#but there's hardly any of that here it's mostly fluff with a tinge of angst at the end | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

soobadnoonecanstopher · 7 years ago

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All His - Part 8 (A Kyungsoo Series)

Genre: Fluff / Angst / Romance

Characters: You X Kyungsoo

Description: You are hired as an interpreter for a tour in Europe where you join forces with EXO and soon grow closer to one member, in particular, Do Kyungsoo.

A/N: this is not the end….

All His [M]: Canon AU - Fluff / Smut part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8 , part 9 , part 10 , part 11 FINAL

Kyungsoo had been overreacting.

He overreacted with his worry prior to joining the group of members and your coworker Anna who was hard at work reading the display signs around the various spots of interest. She felt like a tour guide with as much as she seemed to be talking and your arrival with Kyungsoo went mostly unnoticed.

That didn’t stop him from pointedly ignoring you though. He stood just out of arm’s reach of you, walking quickly ahead of you down the stone pathways that lined the outside of the Abbey and very close to Chanyeol and Junmyeon who snapped pictures and laughed and joked with each other. The group moved quickly. A bunch of fit young men who regularly exercised was no match for the hundreds of steps needed to trek around the mountaintop churchyards. The mountain breeze had been chilling your bare legs for an hour now and you began to feel the cold seeping deep inside your bones as you shivered and rubbed your own arms for warmth when you simply couldn’t stand it anymore.

There was the occasional question from someone in the group and you gritted your teeth to keep them from chattering as you answered in as level a voice as you could, feeling even more like you were actually working today than you had felt all week. After all, translating for just one person wasn’t quite what you had ever been tasked to do. Making love to that one person while you two had been left alone was even less so.

You watched the back of Kyungsoo’s head as he laughed at something Chanyeol said. You knew with the way his head was thrown back in laughter that his teeth and gums would be on full display as his eyes closed tight into little moons up high on his shiny round cheeks. His efforts of keeping away from you had settled in well. He was enjoying himself with his friends and you kept to the back of the group, enjoying the astonishing views keeping as far away from the edge as you could when things began to get a little too scary up here.

You shivered and roughly rubbed away the goosebumps on your arms before a sudden and overbearing warmth covered your back.

“Dummy, why didn’t you wear something warmer. I thought everyone knew mountains were cold.”

The voice came from behind you, low and teasing and you turned to look up into the soft smile of Oh Sehun. The warmth was from his jacket, which smelled like him and felt like the sunshine itself with as warm as it made you feel. You were flooded with gratitude and your genuine smile reflected it.

“Thank you Sehun,” you gave him a little bow of your head as you quickly pulled your arms through the too-long sleeves of his coat. Did all men’s coats smell so wonderful or was this merely an attractive man thing? He responded to your smile with a tiny bump with his hip against yours as you both walked and the impact, though small enough to not do much, the actual hit caught you off guard and sent your feet stumbling.

Stumbling toward the edge.

Stumbling over the edge. To your certain death.

You saw the edge of the walkway closing in and despite the railing that would surely keep you from going over, that didn’t stop the small yelp of terror that came out of your lips.

Rather than fly right off the edge, you opted to just drop. It was a gut reaction intensified by your fear of heights. The floor below your feet was preferable than a certain fall off the cliff to your death on the rocks below and when your knees hit the rocky walkway below your feet they did it hard. You followed with your hands, feeling a stinging in your flesh as the heels of your palms scraped the rocks just as hard as your knees did.

“Oh shit.”

There was a fuss now. Sehun moved down to reach for you, yanking you up with strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist, hooked under your arms and you felt lifted into a standing position just as quickly as you had fallen.

“Shit. Shit. Sorry,” Sehun swore quietly under his breath and he bent down in front of you now, his focus down on your knees with worried pulled together brows and a frown on his face. “I didn’t mean to make you fall, I hardly even touched you.”

Your heart was still racing from the very idea of going over the edge and you rubbed your hands together, brushing some of the dirt from the ground off your palms.

“I…thought I was going to fall off the mountain,” You mumbled, feeling just a touch of the encroaching embarrassment that bubbled just below the surface of your skin. He looked up from where his fingertips brushed against your skinned knee with wide eyes and parted lips before looking off toward the edge of the walkway.

From where you stood, it was easy to see now that the edge was at least 15 feet or more from where you had taken your little tumble.

“You thought I would push you off the edge?” His voice was closer as he stood up straight and looked back into your eyes. “That edge way over there?”

“I know,” You grimaced as the heat flooded your cheeks. “I panicked.”

His eyes watched your face for a moment before his lips pulled into a definite frown.

“You thought that I would do that though?” His voice took on a wounded tone and you felt his soft hands reach for both of yours as he broke the hold he had on you with those hurt eyes and looked down at the scrapes on your hands.

He moved both of your hands up, closer to his face and you watched the purse of his lips that preceded the soft wind you felt as he blew off stray bits of dust still on your hands. His warm fingers brushed away imaginary dirt for longer than necessary and you could feel the guilt of your overreaction settling heavy inside your belly.

“Sehun, I didn’t think that… I’m just…scared of heights and I panicked.” The frown on your lips mirrored his before he pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth and bit down.

“You got hurt.” He said softly and you looked down at the tiny scrape that was tinged red now on the palm of your left hand. “I’ll see if anyone has any medicine. Maybe they sell some at one of the shops in the town.”

You could feel it then.

A gentle urging in the back of your mind. A nagging like the brush of a hungry cat against your legs as you busied yourself in the kitchen. Only this nagging came from further away. The distant sound of a car alarm that sounded just familiar enough to sharpen your ears to, on the off chance that it could be calling for you.

It took you less than a second to find the source.

Big brown eyes on that pretty face you had memorized down to the placement of those tiny moles spread like constellations against the tapestry of his brown skin.

Kyungsoo stood at the head of the group, a chattering and giggling Chanyeol at one side, a sightseeing Junmyeon posing for a photo; fingers in a V, bright smile in place as he cheesed for his own cell phone attached to the end of a selfie stick and right in the middle, ignoring the spectacularly breathtaking, once-in-a-lifetime view in front of him, Kyungsoo stood to face you, staring at the moment shared with Sehun.

He stood too far away to intervene. But just far enough away to overreact and misunderstand.

The loose grip with which Sehun held both of your hands was easily broken and he didn’t even deepen his pout when you pulled your hands away.

“It’s fine. Doesn’t even hurt.” you forced a smile on your face and you forced your eyes to stay trained on the person standing in front of you instead of the person staring daggers into his back from meters away. Or were the daggers missing Oh Sehun and landing on your chest?

A bathroom sign caught your eye and you nodded ahead toward it, pulling Sehun’s attention from your hands to sweep around behind him where you indicated.

“I’ll just go wash them off. I’ll be right back.”

The industrial cheap soap stung when it hit the small scrapes in your skin but you scrubbed just the same and by the time you were done the crowd around the bathrooms had thinned some. You could see the backs of the group further up the pathway that lead to the top.

Up up up to the toppity top….where the gravity pulled harder against your limbs and the winds blew fiercely against your back, working together to bring you down. Working together for your demise.

You pulled out your cell phone then, finding the bench that sat beside the bathrooms to be more comfortable than a trek that went any higher. You were certain that Anna could handle the translations for the group that might be needed up there.

A quick group text, letting everyone who needed to know that you weren’t much for heights and would be waiting when they returned to level grounds and you found your headphones and your music collection perfect for the hour or two before they all returned.

You were only half surprised to feel the warmth of a hand over your shoulder about an hour before the group was due to be back down from the top. You were half of that half surprised to look up into the big brown eyes of Do Kyungsoo with his lips parted and his chest heaving with the efforts of his rushed trek up and then back down again in record time.

“Kyungsoo.” Your half surprise tinted his name with a disappointed tone and instantly brought his lips closed and made him clench down hard on his jaw. “You didn’t have to rush through it. I was fine down here waiting.”

He was warmer than you were and when he sat down beside you on the bench by the bathrooms he leaned into you. You welcomed his warmth less than his presence itself and you listened to the steady breathing of his lungs in and out as you watched his profile in silence and waited for some meaning to come of this.

After a moment his hands were on yours and he pulled your hands up to his face, palms up for a quick examination. His eyeballs ticked over the scrapes with a slight tinge of blood and his round fingertips lightly touched the exterior of where the tiny wounds lie.

“Does it hurt?” The question whispered over the steady din of noise from the groups of tourists. Over the shouts of merchants selling souvenirs and wares and it reached your ears with a gentle nudge. It wasn’t demanding or judgemental as you half expected it to be. It wasn’t questioning about the origin of the injury or of just what you thought you had been doing with that other man, no this question was a soft and steady drizzle of rain that merely watered the garden and provided the plants with just enough moisture to wet their leaves and ripen their fruit.

“No.” You answered honestly. The sting had long since vanished and your own question burned in its place.

“Are you upset?” You didn’t even wait for a pause for it for fear of losing your nerve.

Kyungsoo looked ahead, unseeing, at one of the most breathtaking views you had ever personally witnessed with your own two eyes. And he saw none of it. He inhaled a deep breath and exhaled slowly through his lips before he slowly shook his head back and forth and looked at you out of the corners of his eyes.

“No.” He said softly, letting the syllable sit heavy in his mouth and shape his lips into the most perfect little circle for just a split second, just long enough for your eyes to drift down and linger over those lips. He inhaled another breath to speak again and finally broke the eye contact he had been holding with you.

“I was, for about two seconds.” He bit down once on the inside of his lip out of habit before continuing.

“I let him get to me, Sehun….but I wasn’t like I could just come and cause a scene here. Baekhyun, he…he had been avoiding me since down at the parking, but that guy is incredibly insightful. I guess he figured out what was going on and he cornered me and forced me to climb up with him…” He was fidgeting with his fingertips, picking at the skin around his cuticles absentmindedly as he spoke to you in that soft warm voice of his. The voice that made you lose your mind a little.

“And besides.” Kyungsoo inhaled again, as if his quiet words, no louder than the hum of a butterfly’s wings in the small space between your heads on this private bench, actually needed this much oxygen to get out. “Besides…do I even have the right to be upset?”

Somehow this small concession stung worse than when you first fell and scraped your hands against the rocks.

It was the truth, yes, but the sting was sharp like that cheap, burning soap that killed the bacteria harbored deep within your fresh wounds.

“What right do I have…right?” The serious expression on his face that pulled his eyes far away from yours and thrust them deep over the horizon that he looked toward had the opposite effect on your attention. You couldn’t force your gaze away from his face as he spoke. As sharp as that sting felt, you still couldn’t pull your attention away.

“We both know this thing has an expiration date.”

It was your turn to inhale a deep breath. Because the air up here was thinner and because these things once said out loud had a way of making your lungs that much more ineffective. You were certain that the blood that flowed through your veins, carried oxygen deprived blood cells to oxygen-deprived organs and certainly something was going to give soon.

The lump in the back of your throat, the one that felt heavy and thick and choked you when you tried to swallow it back down was your first sign of trouble.

Thankfully the breath was deep enough and with your eyes closed, you no longer had to witness the pain you were certain that you saw on that beautiful face. That face that should know only love and only joy.

In that moment that you kept your eyes closed, the lump in your throat dissipated enough for you to swallow away the remnants, enough for Kyungsoo to release his hold he still had on your hand and clear his throat of any lingering emotions he might have been experiencing.

“They’re back.” He said in a more normal sounding voice. Gone was the whisper that watered your gardens. Gone were the fingers roaming lightly over your skin. “Are you okay to drive back to the hotel?”

You shot him your most reassuring smile and wide head nod.

“Of course, Baby.” You said it before you could stop your mouth and no amount of furrowing of your brows or biting your lip would put the word back in. It only took a heartbeat to reach his ears.

His attention that had been on the group that slowly made their way down the stones, was all at once on you and his eyes widened just enough for you to notice. Just enough for you to feel it. His lips parted as if to speak. As if he had some words to tell you, some…name to call you, some sort of response. Perhaps to rebuke you for your slip. Instead, those lips merely hung open and his eyes did a somersault over your face before he shook his head to himself and closed his mouth at last.

The drive back to the hotel was quiet, save for the music and occasional comment about traffic or about the scenery.

That lump from before, the ‘expiration date’ as he had so effectively called it, sat heavy within your chest, irritating your breathing and making your happiness crack. It was a tiny grain of sand sitting under your tongue. And you were the oyster, desperate for some relief as you pushed the irritant around, again and again, unable to rid yourself of it despite all of your efforts.

“We have rehearsals tonight,” Kyungsoo said, “it’s all our staff so there won’t be much for you to do.”

You pulled into a space in the hotel parking garage and he was out of the truck as soon as you shifted into park.

He busied himself with his bag and you reached for yours, coming up empty-handed when the handle disappeared before you could grab it.

Did he really intend to carry it all? Didn’t he know that you were an adult with two perfectly fine arms and hands that, while a little scraped up, could still carry their own fucking weight?

Didn’t he realize that you were a grown woman and you had made your own decisions in this, knowing full well that there was an expiration date coming up fast? Sure it was going to suck, but did he really have to close up and put it all on himself like this?

“I enjoy watching the rehearsals Kyungsoo. And just because you might not need me doesn’t mean the others won’t have something they need from me.”

It was the truth. It was a genuine description of your original job here. To be available for the three members you had initially been assigned to yet saying this out loud made you feel dirty. He had been walking ahead of you. His arms strained under the load of bags he carried and you could make out the shape of flexed biceps below the hem of his shirt sleeve and when you said those words to him, his steps slowed enough so that you could catch up.

But he didn’t stop completely. And he didn’t speak to you, merely continued his journey through the garage toward the elevator.

You had your key card out and ready to use on the elevator and he stepped inside first, face blank and passive and eyes carefully staring ahead at the number panel.

The doors opened on your floor and you instinctively reached for your own bag, brushing against his fist that held on tight around the handle. Only he didn’t let you grab the bag. Instead, he took a step out of the elevator and walked swiftly down the hallway leaving you to trail behind him in futility. Ahead you saw familiar faces of staff members. Out of earshot and preoccupied with something.

“I’ll take your bag to your room for you. It’s the least I can do when you’ve worked so hard for us and our own member has injured your hands like this.”

His voice was boisterous and bounced around the hallway, earning a glance from a few busy people here and there.

“My hands aren’t even that hurt.” You mumbled but knew better than to try and take the bag from him. He was being stubborn.

You reached your room and the hallway was empty anyway. Such a production of him helping you with your bags wasn’t even necessary. They all knew you were translating for him anyway and the clipped professional way he spoke to you only served to make your mood just a little bit gloomy.

Through the threshold of your room, you could see that the maid service had been through and thankfully you had had enough sense to set the thermostat a bit on the warm side. You really had been quite cold today up on that mountaintop in your little shorts.

You heard the loud click of the room door behind you and when you looked down at your feet you noticed your bag had been carefully set on the floor.

There was a thick and heavy silence behind you though. Your heartbeat felt too loud as you froze with your focus down on that bag and your ears sharpened to listen to the complete silence behind you.

The silence behind you felt empty and too complete.

Had he left? Had he just dropped off your bag and left? Without saying a word to you?

You felt frozen on your feet. It was all you could do to remove your shoes and even that felt too dangerous. You felt a tremble in your chest. An instability that made your hands shake as you fussed with the zipper of the jacket Sehun had lent you up on the mountain.

The bottom of the zipper got stuck in the tracks and no matter how hard you tugged it wouldn’t come free. You gripped it hard between your index finger and your thumb and that silence that filled up your ears ever since the door closed was getting louder as you cursed the stupid thing and yanked harder, all the while fighting off the urge to crumble into yourself in that deafening silence that coated your entire back.

Until you heard a sigh. A low sigh from behind you that broke through the thick silence like a gunshot fired through a quiet library.

“Why are you trembling so hard, love? Come here, let me…”

Kyungsoo’s voice spoke low into your ear.

Kyungsoo’s arms, warm and strong, steady as the earth below this building, wrapped around your shoulders and you looked down in surprise to see Kyungsoo’s rounded fingertips pulling at the zipper of this hoodie you wore.

He was there. He hadn’t left.

“I thought you had left,” you whispered despite the fact that you were the only two occupants in your hotel room.

“What?” You felt his hands on your shoulders and he spun you on your feet, fingers reaching inside the warm coat to push it back and off of your frame.

“I thought you just dropped the bag off and left…but I was too scared to turn around and check.”

It felt like quite a stupid confession when it was out of your lips. The air in the room felt warm enough but the trembling was inside of you. When the jacket fell to the floor at your feet you wrapped your arms around yourself, hugging your own belly tightly for warmth.

You heard yet another sigh from him as he watched you with that same blank face he seemed to have gotten stuck in and he bent at the waist as he unzipped something at your feet.

A new warmth cascaded over your back and you opened your eyes to catch the shifty way he kept his from holding on to yours for too long. He bit down on the inside of his lip as he zipped you up again, this time in his own hoodie. The smell of him was overwhelming and you wanted to weep.

He had something else in his hands that dangled down from his hand at your waist. More significantly, at the button that rested just below your belly button that he was undoing as he slid the zipper down just a bit too slowly for your befuddled mind to comprehend.

“Kyungsoo what—“ The warmth of his soft fingertips slipping between the layer of fabric, running around your waist to push the shorts down, interrupted whatever you were about to say. His hands that ran over your hips, just over the panties you wore that offered not a bit of protection from his warmth took your question and tossed it out the window.

You could now see what he was doing, but when he dropped, crouching down on his ankles to guide each foot carefully into the legs of his black sweatpants, you wondered about the necessity of such a hands-on approach. The sweatpants were sliding up your calves, but the memory of his hands as they slipped down your thighs moments earlier still burned. Particularly when you caught the look in his eyes as he met the faint bruises left there by his own mouth on his journey to warm you with his clothing.

How you wished he could use his body to warm you instead of these fleece sweats.

“There,” he pulled a drawstring tight and tied a tidy bow at your waist, “that’s better than that other thing isn’t it?”

His words had the smile that his lips did not and you wished he would just drop the act and look into your eyes for a moment.

“Kyungsoo.” You called his name and he was straightening the hem of his hoodie, making pretend at getting it just right.

“Hmm?” he hummed in response and his hands rubbed in heavy up and down motions on your arms.

“Kyungsoo, what are you doing?” your hands hung limply at your side, your shoulders sagged under their own weight and you could see the slow rise and fall in his chest as he blinked, still looking down at your waistband where he had been fussing over and over with the clothing.

You both knew the meaning of your question. He definitely understood that you didn’t just want to know why he was going through such lengths to rid you of Sehun’s clothing and put you in his own clothing, even though this was your hotel room, you had pajamas here. You had warm pants and a coat. There was no reason for this. At least, none that you could decipher, especially with his mood and his declaration before you left Montserrat. The declaration that he had no right to behave this way, what with the inevitable separation coming.

He stilled his hands and opened his lips to speak, but nothing happened until he finally pulled his eyes up to look into yours.

“What am I doing?” when he finally spoke you felt like this conversation was heading in circles, yet his eyes were finally touching yours and you snapped your lips closed, opting to let him have his moment to figure out what he actually needed to say to you.

His head ticked back and forth slowly, like the face of an oscillating fan.

“I–” with the movement, his brows furrowed and he blinked quickly, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

All at once he came alive. His hands moved up to cover his face, roughly rubbing over his skin, you could see the strain in his body with the actions and each hard flex of muscle in his arms as he rubbed, pressing fingertips roughly into his eyelids there was a sound emitted from the depths of him. A growl. The sounds of frustration coming to a head and bursting through the surface of a tightly sealed vessel that had finally had too much.

“I’m sorry.” You heard from behind his hands, as muffled and distorted as you felt right now. There was something, a sensation of something, a ghost of something that was tickling against your stomach inside. You felt it, and it felt a bit like fear. Like he was about to–

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what to do.”

No. The fear rose up. It tasted like bile.

You listened to his words closely, too closely. He couldn’t just be done with you right? This had just started, this hadn’t even been given a name and yet, you could feel something desperate brewing within him.

Only he wouldn’t talk. He merely stood there, hands over his face and that rapid in and out of his chest as he breathed through his fingers.

“Kyungsoo, just speak to me. What’s wrong?” You had had enough of waiting. Enough of wanting desperately for him to just say it, but you knew, you knew this wasn’t just a one-time thing with him. You could see it in the way he looked at you. You could feel it, and it was desperate.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he said from behind his hands. His voice was thicker than before. So much more concentrated with him so close to you and the surrounding silence of this room.

“When I leave you’ll be hurt. If—If…” You reached for his hands with both of yours and when you pulled them down from his face his eyes remained closed. You could see the movement of his eyes under his lids and his lips were parted with the words he had been speaking. “If we keep going, you’ll be hurt.”

Kyungsoo inhaled a sharp breath before his eyes opened at last and the whites were pink. The browns were dark and affected and the swell of fear that rose up high into your throat felt magnified when you looked into those eyes.

“I was going to put a stop to this. For you, I was going to. I saw you with Sehun and I had that anger inside me and it was so stupid because…because what am I even doing? You…aren’t mine.”

Through his hands that you held within both of yours you could clearly make out his pulse. The steady rhythm of his heart beating inside his chest echoed against your own and you tried to force yourself to breathe.

He was going to stop this. He was going to do it. He was speaking in the past tense though and he didn’t let go of your hands and turn to leave. He let you hold on to them with absolutely no resistance.

“But then you called me baby.”

You felt one of his hands leave yours and you had to close your own eyes when that hand touched your face. His thumb brushed lightly over your cheekbone and he took a step into you. “And I want you to do it again. God, that felt good to hear from your lips.”

“Kyungsoo–” The whisper from your lips moved your jaw and his thumb which had trailed its way down to rest over your bottom lip tickled over its surface, making your skin feel heated, making your insides flutter with the confessions you heard tumble from his mouth.

“W-What do you want to do? Stop overthinking this and just say it. Don’t think, just tell me, what do you want to do, baby?” You didn’t even have control over the pet name. It just fit so perfectly and so completely that it happened all on its own now.

He was coiled tight and ready to snap. He was holding his breath and his lungs had begun to burn. He was filled to the rim when the last drop landed with a splash and he moved quickly, reaching for your face with his other hand and he took another step, pushing himself into you. You felt the cool of the wall at your back and he took another step and another until his arms bent at the elbows and his forehead rested against yours. His lips brushed against your cheek and his hands held your face tight enough to bruise if he only dug his fingers in.

“I want you for myself.” His voice was a low growl and your own hands found his waist, found his shirt and pushed it up and out of the way as you sought out the heat of his smooth skin. His back was lean and smooth, muscles were tensed and hard and the breaths that escaped his lungs were labored. Hot breaths from his mouth fanned over your face, warming your lips. “I want to keep you and love you and taste you and fuck you. I want you to come to my room tonight and the next night. I want you to sleep in my bed and wake up next to me and call me baby and I want to hear you tell me how much you love me for me, for who I really am. I want it all and it’s killing me.”

He inhaled a deep breath and you felt as if the oxygen had been taken directly from your own lungs as a wave of dizziness flooded your mind.

“Let me be selfish. Tell me it’ll be okay, that this can work and you won’t be too hurt once I’m gone. Tell me we can see each other again after this tour– Please, baby, I feel like such an asshole for wanting you this badly.”

You had already been nodding your head as he spoke, minimally moving in complete agreement with everything and anything he told you. Desperately agreeing with his words, his requests.

“I’ll be okay. It won’t hurt and even if it does this is worth it. You are worth it. I can take it. I can handle missing you, and we can make it work, I know we can.”

He was close enough that space between your lips and his was an afterthought. Yet when he moved in and closed that distance, the impact was strong enough to open up the earth below your feet and swallow you whole. His breath hit you first, warm and humid over your own parted lips and when his lips reached yours, his own parted and he kissed you in an all-consuming desperation.

You felt constricted around him, your every muscle tensed under his warmth and his weight and yet you craved more. The brush of his tongue against your own, the suction of his mouth as he bit down on your lips, again and again, craving for more from you, taking more and more until you were certain one of you might pass out from lack of air.

This kiss was different than before. This kiss was insatiable and yet the desperation you felt in your chest to satisfy this need left you reaching for more. As if somehow your two bodies could be joined as one with just this kiss.

It was laughable really. And when he finally pulled away and looked into your eyes you did just that. The small breathless giggle that left your lips matched the smile you saw on his lips and he pulled you, molded you into himself as his strong arms secured themselves around your shoulders. He pulled in and he held you closely, deep within a demanding embrace and from somewhere inside his body you heard a laugh.

It was hopeless, this laugh.

You were certain that on the end of that hopeless laugh was the kind of humor that one found in extreme grief or loss. It was madness, this laughter that you heard and you laughed along with him, nestled deep within his arms, you gave in to the utter madness that made that laughter leave your mouth instead of some other wild guttural response to this wildly irrational decision you had both made together.

To give in. To give in to this powerful spell you had placed on each other and to accept the inevitable consequences of such an irresponsible choice. Hidden just below the surface, where you pushed it away to deal with another day, where he briefly touched with his wandering fingertips and recoiled at the blinding sting of it, was the lie.

The lie that either of you could withstand the pain to come.

He was moving and he reached in between your bodies inside his front pocket. You felt the shift and allowed him some room for the maneuver and he emerged with a key card that looked identical to the one for your room.

“I have rehearsal soon, but…” You understood and opened your hand to receive what he gave you, “…will you wait for me in my room tonight? It should be only a couple of hours.”

Of course, you would. You told him as much with a small smile and nod of your head and his own smile broke free once, twice, with each time he looked back into your face that beautiful smile widened on his face until you thought you couldn’t possibly stand anymore. He was backing away. He was leaving yet the spell pulled him back again.

Or perhaps it was when you gave in to the madness and reached for his shirt with your own two hands, balling the fabric up into two tight knots as you did it, you just grabbed hold and pulled and he laughed and stumbled away from the door and into you again, bracing on the wall behind you to keep from crushing you with the force you had pulled him with.

But Kyungsoo was back and his lips were back and those hands touched you again just as passionately as before. It was too short.

He needed to stay.

“I need to go,” he breathed into the laughter you felt against your lips and the kiss was mostly teeth against teeth when you gave into the giggles.

He reached for his bag and his shoes and you held the door for him as he left. His gate was off and he stumbled over a seam in the carpet just outside of the door and laughed as he righted himself and looked back at you with that blinding smile still on his face, yet still moving forward straight toward a turn in the hallway that he wasn’t watching for. The man looked like he was drunk, but maybe you did too.

To his benefit, he recovered a second before slamming right into the wall that he approached too fast and caught himself before any actual injuries could be obtained. Laughing again he turned once more before reaching the hallway where he would disappear and his hand rose to his lips where he placed a kiss, which he dramatically threw in your direction before he was gone from your sight, leaving you reeling from everything that was happening and dizzy from the elation caused by your love for that man.

Do Kyungsoo…your Kyungsoo. You swore that you felt that kiss he threw hit you like a bullet right between the eyes.

You knew you were done for.

All His [M]: Canon AU - Fluff / Smut part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8 , part 9 , part 10 , part 11 FINAL

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goldenscript · 7 years ago

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home is where you are. (m)

↳ a companion piece to sad machines (jung hoseok story)!

pairing: shin hoseok | reader genre: punk au / fluff, angst, and minor smut word count: 8,288 description: for once, he’s willing to come to terms with his past if it means not losing the best damn thing in his life, her. author’s note: happy birthday to @wonhopes! i wish i had finished that personal trainer au, but i hope this is okay too girl! sorry for being a little late btw~ <3

cr.

The bar was quiet that night.

Its usual goers remained to themselves, drinking away their sorrows with little cares in the world and remaining there as the night slowly progressed. Wonho wasn’t sure how that could be possible, but everything felt too heavy and uninviting. He hated it. He hated that he envied them, hated that he was wishing for his own release.

His dark brown hues grazed over each of the forest green booths, noting how the faces in them jogged some memory in his recollection, until his sights landed on the last one in the far right. Although it was occupied, his mind could only remember this was where he met her. The incandescent light had washed over her scrunched up visage, words fell off her lips in grumbles, and several bottles of Blue Moon laid astray atop of the mahogany table. Still, she reached for the bottle, trying to siphon whatever else was left. He remembered asking her what was wrong, knowing that whatever it was, he hoped she was okay.

He smiled to himself, remembering the way Y/N glared at him, willing him to go away with vehemence. Her very first words were, “I hate guys.” It came off as a huff, and he almost believed that she hated him, but the moment he apologized and tried to walk away, she told him to stay. Her voice has been small, remorse tinged between the words, and, for whatever reason, he did and he didn’t regret it, even now.

Y/N has always had a fire in her—the kind anyone would think a man like him could possess. However, it’s her, always has been. People take one look at him—the tattoos, the piercings, and the muscles—just to peel out, avert their eyes, and see him as something to fear. Then, they take a gander at her—someone so unlike him in appearance with features he saw as more than ordinary and eyes as bright as the stars on a unpolluted night in the countryside. Like the time the two of them went off to his mother’s just to get away in March. It was his favorite vacation; evidently, it was the first time he took a trip down there in over a year.

Beyond her innocuous looks and provoking words, he was hooked from the start. All he wanted to do was bask in the glory of her and only her. Of course, he lived his life away from the rapid waters of her everything, but even just a few moments away and he missed the rush and adrenaline that came with someone so outspoken and radiant as her.

It was silly to feel like a highschool boy again, but every time he was with Y/N, he was thrown into a conundrum of feelings that he even has a hard time navigating through. And he’s been pretty good at understanding himself, and his needs as a twenty-four year-old man. But whenever she called, all he wanted to do is come running. He wanted to let her in his waters, let her take a dip in the cool, white-streaked stream, like she has allowed him. He knew he should, what with everything they’ve been through together—it just frightened him to think that someone could stick around afterwards.

That was his fault, of course. To think that he could get away with keeping her out of his past, his mistakes, his old stories was almost a dream had he not taken her to his mother’s house. It wasn’t an apartment in the city anymore; rather, a nice cottage that was away from the madness, safe and secure. At least, he hoped so. Hearing memories and seeing them elicited an odd heaviness in him, even with Y/N there. Every time there was a new thing to learn, his fiery girl would turn to look at him with inquisition as if to say, “Why haven’t you told me this before?” Again, he had no response.

With tight lips, he allowed his mother to talk about his youth, his adolescence, but shut down the mention of their time beyond that, because there were points in his life that he didn’t want to relive. Especially, not with Y/N there. He didn’t want her to see that side. Back when he didn’t help co-own that bar back in the city, when he floundered to live, and when he hated life because he loves his life now, without the mention of any of those things.

He remembered when they both arrived back from vacation, the furrowed brows and deepened frown on her visage that didn’t sit well despite how familiar this look was. He knew how much she wanted to know about him—the parts that he was far from being proud of, the parts he’s tried so hard to staunch down into the deepest crevices inside, and the parts that he hated with an absolute passion. He hated that his way of living was through anger, through hate, through so much negativity that it nearly killed him when he least expected it.

The time he spent away from that old self, the better he has felt. He felt less heavy. He doesn’t need his dad or fighting like he did before. He lived better now. And he told her so when she asked him why he won’t talk about any of it. She respected it the first few times, but another month back home, and she prodded.

Maybe too hard.

“Why won’t you talk to me, Wonho? Why can’t you let me in?” She said, her touch already creeping on his forearm. The very ghost of her palm was enough to halt another step toward the door. Even when he was angry, he couldn’t wretch himself from her, not even a little bit.

He shook his head with a deep huff, he replied, “You don’t need to see that side, Y/N. You shouldn’t have to see any of it. Why can’t you be happy with who you’re seeing now?”

“I am happy,” She said, giving him a squeeze as if to jolt him back to his senses, “I love the man I see, the man I know, but there’s more to you than this well-put guy. You’re sweet, you’re caring, and you’re so good, but Wonho, what was your mom talking about huh? Why won’t you just talk to me about it?”

He released a fluttered laugh before saying, “Because, you don’t need to see it. It’s just the past. Things that once came to be, and there’s no reason to bring it up anymore. Why are you so keen on finding out?”

“I want to know the real you, Wonho.”

He looked at her in disbelief, wanting so badly to wrench himself from her grasp and run off to somewhere, anywhere but here, yet he remained planted in the hallway. His fingertips itched for the door, but the look in her eyes kept him in place. She was hoping to break him or read him, it was usually both anyway.

He retorted, “You know me—”

“—No, I don’t,” She fired back, continuing even as her grasp softened, “Your mom told me you wrote poetry, but you won’t show me any of your writing. You shut your book, stow it away, and tell me to leave it be. You tell me to leave so many things be for my own good, but how can I when I’m here willing trying to get to know you?”

His thoughts were coming at him a million miles-per-hour. They wouldn’t stop. A part of him wanted to tell her, just to let it off all his chest and hope that she wouldn’t run away; however, another part of him—a stronger part—urged him to continue to prolong telling her, with hopes that maybe she would drop it.

“I can’t do this with you right now, Y/N.”

At that time, the only thing he wanted to do was escape. Hell, his other hand was on the door, the cool metal contrasting against his burning skin.

She said in a low voice, one she hardly used, if ever, “Then, when Wonho? When will you do be able to do this with me?”

“I—” Before he could answer, he stopped himself.

“If you go, if you leave this conversation, then I don’t have anything else to say to you.” She muttered, slowly releasing him, “I won’t force you to tell me about your past or yourself or your damn journal, but I thought that our relationship meant more to you y’know? It isn’t about revealing all your deepest, darkest secrets, Wonho. I’m just asking you to be yourself with me instead of trying to hide the scars so badly.”

He whispered back, “I’m sorry. I’ll call you later tonight.”

But, that’s the thing about Y/N, she doesn’t drop things.

Even when he called, she didn’t answer. She purposefully sent him to voicemail on a few consecutive calls, and at well past midnight, she mostly likely fell asleep because the phone kept ringing and ringing until it was at voicemail. He just hung up by then, but he couldn’t deny the heaviness in his chest when he went to sleep that night.

The next few days remained like this. Each of his calls left ignored or forwarded. Then, even his visits to her apartment were left ignored too, even when he knew she was there.

It was unnerving to say the least. Hard as goddamn hell to process because he was so accustomed to hearing her voice, receiving a message in the oddest of times, and seeing her and her curved lips before she would beckon him forth and taste him. He missed her, missed the comfort she brought him. Without her, it was like being away from home, as cheesy as that is.

A good five days had passed since the silence, and it was driving him up the wall, eating at him like Hyunwoo at a buffet. It was too damn much. He was hoping she was on the other end as he told her door, “Talk to me. Please, Y/N. C’mon.”

“Does this mean I get to hear from the real Wonho?” She said, after a few moments. He could feel her pressed against the wood.

Her warmth was so close, and yet he felt the distance the moment he spoke, “This is the real Wonho, babe.”

“You know that isn’t what I meant,” With a huff, she opened the door and assessed his visage; he was certain he looked godawful, but that was a given when the one thing that gave him peace in this world was actually the cause of his stress at this moment. She muttered, “You know exactly what I mean, Shin Hoseok.”

“That’s not my name.”

He didn’t mean the venom in his tone (god, why did he do that?), but it’s an automatic reaction—even to her—when that name comes to surface. He’s only ever made an exception to his mother, and even she’s careful not to use it nowadays. Maybe he should’ve been more careful with those damn yearbooks.

“Right,” She said, sighing, “I’m sorry. It’s just the conversation we had a few days ago—”

He exhaled a bitter laugh, retorting, “You’re still not over that?” He barely even registered the irritation crossing her features, “Why can’t you leave well enough alone, Y/N? It’s not important.”

“Not important?” She repeated as the creases between her brows furrowed and her lips were pulling into that particular frown, the one she never noticed until someone pointed it out, but he had no time to do so as she continued, “How can you say that?”

“Really? You want me to tell you?”

She simply nodded, quirking a brow upward as she waited.

He ran a hand back and forth through his hair, even his steps are careful toward her and his voice shook as he responded, “Because I’m not,” He released a breath, hoping that he could plead to her somehow, “at least not that part of me. I’ve tried so hard to be the me that I am now, and I’d rather not go back to the past where it should stay. Out of everyone in my life, the last person I want to see that side is you. It’s dark and ugly and scary and you don’t need to see any of that, alright?”

“Even if I want to see those parts?” She asked softly, her gaze losing its hardened shine, “All those pieces I don’t get to see… I want to.”

He felt her fingertips ghost his forearms, tracing over the permanent marks in that gentle touch of hers. He relished in the feeling, enjoying the way gooseflesh rose as she pulled him in closer. He was grateful when she allowed him to rest his hands on her hips. He missed this in those five, long days—her touch soothed him, eased his troubled mind, and he didn’t need to tell her that as she surpassed the roses to the clock on the left side of his neck. Even with his moderate effort to disguise it behind the white button-down, she still snuck her thumb into the open space, just to touch his clammy skin.

With her, he felt like glass, so easily breakable and yet valuable whenever she needed her share of a shot. He laughed about that once, but he stopped himself as she held his face and stared up at him with ambivalence.

He leaned into her touch, almost tempted to shut his eyes before he found his voice and asked, “Why?”

The prospect of anyone wanting anything to do with him was still remarkable to him, confusing really, but wanting to know those parts of him? It was almost unthinkable. As someone who had to fight to be where he was, he just didn’t want to relive that world. This was a life where he was a kid dealing with a fucked up step-father and being told he couldn’t amount to anything in school. Back then, all he truly had was books and writing—it was a private place to escape from the loud, loud world that wanted nothing to do with him. And, even so, even dealing with it many years afterwards, his fear has only ever been what Y/N would have to say—a matter of whether she would run away or not, and despite all else, it wasn’t the first time this happened. He just hoped she would be the last, y’know, the one to stay.

“Because, you are important,” She murmured, returning her touch back to his shoulders, “To me, you’re so fucking important, Wonho. And, I accept who you are, and I’ll accept who you were, too.”

His hands moved from her hips, now grasping her wrists. He shook his head and said, “You don’t mean that. It’s a hefty weight.”

“I’ll share the burden with you,” She said, losing the uncertainty and regaining her burning determination, even if it was just a smidgen, “And I mean that.”

He shook his head again, only as she continued, “Wonho, I told you already. I want to hear all of this.”

He repeated once more, “You don’t mean that.”

Her brows were furrowed once again, her voice still soft as she spoke, “No, I do—”

But, of course, he was having none of that as he said, “You really have no fucking clue what you’re saying right now.”

Her eyes widened, meeting his with disbelief flooding her hues, “Of course, I do! Wonho—”

“No, you don’t. Dammit, Y/N. I told you already, the shit in my past is ugly and dark, okay? You don’t need to be anywhere near it.” He hated the way he sounded, the sudden anger, the absolute guttural nature that only came when his temper was rising.

“I don’t care about I ‘need,’ Wonho. This is what I want to do. I want to know those ugly and dark parts.” She said, only to watch as he pulled away to create some distance between the two of them, “Are you just scared to let me in? Is that why?”

More than immediately, he answered her, “Fuck, of course I am!”

“Why?”

He took a step back, feeling his thoughts running at him in too many different directions. He wasn’t sure whether to cave into the desire to tell her or to prolong the escape of the truth, but from the expectant look in her eyes, he just answered with a mere, “Because.”

Of course, she prodded, “Because?”

It took him a moment to answer. Mostly from his own internal attempt to shut down all the panic running through his body. He fiddled his fingertips together because he knew he was shaking as he said, “Because, like everyone else I’ve let in, I’m scared to see you go, alright?” She stepped away, hurt flashing across her stormy eyes, “What?”

“I didn’t think I was just anybody to you, Wonho. I thought this was more than that,” She admitted, and he felt his own frustration curb ever-so-slightly, because that was the last thing he wanted to convey to her.

“It is!” He insisted, “And you’re not just ‘anybody’ to me. Fuck, don’t twist my words like that, because I didn’t say or mean it like that. Please.”

“I—” She released a sigh and looked at the fern beside him, then she ran a hand through her hair before looking back at him, “I don’t know what else to think, Wonho. Why won’t you just let me in?”

“I don’t want to, okay?! I just want to be with you, forget the past. That’s it.”

It felt so simple, yet seemed to sound so wrong coming off his own lips. Even Y/N thought so from the way her features scrunched together in confusion and disappointment.

“That’s fucking ridiculous, Wonho. You can’t expect this,” She gestured between the two of you, “to work, otherwise. You can’t just run away from the past and expect me to accept that missing part of you.”

“That’s not what I meant—” He huffed, seeing her nod, so he continued, “I mean I just hoped that we wouldn’t have to get into all of that, yet.”

“Then when?”

Never, He thought to himself, then. It hit him, perhaps this was always in him, that he simply did not want her to know it at all, that he did hope she would accept his desire to keep the past away from their current reality. But, he should’ve known better, when it came to Y/N, there was no hiding the truth or anything, there was no running when she was the type of person to tackle things head on, and there was no point in trying to convince her otherwise, because she was absolutely set on this goal.

“Fuck, I—” He shook his head, “I don’t know.”

“Wonho, c’mon, how can you think this would work out doing that? Did you think I would just accept it after you told me to leave it be?” She said, her hands interlaced together at her abdomen. Her fingers wouldn’t stop fidgeting either.

“I—”

He wanted to give up, let her win, and let this brush over. He really did.

“Did you think I would just let all this shit fester inside you? You say everything’s been so much better, but the longer you push it away, the stronger it’ll come back. The past doesn’t stay buried unless you’ve come to terms with it.”

But somehow, he just couldn’t let it slide, he had to keep fighting, so he replied softly, “Oh, you must know that well, right?”

She blinked, her fingers unlacing as she asked, “What?”

He shook his head, his temper was just getting the best of him. He shouldn’t say it so he told her, “Nothing…”

There was the sound of her neighbors exiting their room next door. One of which had made eye contact with him —either Hoseok or Yoongi, he couldn’t really remember which—before he felt a tug at his arm that brought him inside. She shut the door before saying, “No, seriously. What?”

Don’tsayitdon’tsayitdon’tsayitgoddammit. Still, his brain didn’t want to collaborate with his mouth. He muttered, “Fine…”

Without a second, he found himself saying, “There you go again, trying to pry. You do this, feeling like you have to but you don’t—you really fucking don’t. I don’t want to be fixed or whatever the fuck you’re trying to do, Y/N. I’ve done enough self-improvement to last me the rest of my life.”

“Pry? What the—”

“Don’t be so surprised! You do pry.” He said once again, feeling both guilt and resolution in saying the words, “It’s like you have this need to know everything about everyone, and for once, I just want you to leave it alone. For once.”

Please, just leave it alone. He didn’t want to keep doing this. He just wanted to have a normal Tuesday night with her, not this, not fight about the frivolity of his former self.

“Wonho, I’m not doing this because I want to ‘fix’ you or whatever the fuck you think.” She replied, eyes narrowing slightly but the anger and the hurt were evidently there as she continued, “I’m doing this because if we want to be together, then I need to know the man I’m with. All the parts. Not the hand-picked ones you think are the best. People get over that shit after the first three months, but here we are, seven months in and still hoarding secrets?”

He just wanted her to stop. He hoped she would stop when he pointed out, “You run from reality too, y’know, you drink sometimes.”

However, the bitter laugh that parted her lips had a cold shiver run down his spine and a odd pit in his gut was forming, stopthisstopthisstopthis, “And here you are, turning shit on me. Why are you deflecting me?”

Fuck, she knows… He thought to himself. Another part seemed to say, “well, of course, she fucking knows, you imbecile.”

He still didn’t know what he was saying, only the need to halt this argument and the need to get the attention away from him. He was hoping it would work as he explained, “I see people at the bar drink, they usually do it forget about things, and that night—you were doing the same thing, Y/N.” He hated the last part of what he said, but still, he said it anyway, “But, just because you can’t control your life doesn’t mean you need to try and control mine—”

“—Get out.”

“It doesn’t mean you need to—” He hadn’t registered what she had said until she yanked her door open, “wait, what?”

Fuckfuckfuck, what did I do?

“You heard me.” All he could see on her visage was the blatant hurt crossing her eyes, the sudden regret and remorse filled him, and still he couldn’t find himself brave enough to approach her as she continued to answer him in a calm manner, “If you want to be an immature, little shit and throw jabs at me just because you don’t want to tell me shit then fine. But, I don’t have to sit here and take it. All I wanted to do is get to know my boyfriend, someone I care so fucking much about, and if you don’t want that then fine. I don’t have anything to say to you anymore. I mean it this time.”

She didn’t have to wait long for him to comply. Her stony hues were watching him even as he stood outside the vicinity of her door frame. She looked at him with a flash of remorse crossing her own sight but he hoped it was only momentary. He knew he didn’t deserve it, and that stupid high of anger was now painfully wearing off.

All he could get out was, “Y/N, wait—”

“—No, good night, Wonho.”

“Um,” She shut the door, and he stared at its cream-colored glory before running a hand through his hair and saying, “Fuck.”

Since that night, exactly a month and three days, he hasn’t stopped thinking about their spat.

He was hurt at the time, unbearably so, because this was the first time she had genuinely pushed harder than ever before to get past his walls and that was new for him. Naturally, his first instinct was to attack her just to get her away. He knew what was he doing after all, knew that every word would get her, but he hoped that this wasn’t an ultimate push to deter her from him. All he wanted to do was deter her from plunging into the dark depths, because that was the danger zone, the place that was not for someone like her.

Instead, he wound up pushing her away completely. His calls had gone missed, unanswered, and most definitely, ignored. Same for his text messages. He knew this was to be expected, especially with Y/N. She was angry and pissed, but most of all, hurt because she was getting pushed away without any of it being called for. She had a point in wanting to get to know him.

In fact, she deserved to.

From all of her sheer determination and utter patience with him, she deserved so much. Probably even more so from how much care and affection she has shown him; again, more than he ever deserved, and still, she did it because she wanted to, not out of pity but out of care, for whatever reason.

In his soul searching, a rather lonely one, at that, he realized how empty and lost he felt without her. Despite his notoriety for independence, there was a weight on his chest that felt heavier than any dumbbell or story from his past. There was a part of him missing, and his chest actually ached at the thought that another attempt of his to reach out would go ignored once again. He missed her. He missed Y/N.

At this point, he wanted her back. He wanted to cave into her whims, because without her, he felt lost more than ever. He was used to downing a single shot of Jack Daniels, spending nights alone in a cold bed, and repeating said routine. In between, he would talk to friends, coworkers, and customers, but the moment she became a customer was the moment he could no longer return back to such monotony. She gave him a direction in life, and as a lonesome person, this was rare.

And, despite a part of him—the prideful one—that was telling him not to bother anymore, his heart was pestering him. It was yearning for her, and nagging him in the process. He knew that texts and phonecalls wouldn’t fix any of this for damn sure. The things he needed to do were against his cowardice, so hiding with his pride was no longer an afforded option. He needed to see and talk to her, for his sake, and more importantly, hers.

So, after a brief deliberation with his co-owner and longtime friend, Hyunwoo, he walked the usual path to the one destination that put his heart at ease.

He walked briskly, hoping the adrenaline coursing through his system would run out of steam, until he was finally in front of the champagne-colored building. To his luck, one of the tenants was leaving, giving him enough time to slip inside and bask in the worn-down comfort of the lobby that had become something that of a second-home for him.

He took the stairs two steps at a time, feeling only slightly winded as he passed the fourth floor and feeling rejoice as soon as the sixth has welcomed his sights. He carefully opened the door, and gripped the cloth-bound notebook even tighter as he slowly made his way over to 6T.

There were many thoughts, don’t fuck this up don’t fuck this up goddammitdon’tfuckthisup, running through his head as he neared the cream-colored door. Both of his hands were wound around the notebook, clutching it like the lifeline that it was because it was now or never. He was going to come to terms with the truth, with his past, and now, both of those things, with Y/N.

He was scared shitless, of course. He didn’t know what to say or think now that he was there in front of her door, waiting for her to answer. It was only eleven, still a young night, and he was certain that she was awake, because of her night-owl tendencies. There wasn’t much he could do upon waiting though he found it odd to see that the lights were off and hear no rustling about beyond the door.

“Okay, look, if you want something, you gotta go and grab it!” Y/N said to either Hoseok or Yoongi, he couldn’t remember which was which still.

The undecipherable man replied with a sigh, “That’s easier said than done. I left, how can I just go and grab her when I left her behind?”

“Because, Hoseok,” —Well, that answers my question.— “no matter what, if it’s meant to be, then she’ll come back to you somehow. Hell, maybe she’ll even call you for help, for once.”

It then dawned on Wonho that Hoseok was the brunet one with a girl problem, while Yoongi was presumably the bleach blond, who didn’t spend much time at the apartment most nights. And, it relieved the older man that Y/N was just giving the high school dropout with an issue that he was somewhat suffering from as well.

Taking a step back, the dark-haired man nearly jumped out of his skin when someone else’s voice pierced the proximity, “You can go in, y’know.”

He turned to meet Yoongi’s amused expression, he nodded toward the door and pushed it open to reveal the two of them. This effectively halted the duo’s conversation inside as they both looked over at them in the hallway.

Wonho heard her say his name and he muttered hers, her eyes went wide before turning to Hoseok and muttering something that the younger man nodded to before she walked over to him. She smiled at Yoongi on her way out, who returned the gesture in a slightly smaller way before leaving them to their own devices.

Next to the sound of the door closing, he could hear the sound of his heart hammering inside his chest. He had spent plenty of time playing this in his head, but again, it still felt scarier than ever to face it head on, in reality.

The two of them stood before one another, still and silent as she dared a look at him with studious eyes. She wasn’t afraid as she released a deep sigh, running through her hair before she said, “What are you doing here?”

“I—uh—came here to say I’m sorry.” He answered, fidgeting slightly as she continued to look at him. “And, I just—ah, fuck—I fucked up, Y/N. I’m sorry.”

There came a long moment until she spoke though she continued to stare at him. Her eyes shrouded between concern and hurt; regardless, he hated that he caused her any of it. He even hated that he couldn’t find a better way to tell her how much he regretted what he said, and yet, he still couldn’t believe that her gaze softened.

“What’s that in your hand?” She asked. This time lacking the initial hardness.

He answered, a small half-smile on his lips, “You know what it is.” After he released his own sigh, he continued, “I mean it when I say that I’m sorry. I didn’t mean those things I said. I was—”

He felt the word stuck in his throat. It had been too long since he admitted it aloud, really.

“—Scared?”

He nodded, running a hand at the back of his head, “Extremely scared.”

“Why?” She asked, her tilted to the side.

“Because,” He exhaled before finishing his response, “I’ve never done that before. This,” He gestured between the two of them, “I mean. It’s the first time I’ve ever felt something this strong for someone, and I just couldn’t imagine having you learn those shitty sides of me. I just wanted to protect you from them,”

She whispered, “Protect me?” Her eyes narrowed when he nodded, “Wonho, just because you wanted to protect me from your past doesn’t mean you should. Don’t you think I deserve to know the whole you?”

He nodded again, this time a little more fervently, “Of course, you do. I think you deserve so much more than this, and I don’t know…”

“You do know,” She coaxed, “I know you know. There’s gotta be more to this than just that, and I mean—fuck—of course, I want to forgive you. But I want to know if me forgiving you now will be a mistake later on. Whatever you’re hiding, whatever it is you want to keep from me… is it really worth putting up some act to be perfect for me?”

“I—I don’t know,” He said, watching as her now straightened head was shaking from side to side.

“I think you do.”

“I—”

Her brows furrowed as she said softly, “Wonho, please. Just tell me what’s going on with you. Why are you being like this?”

How could he say no? How could he ever think to say no to her? His brain was practically screaming him, coaxing him into just revealing everything to the one goddamn person he truly loved besides his mom.

Love. I love her.

“I love you.”

This time she blinked, her eyes widened as she asked, “What did you just say?”

He nodded, repeating himself once again, “I—I love you.”

She took a step toward him, daring to close the minuscule distance before she commanded, “Say it, again.”

“Y/N,” He said, matching her steps and relishing in the touch she placed on his inked forearms, “I love you.”

He could still feel his heart hammering inside his chest, each beat more and more erratic than the next, because he finally said. He finally told her.

Her arms wrapped around his waist, while his own found home around her shoulders. Y/N’s warmth was pressing against his chest. The very warmth he craved so fervently, he wished he could stay in her proximity much longer, just so he could bask in her comfort and security. He needed it. However, he also knew that it was time to come to terms with his fears beyond admitting his love for the woman of dreams he never thought he could have.

And, so, he took another deep, shaky inhale, relaxing at the scent of jasmine and magnolia from her free spray from Victoria’s Secret as he laid his hands on her shoulders to part their embrace.

“I want to tell you everything about my past. I want to let you in. I really, really, really really really fucking want to tell you, and I will, right now, if you want,” He whispered, pressing his forehead to hers, “I’m willing to tell you everything, Y/N. I just don’t want to fucking lose you, okay? I—I know I’m a month late and that I said shitty things and fuck, I—I’m so sorry, okay?”

She nodded, matching his whisper, “Okay, shh—c’mon, let’s talk in my apartment, then.” This time she pulled away, taking a hold of one of his hands and guiding him to 6T.

Their hands were clammy interlaced together though he actually missed the feeling when she separated them to turn the lights on and lock the door behind them. She shooed him toward the living area on the right, where they spent many meals together, many of which he missed (even the ones he actually missed).

The entire apartment was an open space, only separated by a counter that she converted into a dining table with bar stools. Behind them was the couch alongside the television that they spent plenty of time watching countless movies and television shows together, then even farther left was the bedroom door. The walls were sparse, but what was hung meant something, at least, according to her.

Evidently, she still had up some of their photos, and a pang shot through his heart.

His study of the place left him feeling a little less nervous. The need to cling to his notebook felt a little less dire so he set it down on the speckled baby blue tabletop. He was actually a lot more grateful knowing that she hadn’t decided to cut him out, yet. Even when she took a seat beside him, allowing their knees to brush against one another, he still felt grateful.

“Talk,” She said, leaning the side of her cheek against her fist. “I’m all ears, Wonho.”

“You’re too good to me, you know that right?” He sighed, staring at her and the inquisition radiating off her expectant gaze.

“I know that,” She rolled her eyes and huffed, “But, you don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re not so bad yourself.”

“I don—” She placed a finger over his lips, brows slightly furrowed once again.

“If you’re here to just shit on yourself then there’s the door, dummy,” She then pointed at her left, but the shake of his head was enough to get her to remove her finger so he could continue.

“Alright, I’m sorry, again,” He said, rubbing the back of his head again, “It’s just, like I said, this is all new for me. In the month away from you, and even before that, I was trying to figure out just how much I felt for you, Y/N. I was so fucking terrified over the idea of telling you that I wasn’t always this guy,” He gestured to himself, “you’ve always known, but a kid who didn’t know what he was doing. A kid that did shitty things to get by because my dad’s a fucking deadbeat and I didn’t want my mom to keep suffering because of me, okay? I just—fuck—even talking about it now is really fucking hard—”

She placed a hand atop of his, giving it a squeeze as she murmured, “It’s okay, baby… just breathe, alright? Take your time. I’m not telling you to tell me your whole life story right now, but whatever you feel like I’m ready to know then go for it.”

He nodded, flipping his hand over so their fingers were intertwined again, “I know, I just think you’re ready to know everything. It took me realizing that I love you to come to that, actually.”

She muttered under her breath, “Cheesy, but continue.”

He exhaled a small laugh before nodding, “The truth is,” His eyes were set on hers, “that I’m scared to tell you about my past because I’ve been pretty fucking terrified that you’ll just run from what you see and never come back. That’s what I was protecting you from.”

“By not letting me experience it for my own?” She raised a brow at him, “Wonho, I know you care, but you still should’ve let me see it for myself, y’know? Let me be the judge of that—”

“—It’s just,” He fiddled with their fingers, “I’ve been here before, where I loved a girl—at least, I thought so at the time—and then she just up and left because of the things she saw. She didn’t want any part of it, even after I was better than back then.” He nodded to himself, voicing his thoughts, “I know it’s stupid to say aloud, but I thought that pushing it off—talk about the whole thing, I mean—would help us… when I thought about it, I really think, ‘God, you’re an idiot.’”

She mused, a faint smile threatened to curve on her lips, “I can’t really argue with that, but I can say that no matter what, you should never feel afraid to tell these sorts of things to me, to someone you love.” She leaned in closer, practically a hairsbreadth away now, “I love you, too, Wonho. I love you so much, so it really fucking hurt when it felt like you didn’t trust me enough to tell me about the past you, because even though it’s in the past, it’s still a part of you. It’s still something that, as crazy as this’ll sound, I would still love. I will love every part of you because who you are now was built by that part of you back then, so please understand that, okay?”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. At least, because Y/N had told him the three words that fueled all his anxieties and comforts, all his heartaches and heartbeats, and now, he was hearing for the first time. And, he was also hearing that she accepted him, that she would accept him, and that was something that has come even rarer than a relationship with someone he cares about.

“Do you mean that?” He asked with wide eyes. holyshit holyshit holy shit

She nodded, this time with a smile curved on her lips, “Of course, I do. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t, dummy.” After a moment, she said, “I’m sorry, too.”

He blinked and immediately inquired, “Why are you sorry?”

His own brain was now trying to recall why she would need to apologize, but as soon as he came up empty, she answered, “Because you told me you were scared to see me go if you ever told me the truth, and I didn’t listen and I just made it about me, thinking you were just clumping me with everyone else in your life.”

“Hey,” He said, grasping her chin, “It’s okay. You deserved to know the truth, and I got mad and defensive y’know?”

“I know, but it’s also not,” She shook her head, “I should’ve heard you out instead of getting hurt like that. The last thing I ever want to do is misunderstand you, Wonho, and if I’m guilty of it—like I was then—tell me, okay? You’re not the only guilty one, so don’t forget that.”

“It’s fine,” He said, nodding as she continued to shake her head.

“It takes two to communicate, y’know,” She commented, giving his hand a squeeze. “Just know that I couldn’t stop thinking of that night and how hurt and angry I was. It took me a while to cool down, but when I found my head, I couldn’t stop feeling so frustrated because I just did that and and and I think you’re too good to me sometimes. I didn’t respond and you still kept coming back…”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, his mind couldn’t seem to comprehend what she was saying though he was beginning to see that there might’ve been truths to what they were both saying all along. And, he couldn’t stop himself from pulling her into his arms once again.

“I love you, that’s why. I love you, and it’s okay that you made me wait because I knew that it couldn’t have been one-sided, alright?”

“How?” She asked from the crook of his neck.

It only made him fidget slightly, but he answered, “Because you read every single one of ‘em.”

She laughed, causing his own set of giggles. When he tried to escape, she locked her arms around his waist, keeping him there and pressing into his sensitive sides. This created more discordant sounds, and still, despite his complaints, Wonho was relishing in this moment because it felt right.

He felt happy, and hell of a lot lighter than before.

Moving his hands from her neck, back to her arms around him, he stared at her with a smile still on his lips. “I’m glad you did.”

She nodded, pressing her lips to his nose, “Of course, I did. I mean I was mad, but I’m glad you didn’t go ghost on me.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” He said with conviction.

“I did it to you, kinda,” She pointed out, “If you did with me, then I’ll understand.” She mused, “You get one pass for it the next time this ever happens.”

He pressed his nose into the crook of her neck, his soft breath against her smooth, supple skin, “I hope it never happens again.” He nuzzled in even closer, “That was the hardest month and three days of my life.”

“Well, we’re in this together,” She said, running her hands through his hair. The feeling alone was enough to elicit a guttural groan; to which, she giggled before continuing, “We’ll have plenty of time to grow together, yeah?”

Even as he remained where he was, he nodded, circling his arms around her waist, “Yeah, I’m counting on that.”

“Me too.”

It was nearly 1 AM by the time the two of them made their way to the plush comforts of her bed.

There was a ding—a tone they were both certain was hers, but opted to ignore as they continued their fervent ministrations—at her bedside table by the time the two of them are wrapped up in one another—a flurry of heady, open-mouthed kisses on bare skin filled the bedroom air, intermingling with thumping from the wall and revving engines from the outside.

Wonho wanted to make up for the lost time with Y/N—to make the girl he absolutely fucking adored and loved to feel everything that he very much felt for her, because he wanted—no, he needed—her to feel every ounce of emotion he had pent up since the day of their fateful argument that scared to no end.

There have been moments in his life when he feared the loss of something important in his life—one of which was the time he almost lost his mother to that shitty father of his, and the other was the moment when he realized he could’ve lost the best damn thing that has entered his life since the bar—and they were frightening on both accounts, because all the love he has ever mustered or felt was for these very things that have kept him going for most of his time on his earth.

He has never truly felt as alive as he has with Y/N, and he has been eternally grateful for her love and her support, and goddammit, he was going to make his beloved feel the good in the best goddamn way possible.

His lips only ever briefly left hers as he tasted her skin, allowing his soft, plush lips to share his affection. He kissed her on every inch that he could before he settled on her mound, allowing her soft, breathy moans to effectively guide his ministrations in pleasing her in a way that only he could. His tongue engorged her, exploring her crevices before allowing his fingers to fill her and help her reach climax.

He only continued on as their skins slapped against one another, those hot and heady moans kissing the air as they kissed one another. The moment she screamed out his name, he found his release, and they rode out together into a blissful ecstasy.

They laid there after cleaning up, the two of them freshly wiped down from their several hour-long time together, and he laid beside her, watching as she studied the ink on his skin. She touched the artwork, tracing them as she always did. All the while, he brushed her hair away from her visage, and a smile couldn’t help but curve on his lips.

This was bliss to him.

The contentment with the girl he loved, the resolution and confrontation of a past that he had yet to even breach the surface, and all the while, he still couldn’t help but murmur, “I love you,” as they continued to lay together until they fell asleep.

The next morning—well, afternoon, more like—the two of them awoke to the ringtone chiming from Y/N’s phone. He would’ve liked her to ignore it, like he wanted to, but he just sighed and told her that maybe she should since it was happening since last night.

She reached over to the bedside table, remaining firmly planted against Wonho’s bare torso in just his grey T-shirt, and giggled as soon as she unlocked her phone.

She turned the screen over to him, kissing his forehead when he pouted, to let him read the three messages awaiting them—

[3:05 AM] gramps: you’re welcome but keep it down next time gdi

[12:55 PM] hobers: old lady! you were right! she called me & we’re meeting this afternoon! anyway, good luck with wonho btw!

[12:56 PM] hobers: actually, scratch that. pretty sure everything went well. Yoongi was complaining lol

He chuckled, pressing his lips to her forehead this time as she completely nestled herself into his embrace. It was only 1 PM, and he was in complete bliss once again. He then said, “I love you.”

She turned to him, pressing a small peck to his lips before replying, “I love you too.”

There was only one place in this world he would rather be, and that was with her, because wherever she was, he wanted to be there right beside her.

After all, now, he was home.

#mxnetwork #mxwriters #kwritersnet #shin hoseok scenarios #monsta x wonho #wonho scenario #wonho scenarios #wonho fanfic #wonho angst #monsta x scenarios #monsta x fluff #monsta x fanfic #wonho x reader #monsta x fanfiction #emswriting

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what-even-is-thiss · 8 years ago

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Fic, When Logic Grew Up

I got an anon request for a fic. They said they wanted something for Logic stressing out about starting college and the others getting in the way. I don’t think the Sanders Sides existed before last October, so I’m taking some creative liberties here. Just imagine this as an alternate universe of sorts because I don’t know what starting college was like ten years ago, and I’m imagining what the sides were like when Thomas was in his late teens and he hadn’t started talking to them yet.

This is also my first attempt at storytelling through flashbacks. Woo! I also tried my hand at a slow burn type of story, so it got kind of long. 2,541 words long, to be exact. I can’t think of any warnings. It’s mostly sentimental type stuff. Not fluff exactly, but not angst either. A little bit of platonic analogical because I like the idea of them being friends.

Tip Jar

Everybody knows that kid. They hardly try, they stay organized, and overly stress out when they get anything under a 95 on a test. Logic wanted Thomas to be that kid. He believed Thomas had it in him to be that kid, but he never was. Prince had won out in regards to what kind of student Thomas was. He was the theatre kid. It’s hard to have perfect grades when you spend all your time backstage.

Logic was sifting through his files one evening, cleaning them out. He made piles of things to keep and things not to keep. Old obsolete notes, void passwords, and useless bits of information were folded and thrown into the wastebasket, while new facts and words and practical ideas were put into a pile to be sorted for long term memory later.

After cleaning out short term memory, he decided perhaps he should make a sweep through long term as well. This was what he did while Thomas slept, and tonight he guessed he had a little more time.

As usual, he started with some older memories. Some things were easy to clear out. Without Morality here he could make space by getting rid of things like childhood friends names, second grade art projects, and other inconsequential things. He didn’t do a huge comprehensive sweep. It was more of a random thing.

He skipped over some of the middle school and early high school years. He was not in the mood to revisit those tonight. Instead he decided to check out late high school. Perhaps something from there could be lost.

He opened up a random memory drawer that looked like it hadn’t been opened in about a decade. He struggled to open it, as it seemed to be rusted slightly. As it jerked open, he started to remember why he hadn’t opened it in so long.

“Oh, it’s over! It’s over! Ah, I’m going to miss them all so much!” Morality cried as Thomas hugged another person goodbye.

“Too much! Too much!” Whined Anxiety, shying away. “You’re going to weird them out!”

“Begone!” Prince cried, “Graduation is a joyous occasion and I will not have you ruining it,” Prince pushed the emo aside as he and Morality took the reigns.

Anxiety sat down on a foldable chair and hunched over to sulk. His dyed black fringe moved over his eyes and his folded arms hid his My Chemical Romance t-shirt and fingerless gloves.

Logic adjusted his glasses. Anxiety almost looked dangerous when he was hunched over like that. He knew in the back of his mind that soon the dark thoughts that Anxiety personified would return, but he knew that right now that should not matter. After all, Thomas had spent the last four years of his life with these people. According to the social rules Logic had been able to pick up on, that meant they were at least owed some form of acknowledgment. What that was, he didn’t know, so he left that sort of thing to the others.

Morality pulled out a Polaroid camera. The others did as he said and stood in front of it. This was a very emotional moment, and emotional moments were when he was in charge.

Logic slowly pulled the drawer open the rest of the way. He swallowed and the memories began to trickle into his consciousness. Logic pulled the first file out of the drawer and opened it. It was labeled “High School Graduation”. Along with the usual description of the event was a Polaroid picture.

In the picture were four identical, yet extremely different faces.

The one standing the tallest was in the back right of the frame. It was prince, fresh faced with a winning smile. He was dressed much more casually than he dressed today. More of a modern day prince, with a clean white button-up shirt with black pants. He was wearing a sword on his belt and a silver crown on his head.

Anxiety stood in the center of the frame, clearly not happy to be there. This was before the black hoodie. The age of black fringe and band t-shirts had been in full swing. He was wearing fingerless gloves on hands that didn’t quite fit inside the pockets of his skinny jeans. The eyeliner and mouth piercings were a bit much.

The one holding the camera with his arm stretched out was Morality. He was wearing a school t-shirt and cargo pants. His glasses had colorful blue frames and Logic remembered how at this point Morality had been a big brother. Not a dad.

Then his eyes moved to the hardest thing to look at. Himself.

He was standing next to Anxiety, staring blankly into the camera. He was wearing a polo shirt and khaki pants, the usual American school uniform, even though the school Thomas attended didn’t have a uniform or strict dress code. His wire framed glasses reflected the light of the auditorium in almost sinister fashion. Even at graduation, his backpack was on and a book was in his hand. The picture had a distinct lack of neckties.

This was where it had begun. The first big shift.

Logic had been right. Anxiety was being overly active now that things had settled down. The frightening thing? He was starting to make sense.

“They all said that college was going to be harder. We’re going to fail. We didn’t get the best grades we could. Obviously, we’re not good enough,”

Anxiety and Logic looked on from the sides as the prince and Morality tried to distract Thomas from what Anxiety was saying as they splashed around in the pool.

Logan held his oversized backpack to his chest as he kicked his feet around in the pool. Anxiety had donned a hoodie over his normal attire despite the blistering Florida heat. He was getting stronger every day.

“I think perhaps you are blowing this out of proportion,” Logic said.

Anxiety sighed. “Do you really think that, Logan? I know you see it. Teachers only ever talked about how much harder College is. Do you really have anything to prove them wrong?”

“No. You have a valid point there. I cannot help but think about all the things we should be doing Anxiety. I hate to admit it, but I believe you are right about some things,”

“Then why do you let them push you around, dude? Do you honestly want to keep listening to the sunshine crew over there? They just keep ignoring the obvious,”

“So do you,” Logan pointed out. “but you only ever focus on the negatives,”

“Okay honor roll, you want the facts? We could be studying right now. Getting ahead. We could be inside avoiding sunburn. We could be filling out our financial aid papers. What are we doing? We’re swimming, because that’s what they want to do. If you ask me though, all of that is pointless anyways,”

Logic did a double take. “Pointless? See, this is where you begin to make no sense,”

“Everything is pointless. It’s not like we’re getting anywhere. Yet you and the boy scout over there keep bowing down to the man,”

Logic looked at the clock on the wall by the pool. “It’s time to go home,”

In the present day, Logic slammed the drawer shut. No, he wasn’t going to throw out anything in there. He looked down to see he had taken the Polaroid out of the folder and was still hanging on to it. He couldn’t quite remember doing that, but he tucked it in his back pocket and walked out of the memory files.

Thomas was just beginning to wake up. Morality was in the mindspace kitchen, cheerily making himself some iced coffee.

“Oh, hey there teach! Productive night?” Morality asked, only yawning slightly.

“I suppose,” Logic said.

Prince happily walked into the room, covered in blood spatter.

“That dream made absolutely no sense. It was fabulous!” he announced before going to the sink to wash his hands.

Anxiety entered the room and made a beeline for the fridge.

“What are you doing here?” Prince asked

Anxiety mocked him under his breath as he pulled a yogurt out of the fridge. Logic pulled the Polaroid out of his pocket and looked from the picture to the others. How different they all were! How mature was Patton, how much more fanciful was Roman. and how dark and simplistic was Anxiety.

Yes, Anxiety had grown stronger since high school. Much stronger.

Orientation came, and Anxiety would not shut up.

“There are too many people here. They’re all going to think we’re idiots. We stand out. We don’t know anyone here. You were stupid for not picking a day when your friends came”

He was saying comments like that the entire time. It was getting increasingly difficult to think.

Patton kept getting excited over the size of the campus and anticipating how many new friends they were going to make. Roman was having grand daydreams of being loved and popular, and of getting the lead role in every production the school put on while they were there.

Logic had his hands full keeping them all quiet and on track. He was beginning to feel stressed out of his mind. They just wouldn’t listen. Thomas barely remembered to show up for his appointment with an advisor and finish his financial aid paperwork. Somehow, Patton was so excited about the student ID thing that he actually distracted them from picking it up and they had to wait in an extremely long line.

After the day was up, both Thomas and Logan were exhausted. Anxiety kept lording it over them.

“Man, if you’re this tired now, imagine how tired you’ll be during the actual thing,” Anxiety said, his voice suddenly having a villainous tinge to it

Logic threw his backpack off and flopped down on his bed.

“Go to your own room, Anxiety. We need rest after that,” Logic said, his voice muffled by the blankets.

“No. Staying here and tormenting you is much more fun,”

“Excuse me for over generalizing, but you are the worst friend in existence,”

“Anxiety has no friends,” Anxiety said.

“Patton would have something to say about those lies you are telling,”

“I’m going out to talk to Thomas,”

Anxiety disappeared and Logic was left wondering where he had gone wrong. He slept, for once not knowing what else to do.

Objectively, there was no reason to hang on to this photo. It served no purpose. The memories were still intact with or without it. Memories of a time when Anxiety’s words weren’t quite as heavy, when Morality was still completely a child at heart, when Roman was still learning to think deeply, and when Logic wasn’t quite as serious.

The picture burned itself into his mind. The two smiling faces and the two neutral ones. The young prince, the classic rebel, the big brother, and the school boy. All gone now. Replaced by a different image before Thomas had even met them.

The summer before college started passed in a strange mix of calm and panic. Patton and Roman were obsessed with enjoying what was left of the summer, while Logic was fixated on being prepared and Anxiety was breathing down all their necks about what they were supposedly doing wrong.

Then the first week of classes came. It was nothing like high school. The schedule was different. The teachers were different. It was nothing like any of them had pictured. Not even Anxiety or Logic had imagined any of this.

The others still weren’t listening. They just wouldn’t listen. Already it was the first week and homework was severely piling up. They wouldn’t listen. They just wouldn’t listen. How could he get them to listen? He had to be allowed to organize and plan.

This was no job for a high school student.

The others were busy now. Doing something fun that didn’t require much focus. Logic looked at the picture again. How long had it been since he changed his attitude? How long had he been taking everything literally? It was second nature now. No more laughing at puns. No slacking off or getting overly excited. No hanging out with Anxiety. When had that stopped?

He looked at the picture again. He thought back to their debate. Anxiety thought that Logic hated him. Unfortunately, he knew exactly when that had begun. It was in the drawer. The one that was so unused it had been hard to open.

Logic swung the giant backpack off of his shoulders and shoved it into the closet. There was no need for an oversized backpack anymore. Oversized backpacks were for middle school students. Discarding it was long overdue.

He pulled off his cheap red polo shirt and replaced it with a high end black one. He replaced his cargo khaki pants with professional slacks. His new glasses had thicker rims. He combed his hair out. He put on a neck tie.

When he came out of the memory room the next day, the others all stared at him.

Anxiety looked him up and down. Not only his clothes, but his posture had changed as well. He had turned in his backpack that the others had associated him with for so long and replaced it with a small satchel just big enough for holding papers in. Frankly, if he was human and could walk around campus he would more than likely mistaken for one of the professors.

“I told you to fight the man, not become the man!” Anxiety said in shock.

Logan adjusted his glasses, expertly hiding just how uncomfortable he was in the necktie. “I think it is high time someone grew up around here. This is no longer high school. We cannot afford to go through our life worrying about trivial things and doing whatever we wish,”

“Logan, you don’t look like yourself,” Morality said.

“No Morality. This is who I am now. I am the teacher. Now, we must begin the day,”

Logan went back into the kitchen to find Anxiety sitting on the counter, headphones in, eating yogurt. Logic sighed and followed the strange impulse he found.

He stood with his back to the counter and then lifted himself up with a grunt, placing himself next to Anxiety.

Anxiety pulled his headphones out.

“Since when do you sit on surfaces that aren’t meant to be sat on?”

Logic pulled the Polaroid out of his back pocket.

“Do you remember this?”

Anxiety took the photo from him and looked at it with an expression so bored it was almost insulting.

“Yeah, it was graduation. What about it?”

Logan took the photo back from him.

“I found it last night in the memory archives while cleaning. It was in a drawer I had not opened in over a decade,”

“Man, are you bad at your job or what? You’re the one that’s supposed to go through those things,”

“I believe i was… Sentimental about it,”

“I thought you didn’t believe in feelings, pocket protector,”

Logic let a half smile play on his lips. “You used to call me honor roll, before, as you put it, I ‘became even more square’“

“Yeah, well now you’re pocket protector, pocket protector. But you still suck at your job,”

Logic jumped down from the counter. “Not to over generalize, but you are the worst friend ever,”

Anxiety smirked. “I have no friends,”

“Were Patton here, I do believe he would say something about those lies you are telling,”

Anxiety put his headphones back in. Logic went back to the memory files to replace the photograph. He was done looking back for today.

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thecupcakeconsumer · 7 years ago

Text

Seeing Red pt. 3 - Insurrection

A/N: With this this little serial is 60% done! I have two parts left – none as action packed as this, they're mostly fluff, but hey, who doesn't love fluff? This one is the continuation of Seeing Red, as you can tell from the title.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (You are here!) | Part 4 | Part 5

Request: Continuation of @writers-block0o0's request!

Navigation: Masterlist is here.

Taglist: @writers-block0o0, @imaginesbyemma. Tell me if you want to be added.

Summary: Serving as a member of the Trinity – which, ironically enough, contains four people – you're dragged into things you never wanted to do under your half-brother. Soon it gets to be too much.

Warnings: Okay! This one is pretty intense. Matches and gasoline with implication that they're to be used for arson. Language – the word “asshole”, “asshat”, “ass”, twice “shit”, and “damn”. Use of God's name in vain, guns, gun fire, blood, violence, unhealthy family relationships, and slight PTSD. Angst. Really all-in-all just bad.

Word Count: 3,000

Other Notes: Female reader, and also, this one takes place during Terminal. J'espère que vous l'aimerez – I hope you'll like it! I wrote this really damn fast but I think it's good. I ALSO FORGOT SOME CRUCIAL PLOT DETAILS IN THE ORIGINAL DRAFT FORGIVE ME IF YOU CATCH ANYTHING WEIRD.

“There's a reason Cole sounds like asshole,” you grumbled to Chance as he drove you to another infuriating, obscure location for another infuriating, meaningless job.

He nodded. “He's not the most stellar, personality-wise.”

“Understatement of the century.”

“Live with it, Y/N.”

He parked, and you got out of the car, wincing as the Trinity member's wolf whistle met your ears.

You chanced a glance at your brother, wondering what his reaction would be.

“She's taken, asshat,” bit out the older Claybourne, eyes flashing.

“Doesn't mean I can't admire the only good thing your father's made.”

Exasperated, you stalked across the grass to Cole, grabbing him roughly by his shirt collar.

“Mmmmm, you're a woman with-”

Whatever he was about to say, you would never know, because your fist meeting his face effectively silenced his next words.

“Damn, no need for violence,” he muttered, rubbing his cheek with a scowl.

“Compliment me again and I'll be sure I flare before I hit you,” you threatened with a smile, relishing the horror that his expression morphed to show.

That aside, you begrudgingly got to work.

You wished that was the worst thing you had ever had to do.

You would be wrong.

“I can't do this. Don't make me do this.”

Backed into a corner, you knew that you had no choice.

What would Chance do if you didn't obey? It didn't matter what he did to you.

If you didn't go along with this, your best friends in the world could die.

But if you did, they would be devastated.

“Take the car. There's gasoline and matches in there. Don't crash it.”

You winced, not sure whether his concern was for you or for the car. “Okay. I'll do it.”

“I'll take care of Tory. Make it quick.”

And with that, he placed the car keys in your hand and left through the front door.

“This isn't legal,” you murmured, before making your way to where the car was parked and unlocking the door. “This isn't right.”

“This isn't what I signed up for.”

But if it was what it took…

It was difficult to be inconspicuous when you had to reach the island by boat while carrying flammables, but you had managed.

It was difficult to find again the bunker, especially in the dark, but that you had also managed.

Dousing the belongings of your best friends in the world with gasoline after they had taken you into their secret hangout spot and shown you how significant it was to them?

Something it was proving exceedingly difficult for you to manage.

Taking your phone out of your pocket, your finger hovered over the names in your contacts, wanting nothing more than to talk to someone.

You couldn't call Tory. That would have been your first bet, but she was with Chance, if he was to be believed.

Hi's name had a heart next to it, and you smiled lightly, before having the happiness fall from your face as you realized that he would be the last person you'd want to see you like this, no matter the reason.

Ella wouldn't understand. She'd just do it herself.

Chance? Never.

Ben would be less understanding than Ella. He'd never forgive you if he-

“Y/N?”

You whipped around to the source of the noise, the matchbox tumbling from your grip and your phone almost joining it.

“Ben, I can ex-”

“You're in the bunker. Alone.”

Shit.

“Again, I can-”

“You have a match box.”

“Ben, I-”

“You're one of them.”

He crossed the room, the way he stalked silently reminding you of a predator as he closed in.

“It's not what you think.”

The laugh that escaped Ben's lips was harsh, cutting the thick air and slicing through to your heart. “You know what? I get it.”

“Wh-what?”

“You wanted to be something more. You wanted to be special. So you decided to do something you knew was wrong to be seen as a hero when you fixed it.”

“That's not it at all!” you retorted. “I didn't have a choice.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? I don't exactly see anyone here forcing you to try and burn down the bunker.”

“It wasn't my fault!” you cried frantically.

Quieter, you repeated the words, trying to convince yourself that they were true.

Hoping that they were true, because that was the only thing holding you together.

“He did this to me.”

“Who?”

“He's the one who made me this.”

“Y/N. Who is he?”

“He did this to me! My own brother!”

He didn't get it. Of course not.

“He made me this monster.”

SNAP

Your emotions spiraling out of control, your discipline over your flare finally gave way, your more alert red-eyed gaze catching how Ben's resolve seemed to shatter just from examining his face.

“Monster?” he repeated, a rare tinge of pain accenting the word.

Footsteps pounded from outside, and the two of you turned, red eyes telling you who it was before the rest registered.

Shit.

“I thought my instructions were clear.”

“I'm sorry,” you whispered. “Where's-?”

“I trusted you.”

“They're my friends! They're my family. Not that you'd know what that means.” Feelings suppressed for so long came to the surface, the bottle of emotion suddenly spilling over. “They love me. You never did. If you loved me, you wouldn't have made me-”

Wouldn't have forced me to go against the people who actually do love me, you wanted to finish, but he started to reach for a bulge at his hip, the gun he pulled out one you could never have prepared for. “You've left me no choice.”

Chance's face blurred into that of the Gamemaster, your memory of the experience and the gun he had held to your head resurfacing as panic set in.

You scrambled away from the person your traumatized mind tried to convince you was the same psychopath who had done horrible things to you, reality becoming obscured with the fear setting into your system.

Pulse racing, you blinked rapidly, not able to fully comprehend what was happening, overwhelmed as your mind betrayed you.

A flash of red hair and a sharp crack of the gun had hardly registered before you were shoved to the ground.

Tory.

It was all moving too fast, too fast for it to register, too fast for you to come back to reality, too fast for you to do anything to stop what was happening.

Tory rolled off of you, clutching a hand to her arm as your eyes, now seeing clearly, sought out Chance to see if he had any remorse for what he had just done.

To see if there was any part of him that was still human.

He looked down at the gun in his hand, something seeming to shift in his expression, and then his gaze flicked to the red starting to bloom on Tory's sleeve.

With his flare now gone, the pain in his eyes was no longer obscured.

I didn't want it to come to this, his expression seemed to say, as he cast away the gun as if it were a snake.

You couldn't help but wonder if he'd have had the same reaction to having realized he had shot you.

“I'll kill you,” hissed Ben, alerting you to the presence you had almost forgotten, anger making its presence known in the baring of his teeth, the narrowing of his eyes, the way his entire posture had shifted.

But Chance was silent, as if accepting his fate.

Something inside him had broken, and you could only hope that it was the part of him that had stopped being human.

“Let's go, Y/N.”

He left the room without another word, taking your following him for granted.

You didn't follow.

“Are you okay, Tory?” you asked quietly, the smell of blood flooding your nostrils.

She smiled painfully. “Superficial wound, really. I'll be fine. What's up with your eyes?”

Summoning the control you had fought so hard to gain, you released your flare.

SNUP

Concern took its place.

“We'll worry about that later. Are there bandages in here?”

Ben stole out of the room, coming back a moment later with a first aid kit.

“I've got her, Y/N. I… I think it might be best if you got home.”

I don't think I can bear it if you stay was what he didn't add. The lack of conviction in his voice scared you more than if he had yelled at you.

“I agree,” you replied, “but I'm not quite ready to go to a home with nothing between Chance and I.” You managed a smile. “Besides. I think we're going to have to take Tory's shirt off in order to treat this, and it's a little early in your relationship for you to see that, don't you think?”

Tory giggled at the look on his face. You couldn't blame her.

But it quickly returned to the serious expression that he wore so well as he nodded. “How are you getting home?”

You shrugged. “I'd say the same way I got here, but I'm assuming Chance took that.”

“Call me when you're done.”

Watching his shadow retreat, you turned back to Tory.

“I had no idea,” she said quietly, “that Chance was like that.”

You nodded as you pushed away her shaking hands, taking over the job of unbuttoning her shirt for her. “He's a complicated man.”

“He's been experimenting, hasn't he? And he dragged you into it?”

“Something of the sort,” you answered quietly, grimacing when the shirt started to stick, saturated with blood as it was. “Tell me if I'm hurting you.”

“How long have you been… like this?”

Infected, she doesn't say, because she seems to know it's like a plague to you.

“Remember when I puked in the toilet at school and you basically asked if I was pregnant?”

Her eyes widened in realization. “I should have seen it.”

“How could you have? There was nothing to suggest it was more than a flu, and besides, weren't you under the impression that it died with Karsten?”

“Chance flared in front of us, though. I should have known there would be others.”

You frowned. “He did?”

“You didn't know? That's why he's been spending so much time with us.”

“He has?”

Tory nodded, her eyes pained. “Recently, you've been drifting away. He's sort of filled in that gap – not that, not that he could ever replace you, but-”

“I get it.”

And get it you did.

All those missions that he'd sent you on, all those times stalking your friends and moving rocks and staking out territory.

All those interactions with Ella, having to ignore her hatred of Tory, with Will’s delusion that he was the leader and his pretending that Chance didn’t orchestrate all of the Trinity’s moves, with Cole’s comments on how “your brother's an ass and you've got a nice one, must run in the family”.

All those times you'd had to turn down invitations to hang out because of what had been planned.

Of course he'd have used it.

Of course he'd have gotten close to them.

He'd purposefully ripped out the stitching holding you into your friend group and sewn himself in with new threads weaved of lies and deceit.

Was it really to help them, or to get closer to the girl he was in love with?

You weren't sure you would ever know, nor that you wanted to.

Instead of letting the anger now forming beneath your skin rise to the surface, you funnelled the rage into focus as you dressed Tory's wound, seeing now that it was clean that the bullet had grazed her but not entered – shaving off the skin and making it look far worse than it was. You could handle this.

Thank God. After all, with your current state, it wasn't as if you could exactly take her to a hospital.

“Are you okay?”

You almost laughed at Tory's concern. “You got shot and you're asking me if I'm okay?”

“It's only physical, it'll heal,” she replied calmly. “You're finding out that your brother betrayed your trust and used you while simultaneously trying to replace you.”

“My trust? I've never trusted him. He's young. He's stupid. And until he realizes that, I won't give him the respect he thinks he deserves, simple as that.” You shrugged. “He's got a heart somewhere in there, I'm sure. He cares for me, his ambition just obscures it. And right now he's invested so much in one person that he's become less aware of others.”

You had never quite thought it through, but you found the words came easier than you would have expected, as if they’d been there all along.

“So it's… my fault,” she muttered.

“No,” you replied firmly. “You are what you love, not who loves you.”

“Deep.”

“It's a Fall Out Boy lyric.”

“Still deep.”

You pulled out your phone, smiling shyly to yourself. “You don't hate me?”

“Hate you? How could I hate you?” Tory laughed. “You're an awesome friend and I understand why you've been keeping this from us. We kept our flaring from you for the longest time. But you make us happy. You make Hi happy. Not that he's not constantly cheerful, but he's in love with you and you both want the same thing – to be loved and to be in love.”

“Deep.”

“It's a One Direction lyric.”

“Still deep.”

The two of you laughed as you dialled Ben, him picking up on the first ring.

“She'll live,” you announced as soon as you heard the ring fade.

“I'll be there in a minute.”

He hung up, leaving you in silence.

“So, I haven't talked to you in a while. Any juicy relationship gossip?”

She smirked. “Your brother is a good-”

“Shut up! Shut up!” You smacked her on the arm, laughing, time apart almost forgotten in the way you interacted.

At least she forgives me.

You could only hope that the rest of your friends could come to do the same.

“You control it really well.”

It had been awkwardly silent between you and Ben for the last few minutes, the boy you considered a brother obviously somewhat hurt by the fact that you had been keeping a secret from him, and his words surprised you.

“What?”

“Your flaring. You never lost control in front of us.”

You shrugged. “You guys just never made me mad enough.”

He chuckled lightly, the rare sound music to your ears.

“You must not have listened to Hi much recently, then. The man's running commentary is enough to make anyone homicidal.”

Ben was back, and you couldn't be more relieved that he was talking to you.

After all, when the man's coping strategy was “ignore until it goes away”, it demonstrated that he must have at least partially forgiven you.

“I didn't expect you to get it,” you confessed, wringing your hands in your lap.

“Please. I think I win the bad decisions that put my friends' lives in danger game.”

“I didn't put anyone's life in danger.”

“See? You're already losing.”

You laughed lightly at his bluntness, before asking, “Are you going to tell Hi?”

Ben exhaled loudly, turning away from you as he considered his response. “That's a tough question to answer. Is he going to see Tory's arm in the morning and ask what happened? Yes, he's too curious for his own damn good. Is Tory going to go into full detail and explain everything? That, I cannot say.”

He cast a side glance at you. “He's going to find out one way or another. Chance can't just hold on to the foolish idea that after that, we're not all going to know.

“The question is, are you ready to risk losing the love of your life by telling him this? Are you fully prepared to accept if he doesn't feel he can trust you any further and the two of you break up? Will you understand if he's hurt and keep your distance if he asks?”

Ben turned to look you in the eye. “I won't blame you if you avoid the problem. God knows I've done enough of it myself with Tory. I won't blame you if you stall so you're fully prepared for however he reacts. I won't blame you if you never say anything at all.” He shrugged. “I'm your friend no matter what. Even if I don't always act like it. And, quite frankly, I care about you too much for you to get hurt over this. Just because I get it doesn’t mean he will, much as he loves you.”

“Ben...” You didn't know how to react to his sudden shift in demeanor, so unrecognizable from his usual emotional detachment.

“Now mention that I said any of that and we're going to have a real problem.”

There was the Ben Blue you knew.

“Said any of what?”

“Exactly.”

Looking out on the gentle waves lit only by the moonlight, you felt everything, the weight of what you had done, catch up to you.

You would never approve of your own actions.

But at least you could accept them.

“I'm so tired,” you murmured to the salt water, leaning your head against the rail of Ben’s beloved Sewee.

You weren't sure how you'd face Hi in the morning, or how you could speak to Chance after what he'd done, and what he’d made you do - the wedge that he’d driven in between you and your friends, that you weren’t certain would ever be fully forgotten.

Meaningful thoughts blurred into meaningless words that started to overlap as you tuned in to the sounds of the boat's motor, adrenaline long gone from your system and your sleep deprivation catching up.

It wasn't long before you succumbed to the exhaustion, knowing that you were safe with Ben and, to be quite honest, relieved that you didn’t have to stay awake any longer.

A/N: Part four is here!

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