurs. “Yes, it is.”

The door opens.