#class of 2013 WILL make a return. some day

[tragedygf]

[littleroaes]

To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before, tbz

PAIRING ⏵ ( 2nd pov, you ) fem!reader x lee hyunjae, lee juyeon, ji changmin, kim sunwoo, eric sohn

at the last two weeks before the semester; your younger brother leaked your old love letters. when you return to university, you work as a part time assistant for the hockey team. the charming crush of your youth has read your letter and makes a deal to not spread it if in return, you'll be his fake girlfriend for the upcoming house party. that night sets off an event with all five letters.

GENRE ⏵ FLUFF, college!au / university!au, setting around 2013 ( 2010s!au ), 2000s!au ( childhood ), to all the boys i’ve loved before!au, summer!au, some angst since we do only have one end game, childhood friends2lovers, hockey player!hyunjae, playboy (with a soft side)!hyunjae, short fake dating!au side plot, boy next door!eric, frat!eric, rich kid!eric, flirty but shy!sunwoo, old summer love!sunwoo, reader is an medical assistant, lots of pining, mutual pining, cats!!!, nerdy oblivious juyeon, literature major!juyeon, history major!changmin, changmins bad at sports (sorry bub), 3 different types of parties!, a pool party, a house party, a beach party (i don’t even like parties irl!)

WARNINGS ⏵ reader is good at sports ( volleyball ), hyunjae is a little mean/ manipulative at the start, reader gets drunk twice, sunwoo once ( oufff ), swearing a few times ( fuck, shit ), some jealousy, bad dancing (specially from reader), reader's zodiac sign is a capricorn (for a joke), kissing, pet names ( angel, princess ), proofread once ( i feel like ive forgotten something but hope not😭 )

WORD COUNT ⏵ 19 k

playlist i listened to while writing

this is my fic for @deoboyznet the love letter collective event ! if you specifically want to know which members will have more romantic storylines and who reader will end up with; i have written it out at the end of the post! ( if it being your bias is important for reading ex ). though all five will have cute/ flirty moments with reader! i changed to 2nd person pov for no reason😭 i hope you don’t mind here’s a 500 word teaser before commitment ( it’s in 3rd pov for now! )

like and reblog are highly encouraged !

01 . CHAPTER ONE 

IMAGINE THIS; ONCE UPON A TIME, FATHER OF YOURS SAID THAT TO SCOUR THE EVIL THOUGHTS OCCUPYING YOUR YOUNG MIND, ONE ONLY HAS TO WRITE LETTERS. What a magical solution to all the finite problems of youth! That’s what you thought even as you started to come of age and the inevitable falls of love. Each time, when your innocence was consumed, little by little, by the harsh realities of romance; you spit it out on a piece of paper, enveloped it, stored it in a box (extra security measures) and sheltered underneath your bed. 

And now, you’re in university. Back home for the last two weeks before the autumn semester. Laying against the bed–it reeks of school mornings of 2005–and still holds those letters beneath. The pink hues on the pillows are still there, maybe a little washed out. All butterflies stickers from magazines are plastered on furniture that shines, just slightly, when the sun goes down underneath the neighboring roofs, lucent through the open windows. 

You’ve hung out with Eric, a childhood friend. Bicycled down the gravel paths fenced in lines through houses. Side by side, always trying to one up the other like you always did. Take a swim in the same lake, in the same spot those old pictures show. Like those days; the sun never falters until it all stands on the edge between diagonal roofs. 

And amidst your childhood lies your younger cousin. Bare arms touch each other as you lie side by side with feet over the pillows, and noses –the paper box of letters. She told you about a longing crush she has for a boy in the parallel class. When overconsumed by nostalgia; you couldn’t refrain from dusting off the old box. And that’s how you ended up back with the letters you swore to withhold. 

There are five of them. 

The first one is Lee Jaehyun, a three year older popular student who you had a trivial crush on in middle school ( together with everyone else). In all honesty you didn’t know much about him; just that he was cute looking. There’s a sort of emotional torment in recalling the one sided adoration while leaned out the school window to see him play football. Even his name haunts you still in uni as your roommate had a crush on the shining hockey player the entire two semesters.

In short, everyone liked Lee Jaehyun. 

Next is Eric Sohn, your childhood friend, the boy next door, even first love? He has many titles you realize. He lived in an impressive house north from here, one that hosts many parties every time his parents take the trip to their summer resort. At some point, it felt like he knew every kid in town. Luckily, you have never been the jealous type. Despite being each other’s ride or die since ten, you never confessed the secret ways you looked at him back in the sandbox.  

Third is Sunwoo–just Sunwoo; you never got his last name–from summer camp who you even ( jokingly ) got married to. Your first summer at thirteen, away from parents, with kids the same age. When recalling it all back, that summer feels as if taken out of a movie, and you fell head first, three meters deep with the boy. Sunwoo always stood in the center ( bad and good…mostly bad tbh ). You got paired up for the kayak; it pissed rained and your coordination couldn’t take you ten meters. But you remember every word he said as butterfly inducing nonetheless. After that, at night you snuck out of your cabins to watch the stars. And when that summer too ended, you swore your heart shattered into million pieces.

The fourth is Lee Juyeon, a boy you had never seen before until his cat got pregnant by yours. Scuba Steve ( long story ) had been gone for some days until another family came up to their door with him. For half a year, it felt like you saw Lee Juyeon everyday. He was just as enchanted by kittens as you ( if not more ) and you two would visit each other just to cuddle with them. The teenage heart used to rush with the mere presence of him and together you named all the kittens–until they were sold off. Then they eventually stopped seeing each other. Though he still lurks around as a poet’s ghost around campus ( source Eric ). 

The last one, Ji Changmin, the son of your mother’s friend. He teached you calculus for a while in high school. To be fully transparent, you didn’t learn much from him that year because all you did was leaning on the kitchen table while adoring him until the rims of his glasses slipped. He always scolded you endearingly when you didn’t listen ( which was the majority of the time ). Ji Changmin always wore cute polos with neat pants–now when thinking about it, mother might have approved if you got together. But it’s too late. He went to uni; and simply left you with a newfound thing for glasses ( still wearing cute polos in uni ). 

And that’s all. You sometimes wonder if it was a mere symptom of youth that resulted in those letters. Since uni–outside a campus crush or two-–that compelling yearning for someone has never come back. 

Eventually the bird’s cease to sing once the sun swallows entirely by the horizon, and cicadas can be heard through the open windows. You leave the letters as the two of you close the door. Mother asked if you and your cousin wanted to go with the rest of the adults down to the green field at the center of the neighborhood, you said yes. 

When the heavy door shuts against the frame, voices from your younger brother’s room at the highest floor seeps through the windows.

( next morning ) 

“Mom, you haven’t seen some letters?” You stand at the stairs to look down the kitchen counter where mother and your brother turn from the pantry light. 

“Three’s blue and two pink envelopes?” You ask again. 

Mom shakes her head, “No, I haven’t?” 

You sigh, sprint up the second floor. 

“Y/n?” 

Call of your name echoes through the frame into your room. To look over the bed and see your younger brother centered at the white rectangle. His fringe like curtains reluctant to open as he looks elsewhere. You come up completely. 

“What?” 

“The letters…” 

Your ears perk up, “You’ve seen them?” 

“No, I took them…” He says guilty and starts tearing off paint from the wall. 

“The guys wanted to prank you yesterday, we sent them, I’m really sorry.” 

He looks up again, “But I told them to not do anything more.” He reassures, but his voice trails off as you neither alienate or sigh at this confession. Eyes, lifeless as the posture in your arms hanging off your stale corpse. 

“You did what?” You ask; wishing you heard incorrectly the first time and he crashed a vase instead. 

“We sent your letters..” He says hesitantly with eyebrows knit. 

You close your eyes. Take your hands up your face to cup it and breathe in. Autumn semester starts in exactly 13 days and you know at least half of the letter receivers attend. And definitely all five live in the city. 

To breathe out, hands fall in your lap. He cocks an eyebrow at what one could guess is a meditation session before you open your eyes. 

“I’LL KILL YOU!” 

02 . CHAPTER TWO

( tuesday afternoon ) 

The letters were out; an existential dread running on two bags of pure sugar surged within you. A sensation you were oblivious to existed. First week went, and you hoped the mail man had fallen over and left the letters on the highway, doomed to get run over til their unreadable. But those wishes perished the very moment Eric Sohn came chanting underneath the window. The characteristic bird chimes and mowers intertwined in green leaf rustle; his voice echoed through open glass. You told mom not to tell him you were here; that you had already taken the train to the city. 

Destiny was in your favor for once, and your mother did lie when Eric came to the front door. 

So far, none crossed fate with the receivers of your letters has ensued. Eric was the only established friend in your life, hence you held yourself far, far away from any business major hot spots. Though, just after achieving three days. The first afternoon at the start of your part time; rulers leave you forced to stare eye to eye with receiver number one.

“This is Y/n, she will work as your athletic trainer assistant for this semester.” The trainer lifts hands to his side to make it even clearer than it already was. It is damn cold beside the ice rink–which you thank god for since your face would be blistered red otherwise. As he presents for all tall men in thick layers of hockey protection, they stare; you’re left to make a timid jazz hand motion with a strained smile. 

“I’m Y/n.” Hands fall back to your side and concentrate all might to look at the other eight people–not the one to the right. 

“She will be helping me with equipment and aid; so you’ll see her around a bit.” 

The players wave past you in turn; to introduce themselves in a mere identical manner. The last name pains deeply as you pretend to find shoelaces loose. 

“Jaehyun.” 

You can’t see his expression, not even when eyes come up. Only his back covered in blue jersey greets you as he steps off the plastic flooring and onto the ice. 

Though, it is an immediate opportunity for breathing room when all players go to practice. The plastic walls become solid and you look over the formations on ice. Maybe you got yourself free from this one? Maybe Hyunjae also thought it was so damn awkward that it’s easier to ignore it. You hope deeply while taking off one glove, as sultry temperatures rise beside the rink. 

Followed by the 30 minutes of relocating equipment around the center, the next time you come back into the ice hall, the trainer greets you with sweat outlining his sideburns. You knit your eyebrows before taking eyes off him and onto the player in navy; halting out the rink. Turns out Coach yelled two different instructions, followed after one another; which resulted in a collision of two players. 

He tells you to take him, who limps to the clothing rooms. By immediate compliance you approach his silhouette; leaning on the plastic divide. You can’t make out the exact expression as he faces the ground, but when you ask him if he needs help walking. That horribly handsome face from your childhood looks up. Breathing heavily, but smiles through the fringe. 

“Yeah.” 

You purse your lips into a thin line. To force sight away from him. You look at the entrance to the ice hall while taking his arm over your shoulders. Come to the clothing room after taking off his ice skates. The two intentions of your own conscience fought while walking. Nothing would be more awkward than looking at him again, on the other hand, the concern over his weak state is true as the continuous breath sounds loudly beside your ear. 

Hyunjae’s now on the bench before one side of the lockers. He watches attentively as you round the sport’s bags to take the first aid kit on the other side. The ventilation is the loudest thing in the room. At some point it becomes bothersome as you hold his clothing. You haven't made eye contact since the rink, but senses his gaze fixed over your scalp.  

He talks suddenly.

“You know Y/n, I got your letter.” He says while looking down at your hand; securing the bandage around his ankle. 

Fuck. 

Fingers stale from suspension for a moment on the bandage edges. The material loses around his ankle and you force it towards you. 

A sigh, still looking down, “Listen; it was my br–” 

“It’s appreciated Angel, but it will never happen.” His lips curve higher at one opposite edge, leaving his eyes on you with pleasure like he knows something wrong. 

You let go off his legs; weight from your hands fully on your knees as you observe–rolling your eyes. 

“I know, okay.” You breathe in, “What I was about to say was; my little brother sent it, it was not meant to be seen by you.” Another sigh before you force yourself up from the floor; coming in greater height than Hyunjae. 

“Also; I wrote it when I was like 11.” To turn to the first aid kit, “So don’t get your ego too high, Ice God.” 

“Sure, if that’s what you say, Angel.” Hyunjae takes his palms on the bench surface; leaning against the locker. Arch of his lips might rewrite your life when he proceeds to stare.  

“Why do you even call me that?” You return to the opposite side and cross arms; to perceive him roughly as if to build similar strain in him. But it leaves to no avail. 

“Why?” He quotes, “You’re sitting here healing us, our team’s little angel.” He shrugs his shoulders. 

You look away as to not blossom of rose pigment–instead start organizing the materials in the aid kit. 

“Either way, Jaehyun. You can go now, it’s done.” 

No length of his voice waves via the dead locker ocean. After eyes set on the sections of the green bag; you glance at his bench. And to make you uncertain, his white bandage leg is still in frame. After you pull the zipper and leave the kit in your lap; you stare at Hyunjae who, with the usual smile, stares back. 

“I said you can go…” Quietly and tilt your head towards the door. 

“I know.” Hyunjae voices in the same tone as before. 

You side eyes him still and sits up. 

“I have a deal. Would you like to hear it?” He says suddenly, causing a rupture across the room and stacked tension weighing on your shoulders.

“Okay…” There’s an uncertain principle, written like a formula over your expression, layered in your voice. 

“You go with me as my girlfriend for Jeno’s party this Friday.” He says monotone. 

The first aid kit frees from your hands. Eyes drifting between two points and you’re left looking eyebrow knit at him two meters away. Then, forced to turn when he smiles contempt. You swiftly bend down to take the aid kit before returning gaze. Hyunjae sees in center of two bags hanging; your lips sunder to shove down the offer. Right through the concrete to the core mit. 

“--Or else I’m putting up your letter for the whole campus to see.” 

You immediately shut sealed and eyelids folds half over the curvature. He smiles so hard it borders on comical. And with his arms crossed over his jersey, you only wait for them to fall and see him burst out laughing; tell you he got you. But the silence prevails your thoughts and you start to believe he’s actually serious. 

“I don't believe you.” You look tired at him. 

“No, I’m serious.” Hyunjae still nonchalantly crossed armed and slack raised shoulders. 

As another passage of ventilation comes through, beckon time like the minute visor. You finally sigh and sit down at the bench again. 

“Why even me? Can’t you just ask someone else?” Frustration over the seemingly complex idea for a deal when he could make it ten times easier for himself.

His expression falters for a second after the question. Hyunjae holds his lips sealed; unaltered high posture cause he hesitates to give away his shortcomings. But on the other hand, just a little empathy might do it. 

“I’m actually in a bad position, Angel.” He leans forward, voice quieter.

“Everyone knows I’ve got a girlfriend, but she broke up with me before the semester. They want to finally see her, but I got none” He pauses and leans his chin on his hand and pouts a little, “--just you.”

The withered corners of your face perks slowly up as he ends his sentence. Hyunjae smiles harder, believing he a white winged victory, but it disappears the very second you laugh in his face. Your back comes against the support of the bench while eyelids close to the bottom of laughter.

“She dumped you?” Hands gather in your knees. 

“Too bad, too bad.” 

It’s Hyunjae’s turn giving stale eyes. Though, just as fast; he gathers himself back and leans onto the lockers again. 

“Yeah, is it a deal or not, Angel?” 

You breathe in and look at him still. Hyunjae is more foolish than his appearance gave off, you don't have faith in first impressions. He might as well scan your lost letter and create a chain mail across campus. Partying wasn’t on your list for the first weekend of the semester, but maybe you could get away with lurking against the wallpaper?

You swing your left foot and finally look back at him, “Okay, deal then.” 

Hyunjae smirks. 

“Just this, then we're equal. No grudge, no obligations.” 

“Sure.” He nods. 

You tilt your chin down, “...I don’t trust you, Jaehyun.” 

He lets his hands up, “Look, I’m keeping my promise. I told you my dirt too.” 

“Like not having a girlfriend is as embarrassing as a love letter written in 2002.” 

( friday evening ) 

“Okay, should we go in then?” You take a step forward but get pulled by the shirt. Shoulders come up against him and the arm sleeve of his clothing folds against your nape.

From your first encounter until Friday; you were forced to persevere through charming–bordering on foolish–remarks. The weekend prophesied as projection on the glass entrance that Friday. And it shattered the very moment Hyunjae’s voice echoed from the changing rooms. That he’ll wait for you outside the women’s dormitory. With not a twitch in own expression, he disappeared behind the frame with a wink. 

One of your two roommates was also invited to the house party. The thought of having someone else other than ice god settled some relief. But as you stood waiting in the summer heat of night; the first bus went and fifteen minutes later, you saw a familiar silhouette to the left of the stairs you sat on. 

He didn’t say anything when you refused to sit up and just glared tired at him. 

“What’s with the face, Angel?” He had asked laughing lightly, “We’ll miss the bus.”, you are forced to stand. 

“You’re late, Ice God.” You muttered and started walking towards the bus stop. Hyunjae ran up beside.  

Both talked while the streetlights behind the glass window became all the more distant. Though, it didn’t become hopelessly quiet, as it was a loud friend group behind. You cursed your half sleeve arms when Hyunjae didn’t know the way to Jeno's house from the bus stop. Forced to traverse between bushes when he pointed at mindless directions. Swore that he knew the “shortcut”. And ants might as well have climbed up your toes and into your underwear. 

Now, as either stands before the three stairs and the entrance door in the midst of the front yard. You're pulled against his chest (still covered in leaves). 

“Not so fast.” 

Though he’s out of peripheral vision; the self satisfied tone at every articulate visualizes his smile. His hands like a thin veil across your shoulders–you take a step back from them, to face him fully. 

“Okay then? What’s the plan, Ice God?” You cross arms to build some fence–to match his pride. But either only shares an instant of eye contact before you press your lips and look towards the sad flowers hidden in the corner. 

Hyunjae has always enjoyed teasing people. Of course, a bit apprehensive to strangers, but nonetheless; he waits no time to poke at the first friend closest in sight. He himself has probably no thought about it, but he has a thrill for watching people’s reactions. You were no different. Like the sun; secret behind the trees, it’s always so obvious. You were flustered by his turns of nicknames and comments; so much that you feel to defend your blemished garden. There’s something endearingly professional about you, he thinks. 

“You have a lip balm or something?” He cocks an eyebrow. 

You look at your belongings; eyes looking as narrow threads when apprehensive. To wait for his signature laughter but instead nods his head. You roam around the bag; hands helping to widen your vision, but not enough to notice his fingers below the tender sprout against your head. You look up to see him with one of your two hair clips. Curious what he’ll do; you try no fence when he sets it on his fringe. 

“Now I’m yours.” He smiles. 

Hyunjae comes down to you slightly before returning; taking his eyes off and onto the entrance before brushing past your shoulder. Because of the evening shades, the red pigments on your cheeks withers out with skin as you look behind your shoulder to see Hyunjae’s figure let the deafening conversations from inside, out. He doesn’t look back towards you, and you knit eyebrows before taking double steps up the stairs and into the house. 

With one step you push yourself off the wallpaper; feel shoulders brushing up against your own as the living room opens. 

Hyunjae held your hand for the first half an hour. He then let go when something happened between the friends (you didn’t know). But even then you tailed after like some home cat. Though, as anxiety arose after seeing a group of Eric’s friends in the same room, you cautiously backed into the corner. Some stranger did the rest for you when they collided with the table and Jeno’s grandma fell lid first and shattered on the floor. It became a bit quiet when poor grandma(s ashes) laid there, all spread out. 

After Jeno panicked and some helped clean up; the chamber of incomprehensible conversations started again. 

There’s cliques scattered between the couches. You reach on high toes to see past all the height and hair to locate the frame you came in from. Soon you fall back to your heels, just as the chorus waves through the walls. The crowd suddenly opens up before you when two people walk away. You’re left still and see the open door to the hallway. Shoulders come down in height just as you breathe out. Relieved to take a step to finally leave; but your feet barely touch the wood until eyes widens and air asphyxiates in your throat. 

At the end of the high walls; Eric stands half a meter from the door frame. A lamp shines from behind him, lightning up his half body. Like the sun; he becomes the very essence of the narrow square. 

You turn in a desperate attempt for survival. This season heat and packed building; it all bends backwards through the grass field in all four directions. 

Immediately you see diagonally behind, a staircase up to the second floor. You don't even look back to Eric before colliding with someone's back and sprint up. There’s no lighting up the wooden stairs, just Earth’s wailing moon through the pier glass. 

All those voices–through speakers or chords–wanes like the full to crescent moon month. 

There’s closed doors around. It burns pace from behind and you take the handle of the door left to the stairs. Without letting it open even half way; you slip past the glimpse and lock it shut.

You lean close to the door; feel the cold wood on your left cheek. The party’s over on this side. Like the melancholic memory of falling asleep to the adults in the other room. 

When you expect nothing; a clear voice from behind reiterates peculiar sentences. 

Not strong enough to take your chin off the door; you look past your shoulder to see someone in the bathtub with a damned annotated book. 

It takes about three seconds from first contact until the bathtub guy flinches, “Ah!?” 

“Oh my god!” Your eyes widen while your shoulders contract as wings. 

It echoes between the tiles when his book lands on the bathtub floor. To face the sudden him, distressed; your hands come up in height with your wing like bone. 

“Sorry.” You deadpan. 

“No, it’s okay.” He answers, soft spoken. Eye contact stays fleeting as his fringe–like curtains–falls before the mirage window when he reaches for the book. He mends the awry strands into place; scour the wordy dimensions to where he left off. 

You recall his soft silken halo. Hands come down to its sides and you lean off the door. Like a main character from an academic tale; he looks deeply dreamlike–always somewhere else. The guy feels your presence still as above the title cover; his eyes peeks. 

At this point, you look at him with wide eyes horror; ready for him to either aristocratically roast your fourteen old writing, or condense into second hand embarrassment and hide under the bathtub. 

Lee Juyeon sits in the damn bathtub of a house party. 

As you’re deep in fourth dimensional torment; Juyeon speaks first. 

“Oh, Y/n.” 

He smiles, still holds the book before him. 

You refuse to move, “Hi…Juyeon.” 

“That was a long time.” He switches between your eyes and the next sentence. 

The tension in your frame aids in turn for every second. Juyeon doesn’t mention any letters, but still, you eye him suspiciously. 

“Yeah.” You agree awkwardly. 

“Why are you here?” You ask. 

Juyeon pauses in sentence once again to shift his fringe and look up. You had nearly forgotten the patterns of silence and speaking he so often followed. Back when they always met; they spent so many seconds simply waiting for him to talk. 

“I would ask you the same thing.” He sort of tilts his head attentively. 

With your lips pursed instead of answering, you look to the mirror above the sink. Water in delicate droplets dive in while he turns the next page. 

“Escaping things?” He asks, still reading.  

You nod. 

“We all do.” 

You see him through the mirror reflection. His eyes bent like a faint wave from shore; reassures her lone presence. 

As he closes off himself again; you figure he doesn’t mind their shared space. There’s no sign of knowledge about your letter. Juyeon always reeked of innocence, so maybe you’re wishing. 

But Eric’s still one floor below (taking the safe option). 

You take a seat on the bathtub edge. Shoulder faces Juyeon who leans his back on the discolord cream white tiles. . 

“Should I read something for you?” He asks soothingly. 

You hesitate before letting your hands comfortably down the edge, “Okay.” 

“You want some?” He reaches out the green glass bottle. 

Your shoulders scoff when your mind affirms, “Thank you.” 

Juyeon asks suddenly, “How’s Scuba Steve?” 

Truly the only thing left that protects from not spitting out the alcohol is embarrassment. You do an expression tainted by drinks or unease, and let the bottle down your lap. 

To wonder how in the passage of all years; Juyeon recalls your insignificant house cat that mated with his own (or maybe it’s not that weird when you think after). 

There’s a sort of foolish–bordering on stupid–touch in your chest that he actually never forgot Scuba Steve. One could guess we live on, assuming we’re the only one that remembers. 

“Oh, he’s dead.” You deadpan.

“Oh.” 

The room reaches–what resembles closest to silence– in a house party. Both their lips are pressed in thin lines as they view the tiles above each other again. 

“You then?” Silence starts to torture you briefly in your fingers.

“How’s…” Your face contracts in parallel to the ceiling when scattered bleached cuts from that black little cat sleeping on his floor. 

“Mindy?” He says. 

“Oh, Yeah.” 

They both laugh. 

“She’s still alive.” He lets the book down for the first time (excluding the jumpscare), “She’s with mom and dad. Though she's getting very old now, she eats less and doesn’t even go out anymore.” 

As they sat there talking about cats and poetry; eventually the boundary past the toilet door ceases. You didn’t leave that end of the bathtub (aside from running down the kitchen with Juyeon for more alcohol). 

Now they lie on opposite builds against the cold edge. It’s been sometime since you drank, specifically this much. You can’t talk for Juyeon, but he seems pretty damn wasted too. Your eyes dares to fall while Juyeon’s shirt climbs up his chin as he comes deeper down the tub. 

“I can’t wake up here.” You mumble. Either to yourself or decked out Juyeon; you don't know. He answers something incomprehensible back as a bottle in the scattered line before the bathtub falls. While you grasp for the handle, you turn barely to Juyeon who has his eyes half open. 

“Bye, Juyeon, it was epic.” You wave your free hand, “Tell Mindy I said Hi.” 

“I’ll do.” He tiredly answers back. 

The alcohol withers boundaries within your body. Turns it weak for the downstairs crowd, like poison inducing nausea. In line with poison; You walk as if zombie apocalypse smitten down the stairs without holding onto the railing. Somehow reaches the ground floor and passes through the living room. 

Whatever mechanisms your mind built to defend its dignity from Eric; it took the place of the alcohol in its glass bottles. You’re in the hallway, three meters from the entrance. It’s overheating–worse than a sauna–in the house. Mere presence of tepid air has your hands trailing along the walls. 

A warmth presence dividing the you and outside blocks. In a desperate drunk attempt you push against it and complain. 

“Out the way, you’re fucking hot.” 

“I am?” 

It speaks back, in a tone rather mischievous than what your state calls for. With a shift of the inner lightning; you realize you have your hands on a uni jacket. The logo turns and you would accuse him of motion sickness. 

From your face-low angle, his hands are tied between the blue pockets. You lean harder on the wall to force your chin where his head is tilted with a smile to the same degree. 

“You’re still here.” You still complain and his face drops. Eyes fleet between your face, the opposite wall, and the entrance door to return. 

“That wasn’t a compliment, right?” His fingers directed to his chest. 

“No, Einstein.” Eyebrows knit when realizing you’ve drifted off the main mission. Two shoulders on opposite ends collide as you hastily drag along to the frame. 

“Woah, woah.” The male student takes your wrist lightly, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“I think it’s a great idea.” You defend without knowing. 

“You’re gonna fall down the stairs.” 

His voice is strangely worried which you would have been touched by, if it wasn’t for the drunk state. 

Mid temperatures of night may have transpired any senses as you don't answer. He takes this to come up in line with you; one decimeter away from the first stairs. 

There’s two people, solitude in a hammock to the right, and prey like shadows of two around the grass. Music from inside is still too loud, and it probably hides someone puking at the other end. 

“I’ll help you, okay? I’m not a weirdo.” 

You turn your head to side eye him. Either promise respect or sacrificially bow down, he throws his hand up. To then gently lie it on your shoulder, lead you down. 

“That’s what a weirdo would say.” You mumble without working against him. 

Gravel scratches underneath their feet and the male student takes his hand off your shoulder; though still twined by the wrist. 

He starts, “I need your name, I should call–” 

“Sunwoo!” 

It seizes pulsations from inside, and the male student takes his head from you. Features on his face and the blue jacket is immediately recognised by the one below. The student's eyes are wide and Sunwoo’s eyebrows hold a neutral position above. 

“Jaehyu–”

“She’s my girlfriend!” Hyunjae takes your wrist from him. 

“Why are you still standing here?” He agitates before wandering off the gates with you. 

Sunwoo shoves his hands up in height with his chest once again; not risking to start fighting with the reigning hockey player while he’s half drunk, half angry.

“I don’t think I’m allowed in here.” Sounds tense. 

“It’s not like you’re here to hook up.” 

“They don’t know that.” Hyunjae deadpans. 

After both left Sunwoo at the stone stairs, Hyunjae coursed through the shrubbery once again. You seemed confused over the interaction; he doesn’t think you even realized the hand on your own changed. He thought you would sober up during the train ride, but you still took irregular stepping patterns down the warm lighted gravel path. 

While down the glass entrance to the soaring female dormitory; Hyunjae motioned you to walk in. But as fast he let go of your shoulder, you stumbled three steps back. 

“What should we do then?” Hyunjae asks, frustrated. 

“I don’t know, it was your idea to go the party.” You cross arms. 

“And yours to get so drunk that you can’t stand.” He spits back. 

The night pulls them close when they wait lonely, as if exiled. Summer cicadas swallow their venom words and when one street lamp flickers; Hyunjae sighs and takes a seat down the stairs. You follow. 

Once the peaceful moon renders all its light, leaving it to its bones; your head falls to his shoulder. While you carve shapes in its craters, your arms mindlessly pull him close. The strands of your hair accumulate on his neck, and while filed under the same sky, your breath sounds like a soundtrack to him. 

Like the passage from day to night; he notices his heart like it’s vastly alive. How many eyes have looked at him adoringly, but he can’t even anxiously look down your side. It’s familiar yet strange, he refuses to acknowledge it. And still you are oblivious, can’t even see his blushing face. 

“Shouldn’t you go home?” You ask softly. Tired and slow in contrast to the previous sentence. 

“I can’t leave you here.” He finally looks down at you. 

“Then you're going to be tired tomorrow.” Guilt visually lines your sunken silhouette. 

Hyunjae smiles, “You’re gonna be too.” 

He speaks gently again after silence, “Sober up a bit more and you’ll walk up.” 

03 . CHAPTER THREE

( saturday midday )

Not because you thought you were immortal anyway, but the next morning came crashing through the roof. While grieving your roof (it wasn’t broken), you swore the ceiling fan was up to mock you in its circles. All while last night lingers as a supercut. 

Your two roommates had woken up earlier, they were supposed to go out. Where? You can’t remember; at that point you were still trying to figure out who you bickered with outside Jeno’s stairs. 

Either way, the bottom line is; you didn’t throw off your clothes, and no texts from Eric. 

The campus is idyllically still in late summer. Bird whistle intertwines with the wind who walks like you through the grass, under the same gravel path Hyunjae led you yesterday. Sun drenched tree crowns and your eyes yearn through the gaps. 

There’s a yellow haze over the world and when you take another step; charge in gravel comes from behind. How your legs sway towards the grass border, fleeting levels with your eyes over your shoulder. A bicycle comes half a meter before; stops it with his right foot.

“Oh–Hi, Y/n.” 

“Oh, Juyeon?” 

He jumps off the saddle and they fall in same line. 

“You look a bit tired?” Juyeon asks in a voice, perfect sync with the bird song. Once again the world falls so dream-like behind him. 

“Yeah, yesterday was…stressful.” You take a palm up to your forehead. 

Juyeon’s smile falters, anxiously tilts his head, “Did I do something last night?” 

“No,no–something else happened…not you.” Hand between the open space which you wave reassuringly. His eyes become concerned and yours only redder. Hyunjae’s touch still lingers on that half of your body; you’re afraid Juyeon can see it. 

You ask something else instead, “You then? You’re not tired?”

He laughs softly, “A bit.” “But I’m supposed to meet a family friend.”

You nod. 

Leaving the last tree behind; the blue sky opens up, just in time for his revelation. Juyeon turns to you fully. Merely one can make out the contour of a light bulb above his head. 

“She bought two of our kittens; Lemon and…” He knits his eyebrows, unable to see your eyes, brilliant with curiosity. 

“I forgot.” He laughs, “They’re big now, I see them sometimes.” 

“Really?” 

Juyeon hums, “Do you want to see them?” 

“Of course!..if it’s okay for your friend?”

“She’s a lady my mother knows.” Juyeon takes one leg over the bicycle saddle and tilts his head–so that his hair too–points to the rack. 

“Jump on.” 

To exchange his eyes with the bicycle rack; you purse your lips and walk behind. Hands immediately cling to the metal frame, but as Juyeon weighs forward, you hold onto his shirt. 

Juyeon looks back and smiles as you struggle, “Hold my waist or you’ll fall off.” 

At this moment, you’re so deeply relieved he hasn’t read your letter. It eases the touch in your hands as they come to his front. Shirt folded above your clasped hands lies like a veil.

That feeling, of when a perfect alignment of past and memory presents. It washes over one as soften, melancholic, whiplash. You hadn’t thought about his scent in years, but as they chase the sun yet never pass it, his shirt touches your cheek. In his home where they used to sit on knees beside each other. It flutters your heart tenderly. 

At the high end peak you felt burdensome. Juyeon reassured you while weighing onto the pedals standing. He seemed to quietly persist in breathing through his nose, even when he was audible panting. 

He led the bicycle to the front, beneath the shadowed roof; you cast your eyes over the asphalt end. The wind rushes through nature up here. As such the foreground, alive, before the still concrete and bricks. 

Juyeon called your name to where he waited beside the door. With a half a shoulder hidden by his own, the bell goes off. A lady opens and smiles instantly as she sees Juyeon. Her wrist in rose patterns reaches out for his shoulder, comforts it gently. Since you’re a stranger; you’re left to awkwardly observe and retell like a narrator. 

“Oh, you have a girl with you?” She smiles at Juyeon, which he returns. He introduces you to the lady while she weakly widens the door gap. 

She still talks when three cats come to the hallway rug. Curiously they silently circle your legs, but they too can tell you’re no threat. 

An orange cat, clothed in layers of orange fur, brushes its head against your calf. You immediately bend down to pet it. To figure out if this fox-like complexion existed in your past too; you tilt your head. But your cat’s were more like crows than foxes. 

Apparently something must have shown because Juyeon says from beside. 

“This is Belle, they had their own kittens here. Ours are probably resting on the couch.” 

You look up, “Oh.” 

The old lady goes to the kitchen to take out tea and biscuits. Meanwhile Juyeon guides you to the living room where three other cats lie in the cushions of a worn down brown couch. Their socks tenderly span across the clear floor, and it must have woken them up. You smile briefly when they instantly seem to recognize him; reach their heads up for touch once he sits. All weights deeper down the material once you sit beside him. Touching shoulders to see a cat lick his finger in his lap. 

Like a jet black scarf in his jeans pattern; it contrasts from the faint white mark–like a moon at night–on her head. 

“She’s so big now.” You say when visions from those evenings before the TV playing Sailor Moon. You called out her name–Luna–that day when you saw her cramped between her siblings. 

Juyeon also named a kitten after a TV show he watched..

“Is that Mum Mew?” 

Now in direction towards the floor; a larger cat, half underneath the couch, half on your feet. 

Juyeon laughs, “He’s Oscar now.” He leans closer and whispers, “I don’t think I’ve ever told her that was his original name.” 

They sit there until the lady comes out again. 

“It’s so lovely that you got a girlfriend, Juyeon.” She puts down the plate and the two look at her, “I’ve all actually thought about you a lot. I’ve been thinking about calling your mother to set you up with someone, I started to get a bit worried.”

The lady has an attentive x on her face. The skin on her forehead hides nothing as it folds, deeply contemplated. Only with your head down and suppressed smile, can you clearly notice the plates against wooden surfaces. Juyeon scratches his nape frantically while laughing. 

"Yeah, uhh–” He stammer. 

“You know, by your age, I was with many guys.” She sits down on the opposite chair. 

“We got together, then we broke up. I had a guy in Paris who I really liked.” She leans forward, “Back then I was so in love I wanted to stay. I thought he was perfect! Kind, handsome, sex–”

“What’s the type of cookie?” Juyeon suddenly bursts out. Leaned over the table pointing at the brown one that’s obviously chocolate. But the lady doesn’t seem to bother. 

“Oh, you see!” 

You press your lips, the color might have vanished. Though it was painfully awkward; Juyeon was just adorable enough to turn the situation endearing. She still describes in detail over her mother’s mother recipe; and Juyeon from the side nods his head attentively, like he always does. 

After another conversation, the topic returns. 

“So when did you meet?” 

Turns to exchange question marks between you. His eyes don't say much and you guess yours neither. 

Juyeon scratches his nape, “We’ve been friends for sometime.” 

Lady nods, “Since when?” 

“Like…” He looks at you for confirmation, “...fourteen or fifteen?” 

“Did you confess, Juyeon? Or Y/n?” She smiles and looks at you, “Juyeon is a bit shy, I’ll be surprised if he confessed.” 

He retreats back to the couch; sinks down the heavy material. You laugh lightly at how his shoulders, swallows by waves of brown textile. 

“Y/n actually liked me first back then.” He points out gently.

You freeze. 

“Then I confessed in university.” 

The old woman does a sweet smile; hands patterned of life lie like a cover over her heart as she looks at both. 

For the longer you’re in someone’s presence; one starts to adjust to the traits. But even how many conversations went on and the sun above crossed her roof; your shoulders hardened. Like irreversible death does to your physical state, you seem unable to look to Juyeon’s side. By all stars in the universe; you’re suddenly transparent. Obvious, translucent piercing glass. 

You looked out the window at the old woman’s house; terrifyingly, the sky was pink. All the world disappeared at fatal speed when they bicycled back to campus. There must be a sort of brilliant snow, in a color out of our spectrum, that rains down on Earth in summer evening. It leaves the landscape quiet and calm. Cicadas sing when everyone else ceases to. 

None of you felt like going to the dorms just yet, instead; you now sit in the auditorium. Though either laugh echoes throughout the wide open space, there’s a dissolving acid in your lungs, begging to drink all air. 

All those characteristics of a person reveal to the open world after all these years. Because you can’t remember Juyeon being so persistent in apologizing. They came in on the “girlfriend” incident; he smiled embarrassingly, felt guilty for forcing you in on it. You told him it was okay. 

After echoing silence; it soars through the auditorium. Juyeon reaches down his backpack with all its scattered papers. There’s a velvety pulse keeping the space next to you occupied while he’s elsewhere. Once Juyeon comes out of the canvas material; your eyes widen in terror, contrasting the melodic decoration of red velvet and wood. 

Your conscious runs desperately from this room, but physical state is in the same seat. 

Juyeon holds out a blue letter with your handwriting on it. 

“I should’ve said it sooner, I’m sorry.” He says in that gentle tone he always speaks to you with. Maybe a soft arch at the end of the sentence. Nonetheless, you imaginary stabs the mind resting in your bone cradle. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” You look at him once before turning to the empty seat and make an expression. One of deep second hand embarrassment that comes from the very narrow part of ‘me’ and sends like shivers. 

“I understand.” Juyeon follows your movements, “You were not supposed to see that letter, they shouldn’t have been leaked.” 

Worried you might have genuinely caused borderline trauma for the poor guy; you turn to him, “I’m really sorry.” 

“No.” The corners of his lips turn into leaves of a red apple. His eyes clouds the color round the pupil and his height convulses barely as he leans into the seat. 

Parts of us never veins, and in front of you, he’s the same boy who patted kittens and was deeply sad when they parted from their mother.  

“I’m honestly very touched by it.” He admits. 

He was back in his childhood home for the last week before semester. When folding the navy sheets of his old bed; his mother came up. A letter in her hand with turquoise color and bubble arch letters in pink ink. Already, it couldn’t be something written in ‘today’. 

And Juyeon is truthful towards you. He read it on the train back home. Always oblivious but grateful nonetheless. Used the window like a passage to the time where you sat beside him on the bedroom floor. 

“Really?” You say surprised. 

He nods, “I’ve never gotten a love letter before.” 

You would scoff and tell him he’s lying, but as his appreciative eyes blur with the blue envelope; you don’t. 

“You know, I think you should join the writer’s club here on campus.” Juyeon smiles at you suddenly. 

“What?” You lean away. 

“Really.” His eyes shapes of honest o’s, “Like–of course there’s some grammar mistakes and you spelt ‘desperatly’ wrong, but you got the feeling!” 

Still the same skeptical expression answers him back. 

“I’m really serious Y/n.”

Own hands in your lap trail towards each other like opposite poles, “I’ll think about it.” 

You watch how he timidly holds the edges and opens the envelope again. Lips shaped in pout like he wonders. 

“Does it bother you if I keep it?” He asks. 

Head shake, though still confused, “No, you can keep it.” 

“Thank you.” He smiles endearingly and tucks it back between the papers and folders. 

A revelation wasn’t as horrid as you thought. Hyunjae’s was deeply embarrassing, but there’s a brief space for contemptment in your heart where anxiety wandered before. Like a visual sight of the butterfly; you look up at the auditorium and ponder over the hidden connections.

You didn’t expect anything from Juyeon; that time has passed. But his now grown up presence seems to fulfill this daily life too. 

“Did others get letters?” Juyeon breaks silence. Like always, his expression paints past the physical boundaries, and one could make out white lines of curious cat ears. 

You figure he means the “they shouldn’t have been leaked”. 

You nod and he tilts his head. Visual intrigue and anticipation from his seat, but you close off in rose pigment like tired flowers. 

“I'd rather not tell you, it’s a bit embarrassing.” You laugh and Juyeon leans back, reassuring. 

This anticipating silence doesn’t cease. It exists as a continuation, a ‘more’ before the ‘end’. One person can’t seem to leave the edge undiscovered, rather, you wait for the red thread to tie its last loop. 

“You know Eric has been looking for you? He seems to miss you a lot.” Juyeon finally says. Tone serious than anything else that left his lips. 

A stone grows between your throat, not acid. There’s no dissolving, just constant aching as you try to move. 

Juyeon continues to talk as you’re silent, “I don’t know what it is, but he’s very understanding…”

He pauses, “...and you know, cause you know him better than I do.” 

04 . CHAPTER FOUR

( tuesday, morning )

“Where’s the psychiatrist?” 

“At the library.” 

“No, I can’t talk to Juyeon anymore.” He groans. 

To drift from the flat roofs outside the window; Eric looks at Sunwoo, further the beige walls. Sunwoo’s head is deep tucked beneath the bedding; Eric crawls over from his own bed to the end of Sunwoo’s. When the weight leans towards Sunwoo’s feet, he closes the pink envelope and lets the navy sheets hide it. The cover comes off Sunwoo’s head by Eric. His face like the moon causes an eclipse over the sun and Sunwoo stares unenchanted back at it. 

“Y/n still haven't answered my messages, it’s been like three weeks!” Eric forces the pillow down. 

“I wouldn’t answer you either.” Sunwoo pats bedding over his chest while Eric throws the pillow at his side. 

They just became friends at the end of the last semester and decided to room for this year. As one’s social circles opens up in double doors whenever Eric comes; your name was one of the first he heard. Sunwoo immediately leaned intrigued at the name, but figured it was just a mere coincidence. He was bound to grow from youth and twine old names with new faces. 

Either way, destiny doesn’t exist, and he won’t take a bait from the universe. Though, Sunwoo threaded over that principle the week before uni started. He worked at the old summer camp and a letter came during the closing week. 

“To Sunwoo”, nothing else. Curiosity took the best of him and he opened the letter to see “From Y/n'' at the end of a massive paragraph. 

The universe got him this time, he admits. In how many positions has he reread the letter and dreamt of the yellow filtered summer from when he was thirteen. In truth he reminiscenced about you those summer’s after. Once reaching adulthood, he realized there was no point in yearning, it’s been years. But this late season has turned into the car ride home from that camp, still with you in vision, so close but not here.

At this point ‘Y/n’ feels like a mere fragment of his imagination; therefore he wont tell. Keep your name from any seekers and contemplate. 

After laughter; Eric plummets to the bed and looks up at the ceiling, feeling Sunwoo’s legs at his elbow. 

“I just don’t understand why she can’t talk to me.” He murmurs. 

“Did anything happen?” 

Only Juyeon knows about the letter Eric received from his best friend. A confession he has longed for since he lived in his castle (big house), but never would be granted. 

Eric thought their connection was stronger than this. Why did you send it if you weren't seeking answers? Why now, this place at this time? 

He has traced every curve of your letters; stared at facebook and mail box. Even the refrigerator at night for answers. 

Though everything the roommates did this summer; Eric can’t tell him, not yet. It’s the luminous memories coming to his ruins. Sunwoo is his presence. 

Silent melancholia climbs above the horizon together with the bleeding sun at the football field. Lines of the goals, rigid and angular, separate the pink-orange growing fragments. Breeze from east colds your heated heart while waiting on the bleachers for Hyunjae. 

You were forced to wake up; not following the united routine of the dormitory when he needed help for a training pass at dawn. But he’s not in sight. 

Half asleep leaning on the backpack, center of your lap; waiting for something holy to run past. 

World’s colors fade into abstraction behind the pupil and a small figure crosses the field. You don’t notice how it leaves the red tracks, closer to the bleachers. Same breeze that touched you passes through its shirt and by mere coincidence. He turns his head opposite from the sunrise and sees you lone illuminated. 

Sunwoo recognises the person despite different clothing. There’s an unconscious underlying characteristic in posture. Sunwoo has been entranced by his own world, but he did think a lot of the pretty girl who fell drunk out of the entrance at Jeno’s party. 

Slowly his feet take him further from the white lines. 

“You’re okay?” His voice tears the plaster away from your vision. 

To look up from the bleacher, a ruler higher than the green grass, they make eye contact. It takes a pattern of blinking but at last you speak. 

“What?” 

“I saw you at the party last Friday, I just wonder if you’re okay?” He repeats. 

A sort of second hand deja vu like nausea, spreads from the visual, coming back. Forces the parallel expression to the feeling, down and instead scratches your head. 

“Oh.” Eyes widen, “Yeah, I’m okay now, thanks.” 

Solitude pushes down into the field with the next breeze. The two of them linger in the same place though the conversation seemed to have ended long ago. You who tie eyes on the far tower of the male dormitory, look back towards him. He stands with barely knit eyebrows, two meters away. It’s not an uncomfortable stare whatsoever, rather curious as the sun rising above the world. 

You smile, “You’re trying to place me…” 

Trying destiny runs through him but nonetheless he’s taken by the sudden realization. You see how the expression unravels and a single shooting star passes the brown coloration of his left eye. 

“You’re Y/n; Y/n from summer camp?” 

You don't react as quickly and are now left blaring into the past and present and the same time. 

“We went kayaking together, don’t you remember?” He points at himself, “I’m Sunwoo.” 

The star falls in east and transcends pink orange shine throughout the campus. For a second; you would have fallen from first row down the grass field with knees bruised of embarrassment, but just in time, you realized that the address written on the letter wasn’t his, just the camp. 

“Sunwoo?” Your posture folds higher to come into view with his own. Truly there’s exciting nostalgia within. 

“I didn’t know you went here.” You say slowly. 

“Me neither.” Sunwoo laughs. 

While in awe over the struck of fate; eyes momentarily drift to the right. Another shadow cuts through the horizon and appears closer while jogging across the field. All light still shines in your eyes while standing up. They come in equal footing and quietly watch each other. He looks over behind and sees Hyunjae. Sunwoo doesn’t quite feel like leaving yet; wished they were stored a moment longer. 

His arms just barely lifts off his sides to embrace you, but the sharp sequence of Hyunjae and you strikes him at the spinal cord. Not wanting to disrupt your relationship again. 

You’re left with wide eyes as Sunwoo runs off the direction he appeared from. 

“Bye Y/n, see you around!” 

It all just played as if at two times speed. One hand lifts to wave from your side of the world while the last strands disappear beyond the goals. 

By peripheral vision, Hyunjae traces Sunwoo. Once more, there’s a torturous sensation growing between marrow bone and heart. When you look his way he feels your eyes held down on him only. 

“You never take water with you, Ice God.” 

While still a meter across, you throw the water bottle to him and he captures it perfectly. Hyunjae looks up with eye-framed windows like staring at the sun. 

“You’re close with Sunwoo?” 

Your bag falls to the ground, “We went to summer camp together, I didn’t know he studied here.” 

Briefly nod while his bag too comes down the grass. You lucid leaning onto the bleachers again–until Hyunjae starts sprinting in one place. The end strands of his hair in parallel motions and his child-like smile shine between the pauses. 

“Let’s run.” He says. 

“I have a volleyball match later.” Back falls to the second and third row as you complain. 

He laughs and takes your wrist, “Running helps with stress.” 

White ribbons knitted along the green corners; they jog the red track field and do a few rounds. Each passage closest to the bleachers you see the shadows diagonally downgrade across the seats. 

Despite having their lungs barely reaching air; Hyunjae persists in conversation. It presses from Earth towards your upper body as you unconsciously choose words before steps. But Hyunjae too seems incredibly out of breath for someone that trains as much as he does. 

You won’t admit it just yet–if ever–that his company is actually enjoyable. 

He lingers across the sport’s center until the shift has ended, and talks to you in insignificant states. In one way; your long shadow at the end of your feet feels guilty. An idea of a self serving dude with too much attention. In truth; he laughs a lot. 

“When’s the game?” Hyunjae asks as their feet come out of synch. 

They stand still catching breath. 

“At three.” You sigh and start walking to the bleachers. 

“Then, I’ll skip this lesson.” Hyunjae stands next to you. 

He takes out the water bottle you gifted him. Presence from your side lingers on him as he drinks, and he raises his eyebrows at the long look. 

“You don’t have to come though.” The lines above eyes cross in a slight perplexed X. 

“You were at my game last time, I should come to.” Hyunjae smiles gently. 

( tuesday, afternoon )

“Need to go to the toilet; nervousness makes me pee.” 

‘21’ in bold font disappears behind the bended wall. You direct towards people in fitted shirts as patterns before the teal walls.

It’s not usual for you to be nervous before games; nor to be completely absorbed by else’s. Now you’re unconventionally a bit more dreamy. The halo in your eyes, up at the sky and shoulder’s slack as if moon-touched. Your teammates pointed it out too when you didn’t answer after ‘Y/n!’. 

Sunwoo reentered your life this morning. The boy that had caused such a heartbreak it was unbelievable. And despite your time changes, you found yourself counting the star constellations he told you that summer. 

This sort of unending chase starts again, that the letters dated to the old camp will find its way to him. Like a foolish child's secret. 

You also wonder why Hyunjae was so persistent on going to your match. One could thread through the interactions and guess he’s become comfortable in your life too. But there’s a brief self reflection. You neither rejected him to come or encouraged. Maybe you want someone up on the bleachers shouting your name, even if it’s not Eric. 

Wooden floor reflects the studio lights like water. Eyes wanders immediately from teammates up to the bleachers. Blue plastic seats on row, to the very windows where it barely collides with the roof. There’s a few silhouettes in groups up on the high rows. Everyone waving their hands to someone, not you. 

When you see number 21 stop before the white line and bring her arm high up to one standing; you suddenly regret not messaging Eric. Though, just as fast; he maybe wouldn’t even have showed up? 

One loud whistle comes from the left; your head directs off the green line tracing vertically. Sees teammates reach their hand out for you to the ring building at the side of the rectangular room. On the opposite, mirrors like theirs in green shirts, they gather.

Thin water like bubbles trace down the narrow row from your temples. All these bubbles that have accumulated beneath the shirt, down knees and threading your throat like a transparent necklace. 

Once the last whistle soars across ceiling; you return to the corner of teammates. Someone touches your arm while running for water; a teammate smiles sincerely but exhausted. 

When shoes are in line with the white painted diagonal; your name chants above all noise. From the floor, your eyes see Hyunjae coming down the blue seats. You aren’t able to reiterate his name before arms of his own wrap around shoulders. 

The invincible spot of cologne sits beneath his shoulder blade. Evoking gently as your chin, supported by the broad shoulder. You hesitantly hug him back and try to look at his face but only reaches his ear. 

Suddenly you feel a bit insecure. 

“I’m really sweaty, Hyunjae.” You laugh awkwardly. 

“Yeah,” His hands retrites without walking back. 

Lips curve to gentle his face and the eyes like porcelain. 

“, and it fits you.” 

A strand falls before your eyes; tucked in by his hands like a dove’s wing. 

Once the match heat flush red, another round of pigment paints your cheeks. There’s no hinder above your eyes left, but still you shake your head and cough; all while Hyunjae still smiles. 

“Thank you, Jaehyun.” 

His expression, more blinding than the long lights above. It’s impossible to not curl up before. You have a certain love for looking away when adoration blooms like spring season on him. Somehow you seemed to have missed when he came to the bleachers too. 

It’s quiet, but Hyunjae still feels like hearing your voice. 

He starts, “You did grea-”

“Y/n!” 

A voice so deeply teared apart and assembled within your mind, that it exists stored in the furthest corners. There’s a certain nerve created just to react to that tone fall, you believe. 

With eyes widened and fingers loosen from each other; you pierce towards the blue door. People still run past your double vision, but for a second the world stopped. 

Eric stands with hands in the blue frame. The universe must’ve heard that wish you prayed before, and in some way, full of relief and exhaustion, you’re happy it did. Eric is visually as hesitant as you, bearing fear and soft in heart pulses. 

“Sorry, Hyunjae, it’s something important.” You jog up to the double door determined. With one last glance to the bleachers, “See you later! …Thanks for coming!” 

Confinement exists excruciating; you hoped it was just the sunbleached walls with square hole windows that trapped them. But not even the open atmosphere, heaven to the infinite universe could save them from what’s been left unsaid. 

Eric asked while passing doors “I have messaged you for two weeks, why didn’t you answer?”. You could only look at him for a second before turning to the open field. His expression begs of confusion, but truly you think he knows why. 

It’s silent. Wind from east campus brushes between the grass. You become the only thing stagnant along the heavy constructions weighing down on Earth as Eric walks up the bleachers. Blue faded denim pockets console his hands as he holds sight on his converse before white plastic. 

“You didn’t even tell me you had a game today.” He refuses to make eye contact. 

Head falls low; everythings to remind you that guilt is the heaviest matter on Earth. 

Theoretically, it’s supposed to be useless feeling alone or unloved with a person like Eric. Sometimes you catch yourself staring in mirrors to search for another pair of eyes. But it’s hard to be miserable when Eric’s been a phone call away. 

It was lonely without you, but I pushed you away. 

“I’m sorry.” You finally say. 

It’s the only thing you get out as you walk up the bleachers. Together on the second row; they watch the green grass and its maroon building boxes. A mellow sun on the edge of disappearing while the land continues flat forever. A wind of different temperature while the concrete still radiates warmth. 

“I’m sorry for ignoring you Eric.” You speak again. 

Their shoes in different font over the white row; you look at them before his side appears in the same position as you. They make eye contact in what feels timeless and it trips on your heart. 

“I was-” 

“It’s oka-” 

There’s silence as they stare at each other; anticipating the other. Though the ink period of the passage becomes laughter as their shoulders collide like the southern and north pole. It ends up being Eric who speaks. 

“You’re forgiven.” He smiles and Earth sighs of relief with you. 

The two poles of their angular edge bind them gently. North and south diasporas sit in silence, whispers of the flat city come from all directions and it smells like grass or nothing in particular. 

A closed connection where everything flows freely without hinder; you had nearly forgotten about that feeling. 

Courage drapes whatever embarrassment was left in you. To breathe in before honest confession. That you love him deeply still, though any romanticized visions are of the past. 

As you think of it; a part of the old self frees and runs with you back towards the grass field. 

“I actually like you too, Y/n.” 

It hitches in your throat. 

“You don’t have to answer yet.” His smile reeks of cotton candy, and the hand on her shoulder before he leaves radiates in puddles like theme parks. 

“I’ll wait for you, princess!” Eric shouts with his hand in his pockets before turning his back. The same nickname he’s called you since seven, never understanding why. 

The stark contour of the real world fades as he disappears towards the dormitory until he’s just a mere dot. 

It’s still warm, but summer has made one privileged. You feel like wearing a jacket as your old self now takes the empty space beside. 

05 . CHAPTER FIVE 

( thursday, afternoon )

Ji Changmin has never been great at sport, and that’s never with a big N. Last night the breaking news of a 2 day beach party got delivered by the infamous friend group, and of course, everyone would be playing the mandatory volleyball games. 

Changmin took his backpack and ran, hoping Eric would be too busy arguing with someone else to notice the empty chair. But at last, Changmin walked up the dormitory corridor with Eric hanging from his left calf like chained. Desperately begging that it wouldn’t be the same if everyone doesn’t come. 

One thing led to the other and every dorm heard a passing march of footsteps to the other end. Changmin was running after Eric whilst he screamed of absolute terror (traumatized from the year before when changmin chased him down the campus, drunk). In a last attempt of escape; Eric jumped Juyeon’s room and made a borderline olympic leep down the bedding before Juyeon processed the door had been opened. 

Like the unofficial therapist he is; Juyeon told Changmin he has a friend in the volleyball team that can teach him this afternoon so as to not embarrass himself completely. 

And that’s how you stand in the same hall; wide eyed and chills growing like rose stems it might strangle you. Though, you could’ve been more embarrassed as Changmin looks about the same. 

With an aggressive tilt to your shoulder while eyelids reach your eyebrows; a firm stare directed at Juyeon. Quietly it signals “what the fuck didn’t you tell me it was Changmin?!”. 

He doesn’t get it. 

“...and he’s really bad.” Juyeon ends while smiling. 

“I’m not that bad.” Changmin side eyes the taller one; also in search for some backup. 

“Yes, you are silly.” His eyes crease in turn with the ends of his lips. From the right side, his hands come up to ruffle the sprout of Changmin’s head. 

All three compiled the net up. You had no interest in bringing up the letter for either Changmin or Juyeon; therefore you rigid and pale served the first shot. 

But thankful for Juyeon’s excitement and obliviousness (surprising) to the reunion he just set up; the tension wore off Changmin’s shoulder and your pigments returned. 

All would rotate between the two sides of the net. You would purse lips to a thin line and turn the plastic of your shoes on the hard floor before running up to Changmin to show him how to serve. At first you stood a little less than a meter behind him; shoved gestures in the air to somehow manipulate his own body to do the same movements. But at last you went up to him, held his hand like gentle rain. 

There was not a bruise or patterns of shades on his palms. Either he’s absolutely addicted to hand cream or those text books of his must enchant his skin while turning pages. 

Changmin felt fragile like all ancient history when you showed him. He tried to be quiet, shyly only talking to Juyeon, but couldn’t help but let out shrieks every time he missed or won. It was just like board games at the dinner table when their parents whispered in the other room. 

You suddenly shout, “Move!” 

Juyeon’s on the opposite side of the two and forced the ball up to the roof with neck breaking power. 

You see how Changmin doesn’t; instead glued to the floor with knees rigid and his hands come up in chest length as if it will save him. You desperately swing your shoulder to the right, but all actions are in vain when their foreheads collide. Force acts up on them and leads them to the ground. Swear it was visible stars circling both heads. 

As the collision wears off and presence hits you as a second impact; terrified you watch Changmin between own two arms down the floor. Legs have his stomach tied to the flooring; 

where in all directions you are. And when they both blushes of embarrassment; Changmin’s hands come a little higher up his chest. 

“You’re supposed to chase the ball.” You stutter and hastily push up from him but miserably fails as the clothing material slips on the floor. 

“I’m sorry-” 

Changmin, just as terrified, apologizes while pushing himself off the floor. One way and two directions; they shut their eyes painfully as the point between their eyebrows hit each other again. One step further down his stomach.

“You didn’t even tell me we had started.” Changmin complains and holds his forehead, looking at Juyeon who climbs under the net. 

You slide off him; knees supporting any weight while at the end of his calves. Great silence from the tunnel system in the high ceiling expands over the yellow walls. It scratches in their throats that you cough. It was enough to crack the tension layered like a glass dome. 

“I don’t feel the same, Y/n.” Changmin sits up. 

“Yeah, I know.” You sigh because you know what he means without asking. Fingers left racing the floor.

“Old story; you were not supposed to get it, I’m sorry.” Guiltily purse lips in, “Also, sorry for falling on you.” 

Suddenly gentle, his legs come over in crisscross and he leans closer to your figure. 

“Yeah…it’s fine.” He confirms in same tone, “Though, I appreciate it. The letter.” 

He pauses. 

“...I had no idea.” Changmin admits.

You laugh, “Really? I was super obvious.” 

“You think so?” He skeptically smiles. 

To bring your arms to an imaginable table and articulate, “I literally held my arms over the textbooks to lean over to you..” 

“I just thought you were a bad listener.” Changmin smiles, bothered, like he always does.  

They both laugh. 

Another shine made by the sun outside draws with a ruler down the yellow wall. It has an angular cut in where it has a darker wooden frame just above the floor. Like the highlight is a window to the midsummers of one’s childhood; you dare to hold eyes open and watch. 

They used to sit at the dining table where the pattern cloth folds at your knees. Because you were way too shy to invite him behind your room door. Sometimes, laughs loud enough for them to hear came from the living room where both their mom’s sat. Mostly they whispered; never understood why. 

When they were younger, he was mostly intimidating. So much taller and just his glasses felt like a sign of great intelligence. But truly his personality held some sort of shine you believed was a leftover from some ancient spell along the yellow fields. 

With their families having dinner sometimes; the two of them used to play board or card games late into the afternoon when the adults still sat along the dinner table. You didn’t want to invite your brother when you finally had time to talk to Changmin without it being about math, but he was way too nice to leave him out. 

“Is your cat good?” Changmin asks suddenly, “Or is he dead?” He knits his eyebrows. 

“Yeah, he’s dead.” Smiles and thinks of how Scuba Steve, in his orange white complexion used to jump into Changmin’s lap while he was tutoring. And when he talked to him so sweetly and petted him along the long fur; her teenage self used to dream about their future (delusion). 

“It feels like he liked everyone more than me.” You admit while leaning into your palm. 

“I’m sure he liked you too.” He laughs. 

“Are you going to the beach party?” Changmin suddenly asks, “You’re close with Eric, right?” He knits his eyebrows, “Aren’t you together with Jaehyun too?” 

“No, no, no, I’m not with Jaehyun.” You fall back to the floor and hands melt down your face. 

“Don’t tell him I said that though.” You add, “But no, I’m not going.” 

“Why not?” 

Visions from the past weeks pass like a bad trailer and you close your eyes. Sunwoo and Eric run across the field in a sort of evangelical light and Hyunjae in the far corner.

You sort of lie, “It’s complicated. I don’t want to meet Eric.” 

Changmin stands up, “I’m only going if you do.” 

“Don’t do this.” You complain. 

“No, whatever’s going on, we’re fixing it now.” He takes your shoulder and forces you up. You whine again and try to make the weight fall back to Earth. 

“I’m fighting volleyball and you’re fighting Eric, great!” He cheers.

There was a lot more than Eric you had to fight this weekend. 

The ball goes flying in their direction again. It lands on Changmin’s head and forces his glasses to the floor. They both look to the right and see Juyeon stand awkwardly upright, hands hanging like leaves as he longs for the ball. 

“I missed.” He deadpan. 

You take the ball and look at Changmin. He smiles knowingly before you both rush at Juyeon. 

( friday, morning )

“Do you want some?” 

Your head turns to the right where the sun shines through the glass brighter. It ceases through the back of his loose strands like the tree crowns from summer camp. 

When you came down to the bus station, Changmin waved at you from a stack of backpacks piled like a mountain. Juyeon stood slightly behind and followed the shoerter’s movements. You asked them if they plan on moving with that; Changmin answered it was Juyeon’s and Eric’s bags. He had–while straightening his posture–just taken the necessary. 

When all had arrived, you got a third row seat at the back beside Sunwoo. You had met again on campus. It turned out between all those words that both were going to the party this weekend. You mentioned how you’re mainly here as Changmin’s emotional support.

Sunwoo– a little horrified– told you he’ll have eyes in the back of his neck for this trip. Hyunjae, Eric or anyone else for that matter could come up from behind and throw hsi poor body in the water. With both in desperate situations, they jokingly built a pact to have each other’s back on this trip. 

So when you sit beside Sunwoo, and look down the space created against the armrest where he reaches out a pink package. He shakes it and you smile before taking a hand off the backpack. 

“You stole my pocky?” 

Tearing away from that space; they look behind the red seat to see Eric leaned over the two. He pierces down at Sunwoo with a dumbfounded O of his lips and starts pointing at the roots of Sunwoo’s hair which he ducks away from. 

“I didn’t steal it.” He defends. 

“It’s mine, I bought it this morning.” Eric looks at you, begging for sympathy, “Now I have no snacks.” 

“You said you weren’t going to eat them.” Sunwoo hides them. 

“They’re mine!” Eric hangs down the seat. Immediately you take the edge of his sleeve as if he’ll fall on you. 

“You’re gonna eat them now?” Sunwoo taunts, “Take the jelly grapes.” He throws out a plastic package from his bag while still chewing. 

“Let’s split it.” Eric deadpans while holding out his palm. 

“I’ll buy you one later.” Sunwoo repeat. 

Eric laughs from above, “You literally just asked Y/n!” He points. 

Sunwoo gets quiet for a second; looks up et Eric, before back at Y/n. 

“Can’t you just eat the grapes?” He shakes the package up in Eric’s face. 

Feet fall back to the floor, the row behind them and Eric, still dumbfounded, points at Sunwoo while stunned searches for assent in you. 

“He’s shameless.” Eric sits down. 

Where the dense complexes only ends when shore starts, the bus ride isn’t long. Despite constant traffic, conversations over the unconscious roaring of the bus engine; you resisted the falling weight of eyelids but at last, gave in. The last minutes when blue hues start to form between the windows and houses lined up against the sand. Head falls onto Sunwoo’s shoulder. 

Changes surprises him, but just as immediately he gently falls back into his seat and your head comes between his neck like the last piece of a 100 puzzle. How could he describe the violent but gentle flutter that grows from a part in his chest and blooms into all directions. And when each stem leaves its youth and creates rosen petals at his fingertips; the playlist in his headphones changes song. 

A melody of 80s slow paced rhythm and a voice soft like silk; lies over the muted woven chorals and yellow of the beach houses. Tiny flowers in perfect composition, like a trail across each street and when he sees the roof of the largest beach houses, just below the shore; Sunwoo wishes the bus would take one more round. 

He dares to look down.  He has seen this image before. All those movie nights in the dining room at summer camp evening. When he rushed to take the seat beside you before anyone else. And towards the end of the long hour you couldn’t keep your eyes open and leaned just like now, on his shoulder. It’s been so long but it doesn’t feel like a season has passed since that summer when he sees your hand lightly touching his own. 

“You need sunscreen, Jaehyun!” You wave the blue plastic tube while slipping down the sand. Hyunjae looks over his shoulder, smirking questionably to her while you come closer. 

“You’ll get skin cancer.” You squint when the blue sky shines behind him. 

“You do it then.” He smiles. 

Holding hands above your eyes, hoping it’ll cease all rosen blushes, “I’m not your mom.” 

“Please, Y/n.” He shakes your forearms, pouting. At first your own hands come up to his chest to force him off, but retrites like touching a hot stove as he’s shirtless. 

“Okay, okay.”

Overarching sand, up to the wooden porch, frees from the rest when they walk up. Hyunjae quickly takes the lead when he jumps up on fixed ground and takes a seat on the edge of the porch. How he wiggle his legs like an excited child while smiling so brightly; you didn’t know he could. You fall to knees behind him and awkwardly look over his hair. 

“Can’t you just do it yourself?” Sun highlights his skin from above. The sharp points of his shoulders, down to his arms, seem soothing against the sharp sand. That specific smell of sunscreen, so deeply ingrained into summer, trace along the porch. Your palm hesitantly moves back and forth between the flexed spot of his shoulder. 

“Just do it, Angel.” Hyunjae looks back at you encouragingly, but you quickly lie the cold sunscreen on his skin to divert him. In the clear summer sun spotlight, your cheeks luminates of struck pink. 

“Ah, it’s cold.” Hyunjae’s shoulder rises up and you continue soothing it in one hand. 

“Don’t complain.” You try to sound normal. 

They got along more than you originally thought. Hesitant to calling people friends, but you guess that's what they are. Though, friends shouldn’t blush of nervousness from innocent touch, right? Especially when Hyunjae leans back further into your hand, and you wonder if it’s wrong. 

At the same time; Eric peeks from the doors to the beach house. He tries to convince himself he’s longingly looking at the open shore, but it’s merely a background to Hyunjae and you.

It’s not that you’re lying, he thinks. You looked more than authentic that day, he asked if they were together and you denied. It’s not a competition, but still he feels a burn coming from another direction than the sun when your hands go to his neck and Hyunjae laughs from tickling. 

“Y/n!” 

You turn from Hyunjae and see Eric coming closer. All that in one motion, you forgot about the painfully obvious red of your face. It isn’t until Eric’s eyes widens and he falls in height to take your left cheek. 

“You’ve burned yourself, Y/n.” Eric traces with his thumb the rose colors of your essence and  to feel it coming off your skin, embarrassingly paint your soul. At this point,  nervousness would leak out from your skin, but by Eric’s and Hyunjae’s wide eyes and open mouths; they’re completely oblivious to their work. 

“N-” Stuttering out the beginning of a no; you stop suddenly as there’s no good excuse for the color. 

“Let me help you.” Hyunjae reaches for the tube down the wood and you immediately try back from Eric’s gentle palms. 

“No, no, no, it’s just heat.” 

“Water.” Eric wants to get you on foot, take you to the kitchen. 

“You need a cold bath.” Hyunjae says quickly after and without looking at Eric takes you in bridal style. Hand lets go of Eric’s and he’s left standing as you in panic tries to convince Hyunjae to turn away from shore. Hyunjae laughs while shouting that you’ll overheat.

It’s a dark seemingly normal, but guilty jealousy Eric watches the older one throw his best friend down the water. You’re quick on your feet again, and start chasing Hyunjae further down. Laughs come from that side while Eric tears his eyes off the new waves; clench his fist because frustration might visibly leak out his skin, and turn back to the house to take his mind off. 

It was only a limited amount of sups, you shared one with Changmin. They had agreed to alt the paddle in interval, but it was you who ended up dragging them both along the surface while Chnagmin sat behind, criticizing the solo sups. 

His victim was mainly Juyeon who traversed the first ocean layer for a good minute playing God until he lost balance. The entire group laughed while he tried to climb up. At the same time Sunwoo laughed so hard he was second to fall in. 

Changmin did well, all things considered, when it was beach volleyball. Juyeon and you cheered on him. That brought him enough confidence to stand at the front. Which wasn’t his greatest moment as he fell head first into the net. 

Sun’s, fleetly asleep above the horizon. All those hours of shine still left like a memory in the sand while four of them still play, the rest swimming, taken a seat with the group who grills or in the house. Laughter with the waves collide, creating a divide of foam. Breeze ensues their hearts. 

It smells of garlic smoked marinade from behind once the ball comes over again. Though at first refusing to go, you’re still thankful for Changmin who desperately forced a game over either way. 

Soon there’s food and you sit on the porch once again. Sunset like a filter over the shore and its houses, maybe the heart too. 

“I have some for you.” 

You look up at who you thought was Eric, with a brightly printed paper plate, gathered of the same choices since childhood. But you blink once, realize it’s Sunwoo. He takes the space beside where only vague music accompanied earlier. 

“Oh, thank you, Sunwoo.” You smile and take the second plate. 

“No worries.” He bends down to eat a bite of his own food. 

A scenery in fleeting composition, scattered of dust passes through the peripheral. 

“I remember you used to take food to me back then too.” Unconscious of the tender light you hold while tracing the oil leaking across plastic shine. 

“Yeah,” He looks at his chicken, “Cause you were always busy sorting stones.” 

You scoff, “Why? You’re judging my hobbies?” 

“No,” He answer truthfully, “It was cute.” 

“My stones?” You tilt. 

“You.” 

Sunwoo’s voice is monotone like it wasn’t supposed to blemish your heart like the orange and dark blue sky divide. The bones across your shoulders and hover over chest convulse in like wings of the delighting butterflies. 

Sunwoo looks up from the food, “I don’t really remember how your stones looked.” 

You smile and take a bite, “I guess that’s why I married you back then.” 

Still confined between your own frame to prevent any sheer wings of escape; you miss how his ears perked up together with his horrible posture. Him in his sharp complexion becomes adorably curious. 

“You remember that?” He says surprised. 

“Of course.” She says as if it’s obvious. Sunwoo looks down at the sand as if to see the smitten reflection of his face in them. 

“I actually didn’t think you’d remember.” He says quietly. 

Another song on the playlist comes on and a group of people rush beside them. Jumping off the porch; their silhouettes darken in pink contrast as water evaporates on their burnt arms. 

Sunwoo dares to look to your side; still eating and it further reminds him of times in circles when they sat next to each other. Something absurd with seeing you again like this. For some nameless reason you have lived all these years as a little girl in his memories, constantly visiting when summer’s approaching. Now you're here, finally at the same age. 

He knows he shouldn’t advance, shouldn’t take a step closer on the porch. Since behind him just some meters further, Hyunjae sits. How adoringly he thinks of Hyunjae because he has you unconditionally by one side. 

“I remember you told me about the stars.” You suddenly say. 

Sunwoo looks at you then the skies, vaguely guilty that there's nothing's left to see yet.

He smiles,  “Damn, I can’t see them, otherwise I would’ve told you about them again.”

You hold head tilted at his side while his eyes still squint for a light away to hit them, “You can show me later.” 

 You don't know what has crawled into you lately, but it’s dependent and has zero abstinence. 

As if the hangover from last week wasn’t enough to convince you; you’re drunk once again (this time in the kitchen). Juyeon worriedly came over, asking if you’re always this bad with alcohol. In turn you took his shoulders dramatically and said no, shaking him. 

And you weren't the only one. In the same vein, at another window by the house; Eric found Sunwoo staring dead into the reflection. When asked what he was doing, Sunwoo simply replied he’s staring at bird shit and laughing like it was the funniest thing. 

Most people are still outside. Fairy lights might look like fireflies in this state as it cradles lightly from night weather. As people cross the sand it changes patterns. It lays a plastic cup further away which Eric runs to pick up. You don't know what song is playing when the high frame expands as walls in all directions, but you think it’s good. 

“Can you dance?” You look at Sunwoo. He turns confusingly with bad posture from the bird shit. An awkward beat drop passage muffled by the walls takes the silence. 

Suddenly you jump up to him in another rhythm than the beat. Smiles wholeheartedly while waving arms.

“I can’t.” You answer your own questions and do a spin. 

Sunwoo’s hangs down its sides like towels over the branches. You reflect in highlights by his porcelain eyes. He must look extremely out of it as the pupils can’t concentrate on the shifting lights and his amused smile. But you couldn’t tell. 

You force his tired arms up in an awkward rocking-back-and-forth swing. He laughs that his teeth show when you start complaining how he’s stiffer than the expensive couch behind them. 

“Let’s tango.” You take his arms and they start circling around the room with either hand on their shoulders and next in each other’s clasp, straight forward. Sunwoo’s laugh overpowers the music as they nearly collide with the couch. Through the window frame they must look like a middle school couple. 

And as if galactic alignment was truly divine; the next song on the playlist slows to a vintage soundtrack as if from an old romcom. They’re still laughing when the circles haste and all weight stills on the carpet lining. 

They’re so drunk, Sunwoo can’t hold himself when your face comes so close. 

“You know…” He starts. 

“No.” You deadpan.

“Don’t speak.” Sunwoo complains and you fall one step backwards from laughing. 

“You know, we’ve reached our 11th marriage anniversary.” He smiles drunkenly, “I think I deserve a kiss for surviving our long distance.” 

“You haven’t even shown me the stars yet.” You whine and curl his hand in a weird way. 

“I know, I know.” He screws his eyes, it looks like it hurts.

“Just give me a kiss and we’ll go outside.” He purses his lips out. 

“Can you even name the constellations still?” You knit your eyes. 

“Of course, there’s Little bear.” Sunwoo points at your nose. You contract your head and watch his finger tip with big eyes. 

“I’m actually a Capricorn.” 

Sunwoo’s lips curve harder as his head falls between the space created from their chests. You watch the root pattern of his hair before he comes up again. 

“You’re really cute.” He smiles. 

You can’t help clasp his hands and twine fingers even harder, “Really?” 

He nods that his fringe follows. 

“Am I cute too?” Sunwoo asks, leaning in.

You think, rolling your eyes slowly, “No.” 

He pouts with big eyes. 

“Again,” He flicks your nose lightly. 

“Me or the flowers?” Sunwoo points at a vase beside the couch. You turn over your shoulder to see the arrangement of pink blemishes with white roots. 

You pretend to think, “Hmm.” 

There’s a anticipation like a butterfly on the last leaf, flickering its sheer patterned wings before taking off. Just like that, it pulses of thousand wings in both your hearts. All as Sunwoo lean in closer. Fingers laced through the other like silk and he pulls you closer by them. When the heat accumulated in the chests collide, with your lips merely touching his own. The tension weighs heavy, it might impend on the room. 

The door from the kitchen beside them forces open. 

Both Sunwoo and you loosen the lace and throw yourself onto the couch. A painful thud erupts from the back rest when Sunwoo crashes nape first. Your condition is in dangerous state, therefore you land about 10 centimeters too short and glide off the couch to the floor. 

When the outer door closes and Eric passes by the frame, he sees Sunwoo decked out; arms hanging lifelessly and his mouth opened, supported by the backrest. 

The cup in his hand nearly topples over when he rushes to stand it on any flat surface. It pulses through the floor when Eric comes down to you. A cold hand from all the ice soothes your forehead and you look up to see Eric’s fringe like a sheer curtain before his eyes. 

“You’re okay?” He asks worriedly, “How much have you drunk?” 

Eric takes your arm and scolds you gently. As you stand up you incoherently try to defend yourself, but quit abruptly as Sunwoo comes into the story. 

Eric guided you up to the bedroom’s at second floor, leaving Sunwoo to die. 

“Eric?” You lie down. 

“Mm?” He flatten out the sheet above you. 

“I forgot.” 

Eric snorts, “Really?” 

“Mm.” You insist. 

Two essence divided between the mattress line in the mit; still staring at the same ceiling. Eric never leaves your side; instead insists on talking about nothing and everything while time wraps in a 4th dimension of one's mind until you can’t rhetorically answer “Mm?”. 

Eric finally ceases to babble when shifting his head to your side. The pillows bud like a flower on his cheek when his body completely draws to your field. He knows you will probably feel like shit tomorrow morning, but for now you lie neatly above the creases like white flower of a heaven’s cross field. 

The incredible magnetic field of your essence seems to draw in more admirers than just himself, Eric understands. He barely convinces himself that the letter is an eventual sign of their destined love, but just barely. 

I can’t know who you dream about as you sleep soundly right now, he thinks while admiring. A face or two flashes before him and Eric sits up. Quietly look at the framed picture on the wall before back down at you. 

For now, he’s in denial. 

Eric takes one hand off your side to lay on your stomach. His bare fingertips dare to soothe out nothing’s on the cheek just to feel your warmth. He hesitates for a second, but before fully walking off the bed and closing the door; he bends down to kiss your cheek, just gently. 

06 . CHAPTER SIX 

( monday, midday )

The day has finally come–or not come as in an anticipated date set in stone from the past–rather Hyunjae woke up and felt courage. The last weeks they’ve seen each other nearly every afternoon, and for each time he imagines himself having persuaded you a little closer. And the last beach party seems to have been the silver lining for his confidence to finally confess how he feels. 

This afternoon they will meet on the track field for some regular training, but what you don't know is that he will be asking you to be his girlfriend, seriously this time. 

Though, between the lecture times, staring at strangers from the row tables; he consciously realized he doesn’t quite know what you like. Or of course, he knows you like astrology, biology, cat’s, exercising but just enough that you can walk guilt free home to the bed. That you always walk around with a first aid kit, and like a mother bandage burnt skin or wrecked ankles. 

But none of that is of use when your heart is supposed to flutter at his mere sight this afternoon. 

So at a table in the cafeteria; Hyunjae takes the opposite chair of a round table where Eric sits alone. Enticed in his own world; he jumps when the chair creaks of his weight. 

Hyunjae figured it was just to ask Eric, your best friend for advice. The older may stand a ruler inferior in emotion to Eric than Juyeon, but nonetheless they have spent many house parties together, jumping off the high roof or throwing pillows at the third. 

Eric always looks at him with a smile, nearly identical to his own. But right now, the red blisters' contours wave lower than what it usually does. His eyes adverts between the sad glass divide over the sandwiches and Hyunjae. But the older forces it in an identical manner to the left. 

Eric nonchalantly told him he doesn’t know what you would romantically like from him. Hyunjae complained saying he should know since they’re best friends, but Eric reiterates his line, “Yeah, just friends.” 

Hyunjae doesn’t cease from the chair, neither his voice. Eric looks at the sandwiches again and guilty bruises his fingers underneath the table. In Eric’s eyes; Hyunjae could win over anyone by just slowly articulate every crook of their name. 

It’s not to admit that he’s threatened, Eric thinks. To rationalize the frustration he theorize Hyunjae hasn’t taken enough of a time to get to know you. 

Eric’s never been evil. His moral compass holds him on the sane lane; even when emotions begs to pull the other way. But right now, while in silence, the magnetic field of the Earth pulls on the arrows. 

“Okay.” Eric puts down the drink. Hyunjae leans in attentively. 

“She wants a big, HUUGE confession. You know, those in rom coms where the guy comes out with a huge boombox and gives her flowers and has a big sign.” Eric takes his arms up in the, above his chest in height with his hair. To visually stun him he waves his hands down like confetti and shakes a hypothetical boombox. All while Hyunjae’s expression all visually gets more nervous.

“Okay.” He walks up without looking at Eric. Head deep down the floor as if thinking. 

( monday, afternoon )

The white streaks wrapped as a present lining across the field is the same as every time he walks past. But even when the scenery is familiar to his conscious, the heart anxiously breathes in quick patterns. It causes invincible scratches at the inner side of his hands while his eyes can’t hold a scene for longer than a second. There’s a couple walking past the fields down the west campus; Hyunjae’s head follows them until their backs are a mere blemish along the sidewalk. 

With his hand tightly knitted behind his back he looks at the grass growing up from under his shoes. Suddenly he looks up again. 

Like the world just ended; the sun’s growing, tearing all the accessible and it rounds the golden halo. You’re just left in trance watching how it all beautifully collapses. That’s what your presence does to his troubled heart when your upper body comes up the staircase. 

You wave with your free hand as you see him at the center of the rectangular land. Hyunjae doesn’t mirror it, instead refuses to change any position. You tilt your head in wonder for a moment, but nonetheless carry on towards his figure, until there’s just a meter across. 

“Hi, Jaehyun.” You say gently. 

“Hi, Y/n.” He shifts his head so that a part of hsi fringe falls forward. 

You turn to see his side profile, as if he’s sick. With concerned woven shape of your face, you ask, “Are you okay?” 

An awkward tenderness in his fronting psyche. To touch his shoulder might cause it to splinter in its frozen preserved state. Hyunjae clasps his hands that’s still behind; gaze your face as if though you were the first he’s ever seen. 

Silence insists to frustratingly exist after your question. 

When a scene of the entire world, flipped in your eye; he breathes in and falls with one to the grass. His hand trails as if cold to the pocket and takes out his phone, turning the speaker outlet in your higher direction. 

“Will you make me the happiest man in the world, Y/n?” 

A bouquet in pastel silk tightly concealed in a ribbon of a darker shade. 

“Hold on.” Hyunjae drops the mobile to the ground; the music practically disappears as it swallows by the grass. 

All eyes on the thin space of his front pocket as he struggles to let loose the bits of red paper. At last some gather in his palm and he throws it up in the air as enthusiastically one can without a canon. The flowers now fully extended as the last bits of craft paper adorn his head. 

A sore spot on his left knee aches under this weight. The teeth of his smile, slowly together as he bear witness to your expression, blinking cause your lips are opened but stunned. Though he can’t read good or horrible. As he starts tilting from instability he clenches the flowers tightly. 

“I didn’t find a boombox, and the party store was closed.” Hyunjae looks behind you instead of up. Embarrassingly wonder if you would have wanted a grand confession in the college cafeteria. He won’t say it, but in all honesty he didn’t have the guts for that. 

It feels like you’ve seen this scene before; in some movie lost to time, you’re sure it has crossed you once. The sad petals taken by the wind, fallen on his shoulders or thread beneath your feet. But still might be the most soft of all thousand interactions of your life. 

Hyunjae seems embarrassed, you can’t fully tell; he looks at you from passages but sways towards the right at the end. How the past and present crashes at once to see him fully and clearly without cover. He’s such a vision that this should flutter all the lonely parts in the arch marrow body, but nothing goes off. 

It’s like standing on the fourth of may, but no fireworks light up. 

You finally smile gently, still eyes on Hyunjae. His expression waits for even a whisper, but instead a hand crosses between the fragile space. Yours takes his wrists, behind where the fingers cross the stems. Gently tugging him up from the grass as the last bits of paper rock down his shoulders. 

“It’s really lovely, Jaehyun.” You smile and he’s finally up. 

The space opens again. 

“But I can’t.” You look at him as both lips synchronize withers. 

“I’m sorry.” 

A heavy wind brushes past; lies a weight on your hearts. Hyunjae, who has never once been the one pushed away, hears lone footsteps echo in the boned structure. It’s a bit embarrassing, it’s a bit sad; he feels like he maybe shouldn’t have said anything. 

You see in full vision how his mind travels elsewhere. Still with flowers and the barely audible mobile that now has changed track to a mellow love song of 80s nostalgia. How depressing everything suddenly became. 

“I still like you, Jaehyun,” You break the silence, “You were honestly a lot nicer than I originally thought.” 

He looks up. 

You smile weakly, “When I saw you on campus I thought you flirted with every woman and acted all big.” You gesture with your shoulders and Hyunjae laughs slightly. 

“But you’re actually very kind.” 

He reaches out the flowers once again. You look up at him with eyes, x-ed expression. 

“It’s still your flowers, I want you to have them.” He says gently. 

You hesitate but he shakes them in front of you. Once loosen on the tensioned shoulders; you take one hand out for the stems and look at them closely. Deeply pink with faded inner circles. 

( wednesday, afternoon ) 

That table at the cafeteria where they always meet has been occupied two days in a row. You come by between classes and yearn through the window, but at last; there’s always a shirt in a color Eric wouldn’t wear sitting in his place. 

At the changing distance through the evening, at the lone table beside your bed; all those papers in painful yellow highlight, tire sore eyes and vision yearns for the computer at the other side. Watch the letter box they communicate through everyday, but is now quiet. 

You’ve messaged Sunwoo through facebook; asked him why Eric ceased from Earth. He answered through digital letters that he’s busy, but truthfully Sunwoo knows better than anyone Eric scatters to avoid you. Eric won’t fully admit why; the closest to a confession Sunwoo got was a bleak understanding of inner guilt over something. 

“You’re sad.” 

You turn to the left where Juyeon sits with curious eyes before the library shelves. Side by side at the communal computers; he has watched you stare at the search page for four minutes without intervention. 

“Do you want to go and see the cats?” He asks gently. 

You sink down on the table. Hands curl up at the keyboard while the wooden surface catches your chin. 

“No, but thank you, Juyeon.” You say tired. 

“Is it Eric?” He asks, leaning down. 

You nod. 

“I don’t want to hurt him, I’m afraid we won’t be friends anymore.” You pause, “I don’t want to hurt anyone else.” 

“You should tell him that.” Changmin peaks from behind the computer, opposite you and Juyeon. 

“Honesty is always valued.” 

“You know, whatever it is..” Juyeon speaks from the right side, “at least having it said will lift the weight off. You have an assignment next week, right?” Juyeon points at the screen. 

“Eric would make fun of you for worrying about boys instead of studying.” 

You smile weakly. 

07 . FINAL CHAPTER 

( saturday, evening ) 

Edges of sharp stone scratches against your old bicycle. Those few streetlights with meters in between emits across the gravel. On the path from your old house, it was quiet like it always is in family neighbourhoods. But as you come closer to Eric’s old house; ruptures in form of music and laughter leak out the open windows. 

You had to stay longer in the library working. Time passed like it never does when one’s bored, and suddenly you had missed the first train and waited for the other. It isn’t too far out your old neighbourhood, just a few stations that with each passing minute gets dimmer and dimmer because of lack of lining lamps. 

Running the last passage to your front door to take the bike, and now you’re standing at his post. The same sign that hangs on the door, rusted of all year’s weather, intimidates you serenely. 

At last, with one foot you force down the supporting metal where all other bikes stand. Close eyes on the handle while the laughter is still muted. 

It has never felt so hard knocking on his door. 

The blurred window at the roof of the door; you stare at it when finally knocking. Anticipation hugs your knees painfully as you take a step back. Look at all places except the white door. Drag your hands along the clothing fabrics as if it’ll obscure you. 

Speakers frees from the door while you feel like running towards the woods. 

“Welcome in!” 

You don't recognize the man holding this door you’ve walked through since five. His expression contrasts your neutral one. There’s a red cup in his hand, he asks if you want some; you thank him, but reject. 

As you come in line with each other through the hallway with mountains of shoes, you look at his back, insecure, before speaking. 

“Do you know where Eric is?” 

He turns, “Hmm..” Scratching his nape and leaning toward the opening frames of all the different rooms. 

“I think he’s in the living room?” The guy points further into the apartment, you thank him. 

Despite all open windows and meters of space; the air is horribly suffocating. People sit two and two, talk in five’s, and a path like pattern goes through the crowd. You let it take you, hoping it somehow brings you to Eric. 

Your feet, that still have shoes on, cease to motion diagonally towards a large couch group. Between all those mere strange faces you’ve may seen once; a face so deeply dissected and remade sits in between. He’s at the center like the sun itself, and people gravitate towards him. 

Somehow you would go back to your corner, sink down quietly. But you’ve been running for too long. Hand behind your back, wrists rope tied while your conscious threats to slaughter from behind, push you forward. 

“Eric?” You say above the laughter, and his couch group turns towards you. 

You swallow when his expression changes to something calmly unreadable, “I need to talk to you.” 

A filter falls like a sheer cover of snow when he closes the door. They’re alone behind the house, blue illumination like an upside down universe highlights you from below. Neither Eric or you had said something, but it wasn’t noticeable until the world ran out of sound too. 

Eric’s silhouette leaves your side and sits by the edge of the pool. With his barefoots into the galactic mirror, his face shades and colors like the moon. You too walk to the edge, sit by his side and see his legs make waves throughout the water. 

He’s unfamiliarly quiet; similar to when you know something someone else doesn’t. 

“I think I like someone, Eric.” You say gently without wasting. 

He looks at you, soft and tender, “You do?” He smiles. 

You smile too and nod. 

His feet make water soar before becoming whole again. Your fingers tear at the concrete lining the pool. 

“...and I’m not sure he likes me back…therefore it can’t be you.” 

Heavy silence like the Universe itself weighs over them. World’s full of life, yet there’s an empty echo in the marrow arch of your cathedral body. 

Eric gazes at the transparent surface of the water, smiling weakly because it’s the only thing right to do.

“Though, I still love you, Eric.” You lean towards his shoulder. Tear his side profile like you beg it is not the last time you see it. 

“So much as you can possibly love someone, and a little more.” 

He looks up, fringe falling, “It’s okay, I know.” 

Voice fragile, so heartbreaking against the smile that could light up the entirety of the solar system. He’s like the pool beneath, a galactic universe tightly compacted into a pond. 

His mere existence makes your eyes glisten and words frail, “I’m sorry.” You whisper.

He smiles and takes your wrist, “Why are you saying sorry, princess.” 

They both sit there for a moment. The constellations pass a centimeter above the bended celestial before you walk up. Half disappear behind the wall while Eric is left at the pool edge. You can’t bring yourself to leave; having one eye on his back as if it'll fall when you go. 

Eric looks back to your wall suddenly, like he knows. 

“I’m sorry.” You say it again, nails exhaustingly tearing at the house. 

Eric shakes his head, waving you off gently before speaking quietly, “Go get your prince.” 

Stones shatter beneath the weight of two tires. All houses are drowned in nightshade glistens of warm lighted windows like the stars above, that is childhood. 

Grass divided into squares lined with fences; streamline, down the gravel path until it opens up in a wide circle. You know this place because here’s where everyone always met. 

All those gravel paths, identical to the one you just left maze down to a grass circle. The very heart of all these houses, a meter lower than the rest. You pass the path contouring it and all these strokes of green nature hinders you down. You stop with one foot off the pedal and lean your weight while standing up. 

Where all distance creates a perfect cross; a boy much familiar to you lies. His own bicycle stranded a meter or two from his still body. Laying on his back with his head tilted on its forearms. Sunwoo’s completely still like midnight around him. It calms you just how water drains from head down after sunshine, but heart tears at its veins. 

You found him. 

To let go of the bicycle; forcing down the metal to leave it standing. Eventually you walk towards him, slowly as if you’ll scare him away. 

About three meters from his feet; Sunwoo suddenly looks away from the star fields and up to you. 

“Oh, hi Y/n.” He says like he always does. 

You cease to stop, “Hi, Sunwoo.” 

He can’t quite place why you’re here. You seem to come up in unexpected moments; take him by heart like a sudden season though he’s been admiring the trees for an eternity. It begins with your hair; how it seemingly floods down on your shoulders. Just like the jewel reflection like glitter under your eyes . 

“You’re crying?”

You’re taken back by his question; taking a hand to the cold skin beneath your vision. Liquid dried tight to your complexion.  

“It’s a long story,” You stutter; head turns to the ground before your expression becomes decrepit, but poetical. 

“I’ll tell you later.” 

After silence, you sigh; lending a bit of your worry to Earth. All the heavy mountains, all heavy oceans.

You start, “I have something to tell you.” 

Grass stands in between his fingers when they lie flat against the ground. Sunwoo forces himself up while observing your expression. You neither walk closer or further; chin falling in patterns as pupils pierce onto the sight behind him or the grass beneath his feet. Only in mere passages eye contact lasts. 

You open your mouth to speak, but realize you have a bad habit of coating everything in a thin layer of sugar as if feeding your words to a child. But there’s a certain bitter aftertaste in being honest. 

“I love you, Sunwoo.” The words free from a deep part within. Tears off the inner skin and momentarily aches the body cathedral. He doesn’t say anything. Sitting in place, whether it’s of shock or horror, one can’t tell. To expand the details of his expression, but there’s always two possibilities to his wide eyes and space between lips. Hurriedly you continue. 

“I really like you Sunwoo, I’m sorry.” You look down to the left, “I just needed to say it.” You open your arms, not like a hug, rather an impediment. 

“So do what you want, Sunwoo.” You breathe in heavily while searching for the world reflected in his window. 

“Just break my heart if that’s what you have to, please, just–” 

“I love you too.” 

“...do–what?” Your arms fall to their sides and the pupil without dimensions expands across the pearl, reaching the far edge of its colorization. 

“I love you too.” He stutters more this time. 

Every cosmic mass bulging on your shoulders and tearing your back convulses from behind. It like everything eventually does; changes form and frees for the roof without limit. It has compressed your lungs into tiny pulses, you didn’t even notice. Yet the milky way’s worth of celestial bodies frees from you; only eyelids show movement. 

You breathe heavily while looking at Sunwoo with parted lips. He looks just as cosmically affected as you. 

“But aren’t you together with Jaehyun?” He suddenly says. 

You’re quiet for a second before bursting out in laughter. 

“No…no.” You take your hands up before your chest and smile “You’re still there?” 

Sunwoo’s still crossed brow of confusion. Neither laughing nor speaking. 

“I was his fake girlfriend for the parties, but we’re not like that.” 

You pause. 

“We could never be like that…” You hold your arms behind your back, titling your head when a star aligns with his position. 

“Not when you exist.” 

He admires you deeply in the same way, one layer below. Knees have come up to his chin and he hugs them slightly while hypnotized following the last season’s breeze across your face. 

You’re not sure what is supposed to happen now. But truthfully, you could live adoring the opposite like this for an eternity longer. 

Though, Sunwoo has other plans. 

The surface of his shoes bend down the grass as he stands. The last meters dying to collapse cease from existence; all before you even lift your head from your shoulder. Just as your eyes widen he’s against you gently. Sheer touch of his fingers across your lower face before he tilts. At last you touch and love-soul bitten sensations fill two hearts. 

You look at him again after the kiss; his face so beautiful you believe he could overthrow the world. 

© littleroaes, written and all

a/ n : i kind of broke my own heart by writing reader and juyeon just being friends 😭 it took all my will power

love spectrum spoiler

have flirty/ cute dynamic in the beginning but becomes friends : juyeon, changmin

romantic storylines but do not end up with : eric, hyunjae

end game : sunwoo

tagging : @darcymariebraun-blog @sungbeam @tbzhub @sanaxo-o

[jwirecs]

RECOMMENDED NCT FICS OF SEPTEMBER 2023💖

hello, hello! here are my nct recs of september! hopefully these beautiful stories get more recognition as well as the writers 💝

** anything in parentheses and bolded are my thoughts that can be disregarded if needed **

🔞smut || 💔angst || 💕fluff || ✅completed || 🔄ongoing || 💯favorite

Body Language || @badalivie💕✅

↳ You and Donghyuck have been dance partners for the past 6 years. When he gets into an accident that costs him a competition and substitutes himself with another dancer, he realizes he’s not so open at all to having you dance with someone else, especially having their hands in the places he considered his.

Forget Him || @smileysuh🔞💕✅💯

↳ “What if… what if I helped you out a little?” His words hang in the air, and your room feels thick with tension. You’re acutely aware of the toy still pressed between your thighs. “Look,” Hyuck says, voice softer, “I hate seeing you cry- but seeing you cry about something good might make us both feel better.”

Getting Even || @ofjunemoment🔞💕✅💯💯 (pt.2)

↳ Haechan is notorious for his pranks. Who can forget about the one time the campus fountain was bleeding red? You were weary of never getting on his wrong side, but when you get to know him better, it seems like behind all that front he's a sweet and caring guy. That is until you get a bucket of water dunked on you straight after he promised he wouldn't pull something on you. You're not only pissed that he had fooled you like this, but that he chose such a simple prank.

Inseparable Friend || @lovesuhng💕💔✅💯

↳ johnny was your best friend and platonic love during his high school days, but he left without even saying goodbye. 10 years later, you meet again at the class of 2013 reunion. do you still feel the same way about your former best friend? how about giving him another chance?

Operation Rizz || @acescavern💕✅

↳ In an attempt to teach Donghyuck how to get a girlfriend, Jaemin helps him make a list only... that list seems awfully familiar.

34 + 35 || @karinasbaby🔞✅

↳ in which jaemin decides to finally return back home after spending an entire day at practice (with a surprise).

Glitter || @kyufessions💕✅

↳ you walk in on your daughter giving your fiancé a makeover

Good Morning, Baby || @daydreamingyuta💕✅

↳ waking up with boyfriend!mark

The Bottom || @donkey-hyuck💕💔✅💯

↳ getting into a relationship when you were at the lowest point of your life dragged you down to the bottom. but it dragged the ones you loved as well.

(♥️) || @nctsplug02🔞💕✅💯💯

↳ (dilf!johnny next door is a sin. a wonderful 6 foot sin.)

Animal Instinct || @onyourhyuck🔞💕🔄💯

↳ You are a marine biologist. You should be able to understand animals and their way of living. When you encounter a new society in a bar under the name ‘Sour Grapes’ you find yourself in a troubling situation with seven different men. Seven different animals.

Cookie Jar || @neopuppy🔞✅

↳ (there wasnt a definite summary, but i dont really read any stepcest au's....however....this one...casually...slipped....in. PSA if you arent comfortable with reading any like stepcest type of fics, then this might not be for you, BUT if you dont mind reading one stepcest fic once in a while, then...i recommend you casually...read this one.)

Do You like It, Dr. Lee? || @revehae🔞✅💯💯

↳ haechan, jaemin, and jeno are some of the brightest, most accomplished students in your class that never fail to make high marks on the exams. but when they approach you one day in your office, your perspective of them changes dramatically. (oh heaven have mercy istfg)

Mark Me In Your Heart || @ohmytyong🔞💔✅

↳ when a sensitive and broken heart meets another one of the same nature, their instinctive reaction is to seek comfort in each other, and in order to heal themselves, they both need to be equally strong and willing to put all their broken pieces back together. but sometimes, some hearts aren’t strong enough to be saved; the only way to save them is if the stronger heart of the two is willing to take the risk and try for the both of them, whatever it takes.

Neighbor || @jaehyunssi💕✅

↳ after breaking up with your boyfriend, you spent hours crying in the middle of the night. your loud and nonstop cries made mark knocks your door to find out what’s going on

Persimmon Problems || @starsstuddedsky💕💔✅

↳ fantasy crushes are all fun and games until it stops being a fantasy and he’s really talking to you. but what are you supposed to do when he invades every part of your life?

Ric Flair Drip || @jnnul🔞💕💔✅💯

↳ HONESTLY, NOTHING ABOUT JUNG JAEHYUN IS REMOTELY APPEALING TO YOU. you hate the perfect boy act he puts on, you hate his need to impress everyone and everything, and you really fucking hated his dick.

Shoplifter || @augustinbluex🔞✅

↳ when you got caught stealing in a sex shop, you thought you'd earn another lecture from your stepdad. however, the lesson was not what you’d excepted

NCT Dream Texts || @nctstar💕💔✅

↳ you overhear them say you're clingy

NCT Dream Texts || @marklease💕✅

↳ dreamies texting that you forgot something at their place

NCT Dream Texts || @marklease💕✅

↳ throwing up in their car after a date (stop, jisung would be the one to sympathy gag with you, i cant. where is the lie to that)

NCT Dream Texts || @xrenjunniesx💕✅

↳ when you get lost (as someone who sucks with like maps and following/reading maps i can relate.)

Do check out all of the other NCT Fics that i have reblogged as well!!

** if there is any fics that you guys would like to recommend, please do! i am slowly running out of fics to read **

[mwebber]

THE DAY THE LOOP ENDS, sebastian vettel steps out of his car having won a formula one grand prix. he walks onto the podium to the sound of resounding boos, and indignant shouts, and the suffocating, unbearable force of mark webber's quiet rage beside him.

it's march 24, 2013. he's in malaysia at the moment. that's an understatement; he's been in malaysia for days, weeks, months, if not years. he's abandoned the paddock more than once, hopped on flights out of the country in business class and spent his days in transit alone. he's talked to the most interesting people he's ever met, brokenly stuttering through languages he doesn't speak. he's fucked more people, spreading his legs for anybody who'll look at him twice. he's tried murder, but only once, and in a fit of nihilism, and desperation, and anger. it was messier than trying to end his own existence. he's woken up every morning at seven on the dot on sunday, march 24, by heikki knocking on his door, even if he never falls asleep.

he's spent the most time with mark, which is surprising, or maybe not surprising in the least. in the race, sometimes mark will come first, and sometimes he'll come second. tyres never degrade the same way. the wind blows too hard in one direction. the mercedes boys have a fractious relationship, moreso than even his and mark's, and they pull crazy stunts. pit stops go well and fail miserably at random.

it feels good to win on track and get a leg up over his rival, if only for a day. on his worst days, it feels better to get his leg up in a different sense. those are the nights he spends staring at the digital clock in mark's hotel room, some loops cuddling, other loops so far apart that it's like they've never touched. and he'll tell mark the same story he tells him every time:

i'm stuck reliving the same day over and over again. i don't know how to get out.

depending on how serious he sounds, or how close they are, mark either believes him or doesn't. he's looked the other man in the eyes and confessed his love, or his hate, or any one of the feelings that curl around his heart like barbed wire. it's not like what he say matters much in the end; the clock strikes 12, and then it's 7 in the morning, and heikki is yelling at him to get off his lazy ass.

he's played chicken with the universe for an eternity, and become the worst person he's ever known.

so it's—it needs to be some cosmic joke, right? that this is how it ends? traitor to the team, unnecessary career-killer, champion fallen from grace? after all the terrible things he's done, the actions that stain him forever are the ones he made today?

"i messed up," seb tries to explain while they wait to enter the post-race press conference. "i didn't mean to, i just messed up."

mark can't even look him in the eye.

"yeah, well." he sniffs. "actions have consequences."

i killed you, seb wants to confess. i crashed into you on purpose just to see what would happen, and i snapped your neck and broke your body into pieces.

he swallows empty air, instead. "yeah."

THE DAY AFTER THE LOOP ENDS, hanna asks him what's wrong.

"nothing," he blinks. after all, he's broken free from the clutches of time itself. he's back home with the woman he's committed the rest of his life to. isn't this his happily ever after?

she gives him an uncertain smile. she doesn't press the issue.

TWO DAYS AFTER THE LOOP ENDS, seb thinks about buying a single plane ticket with money he's just earned and flying back to malaysia, no return ticket. just to see if the days have really passed by, if his belongings are still haphazardly shoved in the corner of a hotel room, if he can still knock on the next door over and see mark.

"hanna," he says to an empty room, apropos of nothing. "hanna?"

she's on the porch reading a book. she's been reading the same book for eternity. seb stares at the pages, the words far too small to make out from his viewpoint halfway out the front door.

with a small hum, she glances up at him. "are you okay?"

his vision is doubled through the glass, in the odd way the light refracts off its surface. when he blinks, the effect doesn't lessen.

THREE DAYS AFTER THE LOOP ENDS, seb wakes up at seven in the morning, and sees the time, and stops breathing with a suddenness that leaves him shaking violently.

off your ass, seb, c'mon. let's g—

FOUR DAYS AFTER THE LOOP ENDS, seb gets a call.

"we'll get a lawyer," hanna promises him, darkly, her voice tight and irritated and jesus fucking christ, seb wants to swear. she won't let the axe fall on his neck. why won't she let the axe fall on his neck?

FIVE DAYS AFTER THE LOOP ENDS, seb drives like a madman all the way to the nearest city proper so he can buy a newspaper. he's dressed in old sweatpants and hasn't washed his hair in days (weeks, months, years? no, it was tuesday, it was just tuesday—) and he probably looks like a complete lunatic, shoving too much money at the stranger running the kiosk just to grip the paper with white knuckles and sprint back to his car and breathe so hard in the driver's seat he almost passes out. but there it is: march 29. 2013.

SIX DAYS AFTER THE LOOP ENDS, and seb is supposed to be much farther along in his prep for china than he is. red bull has some red bullshit lined up, some PR nonsense that he's contractually obligated to fulfill next week. it's infinitely strange to think about the future.

A WEEK AFTER THE LOOP ENDS, seb is convinced he's back inside it. it's seven in the morning. somebody is knocking on the door. it's sunday. if he opens his eyes, he will see the popcorn ceiling of the hotel room and—

A WEEK AND A DAY AFTER THE LOOP ENDS, seb is not sure what to do about mark crashing their place. hanna treats him politely like a houseguest, though her stiff smile belies the anger seb knows she feels.

it's probably not his fault, he could say. that damned manager of his, she gets into his head. sometimes he'll tell me as much after he rips a new hole in my ass with his cock.

"i killed you," he admits, bluntly, finally, like a dull knife that's broken through skin.

he sips at his tea. it burns his tongue.

mark, to his credit, does not flinch. "you'll wish you killed me."

A WEEK AND TWO DAYS AFTER THE LOOP ENDS, and they are on a flight to china.

"i've jumped out of a plane before," says seb to mark's sleeping face. "i've punched a man and opened the emergency door and jumped out without a parachute."

"no, you haven't," mark mumbles tiredly, his eyebrows furrowing and a thunderous frown creeping onto the thin line of his mouth. he's right. seb didn't punch a man; he simply opened the rear door when the stewards weren't there and let himself plummet.

"i think i'm stuck again." seb confesses. they're words better reserved for god or some other deity, not his teammate.

this time, mark opens his eyes.

"it's so much worse for me," he murmurs, "if you feel bad."

"i don't feel bad." this is a fundamental misunderstanding. seb doesn't really regret what he did in malaysia; he'd do it again, in any and every time loop.

mark snorts softly, and turns his head to the aisle. "whatever."

A WEEK AND THREE DAYS AFTER THE LOOP ENDS, seb wakes up in a hotel room. it's seven in the morning. heikki and britta are arriving in a couple hours. the ceiling is smooth white paint.

still half-undressed, he pads barefoot to the door, and shuts one eye, and squints out the peephole at the warped hallway. the optical illusion sometimes feels more real than the straight lines and straight lanes that define his schedule.

A WEEK AND FOUR DAYS AFTER THE LOOP ENDS, seb sits alone at a press conference for two and tries not to blink.

"i was racing. i was faster. i passed him." i've imagined the sound of mark webber's spine being ripped from his body vertebra by vertebra. "i won."

A WEEK AND FIVE DAYS AFTER THE LOOP ENDS, seb is back in the car. it's like no time has passed at all.

[heyyesimtrash-whatofit]

Hey Gatsby people, I know I’ve seen ppl talk about a reincarnation AU and wanted to try my hand at it (thanks @writerinconstantcrisis for listening and helping this bullshit lmao). Please consider-

Nick, having successfully published his memoir The Great Gatsby, stands as the last of their group to die

The gang are reincarnated and run into each other just a tad earlier than before, their Junior Year of High School. They become great friends, absolutely clueless to their past lives

Spring of their Junior Year they get the good ol required reading of The Great Gatsby, in which their friend group just sorta laughs at it although Nick can’t shake this sense of Deja Vu reading it…

It comes to a head for him in the hallway one day leaving class when Jay calls him “old sport” (“because it sounds cool! I like it, I’m gonna bring it back.” “You’re gonna look like an idiot, James.”) Nick is hit with an entire lifetimes worth of memories in one go

Has to spend the rest of high school in constant crisis because none of the others know, they clearly don’t know, if they knew they wouldn’t be hanging around George and Myrtle so casually oh god he’s gonna be sick-

Jordan remembers next, at a graduation party. Nick decided to shoot the long shot and mention how he’s never liked small parties because there’s no privacy. Jordan is left reeling but at least Nick is there to help her

Daisy finds out next, although she’s alone when it happens. It’s their first year of college and she’s left reeling and on her own. At first Nick thinks nothing of her sudden texting spree in the group chat (which was jokingly named “The Gay Gatsby” back in high school and hasn’t changed) until Christmas, when he sees that look in her eyes and spends the rest of dinner staring her down until he can ask in private. She cries for an hour at least

Tom remembers second to last, his Junior Year of college when he and Daisy get together (on much better terms, mind you, and both he and Daisy are better people because screw you it’s my AU and I get to fix the characters) Like Daisy I’m not sure exactly what his trigger event is but it hits him and hard. First off, gaining a second lifetime of memories is rough. Second, he was an asshole oh my gosh. Third, he caused the death of someone he gets along with pretty well now (no, he and Gatsby are not best buds. They’re more like those friends who constant piss each other off as a show of affection). He’s not the other three there for him though so it’s not terrible.

Gatsby is last. First to die, last to remember and boy does it hit him like a brick. They’re out of college, hanging at Nick and Jay’s shared apartment (roommates, but room for ship because I do, but can be platonic) when someone says something and immediately everything shatters. His admittedly short life crashes back harder than the others’ ever did (except maybe Nick) and he is absolutely broken by it. It takes three days for Nick to be able to talk to him, and that’s not even beginning to acknowledge the others.

Once everyone is back and ticking, barely comprehending what’s going on mind you but they’re trying, they all vow to never let the events of that summer happen again. They’re on a good roll already but they need to keep it up. For everyone’s sakes

That’s the jist of it main plot wise. I’m gonna include some additional sillies under the cut. Feel free to ask/comment/whatever about this AU if you’ve got questions, because I have a lot of thoughts for it lmao

Additional disaster-

Every time someone remembers, they watch the 2013 movie together with those who know and laugh at the inconsistencies/wrong things. It helps them make light of their shitty pasts.

Furthermore, every time someone remembers Nick rereads the book. He can’t forget. He refuses to.

Once Jay remembered and the shitstorm passed, everything returning to as it had been was marked by everyone in their group chat sending some form of “Close enough, welcome back The Gay Gatsby.” Jay laughed for ages at it. Nick had to respond for him.

Everyone has dreams about their past life, although for some it’s more common. Namely for Nick and Jay, whose reoccurring dreams are more like nightmares

Nick feels responsible for everyone. He was the first to remember, he wrote the book, he has to be there for them better this time around. He fails to remember that they’re there for him too, which comes to a head when they find him passed out, locked in his room, surrounded by smudged pages on which he was once again trying to recall that summer by memory. Things get worse when he lets it slip that he was easily ten times worse when writing the original TGG. Mandatory group therapy amongst each other doubles in frequency, with the others refusing to let Nick just brush over the shit he was put through because of them.

Everyone calls bullshit on Nick’s flawless A in English 11. Why? “HE DIDNT HAVE TO READ SHIT! HE WROTE THE DAMN BOOK!” Nick claims that’s their problem, not his.

After first regaining his memories, Nick became very reclusive. He hid from his friends until they broke into his room, partially RAN from George and Myrtle every time he saw them, and became very invested in rereading TGG. Oddly enough though he wasn’t adverse to hugs, especially from Jay. In truth, it was because he just liked hearing his friend’s heartbeat. It helped remind him that he had a second chance, they all did

Jay and Tom argue a lot still, but about the stupidest things. Once things settled from Jay remembering, Jordan, Daisy, and Him were hanging out when suddenly they heard a loud argument approaching. Nick braced for the worst, only to find the two arguing about whether normal or Dino nuggets were better. Idiots.

Nick, having no other outlet for his feelings and thoughts toward his past life at the time, took to his English class’ book discussions to discuss and explain things missed or misunderstood. He was. Rather passionate about proving his point when someone tried to claim he was wrong. He wrote the book damnit!

Jordan is a Lesbian and proud, Nick is Gay, Gatsby is Bi. It’s practically stated in the book but I just need to say it here to be sure.

Jay has had an “irrational fear of pools” since he was a kid. It makes sense in hindsight

And I think that’s all I have for now! Please, if there’s any interest in this AU, do not be afraid to let me know. I will rant. I am trash. Don’t forget it

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

Not Rated Fics Masterlist (3)

Part 1 / Part 2 /

Created: September 2nd, 2023

Last Checked:---

Light A Fire-titania522 (AO3)

Summary: Once he had begged for her life. What she gave him in return was so much more. Written for Prompts in Panem, Day 1 - Everlark Week (Growing Together - 7)

making a blank page bloom: drabble collection-songbirdheart (AO3)

Summary: A compiling of Hunger Games drabbles.

Oh, I Love You-bbyannabeth (AO3)

Summary: The moment when Peeta realizes, clear-headed and all, maybe as Katniss sleeps beside him or traipses in from the woods …“oh. I love you.”

Pagan Poetry-ignitetheballoon (AO3)

Summary: "I thought he wanted it, anyway," I say. "Not like this," Haymitch says. "He wanted it to be real." Catching Fire —page 73 Katniss speaks with Peeta the night of their engagement.

Paper Hearts-LemonLuvGirl (Tumblr)

Summary: Modern High-School AU. Peeta drops something on his way out of class.

Reunited without Hijacking-katnissmellarkkk (Tumblr)

Summary: Katniss and Peeta’s reunion in Mockingjay, had Peeta not been hijacked by Snow.

Slag Heap-atetheredmind/muttpeeta (Tumblr)

Summary: Set between becoming victors and the victory tour.

Katniss didn’t think much of taking a shortcut through the slag heap on her walk from the woods to the Hob. It was a weekday morning; all the kids were in school, the adults at work–the ones not too weak from starvation to work, that was. Anyone who might have been utilizing the privacy offered by the slag heap should have been otherwise preoccupied.

She forgot about her fellow victor, however–the one not typically laid out by alcohol so early in the morning.

Snuggling vs. Hugging-endlessnightlock (Tumblr)

Summary: Because what’s the difference between snuggling and hugging? (A lot.) In which Katniss discovers the difference.

The Sharp Edge of Memory (formerly known as Persuasion)-titania522 (AO3)

Summary: "Even if by some miracle I did survive and he did not - if I did not follow him to the grave from desperation soon after - I would live my entire life trying to solve the puzzle of how to get him out." What would have happened on the beach during the Quarter Quell if Finnick had not interrupted them? 2013 EVERLARK SMUT AWARDS NOMINEE!

The Unrecorded Hours-hollycomb (AO3)

Summary: Katniss and Peeta in the weeks and months after the war.

[larsulrichsblog]

American Idiot is the seventh studio album by the American rock band Green Day, released on September 21, 2004, by Reprise Records. As with their previous four albums, it was produced by Rob Cavallo in collaboration with the group. Recording sessions for American Idiot took place at Studio 880 in Oakland and Ocean Way Recording in Hollywood, both in California, between 2003 and 2004. A concept album, dubbed a "punk rock opera" by the band members, American Idiot follows the story of Jesus of Suburbia, a lower-middle-class American adolescent anti-hero. The album expresses the disillusionment and dissent of a generation that came of age in a period shaped by tumultuous events such as 9/11 and the Iraq War. In order to accomplish this, the band used unconventional techniques for themselves, including transitions between connected songs and some long, chaptered, creative compositions presenting the album themes.

American IdiotStudio album by 

Green Day

ReleasedSeptember 21, 2004RecordedApril 2003 – March 2004Studio

Studio 880, Oakland

Ocean Way, Hollywood

Capitol, Hollywood

Genre

Punk rock

pop-punk

alternative rock

Length57:14LabelRepriseProducer

Rob Cavallo

Green Day

Green Day chronologyShenanigans

(2002)American Idiot

(2004)Bullet in a Bible

(2005)Singles from American Idiot

"American Idiot"

Released: August 6, 2004

"Boulevard of Broken Dreams"

Released: November 29, 2004

"Holiday"

Released: March 14, 2005

"Wake Me Up When September Ends"

Released: June 13, 2005

"Jesus of Suburbia"

Released: November 14, 2005

Following the disappointing sales of their previous album Warning (2000), the band took a break and then began what they had planned to be their next album, Cigarettes and Valentines. However, recording was cut short when the master tapes were stolen; following this, the band made the decision to start their next album from scratch. The result was a more societally critical, politically charged record which returned to the band's punk rock sound following the more folk and power pop-inspired Warning, with additional influences that were not explored on their older albums. Additionally, the band underwent an "image change", wearing red and black uniforms onstage, to add more theatrical presence to the album during performances and press events.

American Idiot became one of the most anticipated releases of 2004. It marked a career comeback for Green Day, charting in 27 countries, reaching for the first time the top spot on the Billboard 200 for the group and peaking at number one in 18 other countries. It has sold over 23 million copies worldwide, making it the second best-selling album for the band (behind their 1994 major-label debut, Dookie) and one of the best-selling albums of the decade and all time. It was later certified 6× Platinum by the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA) in 2013. The album spawned five successful singles: the titular track, "American Idiot", "Holiday", "Wake Me Up When September Ends", "Jesus of Suburbia" and the Grammy Award for Record of the Year winner "Boulevard of Broken Dreams".

I think bro likes green day

[uwabbittuwabbit]

hello! i feel like you're the best person to ask cause you're very knowledgable about motogp matters esp vis a vis marc, but i was wondering if there were any good resources to read up on his injuries? it could be a comprehensive article or even a fandom primer. or should i just watch mm: all in? i just want to have a good idea of the timeline! your reply on that post about how it could have just been a season-long injury instead of becoming this 3 year running problem really intrigued me and i wonder what went into making the medical decisions he did. thanks a lot in advance!

and i know this is a big ask so you do not need to respond soon or anything (or even at all haha). but thanks if you do! <3

Thanks for the ask! 😁😁😁😁😁You really need not scour the web about his injuries because he has been very open about it. Ur right about All In since it is basically a documentary about his injury comeback, Motogp Unlimited also has like some snippets about it (winning at Sachsenring 2021) but none about his final surgery. The other Motogp documentary There Can Only Be One briefly covers this moment but it literally just marks Marc’s exit from stage one in terms of the championship. Also I think he talks about it in his autobiography but that is not really readily available lol and I haven’t read it. There’s a few interviews that you can read conducted with the surgeons who facilitated his recovery, such as this one. Marc never really explains the reason for his third surgery as far as I recall in his documentary since it is primarily about his fourth one but from the Honda official team statement it is understood that he had to get bone from his hip grafted onto his humerus since it wasn’t healing properly due to infection. Two previous surgeries were mainly about inserting a metal plate and replacing the metal plate after it broke in his hastened return from recovery. The other ailment Marc has struggled with extensively is diplopia. You can even see this in Hitting the Apex, which covers the 2013 season and briefly focuses on Marc’s Moto2 days and again in All In, as well as Motogp Unlimited but in this case it more so acts as his exit from the series. Of course there are a number of assorted injuries he has suffered throughout the years but these are the main ones. Briefly, if it’s more concise for a timeline to be outlined in this post: Marc suffers his first bout of diplopia in 2011, which prevents him from taking the Moto2 title in his rookie year. This is corrected through eye surgery. His one other major issue was that his shoulder kept dislocating (it actually happens when he is celebrating his championship win in 2018! He has to lie down and get his personal assistant and his brother put it back in) and has a surgery done on it at the end of the 2018 season. Then 2020 rolls around and he breaks his humerus in Jerez. He has a surgery to get the metal plate inserted and tries to mount a comeback in Austria, but eventually has to back out of it and get the metal plate replaced. He then has to have the third surgery which I spoke of before. Enter 2021, he wins a few times but there is still something clearly wrong with his arm; he lacks the full mobility from before. His previous teammate Dani Pedrosa also had this issue as well but never got surgery to correct it and his entire premier class career he raced with his arm like that. Marc’s season is ended by diplopia sustained after a crash while training. So, 2022 rolls around and the diplopia makes a comeback after he high sided in Indonesia. And to complicate things of course, he decides to have that fourth surgery. 2023 he takes extensive injury leave because the bike is quite frankly trying to kill him, and he ends the season with arm pump surgery, which basically arises from overusing a certain muscle—in this case one in the forearm. To note however, this is his first bout of arm pump even though the injury is so common as to be considered an initiation ritual.

[dzthenerd490]

File: Pacific Rim

SCP#: ADC

Code Name: The Kaiju Leak

Object Class: Keter Somnum

Special Containment Procedures: Submarines belonging to Mobile Task Force Gamma-6 "Deep Feeders" are responsible for monitoring the tectonic plates in the oceans of the world. They are to immediately alert Site-[data expunged] for any sightings of SCP-ADC which will quickly follow SCP-ADC-1 manifestation. Afterwards if SCP-ABQ or SCP-ABU are nowhere in sight then SCP-5514 is to be deployed immediately if SCP-5514 cannot be deployed fast enough Mobile Task Force Ares-7 "Heavy Metal" will be deployed instead from the nearest base that employes MTF Ares-7. Whichever arrives first will act as the front-line defense and the other will act as reinforcements should it be required.

Update 2018: SCP-ADC has officially been destroyed. However, despite Special Containment Procedures being discarded due to its deactivation, it is still classified as Somnum. There is no guarantee that whoever or whatever created SCP-ADC will never come back, countermeasures are being conducted should it ever return. 

Description: SCP-ADC is an event where a portal manifested in-between the tectonic plates within the ocean. Why it occurs specifically in-between tectonic plates and almost never in the same place is unknown. Once SCP-ADC manifests, a single SCP-ADC-1 instance will crawl through the portal of SCP-ADC and invade our world. SCP-ADC-1 is an artificial Large Scale Anomalous species that has been appropriately dubbed the Kaiju. SCP-ADC-1 instances come to our world to destroy everything they come across. The first SCP-ADC-1 instance that manifested tried to destroy the city of [data expunged]. It would have succeeded had SCP-ABQ not intervened and killed it easily. 

The blood of SCP-ADC-1 instances is highly toxic and unfortunately contaminated the portions of the ocean it came across. It took the Foundation a month in order to clean to contain it all before it started killing the local wildlife. The blood has been dubbed SCP-ADC-2 and is under consideration for weaponry purposes due to its explosive capabilities. However, it's highly volatile, extremely unstable, and prone to leave lots of carbon monoxide waste in the air. Thus, testing is being done to see if it's possible to make SCP-ADC-2 more stable with less hazardous effects or at the very least find better uses for it.

However, after the second SCP-ADC-1 appeared it was revealed that their tissue and by extension their DNA was exactly the same. With the high possibility that they were clones, SCP-ADC-1 bodies were harvested from then on out to understand how the process works. To this day the Foundation has had various successes and failures to see how SCP-ACS-1 flesh, organs, shell, and other body parts can be used. Most of which is being used for Project [data expunged].

SCP-ADC first manifested in 2013 and was thankfully the SCP-ADC-1 instance killed by SCP-ABQ not long after its manifestation. Originally this was thought to be the end of it until 6 months later another SCP-ADC-1 instance came out of another manifested SCP-ADC portal. From then on, the Foundation waited every 6 months to either allow SCP-ABQ or SCP-ABU to save humanity or fight with SCP-5514 as well as other Foundation assets. However, as time went on the amount of time it takes for a new SCP-ADC portal to manifest has accelerated bit by bit. Furthermore, each SCP-ADC-1 gets slightly bigger and bigger with more strength, more durability, and more complex body weapons. Dr. Mark believes this is proof that SCP-ADC as a whole was created by some kind of advanced race or entity with its full intent to destroy humanity or the earth, most likely both. 

Countermeasures Against SCP-ADC has been forced to increase immensely including increasing production of mech suits within MTF Ares-7. Unfortunately, as far as the Foundation is aware there is no way for our forces to go through an SCP-ADC portal. Efforts to find a way to destroy the SCP-ADC portals or prevent them from manifesting any more is ongoing. 

Update 2018: Somehow SCP-ABU knew where SCP-ADC was going to manifest and swam underwater towards it. Once over the portal it started releasing a strange dust from its wings that didn't seem to be Gaia Radiation. The SCP-ADC-1 that came out seemed to be intoxicated by the dust and fell back into the portal. SCP-ABU quickly vacated the area and afterwards a large explosion occurred destroying the SCP-ADC portal entirely. No new SCP-ADC portals have manifested since. It's unknown as to how SCP-ABU could have known where the SCP-ADC manifested nor is it known as to what exactly the dust was and how it caused such a reaction.

.

SCP: Horror Movie Files

[thedramanotes]

The Great Misunderstanding Trope From Ye Olde K-dramas

Hello. So, I wanted to chat some more about this well known trope in Korean dramas from the 2000s and early 2010s.

Or if you ever picked up a romance novel from the eighties or nineties, this was one of the major tropes used there too.

I'm talking about the Great Misunderstanding trope.

Not that it ever went out of fashion exactly, but in the late 2000s, early 2010s, this had quite a resurgence and was used in pretty much every dramatic romance drama.

A drama that really exemplifies how dramatic this trope could get was secret from 2013, which had Ji Sung and Hwang Jung-eum.

There was a LOT of misunderstandings in that drama.

Now, typical of this trope is that the hero would be drawn towards the heroine despite believing the absolute worst of her. And the heroine would be in a situation where she can't clear up his misunderstanding for one reason or the other. Maybe she doesn't know that he believes the worst of her, or she's trying to protect somebody.

Maybe she's even trying to protect him.

And the hero's behavior gets really egregious, because on the one hand, he is terribly drawn to her almost helplessly. But on the other hand, he believes she is a really horrible human being. He's constantly experiencing inner turmoil because of her, and this crisis of feelings and beliefs makes him lash out at the heroine.

Since he believes the worst of her, his behavior towards her is the worst, and this is a key point of this trope.

The hero is constantly horrible to the heroine at this juncture of their relationship. While the heroine is either helpless to resist or hit back, or unwilling to hurt the hero in return.

Maybe because she's just a genuinely good person and she just has a high tolerance for pain, like Hwang Jung-eum in Secret or she is protecting him, like Han Ga-in in Moon Embracing the Sun, when she comes back into the life of the king and the king believes that she is an imposter sent to like mess with his head because she looks so much like his first love and throws her in the prison for three days where she doesn't even get like a drop of water.

And while she is barely alive, he's just going about his life feeling disturbed that the situation happened, but not really thinking about her condition. And of course then her character goes through several other trials, which he could have put a stop to and would have put a stop to if he knew that she was indeed his first love and not an imposter.

But, of course that would completely skip over this period where the heroine suffers at the hands of his enemies and he just lets it happen. But because of this period of suffering, the hero later on feels abject remorse towards the heroine. He is utterly guilt ridden because she had to suffer so much because of him.

And added to that aspect is the fact that she never hit back at him. She was never horrible to him in return. This heroine is usually extremely Gandhian in her approach to the hero, turning the other cheek and all that. She is virtue herself.

And once the hero realizes that about the heroine and he grovels at her feet and the she gets a moment to be like, "I don't hold anything against you, but I may need two years abroad to rethink life and to come back more deserving of you."

That's a whole other trope, but the point is that she gets a moment to sort of get the upper hand in the relationship. Now, this is an interesting aspect of this trope, this upper hand. The relationship dynamic between the hero and the heroine is such that the hero usually occupies a higher position in society.

He is richer, more powerful, maybe he's a celebrity. Either ways. He's in a different, entirely different strata than the heroine. And the heroine is really weak. Maybe she has been emotionally devastated by something that has happened in her life. She's definitely financially in a weaker position and probably also socially from a different class.

This huge class gap is one of the major reasons that this trope exists, and we'll come back to that in a second. The heroine starts the journey in this really weak position, but at the end of the story, the heroine is barely the hero's equal, and the way she becomes his "equal" is by getting the moral upper hand.

And the upper hand doesn't really put her in a higher position than him. It's not like for the rest of their life, they're going to have arguments and she'll bring up what he had done before and he'll be like, yes, you win every argument ever. No, that's not what the story is going for.

The story is making very sure we understand that the gap between them at the start of the story is so huge that the hero finally understanding the heroine's true virtues and how good she is, and that she had never done those awful things he believed of her and that she had suffered in silence while he tortured her - all of those things and the hero's guilt barely brings the hero up to be kind of his equal, at least equal enough that now they can have a relationship.

The heroine comes up in the world, hero doesn't go down at all. He loses only one thing, and that is the right to look down on the heroine, and that is an important aspect of the Great misunderstanding because as you might have noticed till now, I have been specifically telling you about how the hero is the one doing the misunderstanding, the heroine is the one being misunderstood. This particular trope usually flows in this fixed direction. The genders are pretty much fixed.

Occasionally they try to flip it, but the dynamic immediately becomes weaker and the story isn't as interesting.

I'm sure the dramas of decades before this period also had the great misunderstanding used liberally, but it was used to an excessive amount during that period, the late 2000s, early 2010s.

And the reason for that was that the class difference was still quite huge. And women still had fewer opportunities. They were coming up, but they were not quite there yet. And you have to understand, Korean dramas were primarily written for middle aged women who were housewives and/or working. And for most of them, their economic strata was kind of fixed.

There wasn't really a lot of opportunity to come up in the world in the decade after that. Even though the real world wealth gap hasn't exactly decreased, but you must have noticed that dramas no longer tell the stories of really poor women and really rich men. They tell the stories of really rich men and women who are middle to upper class, but don't feel inferior to these rich men.

Their upbringings, even though there is definitely a difference in wealth, no longer makes the two feel like they are from different worlds in terms of the education they got, the exposure they have in the world.

So, from the heroine's perspective, the gap between the two of them doesn't seem so impossible to bridge anymore these days, but back then it was HUGE. The heroine wouldn't look at the hero and think, hey, that's a guy I want to date. The hero would look at the hero and be like, I am drawn to her, but I cannot date her.

We saw examples of this in, let's say in Secret Garden where Hyun Bin was drawn to Ha Ji-won's character. He pursued her, but not for a relationship. He just pursued her heedlessly, but then anytime she reciprocated, he would be the one to point out how much of a gap there is between the two of them and how they could never be a permanent thing.

He was willing to offer her the position of his mistress, but not his girlfriend.

Another Hyun Bin drama is, my name is Kim Sam-soon, where you also had elements of the great misunderstanding, but it was essentially that class divide that made Hyun Bin's character again look down on Kim Sun-ah. Who was poor, clumsy, supposedly overweight and definitely from a different world class-wise than Hyun Bin's character.

So the class divide really is ultimately the reason why the great misunderstanding trope existed.

But you didn't always need the great misunderstanding trope to exist in a story to talk about class. Like I just said my name is Kim Sam-soon and Secret Garden both did that really well.They actually faced the question of class divide and how two people from two different strata would overcome that.

Those stories were directly challenging the idea of the class divide.

The stories that employed the great misunderstanding didn't really want to directly talk about the class divide. They wanted to solve that problem, the problem of the woman being from a weaker section of society, and also just having like a weaker position within the relationship with the hero without really underlining what the problem was.

So why was the trope so popular at the time? Because the class divide existed in reality and the drama watching audiences wanted more stories about it. And this was a morality play where the virtuous heroine has to go through this traumatic trial by fire to prove herself.

But once she has proven herself, the hero can never doubt her again.

The hero would now forever be so grateful that she has forgiven him for his big mistake in not knowing how wonderful she is, that he will never abuse her, he will never mistrust her, he will never doubt her.

Once their love is affirmed in this way, she emerges, virtuous, victorious, and having secured the love of this man.

And if you haven't figured it out yet, the great misunderstanding trope ultimately is not about the hero being a jerk to the heroine. It's about the heroine going through a hero's journey. To finally land up in a place where she is powerful enough to be the hero's equal morally. This is a female empowerment fantasy.

This was all we wanted. We wanted the hero to acknowledge the heroine's goodness and never doubt her. And of course, we as the audience absolutely love this. We loved that the heroine was sort of the personification of goodness. She may be clumsy, she may be silly at times. She may make poor decisions. She may make us extremely frustrated because she refuses to tell the hero the truth, whatever the truth may be.

But ultimately, we absolutely love the fact that the hero, once he figured out how wrong he was, how terribly he had treated her, and how much he owes her, once that moment struck, that's when the real payoff would happen. And of course then we had dramas like Secret where they would use the great misunderstanding to create some of the steamiest moments between the hero and the heroine.

Seriously, Ji Sung and Hwang Jung-eum had the most messed up dynamic in that story, and yet it's like seared in my brain. That was crack.

Now, something else to keep in mind is that the great misunderstanding has been used in modern day romances quite liberally as well. But this - what is used these days - is the great misunderstanding lite.

Like, you have Our Beloved Summer where the hero doesn't actually know why the heroine had broken up with him and sort of misunderstands her intentions, and then years later finally figures out why she was forced to break up with him at that point.

Or you have Love Is For suckers, where the heroine realizes that the hero has feelings for her, but she's still feeling conflicted. And she also knows that another woman deeply loves the hero and she doesn't want to come between them. So, she lets the hero misunderstand her, which creates a chasm between the two of them.

So you do have these instances of misunderstanding. It's not that dramatic because there really is no great payoff. There is no groveling hero. There is no guilt. There is no internal misery. There is no irresistible attraction that is constantly pulling the hero and hero in together. And they are just dying inside because they can't be together.

It's not that dramatic anymore. It's simpler.

Which on the one hand is a good thing. It's a good thing, but it also makes for less memorable stories.

I was trying really hard to think of more instances where the misunderstanding lite trope has been used in dramas recently, and I know there have been tons.

I just don't remember because, it was not that interesting. I just think, if you have to use that trope, it's maybe worth it to go full fledged, like modernize it, make the woman less of a dish rag or flip genders, but really commit to the trope. Don't just use it as this one throwaway thing that happens for two episodes.

That is a waste of a trope that could genuinely create a lot of heat and trauma, but also, I'm sure in the hands of good writers create moments where the hero and heroine could really talk about their differences - whether it's moral, ethical, political, religious, economic, or a clash of egos - actually get into the depths of why the two of them felt so torn asunder despite being attracted to each other.

I am sure we can modernize it and still keep the drama aspect of it.

It doesn't have to be this morality tale that requires the woman to be a saint. So that she could just barely be equal to the spoiled rich hero.

------

This essay was originally published as a video on The Drama Note YouTube Channel.

[nopizzaaftermidnight]

 For our last celebratory TENPAM anniversary post, I thought I'd do some character history. As you've seen, Lily's been around the longest, and I got Savvy worked out in math class the year before I started NPAM. Besides Lily's sporadically appearing parents, the first character I came up with for the strip was actually the Grub Guy.

A greasy looking fellow who has the monopoly on all pop-up shops, typically selling Grub but also seen slinging coffee, sweets, squid, stuff, and milkshakes, among other things. Over the years, we've learned that his name is Mike, he has a twin (or perhaps any number of identical siblings all with one-syllable M names), and his mom is the manager of the local grocery store. She looks just like him but with a bit more hair. Though the Grub Guy doesn't show up in the comic too often, I still think his totally blank face and superhuman franchise abilities are hilarious. The Grub guy debuted on July 13, 2013.

Just after Mike the Grub guy, Champ arrives on the scene! Everyone in his family is named after plants (his given name is Basil). When I was designing him, I was trying to go for a breezy, casual beach style. I accidentally completely designed (the yet-unnamed) Tyler, but it wasn't the right look for Champ. I pivoted at the last moment, adding the trademark hat and worn out jeans. You can see it on the far right above. Funnily enough, year later when I went back to figure out Champ's real hair, it looks a lot like those swoopy ones I started out with on the left! Champ debuted on July 23, 2013

Another side character, Bike Shorts Guy, showed up a month later! I think he's really funny in a very bizarre and inexplicable way. His main traits are his good posture and his hobby of hunting wild pastries. He has never been seen on a bike. I don't think he's been featured recently, but he always makes me laugh. Bike Shorts Guy debuted on August 31, 2013

Tyler came next. That early Champ design stayed in my mind, and so our sensitive artist showed up on the scene. He and Savvy became unlikely friends. Imagine, he could've been named Hamlet.

Tyler debuted on September 10, 2013

In eighth and ninth grade I went to school online. Eventually, every school subject had a main representative character, a sport/hobby, and a sidekick. (That's what happens when you spend two years at home and it's just you and your gel pens and workbooks). Zo was my science girl, with a bonus human, Nelly the assistant. Their pet friend was a plain cat named Kitty. Looks familiar…

(The lines under their eyes are safety goggles. My mom thought they were mustaches.)

Though I risked following the formula of every ensemble-cast comic, NPAM got its own fluffy friend, the precocious cat Herriman! He's named for George Herriman, creator of the historically iconic Krazy Kat comic. I fooled around with markings, whiskers, and noses, but ultimately made him very plain, just like Kitty. Herriman debuted January 6, 2014

I tossed out an anti-joke right around the time I was graduating high school. It was intentionally unfunny. I figured it was just a silly one-off sort of thing. I was... very wrong. Early on, I returned to the Slug every Saturday because they were an easy way to whip out that last comic as I drew them in sets of six week to week. To this day, the Slug is definitely my most popular character. The Slug debuted May 29, 2014

I had plenty of characters, so I didn't feel moved to make another until over a year later. I developed Sera Sophia and Dart at the same time, knowing they'd be best buddies, but Sera Sophia snuck into the comic a bit earlier. I wanted her to have that sort of earthy hippy fairy look. (It's pretty common around where I grew up.) Though this was way before I decided to literally make her part fairy! Sera Sophia debuted on July 6, 2015

I posit that Dart was always around the NPAM world, living his merboy life happily unobserved by the NPAM audience. Savvy, who knows all the living creatures on land and sea, has known him for ages. But she's very discreet, and never told any of the humans about him. Dart and Sera Sophia hit it off instantly, as Sera Sophia is very accepting of unusual (magical) phenomena. Dart debuted July 27, 2015

And that's our main cast! Savvy retired in 2020, and other characters have come and gone (anyone remember Kai, the Japanese fish?). This concludes our TENPAM celebration. I'd like to thank all of YOU, readers, for your continued support and kind words. I'm glad that this silly ol' comic can brighten your days. Ever onward we go!

[rising-angelx]

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ catching up: a selection of memories. solo in chicago, again.

tw for mentions of abandonment, depression, anxiety, and depiction of a panic attack

୨୧

deciding to spend the first half of her break back in chicago was a decision made somewhat impulsively. her first run in her former city had been a mess of ups and downs for her, but she had hoped that with time to relax instead of running around with practice and performances and a legion of managers and security, she would actually be able to enjoy her time. not to mention, one of her closest childhood friends had just returned from a long-haul work trip in shanghai, and she could not miss the opportunity to see her again.

hannah oh, or as dahye knew her better as, hyunin, was practically the only friend she had outside of her ragtag group of musically inclined friends. she was the youngest daughter of the only other korean family in her building, and her first friend in america. she had helped her learn english outside of school and acclimate to the brand new world she never asked to suddenly belong to. dahye had tried to keep up with her friend after she left, and occasionally got to see her when she was in korea, visiting family or handling business, but it had been a few years since she had last seen her. now, she sprawled across her plush couch in the brand new high rise she had taken up residence in, sipping on a sweet moscato probably fresh from some fancy california vineyard, catching up on lost time. 

their cheeks had already begun to heat to a soft pink, a couple of glasses already passing through their hands over laughs and light stories. angel had been in the middle of one about making an embarrassing mess out of herself at the last company party on valentine’s day.

“y’know, i was crying about my family and like… all the ways i’d been wronged by love, all that dramatic stuff. i almost…” she paused, remembering the main cause of her drunken grief that night being a past relationship her friend knew about well. “my friend, you remember danbi, she told me she found me when i was uh,” she sighed, hanging her head slightly with a bout of shame hitting her system. “i was trying to hunt down malachi. make him apologize for leaving.”

hannah’s eyes widened in realization, a hand flying to her lips in a gasp. “i heard you’re working with him now! oh god, i remember the day after he left like it was yesterday,” she sighed, recalling the phone call she had gotten from angel, only hearing broken sobs on the other end when she picked up.

dahye took a slow sip of her wine, rolling her shoulders out as if the memory was a fight she was preparing for. maybe it was. “yeah,” she sighed. “me too.”

୨୧

that week in 2013 was a warm spot as the colder months began to come to an end. angel remembered the day before, her band making plans to skip their last class at school and head to some spot by the river someone had found before going to ahmed’s to rehearse. they had a gig coming up in some dingey bar they had booked once before and wanted to be invited back again. she didn’t remember anything off about that day, about the way kai acted or spoke to her. to any of them. she never would have guessed that it would be the last day of her life as she knew it. 

she didn’t notice anything odd until the next morning when she woke up to no new messages from her boyfriend. he had always stayed up much later than her, and she would often wake up to some of his 2 am thoughts. it didn’t really bother her, figuring he had actually allowed himself to fall asleep at a decent time the night before. it didn’t really bother her when she didn’t see him at school either, his truancy record definitely not spotless. none of the small things started to bother her until she saw ahmed in the hall, a sad looking scowl on his face. he didn’t even seem to notice her as he passed, a stark contrast to the way he would gleefully yell her name down the hall with a larger than life wave the moment he saw her head bobbing in the crowd of kids. 

that’s when the anxiety began to slowly eat at her insides. one thought disturbed her brain, distracting her from the entire rest of the school day. where was malachi? 

the next thing she remembered was at the meeting spot by the river. she didn’t remember the likely anxious journey there, oddly lacking kai, or even arriving. she only remembered the unusual quiet that sat amongst her friends, downcast looks across all of their faces. she remembered asking, “where’s kai?” she remembered the way her heart plummeted when someone said “he’s gone,” death coming to mind before the idea of malachi willingly leaving her without a single word. she hardly remembered the careful voice of felix explaining the situation, only a few words standing out in her memory. kai. left. for korea. with daniel. what angel did distinctly remember was all five agonizing stages of grief. 

denial. “he wouldn’t do that. he would never leave without saying could by. he wouldn’t leave me.” refusing to believe it in any way her friends tried to explain it to her. “he told me he wasn’t going to go with them, why would he lie to me?” refusing to believe her boyfriend, the undeniable love of her life, would up and leave her for the empty promises of some recruiter from the other side of the globe. most of all without saying anything.

anger. “how could you let him do that?” she remembered the hurt look on ahmad’s face when she shoved him, and the strange gratification she got from it. “how could you let him leave? just walk out of our lives like we’re nothing?” she remembered the way she blamed daniel, the friend who had left before kai, to follow his dream the very same way. “he convinced him, didn’t he? to go? i knew daniel was a fucking rat, he left us first.” most of all, she remembered the anger he felt at the very source of loss. “why would he do this to me? how the fuck could he leave me? how could he lie to me and tell me he loved me and disappear without a fucking word?”

bargaining. “did i do something? did he just never want to see me anymore? can i fix it?” she remembered the way her mother held her in her lap, allowing the tears to soak her shirt as she gently pet her hair. at the time, the woman would have done anything to console her daughter, her own heart breaking seeing her in such pain. but really, there was nothing to be done but be there for her. angel remembered her aunt’s opinion on the matter clearly. “it wasn’t your fault, darling. surely he realized you were far too good for him in the first place. the only thing he knew how to do was run.” it was harsh and it hurt her heart to hear such things about someone she held so dear. but at times when she would have cursed his name to all powers earthly or not, it helped. it helped to put the blame on someone else’s shoulders.

depression. the worst of it. when the school year finally ended and she had no reason to force herself out of bed in the morning. she didn’t remember any of it. days melted into each other and she was sure now that everyone near to her was worried sick, but at the time she couldn’t have brought herself to care. kai was gone. her reason, her future. the depression was the hardest to escape.

acceptance. the most ambiguous of all. she didn’t know when acceptance set in. maybe it was when she could get out of bed of her own accord. maybe it was when she could look at her guitar without tears tugging at her eyes. maybe it was when she started seeing her friends again. maybe it was falling down the same path he had taken. she wasn’t sure if it had ever even set in at all. 

୨୧

“what was it like seeing him again?” her friend asked, peeking at her over the rim of her wine glass as she took another sip.

heartstopping. 

୨୧

tidal had been at some music show or another, promoting another comeback. she couldn’t remember the details. but in the back halls of the production, among all the bustle of stylists and managers and producers and idols big and small, she saw him. the group had just gotten off stage and it was just for a moment. she wasn’t even sure it was him at first, but there was no mistaking the angled jawline and pointed nose. he didn’t even see her, as far as she knew, but it was enough. enough to freeze the air in her lungs, her heart feeling like it was nearly going to burst. it had been three years since she had last seen him, but the wound still felt as jagged and fresh as ever, tearing her apart from the inside. she could feel her body shaking as she tried to catch her breath, but she could barely force any air into her lungs. her vision started fuzzing around the edges, the world spinning much too fast for her liking. she stumbled into the first empty dressing room she could find, clutching her head, her chest. the outfit she was wearing was far too tight, her hands clawing at the choker that she had admired in the mirror earlier but she was sure in the moment that if she couldn’t get it off she would die in it, right there on the floor, backstage at musicbank or wherever the hell they were. 

angel had known it would happen eventually. they were a part of the same small world once again. in fact, there were times she’d hoped she would see him again. sometimes she imagined a soft reunion, warm embraces and maybe a few tears. maybe a few kisses. other times she imagined herself walking right up to him and socking him in the face, career-ending scandal be damned. what she never imagined was spiraling into a state of panic at one glimpse of him from across a busy room. 

she wasn’t sure how long it took to calm down, for her chest to rise and fall at a relatively normal rate again. it was dae who found her, curled up on the green room couch with her head buried in her hands, cheeks streaked with melted makeup and tears she hadn’t even realized had fallen. it felt ironic, looking back at it. but at the time it was just her leader and friend, taking care of her at such a low moment. 

angel hadn’t thought about that day in such a long time. she couldn’t even remember what she had told her worry-stricken bandmates as to why she had gone m.i.a, returning shaking and tear soaked, but she knew it wasn’t the truth. 

୨୧

“kind of horrible,” she elicited a laugh alongside the understatement of the year. “just really jarring, y’know? it had been like, i dunno, 3, 4 years? but seeing him felt like he had left me all over again. it sucked,” she sighed, swirling the sweet red liquid around her glass.

hyunin nodded in understanding. she had been through her fair share of heartbreaks, but she knew the way kai had shattered dahye’s couldn’t compare. “how is it now though? like, do you see him a lot?”

“well… its really complicated.” she set her glass down, adjusting her legs tucked underneath her. “at first, when our companies merged, i avoided him like the plague,” she laughed at the notion, almost as literal as it sounded. “but we have the same friends, we had to work it out eventually. it was just this thing festering and it wasn’t…” her voice faded, her thoughts dissolving into a deep sigh. “plus,” she raised her eyebrows, awaiting the reaction her friend would have to the following news, “he’s with my group’s leader now. dae.”

hannah’s jaw dropped, making angel laugh at the comical expression. “no!” she cried, clutching angel’s hand in the dramatics of it all.

“yes!” the guitarist nodded. “i want to be happy for them, of course, but it just makes me feel so… watching them… its like some fucked mirror of what could’ve been, right?”

“100 percent,” her friend agreed, patting her leg in comfort and support. “does she even know? about how you two were?”

“i mean, i haven’t told her. so, i can’t blame her. as much as my heart wants to sometimes, it's not right.”

“but you’re over him.”

“the way we were… so dependent on each other like that. so… well, i would say, in love. and the way it ended with so little closure after a whole… fucking decade. i don’t think there is any being over him. i don’t have those feelings for him anymore, and i know there’s no future there, but his presence just lights me on fire. i can’t stand next to him without thinking about all of the could’ve should’ve would’ves between us.” she had never spoke so honestly about this before. she could feel her words beginning to stick painfully to her throat, but she fought to get them out. she needed them to finally be aired.

hyunin listened carefully, nodding along. “speaking honestly, hye-ya,” she began, holding her hand between hers once more. “i think what you two had was a little unhealthy, the way you clung to each other… but the past is the past, right? i really hope you work it out,” her eyes held her genuinity, carefully attempting to convey the words straight from her heart. “back then, i never thought i would ever see two people so connected. but i know you can start over.”

a start over. that mythical desire of everyone hurt by the past. would it ever find her?

[ireceived-p8250000]

December 1-7, 2013

Sunday, December 1

I spent the entire day editing videos and rewriting scripts. There was an interview segment I had to do solo, which felt a bit odd. I dedicated four hours to creating a poster, and the rest of the day was consumed by studying. I continued reading the Russian history book.

Monday, December 2

The rumors about my Philo and Psychology professors were gaining traction, but it could just be speculation. Despite my reluctance, I joined in the gossip.

In experimental psychology, Mansoor and I were assigned as groupmates. Ma'am Jean advised against it, but we didn't mind. Afterward, I went to my Aikido class.

Tuesday, December 3

Today, there was a seminar on mental health at Baguio General Hospital. Cherry and I skipped our afternoon class to attend. I had a history homework assignment but managed to pass it to Myla. The seminar was productive, and we left promptly afterward.

I attended my Ecology class where we started a project on sewage treatment systems. I was grouped with Abbey, who had a bit of a bratty middle-class attitude. Mansoor picked me up, and we spent some time at Starbucks.

I received my salary, which brought my total savings to ₱50,000. I considered quitting school but decided against it. I suggested to Mansoor that we could travel to Sagada, and he agreed. His relatives had a house there, so accommodation would be free.

I also booked a flight to Vietnam for January 2-5 next year.

Wednesday, December 4

It was a day dedicated to experimenting. I missed my Philo class because I had to accompany my parents to the bank. I returned to school around 1 PM.

Thursday, December 5

I began sitting at the back during history classes. Hollmae sat upfront, engrossed in her discussions with Sir Apollo. He started sitting at the back too, but not beside me—he sat behind me. I avoided glancing at him.

Robbie, Myla, and I discussed our presentation, and I focused on working on it. After dropping off items for sale, I met up with my mom and we visited the ophthalmologist for a glasses change.

Friday, December 6

During Aikido class, I almost injured my back while attempting a flip.

Saturday, December 7

In English 7, we had a debate, and I was shocked by the persistent misinformation regarding Martial Law. We completed our history class reporting, but Sir Apollo embarrassed me by insinuating I was thinking something inappropriate. I gave him a cold, hard stare and firmly corrected him.

After class, I told Robbie and Hollmae I'd stay to discuss makeup activities. The truth was, I needed to confront Sir Apollo.

"Anong problema mo? You've been harassing me nonstop. I didn't make it a point of it because I owe you for saving me pero mas sobra ka," I said, my voice shaking with fury.

He tried to calm me down, calling me by name.

"Calm down mo mukha mo! I could go to the SAO right now and report you," I retorted sternly.

He looked at me flatly and said, "Ni ayaw mo nga ipakulong yung stalker at harasser mo, eh," clearly using that to his advantage.

"Well maybe I'll do it now," I said, folding my arms. "Stop bothering me, you piece of shit."

His lips tightened. As I turned to leave, he stood up and apologized, admitting, "I'm sorry. I like you. Kaya nagkakaganito ako sa'yo, I like you. That's the truth. I've had since last year sa klase ko."

I turned around and said, "There are just enough boys who like me but they wouldn't do this. Tarantado ka lang talaga. A scum!"

I walked away without looking back and headed to the clinic to claim my new glasses.

I met up with Mansoor after classes. We spent hours at Starbucks, talking and enjoying each other's company.

When I got home, Sir Apollo's words resonated within me. To distract myself, I brought out my vibrator and watched videos featuring older men and younger women.

[therealmalleusdraconia]

THE RED TYRANT

Alright so MC and Grim met these two idiots named Deuce Spade and Ace Trappola just like the cards!

Deuce is a previous bad boy who is now trying to be a good boi while Ace is just a jackass. Neither one of them is smart.

The head bird in charge named Crowley was so nice he let MC and Grim stay!! But you know, they gotta be janitors though…. As MC and Grim decide to start with the Main Street headed to the main campus building, they meet the tweedle Dee and tweedle dum. Ace makes fun of MC because they don’t know the great seven because you know…. WE’RE NOT FROM THIS WORLD!!

Well wouldn’t you know it, Ace for some odd reason decides to fight MC and Grim! Grim, determined to show how powerful of a mage he is, accidentally burns one of the great seven statues! But the headmage makes Deuce (who was just an innocent bystander) and Ace help with cleaning up.

Grim and MC wait for Ace but he is nowhere to be found, after he is caught shirking his duties, a chase breaks out to catch him! But they broke a stone in the process. This stone is so important as the headmage explains. That he’s willing to expel the students over its destruction! But after Deuce convinces the bird man to let them go find it, they embark on a journey and mission that makes their friendship stronger, makes Deuce cry a bit, and makes MC realize they should have just gone home because now they are fucked!

When the students return with new gen the headmage was shocked! Just like Ace and Deuce were when Crowley explained that he didn’t expect them to come back alive let alone with the stone. He was in the middle of writing their expulsion papers. But alls well on the end… MC and Grim are now officially students of NRC!!! They get the whole thing! Free dorm living (comes with ghost who hate ya and dust!) free food, free classes, free trauma and they get to become the therapist to a bunch of temperamental kids!

One night Ace knocks on MC’s door and is like “I made an oopsie….i am well aware it was an oopsie but uhh….can I sleep here…?” And MC is like “SURE!” And that’s that! The next morning Deuce knocks on the door and is like “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO???” And that’s when MC learns what he did!

He ate a tart. That’s it. He ate a tart that was apparently for Riddle Rosehearts, the Housewarden of Heartslaybul. (Can someone tell me what the fuck a “slaybul” is? I know what a heart is, but what is a “Slaybul”??!!)

MC tells Ace to just go say sorry but when he tries that Cater Diamond, a cringy reminder of what 2013 was like, kicks everyone out of the dorm after making them help him paint the roses. These people have got to be deaf because they immediately come back and decide to talk to the Vice Housewarden, Trey Clover but that doesn’t work and they decided to pick a fight with Riddle saying his Rules (a total of 810) were too many and he was too picky. That’s when he does this awful thing….Overblots!! (I will explain Overblotting another time)

After Ace slaps Riddle he goes nuts! Everyone kicks his ass and that’s when we get a sad sap story:

RIDDLES MOTHER HAD TO BE AN ALMOND MOM!!! But worse y’know? He had tragic birthday cakes that were gluten free, dairy free, sugar free, and probably looked like white mounds of tofu. His mother had strict rules in place for him. He want to go outside too long, he must study every day, he was not to ever eat the disgusting artificial sugar!!! But one day, during Riddles private study time, a boy with green hair and a cat boy child thing, we’re playing outside. They waved to him to come play too, but Riddle refused. That happened for days until one day, Riddle went outside to play with them. He learned their names Trey Clover and Che’nya. They played for long hours and finally, FINALLY, he got something sweet. A cherry tart. It was only a slice but it was delicious! But his mother came outside and scolded him for it. After that the one thing he was allowed to do by himself was taken. He no longer had “private study time”.

After this ass beating riddle cried, everyone was happy and yada yada yada.

One thing I feel like people don’t talk about enough is the fact that after his “private study time” was taken from him, he said that he was upset, because he had broken his mother‘s trust, the fact that that was his main priority, abiding by his mother’s rules rather than enjoying something that he wanted to do for so long proves like how messed up he was, and how he was so desperate for his mom’s approval and nod of affirmation…..

In order the pictures are: Deuce Spade, Ace Trappola, Trey Clover, Cater Diamond, Riddle Rosehearts (dorm uniform) Riddle Rosehearts (overblot)

[boricuacherry-blog]

The arrest was ordered by Reinaldo Leal, an investigator for the Niteroi police homicide department. Leal is a career detective, as well as the lead singer of a heavy-metal band and has dabbled in acting, with a cameo in a 2017 telenovela based on his team's pursuit of a Rio drug boss.

After attempting to poison her husband with cyanide didn't work, she allegedly put her kids up to the murder plan.

Jacarezinho - Little Crocodile - is a favela on the Guanabara shoreline with a fearsome reputation.

On how she met her husband, she said, "He came to know me because of the evangelism I did in the favelas." He was one of the first kids she took in - an efficient, ambitious boy of about sixteen, who left his family to join hers. It remains unclear when their intimate relationship began, but Flordelis insists it wasn't until he was eighteen. She would have been thirty-four at the time. An interesting thing to note - he was also her daughter's ex boyfriend.

The couple went on to found a church together - the Ministry of Flordelis - and became famous. Thousands of people frequented the empire of nine churches where Flordelis sang, and she appeared on television as an example of a devoted mother.

But behind closed doors, her adopted children said she practiced the occult. Flordelis's mother was said to have been herself a witch.

One of Flordelis's adopted sons recalled that prayer sessions began with a lit candle, and them praying together for seven days. He added, "If you wanted to have control over someone, we put melon, honey, and crystal sugar in a pot, then left your name in the honey with the name of the person, with an engagement ring. If anyone asked why those rituals weren't in the Bible, she would say that they had been professed by Christ in the past but been lost to history."

She parlayed that fame into a congressional seat in 2018, winning more votes than any other candidate in Rio and joining the new government of the then far-right president, Jair Bolsonaro.

But investigators said that soon after taking her seat she began plotting Do Carmo's removal.

But for the time being, Flordelis couldn't be prosecuted; Brazilian lawmakers are granted immunity to criminal charges. She was stripped of her parliamentary immunity in June 2021, paving the way for her trial.

Her life story had been an archetypal Brazilian redemption tale, and had even been made into a movie, with some of the biggest actors in Brazil. The movie didn't make much money, but it changed her life. Brazil's biggest gospel label, MK, signed her to a recording contract.

Carly Machado, an anthropologist, weighed in on Flordelis's fall from grace.

"Evangelicals don't expect their leaders to be saints," she said. The Bible, she noted, is filled with stories of God's followers falling prey to the Devil's work. "God is there, waiting for the return of the lost sheep," she said. "It doesn't mean that each person will follow and believe the pastor, specifically Flordelis, again. But the final judgment is in God's hands."

Many had abandoned Flordelis, but few had abandoned Pentecostalism altogether.

Machado had followed along as prominent evangelicals endured a succession of scandals. In 2013, Marcos Pereira, the head of the Assembly of God of the Latter-Day, was convicted of serially raping women in his congregation in Rio. Pereira's method was to tell his victims, some as young as fourteen, that they were possessed by Satan and could only be exorcised through sex with a holy man.

To Machado, Pereira represented "the masculine face" of Pentecostalism in Brazil. Flordelis had attracted her "because she was a woman, and because her emphasis was on family and the youth. Machado said that Flordelis's ministry appealed to Brazilians who didn't feel represented by the traditionally rural Assembly of God or by the increasingly middle-class Universal Life Church. Something else seemed to be happening, too. At Flordelis's events, Machado noticed the presence of Marcos Feliciano, a Sao Paulo pastor who had become an influential congressman. She also saw Arolde de Oliveira, the czar of Brazil's gospel-music business - an evangelical money machine. She realized that she was witnessing a fusion of politics, religion, and entertainment that was reshaping Brazil.

[mibeau]

[Santai] From East to West: A Glimpse of My Life

Marie was originally from WP Labuan. She first moved to West Malaysia to pursue her tertiary education, back in 2010. Follow her journey as she shares her observations and experiences.

Living in Nilai as a student.

When she first arrived in West Malaysia on her own, she was more nervous than excited. A bit worried as well, since it was her first time away from her family. Coming from a diverse and integrated ethnicity in East Malaysia, the first thing she noticed during her first month in Nilai(Negeri Sembilan), was that people here tend to stay within the group of their race. It was a bit awkward for her to make new friends. She doesn’t feel quite fit into any specific groups due to her Sino-Kadazan background. Then, she observed, that when it comes to food and drinks, there are differences in terminologies. For example; “ais kosong” is “air sejuk”, and “Wantan Mee” is known as “Kon Loo Mee” in Sabah.

Months passed, and she settled down. She no longer feels out of place. In her words, “I'm happy to learn new things and culture. All my university friends are friendly. I mingled with locals & internationals. So, learning about their food and culture was quite exciting! Since I am food-motivated. Haha~” Today, whenever she reflected on her days in Nilai, her fondest memories revolved around the joy of forming meaningful friendships. She said, “I'm grateful for the friend I met, who is now one of my trusted people in life. She would stay by my side through thick and thin. However, the Organic Chemistry class is another story. I was frustrated, despite my best efforts, I still didn't understand anything. That was a first for me.”

On one fine day, she went out to Kuala Lumpur with her friends. It was completely different from Nilai. She was surprised! Her first impression was,

“There are so many people and cars! Nilai, back in the day, was a small town. We only have “Giant” with “Sushi King” and “Tutti Frutti” to look forward to. One day, my friends and I decided to go to Berjaya Times Square. Imagine how shocked I was, to see a theme park in a mall! Wow!”

Internship in Melaka

Fast-forward to 2012, Marie did her “hospital placement”(Industrial Training) in Melaka for a few months. She rented a place in Rembia, with two of her close friends. She visited many historical places in Melaka. She also learnt to tolerate spicy food even better. Of course generally, for a Sabahan palate, cuisines in West Malaysia are always spicier in comparison to the ones in East Malaysia. But, in Melaka, it was on another level. In every eatery she visited, it was always at least, slightly peppery. However, although she often needs to wait in a queue to dine in, it is worth the time. She said, “The food, anywhere in Melaka, is amazing!”

Interning in a government hospital, she interacted more closely with the locals from different walks of life here. According to Marie, people in Melaka are very friendly, if you are an introvert, you can be intimidated at first. After some time, she noticed that the people here(not limited to Melaka but she first experienced this in Melaka) do not know much about Sabah, except for Kota Kinabalu. She said,

“You can see their faces light up when they find out you are from Sabah. They will approach you randomly to learn more about Sabah. Some older generation would ask you, “Dah berapa lama datang Malaysia?” (How long have you been in Malaysia?) And in my head, I was like, “Ain’t Sabah also Malaysia?”” She then added, “Haha… But, it’s all good, that was just a linguistic issue, the generation gap. You must understand that people are generally insensitive because they don’t know. So, we shouldn’t be too sensitive, and address their curiosity happily.”

Working in the Klang Valley

Following her 2013 Diploma Graduation Ceremony, Marie moved overseas to further her studies and returned to Malaysia in 2018. Then, since 2019, she has been residing in the Klang Valley area, where she now serves as a clinic manager in the private sector.

After many years of living away from Labuan and spending most of her adult life in West Malaysia, she saw a few changes in herself and her perspectives on life. The most mature thing she needs to master is the art of managing personal finances. Two years back, she bought her first car. Initially, she underestimated how much the expenses were for the fuel and touch N go. Since she now

commutes to work daily by car, she tried to be as frugal as she could. Because the highways with tolls are a very foreign concept in Sabah!

Her messages to those who are about to embark on a new journey or path:

Differences are inevitable in any new environment. Adapt while staying true to your identity, and maintain a positive outlook by focusing on the good rather than anticipating the worst.

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Photos credited to: Malaysia Asia , ExpatGo , Elvisitsan.